The memory washed over Clint as his hand approached Elliott’s neckline. Elliott looked at him oddly, but he pushed on, pulling the turtleneck aside and gasping.
In the light of morning, it was even more intense than Clint's memories from the dark club lounge or even the fluorescent bathroom.
“You don't have to tell me,” Elliott chuckled. “I can feel them. You tried to eat me last night.”
“I must have been a lot more drunk than I thought,” Clint said, trying to remember how many shots he had thrown back. More than Elliott had, certainly.
“I can refresh your memory if you want,” Elliott joked. “Make you match.”
And, since it tis the season, I am once again throwing out some art for the fantastic collab fanfic "Blood of My Blood
An epic Bad Ending AU that explores what happens after Dracula wins, and Jonathan, Mina and an unexpected new arrival—their vampire baby Quincey— are taken into the Count's "hospitality".
Written by a truly spectacular group of writers: @animate-mush @bluecatwriter @see-arcane @pinkninjapj @thegoatsongs (and me)!
If you're new to Dracula give it a read after, or if you're an old fan feel free to dive in now, and it's always worth a reread if I do say so myself
*said like a waiter at a fancy bar* "If you like soft Crowley with a cat, this piece pairs beautifully with this adorable fic by the one and only @itsscottiesstark."
The final collab piece I made for chapter 3 of @prince-liest 's incredible radiostatic fic Vox Mortuorum.
Please go give it a read!
-- Relevant Ch.3 Excerpt --
She starts by dragging him into the therapy room—because they do, in fact, have a therapy room. It’s filled with particularly gaudy filigree, deep red carpets now stained with paint and glitter, and the walls are covered with pictures from art therapy, which is apparently a specific type of therapy that involves drawing lewd images of one’s coworkers. Alastor can’t say much beyond that; he is not an expert on the vagaries of therapy and refuses to participate himself.
It is also how Alastor learned that Angel Dust is actually a half-decent artist, and additionally how he learned that Niffty apparently thinks Husk has rippling muscles that manifest exclusively in proximity to swooning, spidery twinks despite all obvious and immediate visual evidence to the contrary. It’s not as if the man wears a shirt.
Alastor hasn’t made any of his own drawings, but he has left color commentary on most everybody else’s, complete with little grinning doodles or amendments in dripping red or black ink. The singular exception being, of course, Niffty’s Angel and Husk drawing. He’s made an effort to at least add an Excellent work, my dear Niffty! to the rest of her efforts, but he’s not touching that one. His only regret is that he hasn’t the heart to burn it.
If you're in the ASOIAF fandom space, you've probably dealt with someone who wants to police what you write and who for.
We all know there are varying levels of red flag characters in here, but we love them anyway. The list in this collaboration is definitely only a little snapshot of the characters who fit this bill!
So please enjoy our middle finger to anyone who wants to tell us who we can and cannot write for!
For that reason, MINORS DNI. If you don't like one of the characters, don't interact, don't read. This collab clearly isn't for you.
Delicious writing for questionable men, under the cut!
The Spoils of War by @targaryen-dynasty
Maegor Targaryen x Sister!Reader
You are Maegor’s prize, taken by force, and every of his commands drags you deeper into his will. You soon realize that your body, your womb, and your will belong entirely to him, with no escape from his merciless claim.
You Are Different, Though by @aemondsbabe
Ramsay Bolton x F!Reader
Ramsay likes you best when you’re useful; the trouble is learning what he thinks you’re useful for. (This fic is a sequel to A Kindness).
His Little Dragon by @happilyhertale
Daemon Targaryen x Daughter!Reader
Tonight the lords of the realm come to court a Targaryen princess. Unfortunately for them, she is also the daughter of Daemon Targaryen. While Rhaenyra plans alliances and marriages, Daemon watches every man who dares approach her with growing displeasure. And the Rogue Prince has never been particularly good at sharing.
Tongues Crave Taste by @zaldritzosrose
Aerion Targaryen x Sister!Reader
Your brother believes himself to be a dragon, and while most ignore or even dare to mock him, you encourage it. Letting him convince himself he can hunt like a dragon, tasting scents on the air. And his favourite scent is yours.
A Treasure Stolen by @thought--bubble
Maegor Targaryen x Reader
Maegor takes a widow for a bride, hoping to put her success in breeding sons to good use. Whether she wishes for it or not.
Collab with my dear and absolutely incredible friend @forlorn-crows as a lil gift for @miasmaghoul 😈❤️
"Dew whimpers again and reaches his arm back, craning his neck so he can sloppily capture the quint ghoul’s lips with his own. Breathing hot and humid against each other’s faces, Dew’s hand gripping at Aether’s hair. Whining again when Aether humps, just a little."
Now, now, Nigel... you know there's no use in fighting...~ ❤️🔥
A gift piece for hisvoicebroke (twitter) from a couple years ago that also doubles now as a collab! We were chatting about my fave pairing (Hannigel ❤️🔥) and Quinn had the rough workings of a fic in mind, so we came up with a saucy little scenario~ ❤️🔥
Now that fic has finally been born!!! 😍😍😍
My Turn by Hisvoicebrokemyheart
The final scene turns out a little different in the final fic but hopefully that's a forgiveable sin as I was drawing based on a rough idea 2 years prior, haha. BUT THE SEXY SPIRIT OF OUR 2 BAD BOYS IS STILL THERE! ❤️🔥❤️🔥❤️🔥
Please give her amazing fic a read, it's SO DELICIOUS! Hannibal is the controlled, sultry predator he always is, and Nigel is a total loverboy. 😍😍😍
I had the absolute pleasure of working with @tansyuduri on her gift fic Uther's Mistake 🥰💛💕
Not convinced to read it by the art and author alone? Check out the snippet below:
Uther did not tell him where the key was, but his gaze involuntarily flicked in a direction and the sword clanged to the ground as he backed up.
He knew he could not beat Arthur here.
Arthur kicked the sword away and then rushed for the shelves in the direction Uther’s eyes had twitched. A box revealed a key that looked to be made of the same bone as the cage. Arthur turned back around, key in hand, and took one moment to make sure his father was backed in the corner as he ordered. Then he rushed to the cage, to his Merlin.
Arthur shoved the key into the lock as he watched Merlin's body go from laying still inside the cage to convulsing again; his eyes rolled back into his skull. His skin was even paler than before.
As the door opened, Arthur rushed to Merlin's side, kneeling beside him and bracing his head.
“Merlin!”
Merlin went limp on the ground again; the rolling of his eyes was his only movement. Arthur grabbed the bottle on the ground near Merlin's head and shoved it into his belt. He didn’t trust his father enough to ask what other poison he had used.
He lifted Merlin into his arms.
“I’ve got you. It's over. It's over. Just hold on.”
