#but in short uhhh

[drowsydregon]

i can't wait to make my epix comeback (<<< has been sitting on like. 13 minifigure redesigns bc i still have abt. 11-13 more to do)

[disgustingtwitches]

MDNI

Working at a restaurant with 141! (Part 1)

Let's get this out of the way, the restaurant fucking sucks. Don't even know how it's still open. The food is terrible. The owner is an incompetent drunk who's never there. You got referred to the job from a friend of a friend. You did an interview with the head chef/manager, John. He hired you because you were hot.

"The fuckin ass on that one, huh?"

Just like any man that works in a restaurant, they're all horny fucks who love to tease you. You'd run back to the kitchen and ask to tweak an order. Price would wink and say:

"Next time it's gonna cost ya."

When it gets slow (which was all the time), you'd sit in the back and chat about how they met and what they did with their lives. They all get paid under the table for various reasons. Johnny takes smoke breaks with you, sometimes Price joins. Gaz pours shots for everyone after "busy" nights (busy meaning there was an hour where there were two tables to serve instead of one). Ghost... well he's strictly work. Sometimes he engages in banter with the guys, but he only acknowledges you when needed.

Your first month flies by, you basically get paid to sit around and talk with the most charming men on the planet, and Simon.

"He'll warm up eventually. Just gotta loosen 'em up, just like any tight ass."

Soap smirked as he leaned against a counter while everyone was wrapping up for the night.

"Don't you have dishes to put away?"

Ghost snapped while wiping down his station. At least he was nice to look at.

You and Gaz would roll up the forks and knives talking about bullshit, knees touching. Soap and you would light each others smokes by touching one lit end to the unlit one, all while still holding the cigarettes in your mouths (he called it a cigarette kiss). Price would constantly make food for you:

"Gotta plump you up 'fore it starts getting cold, yeah?"

He'd look you up and down while sliding you a basket of fries. And Simon? Cold as ever. Even when he started driving you to and from work because your car broke down. He drove like a madman, but it was totally silent. You made the mistake of reaching for the radio once, he gave a admonitory grunt and you snatched your hand away.

As time went on, you got comfortable with everyone and they got comfortable with you. It started with suggestive jokes.

"Simon's just straightforward, doesn't beat around the bush."

Price said one day while prepping vegetables with Ghost.

"What are you talking about? He beats around the bush all the time Price, you know that."

Soap walked by with a shit eating grin while he was carrying a bucket of dishes to the back. Uproar from the guys. Ghost storms off following Johnny, knife in hand. You want to stop him, but Gaz places a hand on your shoulder.

"Best not to do that, just let 'em settle that amongst themselves."

Johnny comes back disheveled, wearing a different shirt. Simon is stone faced as usual as he goes back to prep. It only got worse after that.

You'd watch as the boys messed with each other more; pats on the back, that turns to squeezes on the shoulders, that turned to slaps on the ass.

"They're just handsy," you think to yourself.

Eye contact that lingers for a second too long.

"They're just close friends," you think to yourself.

Compliments that boarder on harassment.

"They're just joking around," you think to yourself.

Then you entered the walk-in freezer, only to make direct eye contact with Johnny as he has Kyle's dick down his throat.

"Oh, uh-huh..." you think to yourself.

You didn't look at their faces for a week, they acted as if nothing happened. Then, the flirting only got worse.

"Behind!"

Price would yell while grinding up against Simon's ass when passing behind him.

"Yes, Chef."

He'd respond while he continued cooking, unfazed. They seemingly shared clothes: the younger guys preferred to don John and Simon's apparel all the time. You stopped going into the walk-in for a while, you figured you'd give Gaz and Soap some privacy (although they didn't seem to mind an audience). Christ, was everyone fucking everyone here?

You were taking a smoke break with Price when he leaned back on the railing and adjusted himself, it wasn't really adjusting himself as it was more him gripping his thick dick and looking directly into your eyes. You nearly choked as he smiled.

Ghost threw you a hoodie when he dropped you off one night. It started raining before you got home and you were complaining about just getting your hair done. You tried to give it back but he refused to take it.

"Keep it. I don't care about that one anyways."

He shrugged. You'd wear the oversized hoodie to bed, the smell was comforting. Smoky, dusty, boozy, like Javanese vetiver. It smelled like a grown man. Delicious. Accidentally wore it to work one day when you were in a rush getting ready. That started a trend for the rest of them to get you to wear their clothes. It less of a trend and more of a competition honestly. They'd "accidentally" spill drinks or food on you.

"No worries, I've got an extra shirt in my car!"

They'd have a wide, cheeky smile plastered on their faces while giving you their shirt. Of course, they wouldn't take them back either; so you had a growing collection of huge shirts that you'd wear around your apartment. Eventually, you had to go back to the walk-in. Thankfully, there were no exhibitionists present. You were reaching to grab some ketchup when the door opened. You and Johnny stared at each other for a long moment.

"Need help getting that, bonnie?"

