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#i am back babey!!!!
eddievedders · 1 year
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TED LASSO — 3.01 "Smells Like Mean Spirit".
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I imagine barnaby trying to be all cool and flirting with howyd subtly but his smoke gives him away fjsns
he thinks he's smooth smh...
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artbyace · 2 months
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RETURN TO TRENCH
lil tyler doodle as i (patiently) await new music drop
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manitapaleta · 3 months
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Art for @nark-week day 1: adrenaline/discipline
Larks first time flying Nicholas Air™️ lol
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effervescent-emmett · 11 months
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Carlisle’s passionate plea to the Volturi circa 1720
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blurglesmurfklaine · 1 month
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Truth be told, Jack doesn’t remember the eight seconds he spent on the bronco’s back.
If any moon-eyed fangirls come up to him and ask about it, he plans on giving the standard blanket responses, like all he heard was the roar of the crowd.
In actuality, all he has are fragments from right before the livestock hands pulled that gate. It’s hard to forget that kind of anticipation racing through his veins, the sawing sound of rope pinning his riding glove to the back of the horse as Jack grit his teeth, ordering Racer to pull it even tighter.
Everything else, like the sickening crack from his head slamming against Midnight Train’s spine that made the audience cringe in horror, was told to him second hand. 
The trainer who checked him out gave him a lot of medical jargon he wasn’t too familiar with, but Jack gathered the important stuff. No riding for three days, get plenty of rest, neither of which he has any intention of following. And of course, there was the whole spiel about concussions affecting memory.
Imprinted in his is the face of one of the pick-up men as Jack faded in and out of consciousness, stern and cool and steady. He can nearly still feel strong arms around him, keeping him from falling into the dirt of the arena, can still hear the New York accent reassuringly mutter, “I’ve got you… I’ve got you.”
So if Jack can’t stop thinking of the pick-up man who hauled his limp body from the horse into his lap, he’s chalking it up to brain damage. 
He’s been named Rookie of The Year for Bareback Riding—Jack Kelly can’t afford to be distracted by any potential flings. 
And still, every time he blinks, that face is waiting for him just behind his eyelids.
It’s the longest, most agonizing twenty-four hours before an opportunity to make a bad decision presents itself to Jack. He usually doesn’t make it that long. He also usually doesn’t go that long without visiting Dancer, but his body needed to recover after being thrown off that horse in the arena. 
The first thing that greets Jack when he enters the stables is the very same face that’s been stuck in his mind since yesterday. The pick-up man is reaching up, brushing the soft golden mane of the quarter horse that pulled Jack off the bronco.
“Fancy meeting you here,” he greets, drawing up his most charming first-impressions smile.
“In the stables?” asks the pick-up man. Not an ounce of his attention dedicated to brushing his horse’s long blond mane is redirected to Jack. “Pretty sure this is the least fancy place to meet someone.”
“It’s as good a place as any to thank you. For yesterday.”
“I assume you mean when you got your ass bucked off of Midnight Train and I dragged you out?”
Jack scoffs. He should probably be accosted, but he’s only more intrigued. “That would be correct,” he admits.
“No need to thank me, in that case. Just doing my job.”
“Be nice if I had a name to the face that saved my rawhide.”
“And it’d be nice if you checked your staff sheet maybe once before you rode.”
Jack blinks. “Pardon me,” he begins, leaning an elbow up against Dancer’s stable, “but have I offended you?”
“Not yet.” His head twitches in annoyance. “But you’re a rodeo man. You’re bound to eventually.”
Jack crosses his arms. “I’ve been nothing but a gentleman.”
The pick-up man pauses and sighs, finally rewarding Jack with a look in his direction. He pretends not to, but Jack catches the way his eyes quickly scan him up and down. “David. David Jacobs. Which you’d have known if you’d check your staff sheet. You haven’t even bothered to give me your name, because you assume everyone already knows it.”
“So you’re saying you haven’t heard of me.”
“Oh, I’ve heard all about you, Jack Kelly,” David answers, turning his attention back to the silky mane he’d been brushing.
Jack looks up at the horse in question—a beautiful quarter with an unusual coloring halfway between brown and straight up golden. He steals another glance at David, head turned up in an admiration that’s reserved for the sacred bond between man and horse, as ridiculous as Jack admits that sounds.
Still, it’s quite the sight. David is quite the sight, beams of the setting sun reflecting off his green eyes, the shadows accentuating the perfect combination of curves and angles on his face.
 “Gorgeous,” Jack finds himself muttering.
“Thanks,” David replies, completely missing where Jack’s compliment was directed. “Shimmer’s my pride and joy. If you should be thanking anyone, it’s her. She’s a bit of a social butterfly. Even broncs love her.” He turns his gaze to Which one’s yours?”
