#will try this friday I guess

[notbecauseofvictories]

sometimes, you wake up and your first thought is "I cannot be a person today." often---most of the time---you have to then get out of bed and proceed with being a person, regardless of your feelings on the matter.

but sometimes, occasionally, once in a while....it's nice to email your boss, get back in bed, and go the fuck back to sleep.

[intheorangebedroom]

I love how this gif jumped straight from WhatsApp to my inbox.

Explicit yes below the cut.

When you moved in with him, he plucked the Gladiator VHS out of one of your boxes and asked if you still had a VCR. You shrugged and said no, but you love that movie and that VHS has been with you forever and “have you seen Russell Crowe in his Roman uniform???” with an upward curl of your lips that had him raise an eyebrow.

Okay. Russell Crowe. As a Roman general. He knows only too well -and appreciates- your taste for veterans, but he had no idea it extends to the Roman legion.

First, he thought about finding an old VCR and surprise you with it. So you could play that tape and watch the movie together with What’s-his-face commanding his legion or whatever it is that put that spark in your eyes. Show you he’s not the jealous kind.

But then… well then he gets a far better idea.

He takes him a while to find it, and when he does, he has to drive all the way to the city to the rental place, then back home, where he hides the whole thing in an inconspicuous container under the workbench in his toolshed. Not too close to where he keeps the zip ties because then you’ll surely find it.

It's huge, and cumbersome. It comes with so many accessories, the shoes and the cape and a sword and the frigging golden laurel wreath in a wooden box…

Yovanna and Santi are throwing their annual Halloween party, which will provide him with the perfect occasion to wear it. As the day draws closer, and you keep asking him what he’ll go as, it becomes increasingly difficult to maintain a poker face. “I don’t know what you got up your sleeve, Morales, but your Halloween costume better be scary.”

At long last, the 31st is here. He dashes in from work and goes straight to the toolshed. The whole attire is a nightmare to strap on by himself, but after 15 years of his life adjusting tac vests, he manages. 

When he steps into the bedroom, you’re zipping up a dark blue Michael Myers suit. You usually prefer to coordinate your costumes, only this year he decided to play solo, so you had to improvise on your own.

You turn around to the sound of his footsteps on the carpet just in time to watch him walk through the threshold, clad head to toe as a Roman general. 

And oh! he’s a mighty vision. His silhouette looks twice as massive. The chest armor, adorned with two winged chimeras, emphasizes his impossible breadth. His shoulders fill up the entire door frame. A white cape, embroidered with threads of gold, is flowing behind him, and on his plush lips, a devastatingly smug smile, and you forget how to breathe. Your ribcage caves in on a breathless gasp. Your eyes grow wide and your mouth falls open.

It's not... It's not the grime and crimson of battle. It's the white and gold of triumph. It’s as though all the light in the room emanates from him. Like he is made of it. Made of gold. And his hair, oh his hair, underneath that golden crown, curls in every direction, like that bust of Agrippa you once fell in love with in the Louvre.

He is magnificent.

And that son of a bitch knows it.

“You son of a bitch…” you whisper.

His grin stretches, revealing his dimple. And he fucking chuckles.

You briefly consider texting Yovanna to cancel. Bail out on your favourite evening of the year, but then you think different. You're going to go to that party and walk into their house with that man of pure golden light on your arm. Parade him all night. And then, you’re going to go home with him and ride him into next year.

When you get there, you are rewarded by the attendees' collective gasp upon his entrance. You’re probably hovering 10 centimeters above the floor with sheer pride. Yovanna shoots you a “good for you, girl!” look you have no trouble interpreting.

You spend the entire party watching him with a coveting gaze, hiding behind your mask. You might die, from want and anticipation and also dehydration with how hot and sweaty you get, with the size of his arms, and his naked legs on display, thick and solid and strong in just the right proportions. He looks so good it's obscene, and from across the room, he makes sure you're looking at him. That grin hasn't left his gorgeous face. You know he can see through your mask, through your thoughts, through your need.

On the drive home, both of you are silent. There's too much tension, it's crackling and sizzling like butter on a pan, and you zip your combination down to your waist to free the upper half of your body from the dense cotton material. With a side glance, you catch the working of his pebbled throat, confirming he’s registered how snugly your black tank top hugs your breasts. 

You are wet all over. Saliva pools into your mouth at the sight of his freckled skin, the rippling muscles of his exposed forearms and his thick fingers curled around the wheel.

You don’t even make it to the bedroom.

As soon as you get home, you step in front of him and brace both hands on his massive chest. The rigid armor feels so real, and you are reminded, once more, of the fabric of him. Of what his life has been. Of what he's done and seen. The battles he’s fought, the wounds he survived. And the way he chose love to redeem all his sins.

A warrior. A lover. Your man.

Quietly, you undress with trembling hands under his trained gaze. The dark pool of his eyes glimmers in the semi-darkness, in the feeble glow from the table lamp that catches at each and every golden detail of his uniform.

With a light touch, you back him up into the armchair. When he sits down in it, it looks like Caesar's throne. 

And then, you kneel before him, on the rough carpet, between his spread legs, hands splayed around his calves, skimming up to rest over his thighs. Feverish palms to feverish skin.

His tongue peeks slowly between his parted mouth to lick at his plush bottom lip, and you clench, sticky slick leaking down into your ruined underwear as you bunch the white toga in your fists and push it back.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice a quiet rasp.

“Yea,” he husks, bucking his hips forward, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his large hand a loose curl around your jaw as he guides your face closer to what has you begging.

Brushing your cheek against his thigh, you nuzzle the bulge of his boxer briefs, and the heady scent of his sex makes you dizzy. He’s hard when you pull him out, hard and warm and throbbing in the palm of your hand, and his heavy breathing fills your ears. Pursing your lips around the fat tip of him, you taste his want. The tangy flavour travels down to your core and you squirm wantonly at his feet, eyes fluttering shut at the heavy glide of his cock over your tongue. 

Carding his fingers through your hair, his hand wrapped on your nape, he draws you in gently, down to his base, inch by inch, and you focus on what he’s giving you, on the impossible size of him, eyes flickering open to lock onto his, as he watches you take him in. Your fingers burrow into the thick of his thighs, nails digging in, and he thumbs away a stray tear from the round of your cheek as you keep him there, pulsating hot and heavy inside your throat until you can’t breathe. 

When you pull away, heaving chest and teary eyes, with a thread of saliva bowing down from your mouth to his cock, he bends forward in a creak of leather, to grab at your waist and motion you up. You moan in complaint, please Frankie please, jolting at the cold touch of his golden cuff on your skin.

“Shhh, c’mere,” he husks.

You stand up ruefully but docilely between his legs, and you might be crying, looking down at him, because it rips through your chest, it tears your bleeding heart apart, the timeless beauty of him. The reassuring breadth of his solid frame, the fathomless depth of his dark eyes, the pensive crease in his brow. His perfect features framed underneath the wreath of laurel. The softness of his touch, the restraint on his strength, when he slides your panties down carefully.

You cup his face between your hands to make sure this man is real, scraping your nails through the scruff of his beard, thumbs resting over the bare patches of his sharp jaw. 

He runs a thick digit through your soaking folds and your whole body shivers, knees buckling, you’d crumple on the floor if it wasn’t for his firm hold on your hip. 

“So? Do you like the costume?” he asks softly, teasing your entrance with his middle finger, and you laugh through your tears. 

His grin falls as he leans forward with a frown, rustling fabric and creaking leather, to press his forehead into your belly, chin pushing at the apex of your thighs, tongue darting to lick a broad stripe across your folds. His primal grunt vibrates along your spine and down your limbs, so fucking sweet, baby. 

The sharp edges of his golden crown bite into your palm when you thread your fingers through his curls. 

“C’mere,” he beckons, drawing you in, “come sit on it.”

His large hand skims down along your smooth skin and curls at the back of your leg, sitting you in a straddle over his lap. The armchair is large, but he’s larger yet, and even more so with the cape and the chest plate and the leather pteruge, and it’s a fumble to find a good position. 

He scoots forward over the seat but your knees knock uncomfortably into the armrest, and he huffs in frustration. You tilt up his face and realise you haven’t even kissed him yet, too caught up in his glorious beauty. 

“Francisco,” you breathe out, and he stills. 

You lower your mouth to his, tongue gliding over the soft cushion of his lips, and he opens up, kissing you back full and deep, your tongues entwined and swirling languidly. His hands find the plump of your cheeks, spreading you for him.

