#wip: the devolved

[chalkscrub]

always forget i can drop off my messy wips and behind the scenes prep work on this blog right here.....until now

[revvethasmythh]

it's been weeks and i'm still so compelled by the background storyline of hawke going to weisshaupt after here lies the abyss. like. it makes no damn sense. maybe if hawke has a living sibling who is a grey warden, you can twist the logic of it, but i did not have that and also hawke said she wanted to make sure corypheus died and neither staying in the fade NOR going to weisshaupt really accomplishes this goal. like there is NO reason for hawke to be up at weisshaupt, this is not in her lane, this is not her business, her skin is NOT clear, her crops are NOT watered. the wardens are not the responsibility of your Just Some Guy from Kirkwall who has potentially zero connections to the wardens at all except for that one time they super causally tried to use her as a blood sacrifice (maybe she and the first warden can laugh about it some day, but somehow i doubt it!).

BUT. but. the mental imagine of hawke going there and then her sibling (if alive) and her love interest ALSO going there, just to meet up with her, makes it so bonkers funny i don't even care if it doesn't make sense. wtf do you mean hawke family reunion relationship drama in the austere home of the wardens where they all show up and then the entire leadership of the wardens suddenly implodes as civil war breaks out and then their asses get STUCK there. wtf do you mean hawke inadvertently sticks her ass in the middle of yet another civil war while simultaneously having to patch things up with her LI and deal with a sibling dynamic at the same time. hawke can't catch a fucking break istg. it's just her, her sibling, and her LI as their own little three person party while some truly WILD shit goes down and the epilogues are all ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ about what happens other than like two lines that put the most insane images into my head. there's a sped-up video of this going down in my mind with the benny hill theme playing in the background. why does varric talk like hawke is still at weisshaupt during trespasser, which takes place two entire years after hawke was meant to go there to give a basic report and then dip. how is this THE most hawke thing to ever happen and we're just. told nothing more about it except that varric got One™️ message from her via an entire smuggling syndicate that essentially says "damn, shits crazy here" and that he assumes hawke will walk away from the building while it's exploding sometime in the near future because apparently the conflict there is not yet resolved. again, this is TWO YEARS LATER. like trespasser is fun and all but truly can we revisit wtf this was all about because WHAT

[grimseverity]

Was doodling and I came up with a pretty dope concept for a Cult of the Lamb paladin cosplay :)

[plusultraetc]

final(s) straw

Ironically, none of Nemuri's friends sleep like normal people.

At 12:47 am, Nemuri lets her head fall to the table.

“I hate finals week.”

Across from her, Yamada makes a sympathetic noise. “Why don’t they tell you when you assign a paper that you’re going to have to grade the papers after?”

“Exactly.” She points in his general direction without lifting her head. “I’m so glad someone finally knows my pain.”

It’s not even Friday, is the thing. If it was Friday-technically-Saturday, Nemuri could hike up her big girl pants and get this done, but it’s Thursday-technically-Friday and she has to proctor two exams tomorrow and so all she has to hike up are her most luxurious pink pajama bottoms and even they aren’t really making her feel any better.

She has patrol on Friday evenings. She is going to cry. 

“I’m going to sleep all weekend,” she says, half-affirmation, half-promise.

Yamada makes another note in the margin of the paper he’s grading. It joins a sea of its crimson brethren. “I’m not.”

“Oh, shit, nooo.” She reaches across the table and makes grabby hands until he surrenders one of his own. “Quit your job.”

“Which one?”

“Not this one. You can’t leave me here.”

“You brought me here.”

Nemuri hums with her cheek pressed to the top of tonight’s lowest-scoring final. “Like a mother bringing a child into this world of suffering.”

“Kayama, what?”

She pats his hand delicately and then digs her nails in with one final squeeze. Yamada yelps and jolts away. The dishes rattle warningly in her kitchen cabinets.

“I hope that woke you up, because it did jack shit for me,” she grumbles, pushing herself upright. Yamada shoots her a petulant look, shaking his abused hand loosely.

“If you’re really that tired, take a nap. I’ll wake you in a little bit.”

“Yamada, sweetie, if I take a nap right now there won’t be a force on earth that could wake me.”

“You could sleep on the floor.”

Nemuri blinks at him as he returns his attention to his paper. “Like, on a futon?”

“No. Like on the floor. That way, you can’t get too comfortable, and it’ll be easier to wake up.”

“What?”

He glances up at her. “What do you mean, ‘what?’ I did that all the time in high school.”

He did… what? Floor naps? He did floor naps in high school? Yamada was a year behind her at UA, but she has the vague recollection that he always had really good grades. Like, really good. Like pull an all-nighter, study until your eyes are burning, and then nap on the floor instead of going to bed so you can keep studying good.

“Yamada, what?”

“Why do you keep saying that!”

Nemuri flails. “Floor naps!?”

“They’re effective!”

“They’re ridiculous! That’s something a ridiculous person does!” She would know, and so would he, because their mutual ridiculous person does pretty much exactly that thing. Nemuri reaches across the table and Yamada, beautiful fool that he is, lets her grab his hand again. “If I had known you were taking floor naps in high school, I would have intervened much sooner. I would have made it my personal mission to tank your GPA in the name of sleep.” A horrible thought occurs to her. “Wait, do you still do that now? Do you just curl up on the floor at the station next to your recording equipment and sleep for half an hour?”

Yamada rolls his eyes. “Who do I look like, Aizawa? Of course not!” He pauses. “And half an hour is too long. No matter how uncomfortable you are, you will fall totally asleep after half an hour. Fifteen to twenty minutes is ideal.”

“Oh my god.”

“And you don’t take floor naps in public. You take them in the privacy of your own home where you can lose control of your life but no one is around to see it.”

“Oh my god. I’m getting you professional help.”

“For what? I don’t even do that anymore. I don’t have time to nap.” He waves a marked-up essay at her. “I have three jobs.”

[frogsinflannel]

w.i.p. snippet that at this point I’m not sure is getting finished ??? 911 - Eddie POV on bucktommy

“I guess, uh. Guess we better go then.” Buck looks unsure, even as he says it, glancing between Eddie and Tommy as they all stand around Eddie’s kitchen.

“Sure,” Tommy says. “I’m ready to go if you are.” He leans back against the sink and takes a quick drink of his water. “We can go ahead and get out of your hair if that’s what you want, Eddie.”

“N-not that we’re trying to ditch you,” Buck says, too quick. “We don’t have to leave if—”

“What? You two gonna hang around here and I have to deal with whatever hormones all that whipped up?” Eddie gives him a flat look and Buck grins, ducks his head and looks half-sheepish and half-pleased.

“Yeah, okay,” Buck says. He readjusts the strap of his bag over his shoulder. “I guess we do have… plans.”

Tommy makes a noise, his face twitching, but when Eddie looks over it’s schooled back to indifference. His eyes are bright, though, and it’s not hard to figure out what Buck means by plans.

It must show on his face, because as soon as Eddie’s had the thought Tommy’s expression has gone scrunchy and smirky and then he winks. Eddie flushes before he can help it–which serves him right, he thinks, because that’s not something he should be thinking about his friends, right? Not what they’re about to leave his house to do to each other.

“Hey,” Tommy says, stepping over to Buck. “You can’t blame me, right Diaz?” His voice is warm and fond, a little teasing. “I mean, this guy?” He puts one big arm around Buck’s waist and tugs him, playful and close, until their bodies are pressed together. “Adorable.”

He’s talking to Eddie but it’s not for Eddie. It’s all for Buck.

And Buck knows it. Is delighted by it, if the expression on his face is telling. His eyes are fixed on Tommy and he’s grinning, tongue between his teeth so it sticks out of the corner of his mouth. “Did you hear that, Eddie?” he asks. He leans in closer to Eddie, raising a hand to cup the back of Tommy’s neck. “I’m adorable.”

“Sure you are, Evan.”

Tommy makes a soft, rumbly noise of approval–like a purr–and Buck chuckles at him, quiet and a little heated. Eddie turns away from them, grabs something just so his hands are busy. It feels intrusive–and it’s his damn kitchen. He hears the sound of a kiss, and embarrassed heat curls up his spine. He feels it reddening his neck and ears.

“Yeah, uh, sorry Eddie,” Buck says, distracted, and Eddie can only imagine why. He’s already pushing at Tommy, shoving him toward the door. “W-we gotta go. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He sighs and scrubs a hand through this hair. “You two get out of here.”

“Hey.” Buck drops Tommy’s hand and steps closer. “I’m serious. If you need us to stay or—if you need me to stay, then—“

“I got it, Buck,” he says, grumbling. “I’m a big boy. Now go. Maul your boyfriend before you pop a blood vessel. You’re getting your pheromones all over my kitchen.”

Buck laughs and then leans in, grabbing Eddie and reeling him in close. Their foreheads touch and Buck says “You got this, man. We… we got this. We got you.”

He pulls away and meets Tommy’s eye. He looks at Eddie with gentle, friendly concern. You good?

Eddie nods. “Go,” he says. “Get out of here.”

Buck grins, stepping backwards into Tommy. He looks over his shoulder, his expression morphing into something that Eddie recognizes as his horny face as his body spins to match his eyes. At this rate, Eddie estimates he’s about a minute away from getting his other ankle broken or having to listen to another (yeah, another—what the hell, Buck) dissertation on Tommy’s dick.

That’s definitely a hand on Buck’s ass now, and they’re swaying into each other, Buck’s eyes fixed on either Tommy’s mouth or chin.

“Yeah,” Tommy says, low and rough. “We’re gonna…” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder, never taking his eyes off Buck.

“Bye!” Buck calls. He’s pushing Tommy out and they’re both laughing and leaning in for another rushed kiss, stumbling over their feet. Eddie rolls his eyes, grinning despite himself.

[boltlightning]

WIP guessing game: wing and/or love and/or sun? Please and thank you!

3/3 hits!! you sunk my battleship!

from dragonfic pt 3:

“It is much more comfortable, much more civilized! Even if it has that ghastly snow, and the rain never seems to stop.” She flicks her wingtips free of water for emphasis.

from a dusty, but persistent untitled hadesgame fic:

That is Persephone’s power, he supposes—life, living, and compromise. Six months underground, six months on the surface. For what is life if not for the bonds forged, the sacrifices made for loved ones? Even cold, cruel Hades could not but participate.

many such instances for sun (i love to describe sunlight more than anything) so here is one from an upcoming potc wip:

The sun is shining bright, and his eyes burn from the salt and brandy alike; while he reels, some distant, well-trained part of his mind notes that the docks are well-kept and tidy, defendable.

wip word guessing game!

[thatsnotmygunflash]

Rules: Pick any ten of your fics, scroll roughly to the midpoint, pick a line (or three) and share it. Then tag ten people.

Not tagged and not going to tag, just saw it and thought it would be fun. I am going to do my WIPs to give you guys some teasers of what's cooking. If you like any of them let me know and maybe I'll pour some love into them.

