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One of the doodles I painted today! Is it a friend? A bird? A demon? I really missed drawing spooky things this month!:D

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Hey! We are designing three new themed Pride Knights pin collections. For the second collection we thought it would be fun to have the knights relaxing and exploring. We need your feedback! Which designs do you like the most?

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Wip 🐈‍⬛❄️

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Mother, no. Photo from my collection, no date or other info.

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Unknown , Night Drive - Jeremy Miranda , 2024.

American , b. 1980 -

Acrylic on board, 10 x 10.45 in.

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Still-life with a Guitar by Tomás Hiepes (Spanish, 1610–1674)

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everyone living in EU - please support the citizens initiative for safe and accessible abortion!!

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Having the time of ferret’s life!

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11, 12 & 56 for Miguel & Chico👀 if youre so inclined🙏🙏

ooh~ so many wonderful prompts! I'm going to answer #11 here, but #12 I'm going to eventually post to ao3 because it's currently like 5k lol. Someone else sent #56 as well so I will be getting to everything :)

Without further ado!

#11 Miguel/Chico, In Secrecy

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By the time the movie finishes, Carmen’s heart is thudding just about a thousand beats per minute, every fiber of his being thrumming at attention of the insanely hot guy slumped down a seat over in the slowly emptying theater.

The guy has the slender muscles of his arms on display, the sleeves of his white t-shirt rolled up exposing a cluster of circular tattoos on his light skin. When he turns his head, Carmen meets those dark, doe eyes that match his wavy fade—gets a clearer look at his face, his strong eyebrows and cupid’s bow lip and that once-broken crooked nose that gives him a kind of rugged handsomeness. His elbow is planted on his armrest on Carmen’s side, his chin resting in his palm, fingertips drumming along an angular jaw.

He’s pretty, yeah, but he doesn’t look like no maricón. Then again, Carmen knows that looks can be deceiving. He licks his lips as the house lights come fully on and they sit alone in the center of the now deserted theater.

“You were here the other week, weren’t you?” the guy says suddenly.

Carmen nods. He’s mirroring the dude, not moving fast, keeping his cool.

The guy is leaning over a little, cutting into the space of the seat still separating them. “Where’re you from?” he asks, his own raspy accent giving away where he’s from. The city, no doubt. The Bronx.

“Around.” Carmen smiles. Ain’t important.

The guy sits up, arms pulling into his lap as he smiles, all crooked and charming. “Hey, no way. Me, too.”

They shared a soft snort.

Fucking corny, but the guy’s undeniable, the flash of his big eyes enchanting, everything about his face and posture striking—familiar machismo there that sucks Carmen right in. Warmth sweeps over his skin.

“I’m Miguel.”

“Carmen.”

The guy named Miguel tilts his head, openly checking Carmen out. “Like your shirt, Carmen.”

It's nothing special. Cuban style knit, sort of olive green and flashy. Something Carmen was trying, he guesses, way out here where there’s no chance of meeting anyone he knows. He bites the inside of his cheek.  “I like your...” He trails off. So many things he could compliment, but Miguel’s plain t-shirt and jeans aren’t among them, unless he’s talking about how the fabric of that tee is thin and clinging to a nicely sculpted chest, flipped up a little at his waist and hinting at the hug of his jeans against narrow hips.

Miguel raises his eyebrows and Carmen gives a shrug and a lazy grin.

“You like the movie?” he ends up saying instead.

“Was okay.” 

Probably hadn’t really been watching the flick. Carmen wasn’t.

He licks his lips. “Guess we’d better go,” he says, because an employee is walking in, head poking into view along the edge of the seating area as he drags a trash bin and a broom behind him.

“Know a place,” Miguel says, “You know, if you ain’t doing much later.”

It’s that cue—the quick drop of everything falling into place. 

Carmen grins and as they stand, he sees Miguel’s eyes sweeping over him as he looks over Miguel; they’re the same height, stride matching as they head out into the popcorn and butter scented lobby of the theater, past the singles loitering around, furtively scoping each other out.

