Ship Moodboard + snippet | The Apostate and The Phoenix | [redacted] x Joey Hudson

“One moment, one choice that I thought would lead me to certain death... ended up leading me to you. Fate doesn't seem that outlandish.” “You believe that?” His hand came to rest next to hers on the railing, their fingers brushing, “As much as Calahan believes fire solves every problem if you get creative enough.” “That certain?” “And then some, Jo.”

Tagging, @socially-awkward-skeleton @strafethesesinners @strangefable @purplehairsecretlair @direwombat

@cassietrn @voidika @carlosoliveiraa @finding-comfort-in-rain @imogenkol

@aceghosts @wrathfulrook @thesingularityseries @hookhearted @josephslittledeputy

@josephseedismyfather @trench-rot @la-grosse-patate @dumbassdep @theelderhazelnut

@jackiesarch @shellibisshe @marivenah @gearvmac @rhettsabbott

@onehornedbeast @kyber-infinitygems @g0dspeeed @simonxriley and anyone with something to share as WIP this week <3

Tease Tidbit Tuesday

Tagged by @shipperqueen6

“I only need blood at certain times.” Theo responds, halting Liam from asking any other questions by holding his hands up and making him wait to hear what he’s saying before interrupting.

“Oh. That’s kinda lame.” Liam points out, shrugging his shoulders and starting on his third slice.

“How is that lame? I’m still a vampire.” Theo argues, with a defensive tone and Liam pats his knee, causing him to grow embarrassed by the causal nature of it and the constant teasing.

“Yes. Good for you.” Liam says through a mouthful of food, shoving the box of pizza away to stop himself from eating it all.

Tagging @wolfboy88 @thiamsxbitch @maplesyrizzup @chasing-chimeras @outcastpack

God dammit consent is the sexiest thing in the world to me 😩

                “What are you looking at?”

                “T-shirts.”

                “Are those for Bradley?”

                “Nope. I’m making myself a secret identity.”

                “What?”

                “Bradley won’t let us visit him because he doesn’t want everyone to know who his family is. So… I’m going for hip-looking professor. Blazer over a tshirt, but it has to be a tshirt with a joke to show I’m hip.”

                “Do kids actually use the word hip?

                “Huh. I don’t know. I made you one by the way.”

                “Made what?”

                “A secret identity. Want to know what it is?” Pete wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and part of Tom is afraid to ask.

                “I’m not wearing a blazer.”

                “No. But you know how you had that leather jacket back in the 80s? Thought I’d bring it back…”

                “I… do I even have that anymore?”

                “Sure do. Bet it still fits too.”

hunger game :3

warning- torture, violence, Hazbin Hotel typical etc

I can't help that I like Alastor equally dapper and disturbing. Formal apologies to Husk as I keep making him the target in all my works. The downside of being a favorite. 😭

Also. Am I the only one who thinks those wings are a trophy/threat above Husk's bar??? I may not be long/deep enough in the fandom to have seen it discussed but the moment I first saw them, my brain was firing on all cylinders. They dont match him exactly but the vibe and the symbolism are there!!! And who is to say Sinners dont reform in stages in Hell? Those could be new wings that didn't have a chance to mature and form the cute little poker chips before Alastor ripped them off and mounted them.

What I'm saying is I do believe the torture demon did some torture. Ha! I believe Husk did too but that's a separate long post about a separate fic.

Anywho...Alastor being a smug, creepy, asshole makes me happy. He is so not a Huskdust fan. *tosses some WIPS below*

WIP Train WIP Train!!!

I have been invited to join the WIP train by @howdyrat (informally on discord LOL 🥰) Littled did Howdy know, I am incorrigible.

Rules: Post a minimum of one sentence (I'm adding: or line) of a WIP of your choice, and tag others to join the train!