1. A Brighter Future

"Why don’t you like them?”

“How could you be so careless Barry? How could you get into bed with a criminal? A murderer? I raised you better than this! No son of mine would ever stoop this low-” Barry shut his eyes tight to try and push away the illusion Sophia was conjuring from his emotions, tears starting to fall from his eyes when Iris’ heartbroken voice joined in with Joe’s disgusted one.

“He’s dead because of you! It should have been you! I lost the man I was going to marry for a future I don’t even want! I wish I’d never met you Barry Allen!”

“Soph-Soph, please stop.”

2. Cause Maybe You're That Thing I Need To Save Me

"Cisco and Lisa-they're engaged now and they were going through a bunch of the Rouge's abandoned safehouse and Cisco-he found an old sweater of yours and he vibed you. He said you were alive but we weren't sure so we uh-went looking. It took a few months but we finally got a lead and I sped here as quickly as I could to see if it was really true and it is! You're alive! The Legends are going to be so exciting to know you survived! Wait, how did you survive?"

"You can't tell anyone I'm alive Barry, you weren't meant to know I was alive. No one is supposed to know."

"But why? Are you retired now or something?"

"I am actually, so having trouble magnets like yourself show up on my doorstep isn't exactly my idea of a good time. You need to leave and tell your friends at STAR Labs that this was a dead end. No one can know I'm alive, and I'm not above killing you to keep it that way."

3. For Better Or For Worse

“Look,” Laurel sighed heavily, lacing her fingers together over the table as she met Len’s cold stare head on. “I don’t know all the details-yet-but your husband is a very resourceful and connected man, whether he realizes it fully or not. He said part of your vows was to get Mick Rory and you out of here. That’s what I’m here to do, if you want the specifics to how exactly we’re going to pull it off I suggest you ask the mastermind behind all of this craziness.”

“If you think it’s so crazy, why help?”

“Because people's lives are at risk and Barry’s not wrong, if anyone can pull something like this off it’s you and him. Quiet the power couple you two are, honestly. Besides, I’ve never met a person who could say no to that boy’s sweet face. Isn’t that why you agreed?”

4. Got A Lot Of Sins, But You're My Favorite

"So," Angie spoke up from behind the register, leaning her chin on the palm of her hand as she smirked wickedly at Len. "When were you going to tell me you had a crush on the Flash?"

"I don't. I just threatened to kill him-he stole my gun!"

"Yes, and he also looked like he wanted to kiss you senseless while you were pointing said gun in his pretty face."

5. I'd Cross Galaxies To Find You

Waking up next to a crying baby and someone sleeply pushing at his bare shoulder had Barry freezing in terror, not wanting to know how he would die next in this world.

“Baby, baby-go get Nora,”

“Nora?”

“Our daughter, Nora, you know the one you begged my sister to carry for us, the daughter who won’t sleep through the night because she isn’t being rocked at superspeed because her father spoils her rotten. Ring any bells?”

6. It's The Second Glances That Ties Your Hands

"What are you doing here, Len?"

"Well, let's just say my lady and your lord don't really get on–she's cleaning house now that she's free of the Time Masters. Speedsters mucking up the timeline were at the top of her priority list."

"You're here for me?"

7. Love Me Silently

"So help me-you are not proposing to me right now Barry Allen-so think before those next words come out of your mouth."

"See! You want the big grand gesture and a huge wedding to show me off! You want to marry me! He said you'd say no, he said you weren't the type-"

"He's a worried father, Scarlet, I'm not surprised.” Len muttered as he pulled the younger man into his arms, one hand rubbing soothingly over his back while the other cupped his neck lovingly. “Look, I don't want to be the reason you never talk to your foster father again-"

8. You Need To Allow Me To Help

“Did you hear that, Cisco? That dying whale noise? I think it was the last shred of my dignity being forcibly removed from my body, so if you’ll excuse me I’m just going to go drown myself in the boy’s bathrooms—” Barry muttered in panicked embarrassment, rushing off down the hall almost too quickly to see, ignoring his friends calling his name to get him to stop.

“Go after him, you idiot,” Mick huffed, pushing Len forcefully in the direction Barry had disappeared.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Len answered slowly, his jaw set in a tense line and his eyes hardening over with realization.

9. You Got This Heaven In Your Eyes

'Keep up the exceptional work, Barry Allen, Central City is lucky to have you on their side. -L.S.'

"What's it say?" Eddie questioned, trying to peek over Barry's shoulder to get a look at the snow-white card, his eyes widening comically when he caught sight of the message.

"Uh-to keep up the good work," Barry muttered in confusion, his eyes drifting from the elegant handwriting to the memorising bouquet, not knowing what to think.

"You ruined the guy's fifteen year long not guilty streak and he tells you to keep up the good work?"

"This is weird, right?"

"Very."

10. Side Effects May Include

“It’s complicated, okay! I don’t know how it works. I just know when I’m not here-near you-it's like there's this overwhelming need to run as fast as I can to this-this pull. It never stops, not unless I wake up with you, when I’m near you-it’s like everything freezes.” Barry takes one look at Len’s face and lets out a drawn-out whine.

“Shut up okay, I know you want to make a joke-but it does! It’s like for the first time since I got my powers I can just stand still or sleep since that’s never exactly come easy for me-”

“Do you have a point Barry?”

“The point is for whatever reason my subconscious is latching onto you. Whenever I’m awake I feel this pull like I’m meant to be running somewhere, but I haven’t had the time to really figure out what it means when I’ve been running around stopping bombs and searching for evidence to get my dad out of jail while also trying and failing to stop the man who really killed my mother! I’ve been dealing with a lot lately okay-I barely sleep more than a few hours a week if I even manage that-and every time I do fall asleep I wake up next to you! I’m having these bizarre dreams you keep popping up in and all I want is to sleep for more than an hour at a time!”

[warden-melli]

Incredibly unpopular opinion but I actually wouldn’t mind if tumblr had some sort of “stories” feature so that I could post wips and silly stuff, and not clog up tags, or bother people with unfinished/random pictures

Stuff like this

No influencers trying to sell stuff, just random snippets of someone’s day, artists and writers posting wips, and pictures of cats and stuff

+ me and some Melli’s (and Sabi’s too I guess)

[iinsawdious]

get his ass in the cube @whoophoney

[lexydakitten]

it is too late for this. art is about making a sketch that will NOT turn into a doodle even if you let yourself think that making it (hence the lack of sense). maybe this'll be fun to figure out idk. lets see how long i can tolerate not having access to the full color wheel !!!!

[yallstar]

some wips from the comic i'm working on!! based on chapter five of my jayvik fic

bonus bullshit: used the symmetry tool to draw jayce and things quick devolved..... he's got a real "trust the process" kind of design

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Meet the Family 7

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.(petite!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: my gut said go full self-indulgent so I did.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

Your phone lights up again. You’ve already waited too long. You can’t avoid this any longer and in that moment, avoiding Lloyd’s family is a bigger priority. You get up, thankful to be away from Lloyd’s wandering touches, and excuse yourself to take the call. You don’t miss the scathing judgment from Gwenyth, but you don’t care either. 

You go out into the hallway and try to keep your voice down. There’s enough chatter that you’re not entirely concerned. You answer and close your eyes. 

“Hi, mom--” 

“Where are you?” She demands. “You said you would be here. I’ve been waiting. Calling. Your sister too. We’re all worried--” 

“Mom, I’m sorry. I missed my flight--” 

“Oh, yes, I couldn’t put that together,” she snaps. 

“I’m sorry, mom. Really. I know—I messed up again. I really wanted to come but that was the only flight--” 

“It’s not that you couldn’t make it, it’s that you couldn’t even let me know! I’ve been in shambles, thinking the worst. I check the flights to make sure there were no crashes, I’ve been looking through news reports.” 

She starts to devolve into breathy sobs. You feel horrible. Your guilt overwhelms your self-pity. Suddenly being stuck with these rich snobs isn’t so bad. Your mother has spent half her Christmas worrying over you, and know her, you wouldn’t be surprised if she actually tore some hair out. 

“I know I should have called. I’m sorry, I’ve been trying to figure something out,” you lie, poorly since the defeat is in your voice.  

Your mother has always been your kryptonite. She’s not cruel like Gwenyth, but her disappointment is devastating and all too easy to earn. She just wants the best for you but you’ve never managed the best. 

“So you can come?” She sniffles. 

“Um, not today, but I’m looking at tomorrow.” Another frail falsehood. “I promise, I’ll let you know--” 

“Sweet pea,” Lloyd’s voice undercuts yours and you cringe. You put your finger up and turn to signal him to hush. 

“Yeah, mom, I’ll try for tomorrow and if I can’t get there--” 

“Mom?” Lloyd echoes with a smirk. 

You shake your head. 

“Who’s that?” Your mom asks. 

You grimace and glare daggers at Lloyd as he comes closer. You outstretch your arm and put your hand just below his chest.  

“Mom, it’s just--” 

Lloyd easily reaches past your resistance and swipes the phone. He puts it on speaker with a tap of his thumb as you lunge at him. He grabs your arm and forces it up. Nearly dangly you from it as you lash with the other. 

“Is this mom?” Lloyd asks brightly. 

“Um, hello? Who is this? Where’s my daughter?” 

“Mom, I’m here. Lloyd, give me the phone back--” 

“Boo, what’s going on?” She asks. 

Lloyd looks at you with a mischievous grin and mouths ‘boo?’ with a tweaked brow. You shake your head again and plead. 

“Mom, it’s nothing--” 

“I think I spoiled the surprise,” he speaks over you. “We’re going to be coming tomorrow.” 

“We?” She ekes out, you hear the worry mounting in her voice. 

“Please don’t be mad at Pixie, she was just being a good girlfriend. We stopped by my family’s house and oh boy, the snow we got up this way,” he tuts in a very convincing monologue. You’re stunned into silence at his act. He sounds like a decent person but you know better. “And you know, everything was so hectic as we tried to dig out that it just got all ahead of us.” 

“I’m sorry, who are you? Boo?” She asks desperately. 

“Mom--” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I should’ve started with that. I’m Lloyd. Her boyfriend.” 

“Boyfriend?” You mother breathes, “boo?” 

“Yeah, mom, er,” you wrench your hand free and smack Lloyd’s arm. “He’s um, going to come with me, so uh--” 

“I’ll be there, both of us, with bows on,” he promises. “Please, allow me to apologise from the bottom of my heart for keeping your daughter from you. You can’t blame her. It was entirely me. I am not a morning person and she can only do so much to keep me in line.” 

You grit your teeth as you squint at him. How does he sound like such a dweeb? Well, looking at him with that mustache, he kinda is one. 

“Oh, well, that’s lovely, very nice,” your mother coos, “I can let everyone else know. Oh, boo, you could’ve told us--” 

“Again, that’s on me,” Lloyd preens, “I thought it would be a nice surprise.” 

“It is, it is,” she assures. “Oh, it will be so nice to meet you. We’ve never met any of Pixie’s men.” 

“Mom,” you groan. 

“We never really thought she had any. She’s always been so focused on work, and before that, it was school--” 

“Mom,” you jab Lloyd’s ribs as he smirks bigger and bigger, then snatch the phone from him. “Promise, we’ll get there but uh... gotta go. Love you.” 

“Love you too, boo. Oh and it was nice meeting you, um--” 

“Lloyd,” he supplies and sticks out his tongue. 

“Bye.” You hit end and put your phone in your pocket.  

Your agitation peaks and you can’t help from shoving Lloyd. It barely affects him which annoys you more. God, he is such a little—big turd. 

“Why would you do that?” 

“What? I just did you a favour.” 

“A favour? You just dragged my family into this bullshit--” 

“Well, hate to break it to you, boo,” he emphasizes the last word as he grabs your hands and pulls them away from his stomach, “but they’re going to have be. We promised mine a white wedding.” 

“You are so--” 

“So...?” He prompts. 

“Urgh.” 

“Oh, don’t be so grumpy. It’s a ticket out of this place. Literally. So you just let me know where I need to book tickets and I’ll pull a few strings--” 

“Strings? You couldn’t pull these earlier?” 

“On Christmas Day? Please, even I can’t do that but the day after Christmas, my guy’s getting into the punch right now, he’ll be just tipsy enough--” 

“You are torturing me,” you accuse. 

“I really can’t deny that,” he snickers as he lets you go. “Now tell me where I’m booking these tickets too and I’ll hop right on that...” he looks you up and down and bites his lip, “as much as I’d like to hop on something else.” 

You huff, “Toronto.” 

He twitches, “Toronto? As in... Canada?” 

You nod and roll your eyes. 

“Wait, Pixie puff, you’re Canadian?” 

You tilt your head and look at him. You shrug, “what does that matter?” 

“Well, I thought you type were supposed to be nice, first of all.” 

“Just make the call,” you sneer and cross your arms. “You’ve already mangled this Christmas, may as well put it out of its misery.” 

“Why don’t you do the same for me, huh? I’m suffering, Pix. Just give it a squeeze” he gets closer. You flutter your lashes then he wiggles his hips. “These pants are killing my circulation. I told you, I don’t wear underroos.” 

“Back up before I lose it,” you warn. 

“I’m close to losing it too, baby face,” he groans. 

“Make. The. Call.” You demand. “And I’ll happily break the news to your dear sweet mother that we need to go get ready to fly out.” 

His expression sobers and he exhales heavily, “Pix,” he utters quietly, “sometimes, you’re scary. Don’t... don’t piss off mom too much. Please.” 

“Book the tickets, honey poo,” you chime in an acidic tone, “and I’ll make sure mommy’s not crying into her champagne.”  

You poke centre of his chest and bounce on your heels before you spin away. Your mother’s disappointment might be like arsenic but Gwenyth’s is the exact antidote you need. 

❄️

“I know a girl in Toronto. A few actually,” Lloyd says over the steering wheel. He’s tasked with driving back to the hotel since you imposed sobriety on him as punishment for the day. “Strange, you’re nothing like them.” 

“I don’t care,” you grumble. 

“Ugh, your wheel is too low,” he mutters as he stops at a red and tries to adjust it. You don’t respond.  

You just want to lay down. Your head is pounding from the lack of sleep and Lloyd managed to book you an early morning flight which will curtail any meaningful sleep. You close your eyes and ignore his fussing. 

Finally, he steps on the gas. “So, Canada, you grew up with those geese, huh? Explains the bite--” 

“What?” 

“I read somewhere they have teeth--” 

“Why the heck are you moaning about geese for?” 

“I hear it now. Couldn’t place it before. I thought Minnesota or somewhere but when you’re angry, you get this twang--” 

“Be quiet,” you let your head drop back again. “I’m getting a migraine.” 

“Aw, baby,” he coos. 

“Lloyd,” you growl. 

“I can make it better. I read somewhere that you can massage it better. Oh, and you know, orgasms--” 

“You read a lot of nonsense for someone who I never see reading,” you drone and prop your elbow against the door to cradle your head. 

“There’s a wealth of information on the internet when you’re not scrolling porn,” he chuckles. You let out a disgusted noise. “Don’t worry, pixie. I’m committed to this. Me and you, we’re going to get our piece of the pie and make off like bandits.

"So you let me play the loyal husband. I’ll get you all spread out and loose, I’ll rub your head and your shoulders, then my hands might wander a little bit more...” he hums. “I’ll touch the peach a bit, I just can’t help myself, but I think you’ll be ready by then.” 

“Don’t you dare touch me,” you snarl. 

“Ah, come on, flying is so stressful and after the day we had, we both need that release--” 

“How many more times do I need to tell you to stop?” 

“And how many times do I need to tell you I won’t? It’s fate now, Pixie.” He clucks and slowly turns. You lift your head and look up at the hotel sign. “Hey, if you like the long game, I can go along with it. Make it hurt so good.” 

“Do you ever think of anything else?” 

“There’s a constant undercurrent that never really leaves my mind,” he shrugs as he parks. “But I’m great at multitasking.” 

You grumble and shake your head. It sends a throbbing pulse through your skull. You undo your seatbelt and drag yourself out of the car. As the door shuts, you wince. Then Lloyd’s and you feel the nausea start to crawl through your guts. The lack of sleep, the stress, the alcohol, it’s a perfect recipe for a deadly migraine. 

You do your best to push through as you make your way up to the room silently. Lloyd is not so quiet. He’s rambling about something; a shirt? You don’t know and you don’t care.  

You take out the room and enter the hotel suite. You drop the key and your purse and shed your coat. You hang it on the hook on the back of the door and tread further in. You don’t stop until you get to the bed. You ease yourself down and bury your face in the pillow. 

“Pixie,” Lloyd’s worry puts you on edge. You raise your hand and wave him off without lifting your head. “You need some Advil?” 

You shoo him again with your fingers. You popped some with your last glass of wine. You probably should’ve opted for water. 

Your alarm is set. You will have to awake before the sky shifts that slightly lighter shade of grey and try again. You know better than to trust Lloyd, but you’re putting some faith in him to get you home. 

You feel the bed dip behind you and Lloyd’s mutters and grumbles creep into your ears. You move the pillow over your head and hug it against your ear. You tune him out as you urge your mind down to the depths. In your bouts, there is no relief, but sleep can at least dull the agony. 

Your brain turns to sludge as the steady pounding evens out to a tempo. You drift into the muddy no man’s land between waking and otherwise. You’re conscious enough to feel the pain, but you're detached enough to bear it. 

Time crumbles around like sand in a glass. Your mind swirls with churning recreations of the day behind you. Most of them fractured and nonsensical. Voices without words, faces without names. 

A shiver washes through you as a tickle flutters down the back of your thighs. The cool sensation flows over your skin. You shudder and cling to that tenuous state of dissociation. A jolt forces you out of the void. 

You roll over and throw your arm out. It bounces off of Lloyd’s shoulder as your eyes slit. You yipe as you find him tugging at your pants. You kick and amplify the siren whining in your head. 

“What are you doing?” You rasp as you flail at him. 

“Relax, pixie stick, I’m just trying to help you relax. You can’t sleep in this,” he peels your pants down your legs and you swat at him again. 

You look down and find your sweater gone, only your bra to conceal your chest. You quickly hide behind folded arms. “What the hell?” 

“Damn, Pix, you never said you had a dump truck he untangles the fabric from your ankles. 

You whimper and push yourself up on your elbows, you bareness secondary to your irritation. “Get way from me.” 

“Just let me rub you down,” he begs as he runs his hands up your calves. “Promise, I’ll be a good boy. I kept my dick strapped down, baby.” 

Your eyes flit down unthinkingly. He’s in only his briefs. The rest of him is exposed; his fur-trimmed chest, his thick but firm stomach, and his muscled legs. You look him in the face and he winks. “Made you look.” 

“Stop, please,” you flick your fingers at him. 

“You got me struggling,” he begs as his hands trail further up and he kneads your thighs. “I’m hurting like prom night and you been grinding on me in a tack ballgown all night--” 

“Ew--” 

“It’ll make you feel better--” 

You catch his fingers as he traces the edges of your underwear. As you curl up, the weight of your head thunks own at the base. Urgh. 

“No--” 

“I’m just going to rub you down like a good boy. That’s it,” pushes against your hands. “You can even keep these on.” He runs his thumbs along the front of your panties. “They look fucking delicious anyway.” 

“Lloyd.” 

“Shhh,” he hushes you and shoves your hands off of his. 

Before you can stop him, he straddles you. He puts his large hands around your skull and you whine. H works his fingers into your scalp as he continues to shush you and presses his thumbs to your temples. The warmth of his tough makes you sigh. You hate that it feels good. 

“Just like this, baby,” he purrs as he keeps you pinned under him. “Just relax.” 

Your eyes roll back as you shatter to pieces. In this state, you have no strength to fight him. Besides, why should you stop him when it feels so amazing? 

[rcmclachlan]

what is whole foods? 👀

Fix-it in aisle 9! Tommy doesn't know what possesses him to go to this particular Whole Foods, but he hopes the folks watching the security feed are enjoying the show as his and Evan's painful attempts at small talk devolve into the world's slowest tour of the store while they whisper-fight every step of the way.

There's no cogent reason for him to go to the Whole Foods on S Grand, especially on a Thursday. The fact that it's only a 3-minute drive from Evan's loft is bad enough, but the avenue is and has always been a wide-awake nightmare. It's all metered street parking and people drive through the intersection like they're trapped in pinball machine designed by Jigsaw. He once almost got into a fist fight with some asshole in a BMW who came so close to colliding with him head-on that Tommy could read the fucking VIN number on the guy's dashboard. Also, the Vons down the street from his house has much better produce.

There's no cogent reason, and yet, after his shift ends, he climbs into his truck and brings up the address in Maps. The entire route there is green. On the way to S Grand, he doesn't hit a single red light, his Spotify shuffle plays only songs he wants to listen to, and somehow he manages to score the first parking spot closest to the building, which feels like winning the lottery. Normally he'd have better odds of hitting all six Powerball numbers.

His good luck continues as he walks into the store, which is blissfully devoid of human life, and he gets a cart with wheels that don't stick or squeak. He heads into the meat section and a song is playing over the speakers that takes him right back to the uncomplicated days of being 12 years old and hanging out in Jamal Tunstall's basement, kicking ass at Tekken 2 and gorging himself on pizza rolls, which his dad refused to let him have at home.

Sometimes it feels a little like the universe has never been particularly interested in giving him a W, but as Tommy picks up a package containing a reasonably-priced cut of pork belly that looks so perfect it might have been Photoshopped, he thinks that maybe the universe has finally decided to throw him a bone.

The clatter of a nearby cart makes him glance up, then his entire autonomic nervous system goes dark like his brain's blown a fuse.

Of all the ways he imagined seeing Evan again, standing in the meat section of the Whole Foods on S Grand on a Thursday night while DJ Kool shouts "when I say freeze, y'all stop on a dime" in the background never made the list.

wip titles game

[tgmsunmontue]

You put a ring on a wild thing - 10/? WIP Hangster

Affectionately titled "Drunk Vegas" fic until I gave it the title above.

Explicit Hangster. Drinking, dubious decisions and complete disregard for actual facts.

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE

PART TEN

                Bradley knows Jake hasn’t told his parents that he’s married, and Bradley understands, because he can imagine what his own mom would have said and is glad he doesn’t need to face that type of music at least. God. If he had gotten married without her there she’d probably have killed him. Jake knows his family best, although part of him does worry about slipping up, wonders if he should just go all out and propose to Jake in front of his family so at least then his intentions of staying married to Jake are at least obvious to everyone.

                Jake is gorgeous, he already knew that, but the last few months of talking to each other regularly, getting to know each other, sometimes just talking about nothing just for the sake of talking. All of that coupled with the attraction he feels, and then the softly domesticated things he’s always associated with family are making him suspect he’s head over heels in love. Seeing Jake when he’s first woken up, hair tousled and eyes bleary but still smiling at him. Having a shower together, joking about saving water but oh so comfortable with one another already, making out under the falling water and washing each other’s bodies. Curling up together on the sofa to watch a movie and then arguing about which movie to watch, only for it to devolve into making out and jerking each other off.

                He’s well aware that they’re likely in the infamously named honeymoon stage of their relationship, even if they’ve technically been married for several months. He suspects with all the time they’ll have to spend apart it might be like this every time they see each other, novel and new and the best of both of them. None of the monotony of day-to-day life like grocery shopping and taking the trash out. But he thinks of doing those things with Jake and finds he doesn’t mind the idea at all, which he knows is a sign of being in love; when even the boring and mundane seems nice.

                They’re curled up in bed, having decided on a nap after not sleeping much during the night, too intent on getting properly acquainted with each other. Natasha’s name flashes up on the screen and he answers it, knows she’s checking in and wanting all the gossip.

                “Hi.”

                “Hi. How’s it going with Seresin?”

                “Good. Really good.”

                “You don’t know how happy it makes me to hear that, I won’t have to follow through on the shovel talk…”

                Bradley laughs, and Jake looks up from his own phone with a raised eyebrow and he mouths Natasha and Jake waves coquettishly and Bradley rolls his eyes.

                “Jake says hi…”

                “I only saw him two days ago, but sure, I say hi back.”

                “Natasha says hi.”

                Jake rolls his eyes, then he’s pressing kisses to Bradley’s arm, rubbing his naked body along the length of Bradley’s, his hand coming to rest on Bradley’s cock, palming it with clear intent and Bradley pulls a face; he’s on the phone with Natasha.

                “Nat, I’ve got to go.”

                “What! We’ve barely talked…”

                “Yeah. Sorry. I’ll call you back in a bit. Sorry sorry…”

                He tosses his phone over the edge, glares at Jake with no heat in it at all; and Jake, smug bastard that he is, is grinning like he just won.

                “Gonna give you a blow job. You’re in bed with me…”

                “I hadn’t forgotten.”

                “Good.”

…            …            …

                Bradley already knew they were going to be sexually compatible. He remembers them eyeing each other up on the dance floor in Vegas, how there had been no limit or barrier to the attraction between them. Is glad it’s still there, a roaring fire between them. On Saturday night he insists on Jake taking him out to a club, saying they’re going to recreate another part of their wedding night, although this time with a lot less alcohol. He has plans and wants to be firing on all cylinders to implement them.

                They don’t really bother dressing up, although when Jake pulls out the shirt he was wearing and throw sit to him he grins and pulls it on. He can definitely get behind that, although Jake is shaking his head, muttering about how he must have been really drunk to not see the shirt as a red flag.

                “You looked past the shirt…”

                “Mmm. Was already mentally undressing you.”

                Dancing with Jake is good, an excuse to get their hands all over each other, the knowledge that he’s going home with him, going to hopefully always have Jake to come home to has him feeling bubbly with joy.

                “Hi there…”

                “Hey,” Jake replies, and he’s grinning and Bradley gives into the urge to kiss him. Steps in close and captures Jake’s mouth with his own, lets himself just enjoy the gentle intimacy of a good kiss, although he’s mindful that they’re not in Vegas, and he’s also not drunk at all. He takes in everything, feeling the pound of the bass of the music through his body, the strobing lights throwing Jake’s face into sharp relief and then shadow, the smell of sweat and alcohol and the dry chemical smell from the smoke machine, the taste of Jake’s skin and mouth, the feel of their bodies pressing closer. He’s filled with the sudden certainty that he loves him. Is in love with him. Feels ridiculously lucky that they somehow stumbled and found each other and then went and got married. That they simply didn’t hook up and then never see each other again.

                “I’m in love with you…” Bradley yells over the music, pulling back a little so he can see the words land. The lights come and go but he doesn’t miss the blinding grin Jake gives him and Bradley feels an almost overwhelming feel of happiness and his grin has to be just as wide.

                “Yeah?”

                “Yeah,” Bradley says, and Jake is tugging him toward the exit and Bradley isn’t averse to leaving at all.

                “That’s a good thing. You should be in love with your husband.”

                “Mmm. Yeah. You should be.”

                “I mean, I am.”

                “Are you now?” Bradley asks, his grin slow as he realizes what Jake is saying in his own unique roundabout way.

                “Mmm. He’s super hot. Fucks me like an absolute machine. Treats me so good.”

                “Think my husband is better… pretty as a picture. The way he scrunches up his face when he thinks he’s being cute or sneaky… so beautiful.”

                “Think we might have to agree to disagree, because while your husband does sound pretty nice, I love mine just as he is…”

                “Jesus Jake… love you. Let me… Take me home so I can take you to bed?”

                “Darlin’, I am never going to say no to that request in my lifetime…”

…            …            …

                Curling up on the sofa and watching a movie, making out in the kitchen while they wait for the coffee to finish, making out in the shower while soapy hands wash each other. They are continuously letting their fingers linger on each other’s bodies, regardless of what they’re doing. Bradley’s never been in a relationships before, has definitely taken the zero to one hundred approach but finds he has no regrets as he does anything and everything with Jake either in his line of sight, or in the back of his mind. Seeing Jake walk around in nothing but his underwear and Bradley’s shirt is his new favorite view, and Jake knows it too. Bradley can’t find it in him to care, likes Jake looking smug and happy when he’s the reason.

                “So, I’ve got a question to ask you,” Bradley says, and it’s after a morning round of sex, his body aching in all sorts of the best ways and he knows Jake’s hopefully feeling the same.

                “What is it?”

                “You want to stay married?”

                “Yeah. Yes. Of course…”

                The answers come quick and fast; no hesitation and Bradley can’t help but grin, wraps his arms around Jake as they stand in the kitchen, dishes drip drying beside them; kisses him until they’re both breathless and gasping, grinding against each other. He’s glad he isn’t wasting his twenties hiding, can be married and having as much sex as he wants, murmurs as such against the skin of Jake’s neck, licking and nipping a necklace of kisses on bare skin, Jake groaning and pressing against him.

                “Glad to be of service… want to go back to bed?”

                “What’s wrong with right here?” Bradley asks, dropping to his knees, mouthing against the growing erection beneath the stretchy fabric of Jake’s underwear.

                “Jesus… yeah. Okay,” Jake says, laughter broken with a gasp and Bradley wraps his mouth around the head and sucks, not wasting any time. After all, their time together is in limited supply.

…            …            …

                “You ready to meet my family?”

                “Yeah. Can’t wait.”

                “I mean… I’m glad you’re a brave man. But it does make me think you’re a stupid one.”

                “Well, I married you didn’t I?”

                “Darlin’, that was a smart move and you know it.”

                “Yeah. I do.”

                “Lord you’re a sap.”

                “Just with you.”

                “Yeah, better be just with me.”

ELEVEN

[pl0tty]

✍️ wip snip 💭

i was tagged by @edieblakewrites and @soliblomst to share an excerpt from something i've been working on :') thank you for tagging me bbs!!! <3

this started out as an entry for a fest but is now just a regular ol' wip i sometimes fantasize about finishing heh.

junior auror potter gets saddled with draco malfoy's parole visit one sunny day and has to check out his potions laboratory while he's there:

There was a furious flush on Malfoy’s face. Harry was clutching his throbbing kneecap when Malfoy swiftly levitated the book into the air and, with a flick of his wand, produced several sheets of paper next to it. He flicked his wand again and the book shot across the room, slamming into an open cabinet, its wooden doors shutting and locking in its wake. The papers fell on top of Harry’s head, then scattered around the floor. “Oops. Sorry,” Malfoy said, sounding extremely unsorry. “Well, those are your copies of the ledger.” Harry glared at him. He pointed his wand at the papers, and they promptly gathered into his outstretched hand. “I wasn’t going to duplicate your weird porn sketches, Malfoy.” “They’re not—!” Malfoy looked pained now. “They’re scientific illustrations, Potter. It’s research. You wouldn’t understand, of course, anything more cerebral than Quidditch Through the Ages goes straight over your head—”  “What kind of scientific purpose requires you to analyse the anatomy of an arsehole?” Harry pressed, completely forgetting himself. It was like Hogwarts all over again, the scarlet colour of his robes at the edge of his vision barely tethering him to his painstakingly cultivated adult persona. “It’s not just the—! It’s also the surrounding…!” Malfoy paused, took a few sharp breaths while looking as if he’d really like to be stomping his foot. “It’s for my formula, alright! For my lubrication potion!” He did stomp his foot then. Harry frowned. “Your what?” “I don’t expect you to understand, of course. Hetero Hero of Our Hearts, Protector of the Straight and Narrow—” “What are you even—” “However,” Malfoy went on, looking bored all of a sudden, his annoyance devolving into his usual, devastating drawl. “Some of us are a little bent, Potter. Some of us are very bent, actually, and keen on exploring ways in which we can bring pleasure to our bodies beyond what we get from the very utilitarian Lubrico.” Harry felt the fight leak out of him. “You’re…bent?” “Yes,” Malfoy said, raising his chin. “Are you going to write that down in your little form?” Heat rushed to Harry’s face. “Er, no. That’s. Not necessary.” “Whatever,” Malfoy said. “You can. I don’t care. Write it all down, see if I stop you.” “Of course I’m not going to—” “Please,” pressed Malfoy, voice coming out kind of reedy now. “I can help. The parolee has been spending his time on house arrest renovating his mansion and perfecting his formula for homemade lube. How’s that sound?”

tagging @appleslightning @fluxweeed @itsphantasmagoria @fastbrother @fanarthasmyheart if u wanna share ur lovely sketches/words 💕

[kassandraws-moved]

some more wip details of a color study that devolved into sukuna brain rot