#the Google docs is calling to me

[goldencherriess]

Current mood because I want to write and to finish the next chapter of Storms and I can't cause I'm too busy getting a degree (exam season is killing me, please send help)

[zefferooni]

Bored af so Bloom redesign let's go!!

[not-kayvalencourt]

Let's all put on our thinking caps and see that there is no actual evidence that iskall didn't do anything but his own word. There is, however, massive amounts of evidence that he did.

If you follow me and support iskall (or stress), unfollow me. The bullshit tantrum he just had and the amount of people there are supporting him is actually disgusting. If you genuinely believe him, you need to look up manipulation tactics. He is going to use his fame to get people to trust him, just like he did to his victims.

[wreckedandpolemic]

anything that you wanna - matty healy

(mdni) in which you take matty apart. piece by piece. part of the regret me universe. 2397 words.

warnings: dom/sub dynamics, degradation, sub!matty, pegging, oral (kind of? you’ll see), feminisation? calling him princess idk, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it choking

(huge thank you to @abouttofillhisshoes without whom this fic would not exist bc i must have read facedown as reference material at least 10 times while writing this)

You didn’t really mean for him to find it. It just amuses you to make Matty take part in his own unmaking, so you sent him off to collect your ropes and the toys you need to take him apart. When he doesn’t come back, though, you pick yourself up to find him and punish him for wasting your fucking time. He’s kneeling on your floor, his back to you and a toy you can’t see in his hands, entirely transfixed. “What’s so interesting, huh?” He drops the toy like it’s burned him, guilt painted scarlet across his face as he turns to face you. “Don’t be shy, baby.” You stalk across the room, leaning down to see what he’s looking at. Your lips part in a surprised little gasp as you realise he’s staring down at your strap, fingers running over purple silicone like he’s worshipping it. “Oh,” you smirk. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re thinkin’ about with that, baby?”

“Do you… Is this, um, yours?” There’s a nervous tremble in his voice that you can’t help grinning at.

“No, I keep someone else’s strap in a box under my bed,” you deadpan, leaning down over him with a crowing smirk. Matty shudders, deliberately avoiding your eyes. “Is there something you want, pretty boy?” you ask, sitting in front of him on the bed and gripping his jaw to force his gaze to meet yours. His eyes are wide, glassy with desire. “Spit it out, darling. If you don’t ask, you won’t get,” you smirk, digging your nails into his jaw. “Don’t make me force you to tell me.”

Matty flushes crimson, words coming out muffled as he buries his face in his hands. “Was thinkin’ about you fucking me,” he murmurs, and you feel a heavy pulse of arousal in your cunt.

Closing your eyes as visions of Matty fucked dumb and drooling fill your head, “Shit,” you hiss. “Yeah, we can do that if you want, baby. Come here.” You cup his cheek, uncharacteristically gentle as Matty sits down next to you, and he shudders at your thumb brushing over his cheek. “Have you ever done this before?”

Shifting his hips subtly, Matty lowers his eyes and swallows thickly, seemingly realising you’re taking this seriously. “Only, uh… by myself,” he confesses quietly, and you have to bite down hard to keep yourself from moaning.

“Fuck,” you groan, thighs clenching. “You like that? Fucking yourself like a girl?” Condescension drips from your tone, and Matty moans low in his throat. “Yeah? Want me to fuck you like you’re my pretty girlfriend?” Squirming under your hard, unflinching gaze, he nods slowly. “Why don’t you take those clothes off for me, then, princess?”

Matty strips eagerly, and you drink in the sight of newly-revealed, toned skin as you fix the harness onto your hips. His eyes glaze over as they travel up your body, glued to the silicone hanging between your legs. He’s practically drooling as he speaks. “Please, I want…” He whines softly, making a greedy, grabbing motion at you. “I need you to fuck me.”

You laugh meanly, gripping his jaw. “Not yet, darling. Have some patience, yeah?” Words he’s used on you dozens of times, but seemingly doesn’t understand, grasping your hips and thighs where you kneel above him. “How bad do you want it, princess?” Matty gives a low, shuddering moan, pleas springing to his lips as the degrading epithet washes over him. “You wanna get on your knees for me? Suck my dick before I fuck you like a good girl?”

His eyes go wide with disbelief, and you just jerk your head and shrug. “Fuck, okay,” he murmurs. “Whatever you want.” Oh, he wants it bad, you realise. Whatever you want isn’t a string of syllables either of you put together often, reserved for your deepest, most desperate desires. Like the time you begged him to tie you up and use you like a fuckdoll, needing your brain shut off and thinking of nothing but where on your body he’d cum all over next. A dizzy smile crosses your face at the memory, lust spiking in your core.

Matty’s on his knees under you, cock hanging hard and heavy between his legs and drool pooling in his mouth. There’s a question in his gaze as he looks up at you, brown eyes wide and glimmering with lust and trepidation. “Aw, baby, do you need me to talk you through it? Teach my pretty girl how to suck dick like a slut?” He nods wildly, hips rocking against nothing as you thread a hand through his curls. “D’you remember how I do it? How good it feels when I get you off with my mouth? Yeah? Start slow for me, okay, princess? Kiss the tip.”

The power he’s handed you is heady, deliriating as he debases himself, slowly kissing and licking at the silicone of the toy. “That’s it, baby,” you say, groaning as if he’s really giving you head. “Nice and slow, you can take it.” The toy slides slowly between his lips, swollen and dripping with spit as he inches down. The corners of Matty’s mouth stretch pornographically, a pleading little moan escaping him as the toy meets the back of his throat. You thrust messily into his mouth and he gags, desperately searching for friction and grinding his hips in the air pathetically. Sliding a hand into his hair, you press his head down, laughing cruelly when he gags helplessly, redoubling his efforts and moaning. Drool drips obscenely down his chin, the sight of him in such a wanton state sending heat dripping between your legs. He whines up at you when you pull him off, tears brimming in his wide, pleading eyes. “Gotta work on your gag reflex, princess. Look at you, crying ‘cause you had my cock too deep down your throat. Pathetic,” you scoff.

“M’sorry,” Matty whimpers, so feebly that you almost feel sorry for him, nudging him to his feet and back onto the bed.

You fish in your bedside drawer for lube, handing it to him with a saccharine smile. “Get that pretty hole ready for me, yeah?” Matty’s chest heaves, spreading his legs wide as he slicks up his fingers. He traces slick circles around his hole, your cunt pulsing needing at the mere sight of him.

Pushing a finger into himself, he lets out an obscene moan, your blood racing faster as his lips part around ecstasy. Eagerly, you watch him gasp and moan at the intrusion, his eyes lidded and black with lust. Pure pleasure fills his expression as Matty slowly drags his finger out and back in, deeper this time. “Tell me how you feel, baby,” you instruct, pulse roaring in your ears and your body tense with desire.

“Feels fucking good,” Matty groans, back arching and a broken moan slipping from his lips as he slides a second finger into his hole. “Gonna feel even better when you’re fucking me into the mattress,” he adds, a shit-eating grin painted on his swollen lips.

“God, look at that pretty little hole, princess. Look so gorgeous, fucking yourself like that. Gonna fuck you dumb,” you promise, entranced by the sounds falling from Matty’s lips as he curls his fingers inside himself, face scrunched in bliss.

Your fingers creep between your legs, pulling your panties aside to rub at your soaked cunt. “Fuck, y’so wet,” Matty slurs out, using what little awareness he has left to lift his head and fix his gaze on your glistening core.

“So are you,” you taunt. “My pretty girl’s fuckin’ dripping for me, huh?” You tip your head back and moan quietly as you draw slow circles over your swollen clit, the weight of Matty’s gaze on you magnifying every spark of pleasure until you might catch alight.

Matty’s cock looks painfully hard between his legs, dripping precum with every thrust of his fingers. “Yeah, m’wet for you, fuck. M’ready, please,” he whines, writhing under his own touch, hips grinding desperately up against the air. “Please fuck me.” His words are high, breathy, tinged sweet with desperation.

With a Herculean effort, you ignore your base impulse to scramble on top of him and give him exactly what he wants. Instead, you kneel up slowly, tracing your hands over his heated skin. “How do you want it, princess?”

Helpless moans spill from Matty’s lips. “Like this,” he gasps out, grinding his hips up against nothing. “Wanna kiss you while you fuck me.”

The very idea invites intimacy foreign to the two of you. You don’t kiss, you grapple lips and teeth and tongue, you breathe moans and drip spit into each other’s mouths. But you look down at Matty, sweat-soaked and pleading and desperate, hands grasping needily at your hips, and, god, he looks so destructible that you want to give him anything he wants. “Yeah?” you say, kneeling between his legs with a vicious grin. “Alright, baby. I’ll be gentle,” you smirk, his gaze transfixed by the lube dripping between your fingers and you coat the toy in it.