Miguel’s car is parked around the corner—okay, Carmen says; he doesn’t mind stretching his legs some more. The late summer afternoon is nice and balmy, not as hot as earlier in the day, and certainly cooler than the city. He knows his pager’s probably beeping like crazy back where he left it in his apartment... But he’s miles away from that life right now, shooting the shit with some handsome fucker whose cocky smile widens as they approach his car, clearly his pride and joy.

Carmen murmurs his appreciation as he climbs into the passenger side; then they’re off.

And, sitting in the drab interrogation room three days later, a detective looming over him, growling questions through his teeth, Carmen shrugs when he’s asked where he disappeared to after Patterson went over the side of the roof. Like he’d ever tell—like he’d ever let anyone know about that quiet refuge, operating under proper society’s noses. A place for him.

He’s looking at life in prison, his public defender tries to impress upon him; if he’s got an alibi for those missing hours, then he’d better spill.

Carmen blinks—thinks about that dim motel room, Miguel’s tight waist beneath his hands, his body a warm and solid weight in his lap. Hadn’t been shy—wasn’t looking for a fucking shrink, either—had known what he wanted, fingers moving deftly over the buttons of Carmen’s shirt, pushing it off his shoulders.

“You kiss?” he’d asked, pausing only after he’d started to lean in, instinctive—the most natural thing in the world to him. One of his hands had been sliding down between them to get at the buttons of Carmen’s slacks; he’d be getting them off regardless of the answer.

Anyway: “Yeah,” Carmen had breathed at once, because it was true—he did kiss guys—there, at least, far away and hidden. Was definitely going to kiss Miguel if he wanted to. And he’d liked the eager feeling of Miguel’s mouth against his, and the smooth slip of his tongue before they’d tipped over, urgency reigniting in an excited blaze once they’d felt each other out and learned each other’s rhythms.

“Don’t have a fucking alibi,” Carmen mutters later, and that’s true, too. “I was out doing shit.”

“Doing what shit? Drugs?” His lawyer’s got that tired whine that says he’s used to the tight lips from his clients.

“At one point, yeah.”

“Anyone who can back you up?”

Carmen gives the man a look. He knows just about how useless that testimony would be. 

And either way, he remembers Miguel’s sated smile and him rolling closer after and he knows they’d talked about a lot of shit—music and the best Backwoods flavors; the Yankees and Miguel’s girlfriend back home who kept lying she was pregnant—Whatever, she just wants to get hitched, you know?; they’d giggled about Carmen’s fucking bitch neighbor Mrs. Contreras and what exactly was the difference between a violin and a fucking fiddle; that new movie Apollo 13 and How freaky would it be if they really got stuck out there?; Hey, you like heroin?

How can I find you again hadn’t been one of those topics of conversation. Carmen had known later as he’d pulled his clothes back on where he could find Miguel if he wanted to. If he ever had the chance again.

“Okay, sure.” His lawyer gives an exasperated sigh and tries one last time. “Out where, at least? Can you tell me that?”

Carmen shrugs. Wonders if Miguel would rather get stuck in prison or in space. “Around,” he says.

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Cat. Ca. 1904 - 1908. Source.

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Coyote | Sheryl Hester

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👀

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THE EMPIRE OF BONES: Take Two!

If you would like to acquire my obviously awesomesauce fantasy novel, recently described by a clearly highly intelligent and trustworthy reader as "being every cool culture from classical and medieval history crushed into a giant delicious cookie to be devoured," would especially like to have it as an e-book, and do NOT want to give your money to Jeffrey F. Bezos in order to do so, I have arrived bearing options!

Barnes and Noble (paperback and ebook)

Kobo (ebook)

Apple (ebook)

Fable (ebook)

Smashwords (ebook)

(Also as a reminder, if you do prefer a non-Amazon physical copy, it's available in paperback and hardcover from Lulu!)

Other options, including alternate print versions and library lending, are still in the works, and I shall return to you with them when they arrive. So yes.

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North Wales

itsrachelhannah

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