lol Ally I’m such a sucker for asking ppl to write lil’ fics from prompt posts like that!! You’re amazing❤️ whenever you get to it, I would love to read anything you write (smutty or not) about George or Ross and Matty sharing clothes. Even all three??? They can share him. Maybe something about their size difference! our little babygirl is pocket sized compared to his big boys!! also I love descriptions of smells and sweat when clothes sharing. Always gets me!

⭐️“are you wearing my shirt?”

Hello Dearest Anon,

Way, way back in the dark ages of August you sent me this lovely ask from the Subtle Smut Sentence Starts Prompts list. I have been very, very vocal about how smut is not something I am very good at writing, and is something that I need to super hype myself up to write because everything just ends up super cringe, awkward and the definition of unsexy. It is something I would like to get better at though! HOWEVER it's always good to push ourselves outside of our creative comfort zones and at least try. On that note, I realized that a ~spicy~ chapter of On a Friday (at least per the outline) is coming up and that means I should probably try and practice this whole smut writing thing some more in preparation. Therefore, here ya have it, some extremely mediocre subpar smut. I apologize for sitting on this ask for so long, and hope that you are 1) still around on the blog 2) that you are at least a *little* amused by this attempt. I am extremely grateful that you took the time to send it and am so extremely sorry for taking so long to finish it. Without further ado, here we go Ally Attempts Smut Part III: Return of the Smut. Thank you for this ask, your support, and letting me know what you think! I hope you have a great week and that being subjected to this attempt at writing smut doesn't make it worse!

WARNINGS: Extremely subpar smut, 18+ content

⭐️ “are you wearing my shirt?”

Matty felt silly, George had only been gone a day and a half, popping up to Manchester to visit his sister while Matty was tethered to London by a meeting at Dirty Hit. Matty knew the entire thing was a ploy by Jamie to try and convince him to reaccept the Creative Director’s position he had stepped down from last summer. Regardless it kept him in London while George was in Manchester and Matty felt absolutely ridiculous for the way that he missed him. He had made two cups of coffee that morning on autopilot, dumping the second cup with almond milk down the drain when he realized George wasn’t there to drink it. 

His meeting had been fine, and through some kind of miracle, he had even shown up on time without George there to lovingly herd him out the door. Jamie had come prepared with a very convincing argument as to why he should accept reinstatement, and the board of shareholders had been in agreement, which Matty hadn’t been expecting. But that didn’t change the fact that he had come home to an empty house, assuring Jamie that he would at least consider the offer. He didn’t want to admit it right away, but he was probably going to accept, the break they had settled into was more boring than he had anticipated it being, and he needed something to occupy his time with George’s production work growing in demand. 

On his way home he had ordered take away for one that he picked at half heartedly, wishing George was there to discuss the proposal. Because it wouldn’t just be taking back his old position, it would be taking on more responsibility, the role turning into less of an honorary title. While Matty was nearly positive he was going to accept, he was still plagued by a wave of self doubt and insecurity. He was sure the career counselors he had been required to meet with as teenager never expected him to succeed, breaking into the music industry and putting out five number one records, let alone that he would end up as a record label executive. 

He ran his fingers through his curls, starting to grow out once again. George constantly told him he liked the gray, but Matty couldn’t help but feel self conscious. He liked getting older, he liked that he was around to get older but seeing the gray in his hair and the lines around his eyes was jarring sometimes, especially when he woke up feeling like he was still lost and seventeen. He shoved the plastic containers  full of leftovers into the refrigerator, maybe he would be hungry later, he thought and headed upstairs. Despite their most recent album aesthetic leaning into suitwear, and Matty having always been partial to a button down, he couldn’t wait to be free of the constricting fabric. 

He hung his blazer up in the closet. He intended to change into his blue Nike hoodie and Adidas track pants. He was alone in the house, there wasn’t anyone to make fun of his mismatched shades of blue, when George’s tee shirt, sitting on the top of the laundry hamper caught his eye. Feeling ridiculous, but he was alone so there wasn’t anyone to tease or judge him, he picked up the shirt. It was a faded pink, a white peace sign across the chest, the shirt, one George primarily wore to his yoga classes three times a week, was oversized even on him. Matty couldn’t help but raise it to his face, the fabric, grown thin from the wash, was soft against his skin as he inhaled the scent of stale cigarette smoke and the comforting musk that he could only describe as George. 