“Don’t want gentle,” Matty pouts, and you slowly run a hand up his chest, his breath hitching when you rest your palm lightly over his throat. He’s achingly hard, cock pressing against your belly as you lean down, mouth hovering inches from his and your hand applying the barest pressure on his neck.

“You think you can tell me what to do while you’re whining for my cock like a little bitch?” you murmur, almost loving in tone. Unable to resist, you spit in his open mouth, a whimpering moan escaping him when you slowly press the toy against his hole.

Matty’s lips part in ecstasy, eyes glassy as his hole stretches around you. “Fuck, yesyesyes—” he gasps, arching up and chasing the sensation. Heat throbs in your cunt, arousal battering your bloodstream. His cock drools precum against your stomach, everything around you feeling slick and wet and messy, the air saturated with the smell of sex and a haze of desire. “More, please, fuck!” he begs.

You lean down, crashing your lips against his as you slowly push into him, greedily swallowing his every sweet little moan. Matty’s lips are slack, feeble against yours as you lick into his mouth, drinking in the taste of him. “S’that feel good?” you ask, inching the toy deeper. “God, can feel how greedy this hole is, princess. Practically sucking me in, so fuckin’ tight around my dick. Whore,” you moan, head spinning with some unholy cocktail of desire and power.

His entire body is flushed, seemingly suspended and free-falling through a haze of bliss, unable to decide between grinding his cock up against your belly or his hips down against yours. “C’mon, fuckin’ fill me up, please! M’a good girl, m’your slut, I’ll be whatever you want, just fuck me,” Matty whines, eyes rolling back in his head as you fill him torturously slow. “Shit, yes, right there,” he gasps, whining and grinding down against you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, ohmygod, feels so fuckin’ good, please don’t stop,” he babbles, his cock drooling against your belly as you press into him until your hips are flush against his.

“Such a good girl, moaning all pretty on my cock,” you murmur, dipping your head to kiss at his neck, the tang of sweat coming up on your lips. “Gonna wreck you.” Your cunt throbs with need, neglected as you devote your entire attention to Matty, a drooling, whining vision straight out of a wet dream.

“God, yes, please!” You pull almost all the way out of him and slam back in, a scream tearing from his throat at your sudden, brutal pace. “Oh, fuck,” he groans, the syllable drawn out, stretched thin with pleasure. “God, feels so good, fucking- fuck, I can’t–” He cuts himself off with a broken moan as you meet that perfect spot inside him over and over.

So sick with lust you can barely see straight, you bite into the flesh of his neck, muffling your pleasured groans against his skin. “God, so dumb for me, princess. You look beautiful,” you praise, fucking him so deep his tongue lolls out of his mouth and his words die in his throat. The only sounds are your pants and moans, the slick sounds of sex, filling the room in a lurid melody. Your head spins, the sight of Matty falling into oblivion under you so erotic that you could almost cum, arousal practically soaking through your panties as you fuck him harder.

“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum, I can’t stop it, I– fuuckk,” he gasps, tears brimming at his lashline as his hips buck uncontrollably upwards, cum splattering hot against your belly.

You fuck him through, swallowing his whines greedily, slotting your mouth over his and letting him ride it out. “Fuck, greedy little whore, cumming without permission.” The slight look of fear that flickers across his face pulls a smirk to your lips as apologies spring to his. “Shh,” you say, pressing a thumb against his lips and dragging down. “It’s okay, baby. Felt too good, you couldn’t stop. S’fucking hot when you cum untouched, make such a mess of yourself,” you soothe, hushing him softly as you pull out, unbuckling the harness and discarding the strap along with your panties. “Made a mess of me, too, didn’t you? Dirty boy. Better clean up your mess, yeah?”

Matty flips you eagerly, kissing at your neck and collarbone as his cum smears between your bodies. He laves his tongue over your nipple, sucking and biting at the barbell hungrily. Pleasure wells at the base of your spine and you lay back as it wash over you, letting Matty lavish you with whatever he wants, desperate to return the favour. He licks slowly over your belly, cleaning his cum and looking up at you with wide, expectant eyes. “Good boy,” you say, sliding a hand into his hair and puppeteering him down until he’s eye-level with your cunt. Hunger gleams in his gaze as he buries his tongue inside you, a sudden wave of heat rolling over your body. “That’s it, princess. Been such a good boy. You wanna make me feel good? If you do it fast enough, I’ll get you off again, any way you want.”