[Today, 1117] Mav: [A photograph of all fourteen selected and potential aviators for the uranium mission in swim suits on the beach. Lieutenant Pete Mitchell is holding a football and bent down to spike it to Lieutenant Iceman Kazansky, who is crouched behind him. Arrayed around them are Lieutenants Bradshaw, Trace, Floyd, Bassett, and Avalone. The remaining seven aviators are arrayed in front of them in what looks like it might be making an attempt at a defensive line] Ice: Nice ass shot, Mitchell Mav: You love it Ice: That was sincere. What do I tell Cyclone you’re doing? Mav: Creating a team

(Operation Groundhog AU: Admiral Ice and Captain Mav often provide commentary over text ;) )

No pressure tags that weren't explicitly in the post I first saw:

@frostbitebakery, @asukaskerian, @oathkeeperoxas, @lambourngb, @goddammitjim, @brigittttoo, @lttrsfrmlnrrgby

"Erestor!"

The call came… oddly pronounced, which was perhaps what made Erestor turn towards the noisy hall. He tended to avoid the Hall of Fire on evenings such as this, when the brisk air called for the inhabitants of the valley to gather around the fires, keeping warm and making merry.

He was not necessarily surprised to find Glorfindel with the usual group of Elves: Lindir, Elladan, Elrohir, Galadir from the guard, among others. Lindir, often the leader when it came to mischief, waved and smiled his innocent smile at Erestor—which, of course, had Erestor instantly suspicious.

"Erestor, you have to help me,” implored Glorfindel, stretching his arms as Erestor neared their table. As though the slight slur in his words wasn't a clue, there was also a telling flush on his cheeks where it caught the light. “I am being made fun of and I do not care for it!”

Erestor stopped to stand on Glorfindel's side of the benches, though he pointedly stayed out of reach of those—just what is Glorfindel doing?

“Hands off the robe, Glorfindel,” he admonished, swatting at the hands reaching for his robes. “What is this that you are complaining about this time?”

“These terrible trolls! Sorry excuse for friends!” Glorfindel made a clumsy kind of wave at the Elves around him, who only snickered amongst themselves. “They have been teasing me all evening!”

“To be fair, Master Erestor,” said Elladan, “we do that most evenings.”

“As I thought,” said Erestor, looking back down at Glorfindel, “which is why I am wondering what could be so terrible this time."

If possible, the flush on Glorfindel's cheeks grew higher as he declared, affronted: “They said I will never marry!"

The laughter from the other Elves was on cue. It was just as well that they were all distracted, for Erestor did not join in on their amusement, and instead had grown quite still.

It took a moment for him to respond, and when did, it was a careful: "I did not know you wanted to marry.”

"Well, I do!”

Another moment, then a quieter, "I see."

"But they said!” Glorfindel cried again, oblivious to the racing thoughts his sudden claim caused within his oldest friend. “They said that I couldn't, and do you know why? Because they said you obviously do not plan to marry ever, to which I said, no! No! They cannot very well know that about you, can they? Unless you have told them—”

"Eru forbid."

"Right? So I said—"

"Why exactly am I involved in this equation?"

Glorfindel looked up at Erestor as though this was a very silly question. "Why wouldn't you be? There is no one else I want to marry, is there? But then if you are not intent on marrying, then obviously I cannot get married either."

Erestor took a moment again—a different kind of moment, this time around. “O-Oh. Obviously."

He glanced at the other Elves around the table, who this time conveniently found something of interest on the floor, on the ceiling, or on their nails while the two of them were speaking. Erestor picked up the vessel nearest to Glorfindel. "Is this your cup?"

"Aye! Good stuff.”

"Hm. Potent, too. I thought you do not drink?"

"I don't."

"You are as drunk as a Dwarf."

"I resent that,” said Glorfindel with a—oh, by the Valar—a pout. "You said there is nothing attractive about Dwarves."

“I have said no such thing.”

“Erestor!” This time, Glorfindel looked distressed. “Are you saying you are, in fact, attracted to Dwarves?”