Without thinking, and refusing to consider that maybe it was gross because Matty had just pulled the shirt out of the dirty laundry pile, he tugged it over his head, the fabric instantly enveloping him in the warmth and comfort that was George. The sharp, masculine tang of sweat that clung to the shirt as it brushed the tops of Matty’s thighs, made him feel small and delicate, like he should be cared for. His dick twitched with interest, and Matty found himself palming himself over his boxers, his head spinning at the juxtaposition of his own touch while being overwhelmed by the smell of George, so strong he could taste it in the back of his throat.

He let out a little whine of frustration, his knees shaking as he flopped onto the bed, wiggling out of his boxers as he went. George should be here, he thought. He was hyper aware of the way the fabric of George’s shirt was dragging against his nipples, the way that it was still a little damp, having been peeling from George’s sweaty body and then tossed into the hamper, the moisture becoming trapped among the fibers even two days later. He shivered with arousal, his cock, red and angry, begging for George’s touch curved up towards his belly. He thumbed at the head, gasping as his rough guitarist’s calluses dragged against the sensitive skin, smearing precum down the shaft, his hips squirming off the mattress on their own accord. He rucked up George’s tee shirt towards his chest, pressing down on his belly with his free hand as if trying to hold himself down, the way George did when he was too impatient. 

He moaned, the sound high pitched and performative even if there wasn’t anyone there to hear him. He inhaled sharply, breathing in more of the intoxicated pheromones clinging to George’s shirt and whined again, tightening his grip on his cock, shifting so that he could tug on his balls. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and he tilted his head back, panting as he continued to touch himself, desperate to pretend it was George’s fingers teasing him. 

“Matty, I’m home!” George called and Matty whimpered, his head swimming as he chased his release, the smell of George overwhelming his senses to the point that he was imagining the sound of his voice. 

George snorted, “I see you started without me, missed me that much love?” he asked, his words light and teasing. Matty’s eyes flew open to see George looming over him, still wearing his overcoat with his backpack slung over his shoulder. 

Matty couldn’t help it, he just whimpered in response, eyes growing dark as George shed his backpack and jacket, tossing them to the floor unceremoniously before kicking off his trainers. 

“Please,” Matty gasped, arching up off the bed so that he could kiss George, pulling him down so that he was pinned under his bulk. He was completely overwhelmed by so much George, George, George as he rutted desperately against his hip while George kissed him, licking into his mouth, tugging on his lower lip like he wanted to consume him fully. 

He came with his face buried into George’s shoulder, biting down on the junction of his neck and shoulder, refusing to be ashamed that he had just come from dry humping George like some kind of teenager.

“Welcome home,” slurred Matty as George rolled off of him, his own erection straining his jeans. Matty would be dealing with that for him as soon as he caught his breath. He was moving into his mid to late thirties now, it took him longer to recover. 

“Good to be back,” said George with a chuckle, propping himself up on his elbow to look at Matty with a frown. “Are you wearing my shirt?” 

Big fan of sun motifs in characters not necessarily being about positivity and happiness and how they're so " bright and warm" but instead being about fucking brutal they are.

Radiant. A FORCE of nature that will turn you to ash. That warmth that burns so hot it feels like ice. Piercing yellow and red and white. A character being a Sun because you cannot challenge a Sun without burning alive or taking everything down with them if victorious.

So I'm leaving work and something darts in front of me, maybe 10ft away, too fast for me to see what it is. Peek around the tree blocking my path and I see this

Just like... a whole ass hawk. Dude's gotta be about 1.5ft tall. Massive fucking bird. And it's just staring me straight in my soul like this, even as I try to move ahead. It didn't budge. And there's only this path back to my car unless I want to walk on a busy highway. So I have the option of Death By Raptor or Death By Truck.

So I walk in the poison ivy filled patch off the sidewalk. Guy still isn't moving. Still staring me directly in the eyes. And I do this thing when animals are behaving strangely where I'll talk to them, so I'm just like, "Hey, man. I don't know you. You don't know me. This feels really threatening. I'm just trying to get to my car, dude. Can I get some space please? You're a big fucking bird. I see those claws. You could kill me right now, but I'd appreciate if you didn't, ok?"

