dradrianmilk

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knee deep in the passenger seat 🚙

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COLORED SOME SKETCHES!!

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Got inspired by PrettyPonyRideToHell’s fic Hellraiser, Heartbreaker

Never knew I needed Worst Wolvie having to deal with his little shit, younger self and with Wade ofc caught in the middle 😌✨

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Marvel. Wade/Logan. There was only one (very small) bed.

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Poolverine. Once again, you will need to go to Bluesky or AO3 for the full nasty, or if you want, you can imagine he is starting to get tired from the fight...

The last of the requests in the batch I took and figured I should end on an uh, bang. Also bottom!Logan is always a treat for me.

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Wade/Logan. Sometimes you gotta drag your girl off the dance floor.

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a pain slut if i've ever seen one

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Marvel Snap

The cupid arrow hitting in the last gif... 💘

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i feel like fandom would really benefit from adopting the idea of readings, as in interpretations. anyone can interpret canon as saying anything on even the most tenuous of justifications. if you interpret a detail or moment in a particular way, great! but if someone interprets that thing in another way, even in a way which directly contradicts your interpretation, that’s also okay. multiple readings can exist at once without invalidating any of them

a lot of fandom drama seems to arise from people acting as if their interpretations are True or Factual in some way, when really all anyone can do is speak to their own interpretations & experiences. which is natural! and good! many voices with many interpretations and approaches is healthy and good. the trouble is depicting a reading, which is a very personal thing, as universally true, and then getting frustrated that others don’t interpret events the same way. & i get it, that can be annoying, especially if you think those other interpretations are misunderstanding the canon. but so much of the time it’s just a different reading, taking into account details you might not have noticed or maybe just viewing them in a different light, informed by different life experiences & values & everything else that goes into a personal interpretation of a creative work

by trying to depict One Single Reading of a text as Correct, fandom loses all the nuance of interpretation & also just turns everyone into a bunch of rabid raccoons fighting over different ways to look through the same kaleidoscope

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He can keep the greasy tits out a little longer…

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Coordinated outfits and everything

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Happy Halloween!

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got a little lazy with this one

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nap time

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(teaser WIP)

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Obi Wan reading once again his new book looking for grammatical errors lol... you can’t see it here but in the first page it says “To my dear Padawan Anakin” lol

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For the @dreamlingbingo adoptable prompt: bound and gagged

—

Hob Gadling is not about to pretend he’s never been tied up, gagged, had a hood thrown over his head and been thrown in the back of one variety of vehicle or other on, if not a frequent basis, at least a fairly regular one.

He hadn’t realised he’d made any proper enemies this lifetime, but this feels a bit like a cult—the black robes are a dead giveaway—so they probably want him for his immortality. Not the first time that’s happened, either. Funny how no one quite seems to grasp that it’s very difficult to sacrifice an immortal. On account of how he can’t die.

He would explain this to the… head priest? Whatever the weaselly looking bloke in the horn-rimmed glasses with the big fuck-off dagger is styling himself as, but they’ve got him gagged. His reputation in the running his mouth department might have preceded him.

Anyway, they’re chanting something in a language Hob can’t even begin to identify. He’s lying shirtless on a cold granite slab in a dingy basement. There’s a dagger poised directly over his heart. He’d be more worried if he didn’t know just how much force it takes to get a dagger like that into a human body, and how little force investment banker types tend to be capable of. The eighties had been a spectacular decade for disappointing fucks.

Anyway. Bloke in glasses. Dagger. Chanting.

And then all the candles and things flicker out at once. So they have summoned something, then.

A smarter man would probably be worried. Hob’s desperately curious. He’s never met a demon. Or an old god or whatever it is they’ve—

“Hello, Hob,” says a bored, familiar voice in the dark.

Dream?

Hob laughs around the gag. If he weren’t gagged, he’d be warning everyone present about how fucked they are.

As it is, he waves as well as he can with bound hands.

The candles flare back into life to reveal all the cultists on their knees, prostrating themselves. Hob watches Dream look them over with only the barest trace of bored contempt.

Then he waves a hand, and they all collapse into heaps where they are. Asleep. Hob’s fairly sure it’s just sleep.

Dream wanders up to the slab Hob’s been laid out on and looks him over.

“Are you quite well?” he asks.

Hob shrugs and makes as much of a can’t complain noise as he can around the gag. All in all, this has added a little excitement to an otherwise uneventful Thursday evening. Plus, it’s turned into a surprise visit from Dream. Can’t be all bad.

Dream nods, reaching out to touch the ropes around his wrists. Hob expects them to dissolve, but they don’t—instead, they turn to something softer. Silk, if he had to guess. Dreamsilk. He knows the feel of it well.

He raises an eyebrow.

“Impertinence aside,” he says. “They have made me a very fine offering.”

Oh.

A twinge of lust pinches deep in Hob’s belly. His evening keeps looking better and better.

“Though not, I note, a virgin,” Dream adds, the barest flicker of a smirk passing over his face. Then he tuts, and runs a hand along Hob’s bare arm, from shoulder to bound wrists. The bindings are good and tight, but all in all, fairly comfortable.

“All the same,” Dream says, tilting his head as he takes a firm grip of the ropes. “It would be rude not to accept such generosity.”

Several days later, Hob engages Johanna Constantine to track the cultists down for him. So he can send them a gift basket.