By this point, Erestor could no longer resist the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. "No, but what I can say is that there is nothing attractive about this picture either."

“Oooh,” Lindir finally chimed. “Harsh.”

Man Up: A Preview

T4T Tim Wright/Masky x Transmasc!Reader

CW: force masc, degradation, use of homophobic language (i.e. sissy, pansy), generally mean, pissed off dom Tim

“I don’t wanna see you in any of that pansy shit ever again, do you fuckin’ hear me?”

“Tim, please…!” You whimper, grabbing his wrist and weakly trying to free yourself from his grip. 

“I asked you a question, boy. Do you hear me?” 

You nod as best you can, frantically attempting to placate him. 

“Y-Yes, yes! I hear you, okay?! Let go…!” 

He debates the order for a moment, ultimately deciding to concede. He releases his grip on your face, but doesn’t back up. He leans down to speak into your ear, his breath warm on your delicate skin. 

“You’re a man now. You’re gonna stop acting like a fuckin’ sissy. No more skirts, no more lace, no more of that shit I know for a damn fact you hate wearing. It’s for your own good.”

You open your mouth to argue, but you can’t force out any words. The humiliation of this ordeal is making your throat clamp shut. You didn’t think Tim had noticed. How stupid you must be for being so obvious. 

“…I’m sorry,” is the only response you can manage, a little whisper of regret. You keep your gaze trained on the floor, too afraid to look up at Tim. Even now, he thinks, you’re cowering. Pathetic. 

“Let me tell you what you’re gonna do, boy,” He says, placing two hands on your shoulders and squeezing a bit, “You’re gonna take off that frilly ass outfit. All of it. You’re gonna strip down nice and naked, then you’re gonna lay on that bed and wait for me to get back. I’m not done with you.”

“You’ve had me here for weeks now. Please tell me you’re going to untie me. I won’t try to escape.”

“Sorry, babe , trust isn’t won that easily.”

“How can I get you to trust me, then?”

“You could kill someone. How about that? I’ll bring someone here, and you kill them, and then I’ll trust that you’re not going to run away and cry to the cops about this.”

BJ & friends! [WIP ⚠️]

Huge piece I’m currently working on! If you know me, you’ve probably noticed by now I barely draw anymore than 3 characters on a single canvas- WELP. THIS IS CHANGING THAT! this is my biggest piece by FAR & I wanted to share it with you guys! Lemme know what you think!

I’m hoping to finish this soon because guess what… I MIGHT MAIL THIS OFF TO THE TOUR CREW IF ALL GOES WELL! 💚💜 also I’m 100% making this into a poster for myself 😭🫱🏽‍🫲🏼

If anyone has suggestions or easter-eggs to add, I’d be more than happy to take some into consideration! :D I want this to be BIGGG 🫣🪲🧃

Lil Belated Wip Snip - ty for tagging me @squintclover ♡

The name of the game is to share a snippet, a smackeral, a tiny taste of something you're working on! I'm tagging @littlewinnow @mono-chromia @hihimissamericanbi @maxrowave @lqtraintracks only if you'd like~☆

It's moving week, besties. Come get y'all juice!

I'll be driving 3,000 miles over the next few days with an 8-foot trailer attached to my car, a 150-pound dog, and nothing but this damn fic running through my mind.

No idea when this will be finished, but uhhh... enjoy the snippet 🤭

(82% of you asked; daddy provides.)

OP: [image attached] 

Logan was in the middle of a hot lap on the sim when the text came in. His phone was propped up against the edge of his screen, and he let his eyes flick over to it while barreling down the straight of Melbourne. He only looked long enough to see it was from Oscar before snapping his eyes back to the racing line. 

He started a new lap. 

And then another. 

And then another. 

Then his phone lit up again. 

OP: oops lol 

He finished the lap he was on before pressing pause. He stretched his neck to the left and right before finally reaching for his phone, but nothing could have ever prepared him for what he was about to see. He swiped his phone unlocked, chewing his bottom lip into his mouth as he opened the text. 

Then he proceeded to choke on the air in his lungs. 

“What the fuck!” Logan exclaimed, dropping his phone as if he had been burned. The phone clattered loudly to the ground, landing somewhere between his feet with a loud slap against the wooden floor. Logan stared blankly at the screen of his sim for one, two, three seconds before repeating, “What the fuck?!”

He must be seeing things. 

He sat up in his chair, reaching around on the floor until his fingers touched his phone. He turned it over in his hands, the picture still open and still—that—before he hastily swiped out of it. He stared at Oscar’s name at the top of the thread and then at the preview of the picture again, his mind racing and trying to make sense of everything. 

There was no way that Oscar Piastri just sent him a dick pic.

What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck.

"There was about half a second of ghost staring at his blood smeared face after the door opened"

Ghost likes his men bloody and he can't even hide it 💀 BAHAHAHAHAHA

Liam’s lost. Lost in the scent of Theo, the touch of his hand, his voice, the dark side of the chimera, and the uncontrollable attraction that he has for him.

His hands are sweaty, and the hand resting on his leg has his pulse quickening the more Theo keeps his hand firmly on Liam’s thigh, pulling him further into whatever game that he’s playing.

A game Liam’s itching to play.

He gulps, his throat dry, and the music is blaring from the speaker as they drive through the city, closer to Theo’s house and closer to where the chimera can get his hands on him.

Theo did tip the bartender. He gave him a stack of cash, sliding it into his pocket as he winked at Liam and placed his hand on his shoulder, gently leading him out the door and into the dark night.

WIP Game - Ice Gets Divorced Snippet

Okayyyyy next up we have Ice Gets Divorced. Snippet of my progress on this one is below. Warning for alcohol: Ice is, what's the word? Ah, right. Wasted.

He lets his mind wander a bit—sliding along all the work he hasn’t done today, as he sat in a room with two lawyers and Sarah and attempted to separate their lives after over a decade of marriage. The lawyers keep saying they’re moving quickly, that it’s so nice to see such an amicable divorce, that actually things are going really smoothly, but all Ice feels is tired and heartsick. Sarah didn’t look much better today. It’s tax season, so she’s got to be run off her feet. Ice doesn’t know if it’s his place to ask about that anymore, offer to help. And he’s back to the divorce. He sighs, and takes another swig of vodka. He wonders what Mav’s doing tonight. Mav’s been a rock—for them both, Ice thinks, though he can’t confirm that. He showed up at Ice’s hotel that first night with a case of beer and dinner, made sure Ice wasn’t alone as he tried to process what the fuck just happened. He’s watched the kids during after work meetings with the attorneys, sent Ice more than a few house listings that Ice hasn’t had time to look at, and has definitely been playing ball with his COs more than normal. Probably to give Ice a break. Ice smiles to himself, reluctantly fond. He hasn’t seen Mav in days, really. He hasn’t seen anyone but his staff and the lawyers and… well, today, Sarah. Ice grits his teeth through the sudden wave of loneliness, the silence of the room looming up and around him, threatening to choke him. Suddenly, sickeningly, he feels like he might be the only person left in the world. Abruptly, if he doesn’t talk to a person in the next minute, he is very aware that he is going to scream. He doesn’t quite register the decision to pick up the hotel phone and dial a number until the phone is already ringing in his hands. “‘Lo,” says a warm, familiar tenor, groggy with sleep. “Is someone fuckin’ dying?” “Mav,” Ice says, and sort of slumps into the arm of the couch, ridiculously relieved for no goddamn reason at all. “Mav, this hotel is fucking depressing as shit.” “...Ice?” Mav asks, sounding incredulous. “Yeah,” Ice says, because who the fuck else could it be. “Are you drunk?” Ice thinks about it. “Yes,” he decides.