It didn't move until I was about 2ft away. Again: I'm as far from it as I can be without walking into the street. It clearly wasn't going to budge. I walk past, thing flies up (silent, btw. Scary) and lands on a brick wall a little further ahead

Anyway. Weird guy. Nearly shit my pants when I noticed a bird big enough to carry off a fully grown cat was just... there, staring me in the face, unwilling to move away from me, a human, something it should see as a threat. I watched behind me the whole rest of the way to my car, just in case this bird decided to help me shed this mortal coil. 10/10 experience. Super cool guy.

the thing is that they're so fascinated by sex, they love sex, they can't imagine a world without sex - they need sex to sell things, they need sex to be part of their personality, they need sex to prove their power - but they hate sex. they are disgusted by it.

sex is the only thing that holds their attention, and it is also the thing that can never be discussed directly.

you can't tell a child the normal names for parts of their body, that's sexual in nature, because the body isn't a body, it's a vessel of sex. it doesn't matter that it's been proven in studies (over and over) that kids need to know the names of their genitals; that they internalize sexual shame at a very young age and know it's 'dirty' to have a body; that it overwhelmingly protects children for them to have the correct words to communicate with. what matters is that they're sexual organs. what matters is that it freaks them out to think about kids having body parts - which only exist in the context of sex.

it's gross to talk about a period or how to check for cancer in a testicle or breast. that is nasty, illicit. there will be no pain meds for harsh medical procedures, just because they feature a cervix.

but they will put out an ad of you scantily-clad. you will sell their cars for them, because you have abs, a body. you will drip sex. you will ooze it, like a goo. like you were put on this planet to secrete wealth into their open palms.

they will hit you with that same palm. it will be disgusting that you like leather or leashes, but they will put their movie characters in leather and latex. it will be wrong of you to want sexual freedom, but they will mark their success in the number of people they bed.

they will crow that it's inappropriate for children so there will be no lessons on how to properly apply a condom, even to teens. it's teaching them the wrong things. no lessons on the diversity of sexual organ growth, none on how to obtain consent properly, none on how to recognize when you feel unsafe in your body. if you are a teenager, you have probably already been sexualized at some point in your life. you will have seen someone also-your-age who is splashed across a tv screen or a magazine or married to someone three times your age. you will watch people pull their hair into pigtails so they look like you. so that they can be sexy because of youth. one of the most common pornography searches involves newly-18 young women. girls. the words "barely legal," a hiss of glass sand over your skin.

barely legal. there are bills in place that will not allow people to feel safe in their own bodies. there are people working so hard to punish any person for having sex in a way that isn't god-fearing and submissive. heteronormative. the sex has to be at their feet, on your knees, your eyes wet. when was the first time you saw another person crying in pornography and thought - okay but for real. she looks super unhappy. later, when you are unhappy, you will close your eyes and ignore the feeling and act the role you have been taught to keep playing. they will punish the sex workers, remove the places they can practice their trade safely. they will then make casual jokes about how they sexually harass their nanny.

and they love sex but they hate that you're having sex. you need to have their ornamental, perfunctory, dispassionate sex. so you can't kiss your girlfriend in the bible belt because it is gross to have sex with someone of the same gender. so you can't get your tubes tied in new england because you might change your mind. so you can't admit you were sexually assaulted because real men don't get hurt, you should be grateful. you cannot handle your own body, you cannot handle the risks involved, let other people decide that for you. you aren't ready yet.

but they need you to have sex because you need to have kids. at 15, you are old enough to parent. you are not old enough to hear the word fuck too many times on television.

they are horrified by sex and they never stop talking about it, thinking about it, making everything unnecessarily preverted. the saying - a thief thinks everyone steals. they stand up at their podiums and they look out at the crowd and they sign a bill into place that makes sexwork even more unsafe and they stand up and smile and sign a bill that makes gender-affirming care illegal and they get up and they shrug their shoulders and write don't say gay and they get up, and they make the world about sex, but this horrible, plastic vision of it that they have. this wretched, emotionless thing that holds so much weight it's staggering. they put their whole spine behind it and they push and they say it's normal!