[gingersnaptaff]

Thinking about him again

(Art by @wildbasil )

Dylan Ail Don, beloved. I'm deep in the trenches (read: The Mabinogion for the 1,000th time) and am going 😵‍💫🫠😊 about him and his plotline in my books. Ough.

(Pookie posse: @dullyn @gwalch-mei @trojancoconut I'm adding u in cuz yes)

[natto-axolotl]

ok posting about my nezha 2 post-postcanon au in a way that's legible now. finally. preface this started out as liyinbao shitposting and got a little serious after 6k words.

The Premise (or: random bits and bobs that happen in the version of NZ3 that lives in the brains of my friends and I):

nezha 3 is the war of the investiture With Certain Elements Tweaked (nezha and co. are secret third faction alongside the chan sect/king wu of zhou and the jie sect/king zhou of shang)

the curse wuliang puts on SGB lets him remotely puppet him, much to the dismay and displeasure of ao bing and co. the inevitable climactic fight ends up with ao bing taking a hit to a horn, which breaks it.

SGB dies and goes to heaven by sealing the eye of the northern sea. he gets better once the investiture invests him! congrats on the promotion!

he deals wonderfully with getting everything he ever wanted at the cost of everything he was doing it for by going AWOL for like 3 years

a method to un-pill lady yin is found, but Not Without Consequence; though her body and mind are restored, the physical consequences of her life has not been. her 20something year old body now has the muscle memory and tone of a newborn. that's not. not great.

thus actual premise: everyone ends up spending most of their time around each other at the rebuilt chentang pass because How Do You Unpack All That. No Seriously Who Can You Even Talk To About All This.

Actual Character Things

nezha: newly minted third lotus prince, marshal of the central altar, boy-prince protector god of chentang pass but everyone is super chill with him and treats him like he's just the li's super powerful and helpful son. doesn't quite know how to live and be with people that aren't scared of him or hold an instinctual aversion towards who he is by birth. every small business owner loves him.

ao bing: newly minted huagai xing. not dead. broke a horn, adjusting to that still. also not having to fear for his life or kneel to unfairness to gain approval for the first time in his life. doesn't quite know what to do now that he doesn't have the pressure of being the spirit pearl and redeeming all of dragonkind by becoming an immortal now. shoots the shit with nezha 4/7 days. has developed a hobby of trying out as many fruits as he can.

lady yin: newly returned to her physical form. can join ao bing, nezha and sgb (in this au) in the "I lost my corporeal form, basically died and came back to life good enough in all the wrong ways and all I got was this shitty ru" club. has to use a cane if she's out and about for too long. doesn't quite know how to go back to her life as nexha's mom and a fellow general of chentang pass— if she can even go back to that. unstoppable charisma.

li jing: having a frankly insane time between his son now being a god and his wife coming back from being pilled. he's trying his best man. also holds unstoppable charisma, only negated by One Leopard Jing's Complete Unwillingness To Open Up.

shen gongbao: newly minted water splitting general of the east sea. having a great time with his new status and hasn't been in the middle of nowhere grappling with how quickly and cruelly he was given everything he wanted. doesn't quite know how to forgive himself for everything he did to get here, especially since it might not have even mattered. unknowingly being wooed by chentang guan's hottest open marriage.

ao guang and tyzr I haven't thought about much but both are living their best lives (tyzr is now one of the golden immortals, ao guang does not have to live under as much stress and fear for his people as he used to) and also wondering where the fuck sgb is. both are giving him space for entirely wrong reasons.

shen zhengdao and shen xiaobao are important but. that's for later hehe!

[crownrots]

— WIP WEEKEND ✨

tagged by @simonxriley , thank you! 🫶

tagging @queennymeria @lilywatt @loriane-elmuerto @shellibisshe @jackiesarch @jacobseed @lucky-107 @countessrooster @arborstone @erinkeenan @risingsh0t @thedeadthree @frankwoods @josephzeppeli @imogenkol @cryptcombat @roberthouse69 @florbelles @shadowglens @arthrmorgann @leviiackrman + anybody else that wants to share what they’re working on!

Gael keeps his voice steady and strong, or tries to at least. Thick, clumsy fingers pull the glasses from his face as he rubs at his eyes; his hand had started to shake months ago, but never this much, never as they were now. 

