hawksty pudding

//I’m not sure that the sac dress works on Loki…..

anywho. Since about a week and a half ago I posted a request for ideas for 150 followers celebration things three times and got no answers, I decided on something by myself.

What I THINK I might do, depending on time constraints, is I might livestream a painting session for this drawing up here and post a link so that anyone interested can click through and watch. Depending on whether I decide to do this or not, I will decide on a day/time and post it up here for people ahead of schedule so that they can prepare if they want.

If you miss it no worries because livestream records the sessions and can be played back later too. :)

It was amazing how easily she fit in Clint’s arms, no matter how young or old he appaeared. The Trickster smiled at him a little, turning her head slightly to see his cheek but pausing at his words as he kissed her ear. It is not your fault I am mortal.

She swallowed thickly, hands squeezing his where they rested at her waist. Tears fell unbidden down her cheeks. Foolish.

“Sentiment,” she warbled, kissing his cheek and resting her forehead against his jaw. “And how is it not my fault?”

This Looks Bad | drabble

                                      Okay this is bad…


Clint stares at the dark curtain of hair which spills over his pillow like an ink stain, and he breathes deep because what else can he do?


                                      This is really bad…


Relax your posture, s l o w your breathing down…release. He sinks back into the bed a little more, not changing his position from when he wakes until he has calmed the racing of his heart in his chest.



Please God…don’t make this real.


Should he be praying to God? Were Asgardians Gods? No. no. They’re aliens from Asgard. He has an alien in his bed – so how did they…well, they were enough like humans, he guessed. Clint’s lips roll inward and he searches the ceiling above him and realizes that he needs to call a roof repair guy because there’s a huge water stain that has rolled from the top of the window and across to his closet.


His room smells musty…the air is staticy like there’s been a storm and he thinks Oh Fuck…I slept with Thor’s sister. That’s one guy whose family you don’t want to mess with. He can probably smash Clint’s skull between his thumb and forefinger.


                Like an egg.


                                I should make eggs. Do Asgardians like eggs?


Maybe he should just leave and hope that she’s not there when he gets back because this is bad. This is really B A D.


She stirs beside him and he thinks that it’s already too late. She’ll wake up and see him and he’ll see her for real and he won’t know what to do – because this is really FUCKED UP. She took away his free will. She unmade him….and now she’s lying in his bed and she’s beautiful and the sun is blinding against her pale skin where it paints itself across her shoulders.


He closes his eyes and presses a hand through his hair and says “ahhhh” in a strained voice, as though that’s really ever going to do anything for him, and when he looks down again eyes the colour of jade stare back at him and she quirks the corner of her mouth at him and he can’t help but return the gesture.

Summer | Drabble

Summer is early, cloying the air with moisture and pressing in on her in a way that already she cannot stand. It is only made worse by the swell in her belly and the way that her back aches with its weight, hair sticking to the back of her neck with sweat.

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