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you can spread your wings on a silver night by scribblingdragon
Fandoms: Project Hail Mary (2026), Project Hail Mary - Andy Weir
02 Jun 2026
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Summary
"Grace have more limbs than other humans. Why, question? Is mutation, question?"
"Not a mutation," he clarifies. "Well. Not an uncommon mutation, at least. Don't go around asking people if they're mutated ever, actually," he points at Rocky. "It's rude."
"Mm. Okay." Grace watches him shuffle in place for a moment, claws tapping. "Can tell Rocky anyway. Is not rude if us. Few boundaries now."
"Yeah," he concedes. "Few boundaries now." He allows the blanket to slip over the curve of his shoulder so his wings might stretch out, feathers trembling and shivering at their tips.
//
Or: the one where Grace has wings. And it doesn't change anything, except in all the ways that it changes everything.
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"Avid," he drags the name out, long and slow. Harsh and grating over his tongue; a name he never expected to utter again. The man ahead of him shows no comprehension, nothing but a downturn of the mouth, a pulling of the lips into a sad little pout.
"Um." is all Avid manages, fidgeting with the front of his apron and twisting the ties around his fingers. He doesn't meet Pyro's eyes again. "How do you...know my name?"
Pyro resists the urge to cast his eyes skyward. Evidently, evidenced by the goings-on of his life and his general continued existence and therefore continued suffering and misery, there is no benevolent god up there looking kindly upon him. Instead, he lets his smile cut into something meaner as he leans in.
"Because I'm the one that has been given the pleasure of walking you through how we do things here." He pauses, watches as Avid looks at Liv over his shoulder, probably thinking about how much nicer she was. Tough luck. If Pyro suffers, so does Avid. "It's also on your nametag."or: what if pyravid had a second chance in a coffee shop?
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need a place to call home (you smell just like it) by scribblingdragon for sconesalot
Fandoms: Vampires SMP
17 Dec 2025
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"What is that."
"Um." He blinks once, twice and looks away before the third one. Unable to stand how Scott watches him, unblinking in his intensity. "A nest?" Scott's irritation doesn't wane with his answer, if anything — if possible — it only grows stronger. "My nest?" He tries instead.
He looks back into the corner he had claimed as his, a good few feet from his bed and tucked cosily into the corner, safe. The bed he had been gifted, in all its bare-mattressed glory, sat squarely in the centre of the room, exposed on all sides. His nest had walls all around, nestled comfortably where they converged, right in the junction so he can push himself back into the wall and feel secure. Surrounded on all sides and eyes on the door, comforted, even if it's nothing but cold, unfeeling brick.
"That," Scott spits, no small amount of venom in his voice, "is not a nest."
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The crypt yawns open in front of him, wide and gaping. A maw into the depths of the earth that threatens to swallow him whole, if he would only let it. Avid stares at it, down the throat to hell, and it stares right back at him, mocking with its gap-toothed smile, leering at him from the ragged hillside.
Only yesterday he'd bounded into that place with a reckless abandon he can no longer summon, lost laughter bubbling in his chest. A high that had buoyed him along and kept him firmly on the top of the world.
He sits at the bottom of the world now, shoes scraping through the gravedirt underfoot as he scuffs his way along, firmly grounded and left to rot as others take to the skies on skin-thin wings.
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Decision made, he twists awkwardly, trying not to draw attention to himself as tugs his cloak around so he might look at the back of it. His plan had been simple: grab and chuck it into the air. Was it the gentlest course of action? No. But was it the safest, most convenient one? Absolutely.
Instead, he finds the breath stilling in his lungs, chest growing cold as he takes in the bat in front of him. Short, stubby ears rather than the long, slender ones of the brown bats around them. The bat’s eyes gleam, nestled in an intelligent face.
A vampire bat. A vampire bat.
Series
- Part 1 of got a pocketful of bats
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Stars In Your Eyes, Ice In Your Veins by icedrivenwinds, scribblingdragon
Fandoms: 原神 | Genshin Impact (Video Game)
07 Sep 2025
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“I don't think you're one of my strays,” the man says. Kaeya startles a little at the rasp of his voice, lurching backwards only to remember where he is a second later, leaning back in with an arm over the man’s throat to overcompensate. He takes a little satisfaction in the way the man chokes at the added pressure. He’s disgruntled when the stranger continues to grin, and Kaeya gets the sudden impression that the choking noise was simply to satisfy him and not because the man felt any threat.
“I'm not a stray,” he retorts hotly, remembering that the man had insulted him only moments prior.
“Are you not?” The man speaks easily, only confirming Kaeya's suspicions that the wheeze was simply to play into the role of a submissive captive, and not because the man’s airways were actually at risk of harm.
Series
- Part 1 of with stars in their eyes
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The Time Bob Adopted A Cat (AKA The Thunderbolts' Biggest Hater) by scribblingdragon
Fandoms: Thunderbolts (Movie 2025), Marvel Cinematic Universe
07 Jun 2025
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He curls a careful hand around the fur, scooping the other below it carefully and holding it – her? – out towards them. The lump of fur uncurls just enough to reveal pointed ears, a soft face, and blue, slitted eyes before Bob is drawing the cat – it’s a cat, Bob had a fucking cat under his jacket – close to his chest again, holding it there like a baby.
“A cat,” Bucky says. He’s doing his best I'm not mad, just disappointed voice. Bob pouts a little deeper. “You brought a cat back to the tower.”
Series
- Part 1 of thunderbolts fics
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in one's heart of hearts
phrase of heart
1. in one's inmost feelings. -
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“So, you know the current wildcard, all the fun with growing and shrinking.”
“I wouldn’t call it fun, but yeah. Kinda hard to escape from right now.”
“Yeah, yeah, well, um. I maybe – might have…gotten myself stuck?”
“Gotten yourself stuck?” Tango blinks. “You mean you're stuck like this?"
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a tree falls (and it is silent) by scribblingdragon
Fandoms: 3rd Life | Last Life SMP Series
17 Feb 2024
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…She can still see the island above her. If she looks.
It is fading, retreating back into the void, folding into another corner of reality.
The island has shrunk to the same size as every other star around it, glimmering in the same taunting, teasing way. Just out of reach, but almost like she could reach out and snatch it up in her hands. She keeps her eyes fixed on it anyway, even as it shrinks to a pinprick of light – as though the moment she looks away she loses all hope of returning.
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“Pray tell, then, what is it you want me to do?”
“I want you to make this.” The Sheriff taps on the design detailing the measurements and everything else he wants. “Please,” he adds, seemingly remembering his manners.
“Mm.” Scott pretends to consider it. “I’ll see what I can do for you, lover boy.”
[Or: Jimmy gets a hat for Tango]
Series
- Part 16 of Red Bandit AU
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Leaving the egg behind, despite how she might later look back on it, was not easy. With the rose-tinted glasses of the future (a phrase she’ll learn and forget, and learn again as she has this realisation) she can say it was as easy as breathing. As easy as taking one step and then another.
It was not easy.
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all my love will be your breath by scribblingdragon
Fandoms: 3rd Life | Last Life SMP Series
27 Dec 2023
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The first sign that something is wrong. That something is going to go wrong, is the prickling pain in his hand. Tango flexes his fingers a few times when the sensation reaches him, attempting to shake off the pins and needles as he continues working.
The first flash of biting cold has him gasping, hand spasming as the pencil slips from his fingers. It clatters loudly onto the half-finished door he’s using as a makeshift table.
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“Oh, love…” the sheer agony in Scott’s voice is enough to make Tango crack his eyes open, watery from his subsequent coughing fits, tears continuing to bead up as he tries to bring Scott’s shape into focus.
When he does, he almost wishes he hadn’t, having to resist the urge to recoil from the way Scott is looking at him.
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It’s stupid to begin to feel this kind of reluctance now. Stupid to feel the shaking of his hands, the trembling of his fingers as they line up along the string of his bow. Stupid, to begin to feel a swirl of regret deep in his gut, despite the layers of blood already lathering his hands – blood that he put on his own hands as he seized the lives of his friends in those very same hands.
So maybe – maybe maybe maybe – that’s why he can’t resist the pull forwards. The urge to follow the bloody trail of who he and Pearl hunt over the grassy plains.
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He wasn’t first, wasn’t the first here this time, so where is she?
She is exactly where we want her
“And that’s not ominous at all,” he mutters under his breath.
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don't turn out the lights (kiss yourself goodnight) by scribblingdragon
Fandoms: 3rd Life | Last Life SMP Series
24 Nov 2023
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“Hi,” Martyn continues to grin, even as it turns awkward and even guiltier. “I'm coming over. Can I come over?” Martyn pauses on the bridge then, as though just realising his presence might be unwanted after ditching him all morning.
“I don't know if I should let you,” he says. It’s not an answer either way.
Series
- Part 8 of mer scott (+ fishfucker martyn)
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are we allies or enemies? (this will be the death of me) by scribblingdragon
Fandoms: 3rd Life | Last Life SMP Series
11 Nov 2023
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Only when it persists does he finally close all of his eyes again, opening only the normal pair to stare down at his wrist mournfully.
Invisible now, but visible just moments ago, was a green string, thin and wavering on occasion but resolutely leading somewhere. That somewhere presumably being Joel. The sensation makes sense now, if his soul has, once again, been tied to another. This one somehow being more reckless than the last.
[alternatively, what if the "double life" of session three was a little more...literal]
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Tango’s not entirely sure when the semi-regular routine began. Only that the habit is well-worn at this point, meaning it’s been at least two months. It takes two months to form a habit, apparently, though some people do it quicker than that. He, however, is a creature of habit and takes a while to adjust his routine.
Which is why it comes as a surprise to him when he finds that he’s already packed away several scraps, and bits of food that would go to waste at the end of the day otherwise, into a takeaway container, ready to give to his nightly companion.
[Or, the werewolf Jimmy + vampire Tango AU]
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“Shush,” Pearl hisses, slightly more forceful than the last few times she’s told him to be quiet. “You're going to wake them up.” Despite her warning, she continues to let out small giggles every few seconds, and his comm continues to wobble in his hands as he tries to focus the camera.
[Or, a small snippet from the sleepover at Pearl's.]