“The skittery one right next door.” Jack points out the appaloosa horse, Dancer, aptly named for the way she fidgets her feet when she’s excited.
David snorts. “Figures. Shimmer’s obsessed with her. I always catch them talking to each other ‘cross the stables.”
“Funny. I’m obsessed with you.”
David rolls his eyes. “Maybe you should be obsessed with brushing up your technique, and you won’t get your ass handed to you so often.”
“Ass handed to me? I made it to eight seconds.” He also ranked fourth in the semifinals. As a rookie. But he won’t bring that up right now.
“It’s going to take a lot more than eight seconds to impress me.”
“Let me take you out to dinner then, darlin’. Show you that I can go all night.”
“You think you’re cute, don’t you?”
Jack shrugs. “To be completely honest, I think I’m downright adorable, but that’s besides the point.”
He thinks he might see David’s mouth twitch when he returns his attention to Jack. “I don’t sleep with cowboys. Kind of a rule of mine.”
“Believe me, sweetheart, you spend a night with me and we won’t be doing any sleeping.” He chances hooking a finger under David’s chin and dragging his mouth dangerously close to his ear. It’s entirely too brazen and forward, but Jack doesn’t know any other way to be. “You think Broncos are the only thing I know how to ride?” he asks, grinning when he hears David swallow around a drying throat.
“You couldn’t keep me saddled if you tried,” David mutters back, and his breath against Jack’s cheek sends a shudder from his ear, through his spine, all the way down to his toes.
And then David shoves him. Hard. Sending Jack toppling over his own feet and sprawling out onto the ground with an incredible lack of grace.
“Like I said,” David calls back as he opens the gate to Shimmer’s stable and saddles her up. “Technique could use some fixing.”
The click of horse hooves trotting against cobblestone fading into the distance, Jack decides he’s unequivocally in love with David Jacobs.
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essektheylyss · 4 months
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message on a wire
Rating: T Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast Additional Tags: Conversations, Canon-Typical Trauma Discussions, we fuck with demiplanes here sir
Summary:
It takes a while after the Apogee Solstice begins, with all of its associated dangers, for Essek to return home.
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kheyys-worms · 5 months
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2023 is almost over and, oh my goodness--
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Well, how about that new book huh?
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merilles · 1 year
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💕✨ fin-galad ✨💕
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lemonzestywrites · 4 months
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a foundation of trust and love we cannot see
paring: buck x eddie
chapter word count: 12.9k
rating: explicit
tw: n/a
chapter one
_____
“It’s like I want to explore it and dive into it, but it’s not exactly like I’m seeing someone to try this all out with,” he explains, doing his best to keep down the annoyed huff that threatens to escape him at every other word.
The idea- the want is right there. But it always feels out of reach. Incomplete. Incomprehensible. A phantom figure pinning him down and making him get lost within himself.
Buck nods to himself before steadily going silent.
For a minute, Eddie thinks that this is the end of their conversation. Eddie’s not sure whether or not he’s grateful for that. He takes a swig from his drink, a little grateful for the way the alcohol burns down his throat.
“I can show you if you’d like.”
Eddie nearly chokes on his beer.
====
also known as the sub eddie fic <3
[read the rest on ao3]
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rainymoodlet · 6 months
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Kiss Me in Komorebi+ 🌸
[ A Picnic... ]
Part 1 of 2 💐
@mattodore @morrigan-sims
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oh today was a TREAT! makeship drop + howdy ad, no work tomorrow, got free cake, new 911 season.. Yeehaw...
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chapinii · 4 months
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I imagine that with each new tape, we may see q!roier in a different dream state each time. Perhaps we're receiving a perspective into how his mind is conjuring up all of the things he imagines cucurucho would do to him as he either recovers from or awaits the actual horrors that will or have been done to him, lying comatose under the command of the Federation. First, the notion of being a lab rat, second???
Depending on how deeply he is affected by these drugs (and based on... ratoier it's safe to assume he's pretty far gone), he could start to see people he actually knows other than cucurucho start to appear in these dreams, echoes of past loves and past betrayals. These moments could well also be intermingled with his past before the island, and what he knows the Fed is capable of in regards to the workers or even himself, the pieces of him he can't remember.
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feluka · 6 months
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i could straight up doxx myself by linking to a trackable google maps location of myself complete with a live video feed of me 24/7 and you people in the tags of my notes would still talk to me like i'm from the US
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gracegordongreene · 2 days
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Sofia Curtis in Every Episode [14/49] 6x08 ★ A Bullet Runs Through It, Part 2
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alexpdcl · 1 year
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OKAY but what if role swap wesker meets og chris
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