When he breaks the kiss, it's with a rushed grumble of “let me take this fucking thing off,” but you're already sinking down onto his length with a pained moan, furrowed brow and eyes clenched shut at the blinding stretch, fluttering walls and quivering chest.

You settle there, the coarse hair at his base grazing your swollen clit, his warm shuddering breath fanning your face. You feel him throb at the center of you, and you cling on to him, to his cape, forehead to forehead, the cool surface of his armor pressed to your peaked breasts.

“Keep it on, Frankie, please. I want to know what it feels like to fuck a god.”

—

HAPPY FRANKIE FRIDAY, MY LOVE 🧡

[soranker]

some doodles from last week 😁🤞

[unicomix]

I'm currently under the weather and as I tried to focus drawing on my favorite things. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to complete it nor get to other drawings. I'm hoping this week I feel better. Here's a study I was trying to do of Two-Face.

[honeyvettel]

decided to give a shot again to the marcnaia forced marriage au. laptop is at 10% and the plug is far from my bed. the lord is testing me in way that i’m not intended to endure

[fridaywormteeth]

”lwj wore mourning white for 13 years ” babe shut up shut up he’d have worn it regardless it’s literally his sect color those are literally just his robes

[zaptap]

btw

triumvirate rotation friday morning. it's a green ???? rotation, but instead of being on one of the 2 stages triumvirate hasn't been on (i was expecting bonerattle), it's on jammin salmon junction. this is the first time triumvirate will be on a stage it's been on before (besides the recent wahoo world big rerun)

nintendo just announced theyre going to host a salmon run tournament (the kind the tournament manager recently added support for) on january 13 (5pm-7:30pm japan time, which means it starts at midnight pacific time).

these salmon run tournaments just use whatever rotation is active at the time, so more significantly the announcement also tells us we'll be getting another green ???? rotation during that time, this time on sockeye with the triumvirate--this will be the first time the triumvirate will be available to fight more than once a month (ive gotten 999 every time it's shown up so ive been paying attention, since its release each season has had it in big run the first month, green random rotation the second month, and gold rotation the third month) (i guess this also deconfirms my theory that the next gold would be sockeye. are they going to do another bonerattle gold or do another repeat triumvirate first?)

if they don't adjust the typical 40-hour length of the rotations between now and then (which they do for big runs to make them always start at midnight utc) that means that rotation would start january 11 at 4pm pacific time, and the tournament will begin 8 hours before the rotation ends (which would give you plenty of time to rank up beforehand--apparently you enter at whatever rank you're at. idk if you go up or down but either way starting out higher up would give you an advantage. and 2ish hours isnt a lot of time to play)

[friday-answers]

universe friday easter egg:

solus asks for radio to meet them at 1508 tomsby street. besides tomsby street being an actual street mentioned in universe city within radio silence, there is something else about the address that is familiar........

i'm impressed no one has noticed it yet.... 1508.... Hm.....

[nametakensff]

Sorry guys will try and be active and catch up again, get to fics, wavs etc but just feeling really poorly with tummy issues ever since I got back home 🙃

[erikahenningsen]

sneak peek friday?

Happy sneak peek Friday everyone!

The competition is significantly less formal than a typical meet, but they still do the standard one-by-one introductions, each jogging onto the floor, smiling and waving at the crowd. When it’s Regina’s turn, she scans the stands as subtly as she can for Cady before spotting her sitting with Shane and Janis.

Regina nearly trips over her own feet when she realizes Cady is wearing her shirt—the NSU Gymnastics one Regina lent to her the last time Cady slept over. She’d forgotten Cady even had it. It does weird things to Regina’s stomach, and she can feel her skin growing hot. She fights to keep it from showing on her face. She catches Cady’s eye, and Cady—

Cady fucking winks at her.

Regina’s never been so grateful to have the attention off of her in her entire life, joining the line of girls who have already been introduced and trying to slow her racing heart, get her focus back. She doesn’t look for her parents, doesn’t want to know where they are until she’s forced to hear her mother’s loud-ass cheering in the middle of her beam routine.

They break for the first rotation. Regina’s team is on vault while the other half of the team goes to bars. For the first time, Regina takes a seat with the other girls who aren’t competing on vault. Rationally, she knows she’s imagining it, but it feels like everyone in the audience is staring at her, whispering about her not competing. She can see the confusion on her parents’ faces without looking at them. Without thinking about it, she looks over at Cady again, who gives her an enthusiastic thumbs-up, completely oblivious to anything being amiss.