this horrible world they live in. disgusted and also obsessed.

the make-everything-hades fever has spread to lae'zel

all her boons are for sure big huge damage boosters at the expense of your magic meter

others: astarion (bg3), wyll (bg3), kotallo (horizon)

The Duke 🐺⛓

i love the (slightly cracky) premise that the newer batkids like duke who weren't around during jason's genuine "i hate the batfam" era would sometimes forget that it even happened so there'd be times where it would go:

Tim: where are you going

Jason: got a call from a friend in the alley, some fuckers need bullets in their knees. tell B and i'll kill you

Tim: no you won't

Jason: i dunno, i almost did it twice, third time's the charm

Tim: boooo you'll have to try harder

Jason, flipping him off as he leaves: watch your back, timmers!

Duke, who was sitting next to Tim the whole time: ??? he almost did it twice???? i thought he's joking when he says that????

Tim: oh, he is joking whenever he says that now. try a few years ago and it wouldn't have been as much of a joke

Duke: ???????????

Tim, snorting: i'd like to see him try again, anyway. once you realise that spends 80% of his free time in the local library he becomes no better than a nerdy loser who happens to be a bit dangerous

Duke: DUDE

Tim: what? do you find jason scary?

Duke: not usually but DUDE?!?!?

Just gonna have to wait and see, right? Just wait and see! Just gotta wait and see! Who knows, we'll just have to wait and see! It's anybody's guess, we'll just have to wait and see! The future is exciting, we just gotta wait and see!

Here's a neat detail:

Not to talk about season 1 Good Omens in the year of our Lord and Season 3 announcement 2023, but I kind of just realized another little moment that's very sweet and true to real life.

I really like that Crowley isn't just fine again after he learns Aziraphale survived the bookshop burning after all. Normally in stories when there's a "surprise, I'm alive!" moment, the characters just kind of celebrate for a minute and then move on business as usual. But Crowley doesn't. He continues to be visibly be shaken and a little unfocused throughout his conversation with Aziraphale, and when he has to explain what happened, he starts crying again.

I don't know I just thought that was a really nice detail because anyone who's experienced similar whiplash in real life knows about that... residual grief period I guess? I think this was a core memory that informed a lot of Crowley's behavior in season 2, you don't ever really forget that moment you lost them no matter how brief. There's just something very loving and vulnerable in him being like "I thought you were gone, and even though I know now you're ok, I want you to know just thinking about it upsets me deeply."

Little things adults and older people can do to help younger people and children feel included, safe, and respected as an equal individual:

Ask before touching the young person - even for hugs. Ask before you take pictures of them, and let them see photographs of them before they are printed or sent to others (even family).

Apologize when you are wrong

Ask for a young persons thoughts on a subject, then engage with them after they have spoken

Demonstrate behaviour you want to see from them (see: apologizing). Say "excuse me," say "thank you," say "please" to them

Validate their feelings, even if they don't know how to express them just yet

Remember that this is the first time they've been alive, and that you've had way longer to "figure it out"

These are some things I wish other adults remembered when engaging with young folks. We so often forget what childhood felt like and how unfair it all was because we were often awarded freedoms as adults that we never had as children. These kids are equal to adults, and they deserve the same courtesy, respect, kindness, and understanding we give to other adults.

ml secret santa gift for @raindrops-on-the-roof ! ✨ sorry for being a week late i have this problem where i over-detail things that were meant to be simple. I wanted to do a silly lil love square comic and somehow get alya & nino in there, and at the time, elation was all i could think about! lol (this takes place in a reality where that was the last episode i watched) Thank you @mlsecretsanta for hosting such a cool event 💙

Lady Mowbray ❤️‍🔥 commissions patreon

Hermit a Day May: Day 4 — Keralis!

more draft emptying stuff,, i have 2 more to post

do any other artists feel like. yeah you're a 'good artist' because you draw things that look nice, but like. TECHNICALLY? you're really not great

i really hate that i can recognise that yes, my art is good, but is it VARIED? is it dynamic?? is my anatomy good? is it full of texture and colour theory? do i know how to do This? can i do That? no, not really. and that's quite painful actually

Moon 12: Eyes Without A Face

PREVIOUS l NEXT