Before you could respond he was reaching over you, pressing his chest on your back. He handed you the bottle while his dick grew hard on your ass. He was breathing hard in your ear, waiting for your reaction. You pushed back on him and that's all he needed, he gripped your hips and grinded into you. Even through your jeans you could feel his dick twitch when you moaned. It was a hot minute of panting while he pulled you back onto him desperately, like he was trying to fuck you right through the denim. The door handle clicked. You both froze, staring at the entryway.

"Johnny?"

Gaz's head popped in. Your face got hot while he stared back and forth at the two of you. One thing led to another, and your pants are around your ankles while Johnny is face first in your wet folds. Kyle is standing behind you, fucking your thighs and leaving sloppy kisses on your neck.

"Pretty doll, how long have ye bin waiting fur this, huh?"

Soap looked up at you with so much adoration, like he was servicing a goddess.

"Gonna cum Johnn-"

Gaz whimpered and bit your shoulder to muffle his groans as he came right between your thighs and cunt. Soap cleaned up the mess greedily, savouring the taste of both your juices. He didn't stop eating you out until you finished. Gaz held you up while your knees buckled when you came undone. Gentlemen they are, pulled up your pants for you and wiped the smeared lipgloss from your face. You stumbled out of the freezer, walking past the kitchen. Price's eyes crinkled as he saw you head out onto the floor.

~

"You shouldn't do that in there. It's unsanitary. And a health code violation."

Simon looked straight ahead as he weaved between cars. You opened your mouth, but no words came to mind, so you just nodded. Your leg bounced nervously. He grabbed your thigh, stopping the movement. His hand stayed there until you were in front of your place. You stared at him, his brown eyes boring into you.

"G'night."

He pulled his hand away, placing both of them on the steering wheel. You walked into your apartment, dizzy with confusion. "What the fuck is going on?"

[feelo-fick]

doodles from varying times :] kicking my feet and giggling. put your hand in my cage youre safe :]

[sunatsubu]

Not pictured, Ezra ready to physically cut that UST with his lightsaber just so they can finish the damn mission already

[haanahaki]

Thoughts were being thunk

[cryptidwithacopiccollection]

Franziska showing off her physical prowess feat. her very willing assistant (girlfriend) Maya

[bunnieswithknives]

The sillies!! Might gonna change Demon Laios' design later and I still need a name for whatever this AU is

[buwheal]

Unexpected but fair.

How long were we disconnected?

[aurorangen]

All the flashbacks start when I close my eyes

Transcript:

[We were both young when I first saw her. It was a Saturday and I was at the Farmer's Market with my nana]

[Her warm aura was what captivated me. I didn't know if she noticed me at all. I was just standing there, lost in my own world, trying to get a glimpse of her every time I could. The sun was beaming in the fading summer air: the light shone directly onto her face, her honey-brown eyes, her beautiful red hair]

[She looked back. I wanted to talk to her and strained to hear any voices in my head, telling me to go and do it. I could only hear my own heart beating and my body frozen in place. But then my legs started moving]

Vincent: [makes his way through the crowd] Hello [shy smile]

Nancy: Hello [smiles back at him]

[Little did I know, that simple introduction was the start of something special]

[wszczebrzyszynie]

Václav, a character i made with a friend years ago :) hes very much my main creative outlet for one of my biggest passions, (northern) slavic demonology. He himself is not a demon hes just kind of cursed

[s0ddap0p157]

ya

[splickedylit]

captiancap asked: I'd like to see any art you have of the Michigan Fleet cast. I do really like them. feral-engineer asked: For art requests: can we get something with trimmer? Maybe a hug, or baby trimmer causing problems on purpose? damnfool-of-a-took asked: for the art prompt request! Michigan Fleet, kid!Trimmer🔪👀?

Y'all are just too kind 🥰 I've been sitting on boatboy sketchbook scans for a WHILE not getting around to them, so here are some folks--some on boats and some not, some from published books and some not! :D

Rich and Trimmer never met each other as kids which is probably for the best because Rich was an impressionable little dumpling and Trimmer was a fast-paced, daring, precocious bump/bruise-magnet, like many fourhands kids lol

[disgustingtwitches]

"She sounds so familiar..."

Goap x reader situation where you're kind of seeing both of them at the same time without them knowing :/

Soap brings you up first. Talks about how he met this sweet thing at a bar one night.

"Gorgeous, curvy, an kind o a brat."

Ghost barely cares, Soap isn't even sure he's listening. He keeps going though, just excited to talk about you;

"Nice place; dark green silk sheets, vanilla candles, made a curated playlist jus for me."

Ghost pauses for a moment before he continues cleaning his boots.

"Fuckin perfect bird she is. Skin smells like shea butter. Got this cute little beauty mark on her left ass cheek. E'en got herself a gold chain wi ma name."

"She from the states?"

Ghost asks, setting his boots down.

"New York." Johnny nods, smiling.

"Tattoo on her left wrist?"

Ghost's mouth twitches, staring at the floor.

"Peonies...her favorite..."

Johnny's mouth goes dry. Simon stares at him, his eyes dark.

"You know 'er?"

Johnny swallows, knowing the answer already.

"Better than Jesus did his disciples."

Simon's voice is chilling. There's a tense moment. Soap feels like he could get crushed by the sheer weight of Simon's gaze alone.