For some reason, it makes her feel better.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

speaking of Celebrate Christmas (With Me) it's as good a time as ever

[falseroar]

Forgive my ignorance if I've missed something, but in Mark's video The Plan where he talks about The Edge of Sleep dropping on the 18th (which apparently it (accidentally?) dropped early in the US today), he says he was told that getting TEOS to the top 10 "would open doors" for Iron Lung.

Which to me, sounds like it would give him a lot more credibility and sway with distributors and whatnot involved in getting Iron Lung out into theaters, in front of critics/early review sites, or whatever all goes into the backend of marketing a movie and making it a success (y'know, all the stuff that has...apparently not happened with TEOS, but that's a different conversation).

So why is the fandom talking like if TEOS fails to get into the Top 10, that means Iron Lung is doomed or will be shelved indefinitely? As far as I know, QCODE and the company involved in producing the show don't have that kind of power over Mark's own production.

At this point it's kind of reading like fearmongering or the fans taking something Mark has said and playing telephone among themselves to the point they've created this nightmare scenario without any real proof that's actually what's happening?

(Again, forgive me if I've missed something here and please correct me if that's the case--I'm no longer a member of Mark's channel so I haven't seen any recent mixers that might have said otherwise, but I don't know where else people might be getting this idea.)

[crossbackpoke-check]

tagged by ko @tofumilanesa for wip wednesday! big shout out to writevember for making me feel like i can actually call any of these works in progress… your guide to my emoji code under the cut

wip!

🪻🐈‍⬛ - the doc title is still just. YOWLING but i am like 7/8 of the way done with omega yamo fic and hopefully salem isn’t reading this so i can just drop it over a year later with no warning <3

🫃2️⃣ - DEWEY^2 P2!!!! she is almost done (i am lying) but she is so close i can almost taste it. sorry to my pwp that grew its own feelings baby

😇🤭 (🕒 -> 🕜) - rip i’m not telling you about this one until it’s posted but it IS complete aside from being ao3 formatted and the eight billion edits i inevitably do right before full-sending it

☁️💧 - cloud petey fic, which exists mostly as an embarrassingly large tag on a different blog and is condensing into a narrative about as well as water at 30° N/S. the time loop fic also falls under this description

eternally in progress (short list)

🌑🐕 - tyler borzoituzzi exists… there is an index of scenes/plot points… it plays like a movie in my head…

💯❕- fantastic! ‘verse

👁️👻 - stevie brandon seeing ghosts au, which has eight different (now nine i guess but you haven't seen the mustache adam post yet) plots. sorry

just. rotating like a microwave

🍎 - because they didn’t have a pomegranate emoji, this is what i used for the fic that feels like it should be a 50k connor bedard character study hanif abdurraqib/cathal kelly thesis about legends and mythmaking in sports and eating your young. yes i know pomegranates aren’t actually pomes and apples are but it’s fine

🦈 - the one cat da fuck they doing over there meme but about the sharks just like. in general. more on this at five

tagging @colap1nto, @songsandswords, @whitenikes, @gordiemeow, @acheronist, and anybody else who wants to share!!

[jakeperalta]

kelsea ticket buying attempt #1 failed 🥲👍

[vigarioamelia]

now i don't really know sunday but given what i know so far in the penacony questline he appears to have, uhm, a few issues, to say the least

as a matter of context i'm still at the beginning i just met firefly so if i talk bullshit it's because i know nothing

like he gives a very intimidating vibe at first. i think that's something we can all agree on, right? probably because of the christian symbology and the whole angel-like thing he has going on. his sister robin doesn't seem that connected to christian symbology (at least at first glance) and i was straight up expecting sunday to be idk manipulative?

i was surprised to just find him... disturbed. i watched the penacony trailer as well and the way he just looks away... that's a man with issues right there. NOW IF I HAD TO GUESS i would say he has trust issues. 'the family' doesn't seem very receptive to me and i'm thinking that sunday doesn't really trust anyone besides his sister robin, but because she's yk a joyous singer and all of that, he doesn't want to involve her in his concerns, so maybe she's sorta kept in the dark as he himself deals with all the shit

also i think there's something between him and aventurine because hmmmm idk how to say it i just got a vibe you know i'm feeling very sensitive

[the-lord-of-the-things]

Yee-Fuckin-HAW BABY