Tears sting at the backs of his eyes and he’s grateful then, that Tommy had ushered most of them out of the room in an attempt to give him some privacy. He’d always liked him. Like the way he cared about people. 

“Hey, Donny.” Gael wipes at a tear as it slides down his weathered cheek, leaving a searing chill in his wake; the walkie crackles, deafening, uncomfortable silence greeting him on the other end. 

The object finally crackles to life and Donovan curses on the other end. Gael reprimands him jokingly, a fresh barrage of tears clouding his vision as he leans against the workbench for support, old knees threatening to sink to the woven carpet beneath him. 

“Yeah, sorry. I uh -” His eldest is silent on the other end of the walkie for a beat of two, as if searching for the right words to say. If there were any to be had at all. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry -” 

He’d never heard Donovan sound so small. 

He’d always been larger than life. Took the whole older brother, man of the house after him, things seriously; too seriously, he thinks back fondly. 

Donovan was always confident, self assured, almost bordering on arrogant at times. 

But now?

He sounds like the little boy who had scraped his knee learning to ride his bike. He sounds like the little boy who cried on his first day of preschool, afraid to lean into a world without his mother and father present at every turn. His voice trembles the same way it did when he had called Gael in the middle of the night to pick him up from a sleep over because he was frightened of the dark. His sorry sounds like the same one he whispered, half fearful and half angry at himself for breaking his grandmother’s vase one Christmas, a lifetime ago. 

Only, this was not a boo boo he could kiss and put a Band-Aid on. This was not something that gets a redo, not something they can sweep under a rug and keep between them until next Christmas. 

It dawns on Gael, briefly and painfully, that there would not be another Christmas for Donovan. 

He had always pictured himself dying before his boys. 

Even before the world went to hell and death permeated everything around them like a stench that could never be washed out; he’d always pictured he’d be first. 

The walkie crackles, Donovan’s half sobbed words spilling through.

“I’m scared, dad -” 

A moment of heavy silence blankets the space at his words, the rain coming down harder now, pelting the aging roof above them. A trickle of water hits her cheek as she turns away from him, but she barely notices. 

She knows what he’s asking and she wishes the answer was simple; I don't know. A confident, you weren’t bitten, spoken without hesitation or a lump in her throat. Only, she knows it runs deeper than that. The very thought of whatever this was, causes her heart to thump against her chest a little harder. 

Leftover adrenaline, she tells herself, it’ll stop soon. 

“You want me to shoot you next time? Fine. I will.” Kyle finally scoffs, her attempt to shrug off the looming conversation failing, attention still trained on the broken walkie she had pulled from her bag.

It should have been easy, someone says they’re bit, you shoot them. 

She’s done it before. 

Many times. 

But somehow, Tommy’s very presence had turned her inside out, all those soft, fragile spots that somehow remained after years of covering them with a hardened shell of indifference and isolation were exposed; worn on her sleeve, written in the way she looked at him, in the tremble of her hand whenever he was close, the catch in her voice when she’d try to counter any truth he might bring up. 

She couldn’t have shot him, not even if he was bitten and begging, accepting of a fate they all expected to face at some point. She couldn’t have hurt him, killed him, even if she wanted. 

He watches her for a long moment, says her name when he wants to challenge her words, gentle and quiet, understanding and even a little bit relieved. 

She forces those soft spots back inside for now and still doesn’t look at him, won’t look at him. 

“I’m going to check on the horse.” 

[junibugs]

hello

[zeeposting]

guess who wrote a 798 word story on how scroll and quill met 🔥🔥

its very long so

Scroll sighed. He didn’t want to go to whoever's party this was. 

“Chin up, sweetie.” His mother didn’t turn around, yet could tell he was sulking.

“Can’t I stay home?” He pleaded, once again.

“You need to make some friends, Scroll. This is a good opportunity!” 

He sighs again as the car pulls into the venue. He wishes he had denied his mothers wishes and taken Fuzzy, his beloved cat plush, with him.

“It’ll be fun!” She promises. Scroll doesn’t believe her. He just wants to go home.

As they walk in, he sees a lot of people. Too many people. He grabs onto his moms leg, not wanting to stray far from the one person he knows. She walks over to various people, having short conversations, but Scroll doesn’t say anything.

He clings tighter to his moms leg the more people notice him. He doesn’t know any of these people, so he doesn’t see why he should talk to them.

He glances over, across most of the parents, spotting a few kids running around. Around his age, it seems. Some of the kids are a pencil, an ink pad and a scruffy looking feather. A quill, maybe? Feeling his mother begin to move, he reverts his attention back to his mom, moving onto a container of fish food and exchanging a few words.

The fish food leans down towards him. “Hello there, little guy!”

Scroll leans away. Even though the fish food chuckles at this, he thinks it makes it clear he wants to go home. He thinks. 

“Sorry about him, he’s not… social.” His mother apologizes. Why does she need to say sorry..?

Then his mother walks up to a pen. Scroll, being 5, struggles to read the label. He doesn’t bother to listen to the conversation, and looks back at those kids he saw. The feather seems… intimidating, honestly. He watches as they run around, one or two fall, but his attention snaps back to his mom and the pen when he hears his name.

“Scroll’s not the most social, but I’m hoping at some point he’ll talk to some other kids.” His mother sighs.

“My son’s pretty friendly, but ends up scaring off his friends. He’s… chaotic.” The pen glances over at the kids that are running around. 

Scroll looks back to see the quill biting someone. The pencil was trying to drag them off, a packet seeming to yell, and an ink pad… also biting them. Any of those kids could belong to the pen, they all seemed chaotic.

The pen and his mother converse for a bit, but he doesn’t pay much attention. The group of kids running around seemed… interesting. His focus wavered between the conversation and the kids, but he didn’t say anything.

“We’ll just have to see if they get along, I guess. I’ll bring him over if you want?” The pen proposed, pointing over at the group of kids. 

“Sounds like a good idea, thank you!” His mother smiled, glancing down at Scroll. “Try to make some friends, okay?” 

“...where’s she going?” He ignored what she asked, and instead countered with a question about the pen.

“Well, Gel Pen wants to see if her son and you can be friends!” She smiles awkwardly, glancing back up.

Scroll sees the pen— Gel Pen— walking back with the feather. Him? He thinks, worried about how the feather will act. I don't want to talk to… that! 

       As they approach, he begins to hear their voices fade in. 

       “...so no biting.”

       “Awwh, okay… but can I-”

       “No, Quill.”

       “You didn't even let me speak!”

       “I know you well enough to know what you were going to say.” Gel Pen smiles, looking up to wave at his mother. Scroll kept holding onto his moms leg tightly.

      Gel Pen introduced Quill to his mother and they started to talk, but Scroll didn't quite pay attention. He silently analyzes Quill, seeing how he seems confident with himself. 

       “...and paired with how much he bites, he tends to scare off his friends.” Gel Pen sighs.

       “No I don't!! My friends are my friends because they like me!!” Quill interrupts. With his expression and slightly whiny voice, Scroll can't help but laugh.

       This catches Quill's attention, who looks over at Scroll. “Oh, hey, do you want to play tag with us?” Quill smiles, gesturing to the other kids he saw.

      Scroll glances back up at his mom, who's avoiding eye contact with him. “Uhm, sure…?”

      He can hear his mother sigh with relief. Quill grabs Scroll's wrist and pulls him over to the other kids, dodging all the parents standing around. 

      Scroll stumbles over his own feet, but he can't help but feel excited to meet those other kids.

[lovelylotusf1]

Trying to write again as a much needed distraction. Pulled out the desktop goose and almost cried laughing at the picture it chose to bring onto my desktop.

[sambambucky]

IM IN THE MIDDLE OF THE SCOTT/SAM TWO CHAP FIC AND I AM SCREAMING YOU. I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE (I would comment but I’m too involved I will comment tho jus-)

[unnonexistence]

new year, new WIP post! at the end of 2024 i had 8672 words edited and marked as Done on the Big WIP. now i'm up to 8865

[etherealplans]

eddie moves to el paso so buck moves into his house thats how we get rid of the loft

[umbrasnow]

The Vision

//ooc • a written piece regarding one of Khione's more mundane escapades during their CORSAIR days, mostly because I feel like it has to be understood; they have always been a very specific kind of a menace >:3c

There was some kind of apparition at the Low Orbit that night. 

At least, that was the only way she could justify to herself how she’d never seen the figure on the tall barstool, one leg hooked over the other in such a way it bared the length of their thigh through the slit in their skirt. That was not a sight she would have just forgotten, of that she was pretty damn sure; she hadn’t been able to stop looking back to the halo of curling white that caught the light in a near-glow, the glimmering sparkle dancing over tan skin. Body glitter, maybe? Something like that, at least. 

They almost didn’t look real in the dim lighting, long fingers curled dainty around the stem of a cocktail glass. Absentminded swirling of something pink-and-yellow, probably fruity, the taste probably coated over their tongue by now. Gently glinting golden eyes watched empty space over the rim, absolutely some kind of prosthetic but, Ra below were they pretty ones. You could say that about all their prosthetics, actually. She’d never seen porcelain-like plating like that, spiraling blue vines over pristine white; not so close at least. Maybe once or twice on the infonet boards, usually on the arm or leg of some model type from the big corps. 

Hell she wouldn’t be surprised if the apparition had walked right on out of one of those boards to take up their seat and get a drink. Or- maybe she was just one too many in. She’d been downing liquid courage for the last hour or so, trying to pluck up the nerve to approach the figure before reality kicked back in, and they’d be gone like a dream in the morning. Not like her bastard friends were much help, gentle elbows to the ribs and cheeky smiles. Would rather snicker into their glasses at her feeling a deer in headlights watching the dazzling light, than hype her up. One such jerk piped up as she drained the last of her glass, smile tugged too far in one direction-

“Look if you’re going to be a baby about chatting up a femme just because they’ve got their legs out, I’ll go talk to them for you. Lord knows, I’ve probably got a better shot anyway-” It was a joke, always was with her, but her smart mouth won her nothing but an irritable huff and a paper coaster flicked into her face.

“Oh piss off, Nel, it’s hardly just their legs. You have eyes, use them.”  

“Yeah? And you have legs of your own, for walking. Hop to, pilot.” Given in the cadence of an order, smirk only getting wider at how her friend sputtered; grasping for a good retort, finding none.

Fuckssake, she was a dickhead- but she was a motivational one at least. Mustering her courage, she set the empty glass down with a petty little groan before getting to her feet , and turning to face them.

Heavy-lidded, luminous golden eyes were watching her from the bar. Despite the drink she’d knocked back mere moments ago, suddenly her throat felt dry enough to click when she swallowed. Something fluttered in her gut. 

Well, no better time than now.

Small mercies the stool next to them was empty. Taking a steadying breath she crossed the gap, sliding into the open seat, keenly aware all the while of their eyes on her; god those things caught the light in a mesmerising way, shifting glimmers and iridescence under the soft lighting. 

…shit, right yeah that was why she’d been stalling. Every conversation starter she’d ever used had flown straight out of her head, and looking them up and down was not helping the matter. This close it was obvious, whatever was making them sparkle like that? Not glitter- some kind of bodymod maybe? It certainly drew the eye down their tall figure, the bodysuit like a second skin, all pearl whites and porcelain blues. 

Oh Ra they were still just looking at her, probably waiting for her to say something, shit, uh-

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.” Ah fucking hell. Well, even the most worn-out threadbare line in the book was something, and despite the internal wince that shot through her at what’d come out of her mouth, they didn’t seem to mind too much. Lips curving in amusement, head tilting just slightly with what she was hoping she’d read correctly as a kind of interest. 

“I come and go.” This was the first she’d heard them speak all night, breath catching in her throat; low and soft, a gentle accent she couldn’t quite place but she knew she liked the sound of. Their glass raised to their lips again, but their eyes didn’t leave her. Hadn’t left her, since she’d approached them. “It’s possible that we’ve crossed paths before, some time beyond recall. It’s a large ship. Lots of people, every day.”

Breathe in, idiot- her tongue whet her lip as she met their suggestion with a laugh, warmth rising to her cheeks. Ra, she hoped she wasn’t blushing too badly. Wasn’t bloody fair, pretty face, pretty voice, how tall would they be if they stood up? Far taller than she was, that much at least she could just tell. They cut an awful striking figure, was the long and short of it. 

“I think I’d remember meeting someone lookin’ like yourself.”

It came out breathier than she intended, a fact that only stoked the heat across her face but- well, they didn’t seem to mind, not from the way their lips twitched and spread into smiling satisfaction, setting their drink down on the bar. Her breath stuttered as they leant in by a fraction, a metal and plate palm coming to rest on her thigh as their weight shifted toward her, fingers curled over the curve of her leg. 

“Now, what do you mean by that darling?” she could have sworn she could hear her pulse in her ears, gaze caught in a snare by those glimmering golden eyes that’d fixed on her face. A curling lock of white hair had fallen from over their shoulder, and she wanted quite badly to reach out and wind her fingers through it but- no, no would that be too forward? She did put her own hand gingerly over theirs, though, fingers trailing up their mechanical wrist, trying not to think about how she could feel the joints twist at their every move (was she into that? Maye she was into that.)

“Well-” this was going shockingly well all things considered, and she was trying so very hard not to jinx it now. “Not to put too fine a point on it, you’re… um. Gorgeous.” 

Blunt maybe, but hey- true. A quiet, purring laugh bled from their lips. 

“Really.” It wasn’t a question, so much as an invitation to continue. She offered a smile of her own, her confidence gathering just a smidge as their other hand (this one flesh, warm) rose to brush some hair away from her face, fingertips lingering against her heated cheeks.

“Course. You’ve got real pretty hair, think I’d remember that alone. Not to mention the rest of you…” Their touch was trailing down, over the rise of her cheek, a single finger dragged across the line of her jaw. She could see how their eyes fixed on the rise of her throat as she swallowed, heart fluttering. “I couldn’t look away, soon as I saw you. I’m pretty damn sure I couldn’t forget a face like yours.” 

It took an awful pretty set of eyes to make self-satisfaction look quite that good. Slowly their touch ghosted from her jaw, to the corner of her mouth, a shuddering gasp parting her lips as their fingers settled gentle against the lower. Trying to think in straight lines was fast becoming a futile effort, her eyes dragged down to watch their tongue drag itself slow over their lip. 

“You’re sweet.” The words, the tone of them alone, were enough to send a flash of heat down through her chest, quicken her heart, stop her breath flat. Oh, she might be out of her depth- but, who needed to breath? Who knows. Drowning could be fun. She could believe that, looking at those hungry eyes. 

There were two fingers lingering against her lower lip, gently pressing into the soft flesh, teasing, testing. Almost on instinct, she obeyed the silent request; her mouth opened, with a fluttering whine she was praying nobody could hear over the hubbub of the bar. That self-satisfaction in those golden eyes sparked and grew teeth and she could have sworn a low purr started to rumble in their chest. 

The taste of salt and something fruity ghosted over her tongue as they took the invitation offered, their fingers gliding over her lips, teeth; the world narrowed sharply, to the taste of them, their arm on her thigh, and the way their flat golden eyes were fixed on her like a cat with trapped prey. 

Yeah, maybe drowning wasn’t so bad actually. 

They took their sweet time, exploring what they couldn’t fully see, fingertips finding the divots of her teeth, the flat crowns of her molars; their smile cracked open to show their own teeth, as a breathless whine bled of her. Inhibitions started to slip, her tongue pressing up into their touch, reaching for that tempting lock of hair and twisting their fingers through it- soft. Like she’d thought. 

A low, indulgent laugh drew her eyes back to their face, back to the way they were looking at her. For a brief moment, their fingers pressed back and back over her tongue, a shiver through her spine as they brushed against her tonsils before slowly, slowly dragging those fingers back- lingering for a long, drawn out moment against her lips, before leaving them entirely with a satisfied hum. 

“That’s a pretty look on you.” 

Ra below, their voice was magnetic; even over the chatter of the bar she could hear it, soft and sweet and heated as they brushed against her cheekbone, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear with a lingering touch. Speaking was maybe a little beyond her at that moment, but it felt wrong somehow not to answer in some kind of way- acting on a whim, she raised the lock of hair twisting over her fingers to her lips, with a kind of breathless reverence. 

Maybe if she tried hard enough, she could memorise the way their lips curled at the gesture. 

“I’ll remember your face, the next time our paths cross.” Their hand trailed down her throat, over her chest- and then in a fluid motion, they rose to their feet. 

And then with a flutter of white hair, they were gone. 

For the first time in a long few minutes, she remembered to breathe in enough to properly fill her lungs, shaking hand rising to her jaw and flexing it, gently.  … Fucking Hell.

[jessaerys]

like i really do believe the first rule of being even slightly relevant in the zeitgeist is to never read stuff about yourself online. like if you really need to defend yourself there's other ways like statement and interviews. i love carrie (in the i love this podcast so much kind of way) and have a lot of compassion for her and really hope nothing but good things to come her way but GIRL. literally death to interactions between creators and audience there's nothing good down that road and it's hard for me to consider anyone who falls prey to the siren song of interacting with your fanbase emotionally mature