"Let's go pay her a visit, hm?"

Simon doesn't wait for an answer from Johnny; it wasn't a question anyways.

You get a text from Soap:

"Outside :)"

'What a welcomed surprise' you think to yourself. You smile and walk to the door. Much to your shock and horror, there they both are on the other side.

"Greedy little thing, aren't you?"

[unknownarmageddon]

      Killer watched Cross from where he was sat, slumped, legs up against his chest, pressed into a corner of the crumbling building they sought shelter in. He rest his head on the wall beside him. Cross was tending to the fire he had gotten going, and fiddling with his backpack, a handful of feet in front of Killer.

       The fire’s light and warmth barely reached Killer from where he was, and so he was cold and shrouded by shadow. He watched its flames dance, but really he was focused on Cross in the corner of his vision. Cross didn’t look at him. Maybe he glanced up at him, once, twice, but Killer acted like he didn’t notice. There was so much distance between them now, had been for a painfully long time. He felt it. It made him so tired. 

        Killer felt weighted down, heavy. Sluggish. Like he just wanted to sink into the concrete below him. Cross wasn’t there to pull him out now. 

          Eventually, he watched as Cross killed the fire. Darkness swelled to fill the building, and Killer could only barely see the vague outline of Cross’ body now. Killer shifted to a slightly more comfortable position, assuming this was Cross getting ready for bed.

     But then Cross didn’t move. Instead he pulled something white, about the size of his head, from his backpack. Killer couldn’t quite make out what it was, but he saw Cross mess with it. In the silence that came with the dark, the sound of plastic clicking came to him. 

      Cross was oddly gentle with it, Killer noticed, as he carefully, slowly, did what Killer could only assume was inserting batteries into it. 

    Batteries? Couldn’t be. Those were a precious resource now. Batteries meant electricity, and electricity was as valuable as life. People sought them like water in a desert. Especially since by now, they had all either corroded or been snatched up by other scavengers. Where in the hell did Cross get batteries. And how long had he been looking. 

      Killer sat up just a bit straighter, squinting at this object Cross held. What was it. 

       Cross stood. Killer heard the brushing of his clothes. He stepped over toward Killer, eyes not fully on him. He paused a hesitant couple feet away, and when Killer didn’t react, he sat down beside him. But not too close.

       Killer now saw that the white thing was a short cylinder with a navy blue dome protruding from the top. All of it sat on the bottom half of a cone that stuck out underneath. It was placed in front of Killer, then Cross pressed a button on its side.

     Stars erupted from the dome, spewing out from every side and scattering across the ceiling and the walls. They seemed to stretch on forever, reaching every corner light could. The skeletons were instantly illuminated by a soft blue-white light; Killer saw stars dancing and spinning on Cross’s face, and he became visible to him again. 

     Killer’s soul almost exploded. He felt it flare, spark, like a fresh wildfire. He was surprised his ribcage didn’t cave in. He wrapped his arms around his legs, stared with wide eyes, tracing the ceiling. He couldn’t fucking believe it.

     Stars. Almost proper stars, too, not the triangular ones in children’s star projectors. Maybe there were even real constellations in this thing. 

      It was beautiful. Christ, it was fucking beautiful. It felt unreal. And to think, all this was held in that little bit of plastic in front of him. 

      Killer could almost make himself believe it was the real thing. He could almost pretend the dark dusty concrete above him was the night sky, he could almost pretend these stars weren’t powered by just batteries. That the bomb-smog had finally settled and the stars had come back. It was damn close, anyway.

God, when was the last time he saw stars? It felt like he was a kid again, truly looking up at the sky at night for the first time, when everything was new and wonderful. 

“…I.. I remember you saying how much you missed the stars.“ Cross spoke up softly. “Figured this would be the next best thing.” 

     Killer felt his cheeks grow wet, and his vision was blurred by the dark tar now pouring from his sockets. He wiped at it, if only to keep seeing the specs of light. 

      This star projector was a promise. They both knew it the moment it turned on. It was a promise. A whisper. A promise of how Cross cared so much it almost hurt. A promise of their survival. Not just physical, literal, survival, but their survival. Together. A promise of them getting out of this pit, bridging the distance, refounding the proximity. A reiteration of all the nights they spent sharing warmth in the same sleeping bag. 

        Fuck holy matrimonies and rings, none of that mattered now in the end of the world. Not in the same way. But this projector….. Cross had seen Killer mourning the stars and given them back to him. Cross had fucking given him the stars. 

God, he had even found batteries. Batteries. 

   At some point Cross had moved closer. Killer didn’t care. He leaned on his shoulder, and his soul burst all over again from feeling his warmth on him after however long it’d been. It was a warmth that made him want to just melt into him and not ever think about the world. 

     Maybe things would be okay. It’d take some more time, but maybe it would end up okay. 

apocalyptic kross au belongs to me, @psycho-chair, and @denieatsart

[motherstone]

I have nothing much to offer at this time,

[pyriteparasite]

The idea for this hit me thanks to that one discord promo art of Wx and Wilson it was like I struck GOLD ... Anyway I like these two a very normal amount trust trust trust

Bonus😋: