the next season of ahs shouldnt have any white women under 45 allowed in the cast. milfs, fruits, and angelica ross ONLY
For your wip game!!! Anxious TK? By any chance?
Hells fuckin yeah! Thanks Nonnie! I was scared nobody would ask me and then I'd just be embarrassed and feel sad 😂
Since you were the first one to ask, I'll give you more than one paragraph 😘
After glancing over at his silent companion a few more times, Judd eases off the gas and onto the break as they approach a stoplight. He reaches across the dashboard and pulls open the glove compartment. With one eye trained on the traffic light, he rifles through the compartment searching for something he put in there a few weeks ago. Finally, he locates a smallish bag, brightly coloured.
“Aha!” he says proudly.
Fondly, Judd becomes aware of a curious TK watching him from beneath thick lashes. With one practiced hand on the wheel, Judd brings the bag up to his mouth and bites down on a corner with his teeth. He tears the package open, spitting the torn off plastic onto the floor and grips the now open bag between his thighs. Then he reaches inside.
TK is visibly surprised when Judd brandishes an orange and green lollipop, waving it unceremoniously in his face. Reflexively, TK’s hand comes up to grab the treat by it’s white paper stick, taking it from Judd before it can stab him in the eye..
“A lollipop?” TK questions dumbly, raising his eyebrow.
Judd keeps his eyes on the road and tosses the rest of the bag into the backseat for later. Though TK sounds confused, he unwraps it nonetheless before popping it into his mouth. Judd listens as TK hums, pleased. He focuses on making a right turn, allowing the kid to settle with it for a moment before speaking.
“I- uh. I noticed you like ‘em. They- uh. They help, right?” Judd says awkwardly.
Pairing: Will “Ironhead” Miller x F!Reader (Triple Frontier)
Summary: You’re on a road trip with Will.
Warnings: Fluffy. Reader wears a sundress.
Word Count: 442
a/n: This was written for Writer Wednesday organized by @autumnleaves1991-blog and the original post for this week is here.
You sat in the passenger seat of Will’s truck as he sat behind the wheel and drove you both through the desert. You both needed a break, a change of scenery so you decided to just hop in the truck and drive.
Was it the most responsible thing in the world to take all of your vacation time in one lump sum? Maybe not. Was it responsible to go on a cross country roadtrip with absolutely no plan and not much else. Probably not. Were you having the best time of your life? Yes, absolutely.
You reached into the snack bag at your feet and rummaged around through the contents searching for something in particular.
“How can you still be hungry?” Will asked, affectionately, “You’ve been snacking since lunch.”
“I just need a flavor change,” you explained, finding the salted nuts at the bottom of the bag and ripping it open.
“A what?” Will chuckled.
“You know, I was eating chocolate, which is sweet, so I need something salty to balance it out,” you said as you snacked happily on the assorted nuts.
“I didn’t realize you were such a foodie,” Will said, reaching his hand out in which you dropped some of your snack.
“I have a refined palette,” you joked, “You could really learn something from me.”
Will smiled at you, briefly taking his eyes off the road. When he looked away from you, he dropped his hand to your inner thigh and stroked the sensitive skin there, exposed under your sundress.
You placed your hand on the back of Will’s head at the nape of his neck and gently massaged him there soothingly. You watched him drive with one hand on the wheel and one hand on your inner thigh and you turned up the music. A song you liked to sing out loud came on so you did just that and sang along with the lyrics.
Will smiled the whole time you were singing, thoroughly enjoying your company and the good weather. It was hot in the desert as you drove, but since the windows were down, the fresh air rushing through the cabin of the truck kept you both comfortable.
You watched the landscape whip by with the music blaring and the love of your life behind the wheel. You didn’t have a complaint in the world. That night, you and Will will pull over in a park or somewhere safe but secluded to pull out the tent designed to fit in the bed of the truck and snuggle up together as you always did. It wasn’t a complicated vacation, but it was perfect and every way.
I was tagged by @tishinada, thank you!
No pressure tags: @dragonheart-swtor @gerdavonrinnlingen @pineaberry @vespertine-legacy @thecipherlegacy @shanfamilydrama
From the next chapter of this madness of the heart, right after Quinn wakes up post-consummation. Suggestive but not really smutty:
Quinn rolled over, seeking her out—she lay facing away from him, the sheets kicked down around her feet. His eye was drawn to the repeating curves of her figure—the gentle folds on her back, the swell of her hip—the small dimples above her full, round ass. He recalled how soft she had felt, how satisfying it had been to seize her hips in his hands as she took him—he felt himself grow hard as he remembered the heat of her, the overwhelming sensation as her mind poured into his—
She had marked him. That fearful knowledge tempered some of his desire—he was hers, now. Whatever that meant—and whatever it might come to mean. She had begun to carve a path into his mind, fitted perfectly to her own being—and any Sith who searched him would see that. He took a deep breath as he closed his eyes. The marriage was finalized—and his estate—his father’s estate—was saved. She could still torture him if she liked—kill him, even, with few consequences—but his mother would have the dowry and the estate, and it would go to Fiona after her. He had done his duty.
But Quinn could not reconcile last night with his fears—with all of the rumors he had heard about Darth Nemesis. The way she had taken him slowly, gently—the way she had cradled him against her—the way she had cleaned him up after when his own fingers were shaking too hard to be of any use.
She had held his hand.
Even her penetration of his mind had been restrained. Controlled. He had seen what happened when a Sith marked someone carelessly—the gibbering, lovestruck fools who had stumbled from his former lord’s quarters on the Fury, their minds broken open and their wits spilling out. And to think they were among the fortunate—they, at least, walked out under their own power.
Quinn did not know what to think—only that it had not at all been what he expected. Was she toying with him? Beguiling him with an illusion of security just to multiply his suffering when she revealed her true self? The part of him that had nuzzled deeper into her when she held him wanted to think that she was being genuine. But when had he ever been so fortunate? Bitterness filled him, poisoning whatever warmth and hope her gentleness had engendered.
ok but like- nanami doesn’t cry when you walk down the aisle, he manages to hold tears back until y’all are alone and then he finally lets a few fall in front of you
they’re silent but oh LORD does his heart ache n he gets all smiley and ohmygod he’s so in love with you
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So hey, Jessica is single now >_>
I’m not sorry to see Roger go, but I do feel bad that Jess always seems to be the one getting dumped/cheated on. Of all the dudes Jess has dated, I have to admit Roger treated her the best and truthfully, I wonder if Jess even knew what she had or what love actually looks like? Also, this isn’t going to do much to help her trust issues and if anything, I would think (and I hope this is explored at SOME POINT) very gun shy of relationships in the future.
I kind of feel bad for Roger a bit here but mainly because of how well this scene is written. (again, really not sorry to see him go)
That said, He’s right, they aren’t partners. Roger, while a good dude who loves and cares about Jess, isn’t quite on the same level Jess is? I dunno. Maybe I”m a terrible person, but I never saw the chemistry there. I always felt like they were together because Boy and Girl, OBVIOUSLY they are in love. Carol and Jess have far more romantic chemistry than Roger and Jess ever did. I liked Roger and Jess so much better as friends.
People make the argument against the CarolJess being canon because female friendships aren’t shown often enough in comics. And that IS TRUE. But, If you look at Carol and Jess, and make one of them a guy? I GUARANTEE you they’d have been married already (likely for the same reasons Jess and Roger were together but at least Carol and Jess have insane chemistry and honestly it’d be hot as hell). and if Roger had been a woman instead? They would have absolutely be regulated to “Gal Pals”.
Anyway, Carol and Jess are both single so Marvel just bite the bullet and let them kiss.
Peter Parker, The Amazing Shutterbug #1 arrives in stores today. See what other comics and graphic novels are available this week.
you don’t understand. carmen aka baby gambit from children of the atom is GAY and she sews clothes for her friends like kanaya and she’s in love with her girl best friend whom she’s known since they were teeny tots. she is GAY 😭
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Happy Wakko Wednesday everyone! Have some edits!
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Children Of The Atom #3
Ayala continues to crush my spirit by hitting too close to home
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I Tried the Top Ranking Messy Bun Tutorial
I Tried the Top Ranking Messy Bun Tutorial
I wanted to have a little fun today, because, you know…if I’m going to call myself the ‘Godmother’, I have to make sure that the Messy Buns out there are legit…SO…I searched YouTube…and opened the FIRST Messy Bun Tutorial that popped up…this one had over 2M views, so I had a pretty good guess it was going to be a good one…well!! HOLLA! There are FIVE tutorials in that one video! I tried the first…
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Me: *published a fic today
Everyone: "wip Wednesday"
Me: "what now?"
#when you're on the train and don't know you're on the train
(I know a full fic isn't a wip I'm just saying)
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Wow, I got so many tags this week! I appreciate the motivation.
@shadowclanmc, @inquisitoracorn, @noire-pandora, and several others who I missed I think. Thank you!
I’m having a shit time with everything rn, but particularly this chapter.
"I will not let them have you," he said.
The finality with which he spoke made her feel as though he were not quite answering her question. Some other conversation had played out in his mind, and he had come to this answer. Ixchel took a deep breath and tried to swallow the part of her that hissed in suspicion and fear, for she did not know exactly whether he spoke of Flemeth and Mythal, or even perhaps the all-consuming power of the Anchor. But it did not matter. His promise did. His assurance should be enough.
"In truth, I am more concerned about what she might do with you," she said, and she began to pull away.
He did not release her waist. With a small tug, he pulled her closer, and he rested his brow against hers.
She was taken aback as she met his steely eyes. She was often reminded of the power in him, the ease with which he summoned even the greatest reserves of magical ability to his fingertips. She knew intimately the depth of his grief, or at least the shape of the tragedies that had placed such weight on his shoulders. And yet more now than ever, as he stared down at her, she knew him as something else.
"I stand with you, Ixchel," he said firmly. "And you will stand with me, if that is your wish."
"It is," she insisted, pressing closer. "It is, Solas. It is."
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Wednesday Works: If It Doesn’t Fit...
Wednesday Works: If It Doesn’t Fit…
In her world, everything and everyone had a place. Each and every person, place or thing fit together like puzzle pieces.
As she built her world exactly the way she wanted it, placing the people carefully in the city and the forests, building dark creatures between the trees and damsels in distress in the high castle towers, there was one person that refused to fit in.
No matter how much she…
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my opinion on women
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here, have a snippet from a fic I started writing almost immediately after Endgame and never finished in the time since, just like so many other fics, but I’m working on it again because it would be really cool of me to finish it before the Loki show comes out (although this isn’t really the speculation fic that it used to be, but...it’d be nice to finish it before I learn even more about how much this isn’t possible in canon, you know?)
The corpse lies on the floor in front of him, gray and stiff. The frost covering it is already beginning to melt, revealing torn leathers and livid bruising on its horribly twisted neck. “Unsettling” is far too gentle a word for how it feels to stare at his own dead body, and knowing it was Thanos who killed him in the end—
Loki clenches both fists until his palms sting. He is shaking, and not only because of his glimpse of the void. He crouches by the body and makes himself look. The other Loki’s skin is more gray than Jotun-blue, the blood standing out starkly where it trickled from his mouth and nose. His eyes seem mostly frozen, not Jotun-red but the red of burst blood vessels. He could have survived the vacuum for a short time and probably did, even with the broken neck, but at this point he is quite thoroughly dead. With a soul to animate it, though, the damage is…probably survivable.
“Well,” Loki says to the corpse, “this is almost certainly going to hurt you a lot more than it hurts me,” and he brings forth the Tesseract and touches it to the dead Loki’s chest.
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This week’s WIP Wednesday is from a little one-shot I’m working on about baby Bo-Katan getting radicalized. I love her so much...as a character. I strongly dislike basically every way she has chosen to live her life.
Pre Vizsla tilts his head to one side. “Hm. Looks like an owl was trying to make a nest in the barn.”
“What’s an owl?” Bo asks.
“Who are you?” he asks, ignoring her question.
“I’m Bo,” she says.
Of course she won’t dare say her family name, or even her full first name. Genuine Mandalorians wouldn’t care who her sister was, and would let her prove herself on her own merit. Bo doesn’t know these people yet. Maybe they’re no more Mandalorians than the hypocrites in Sundari are.
Since I've been in more of a writing mood as of late, I thought I would try participating in this whole WIP Wednesday thing to hopefully get some motivation to finish some of the fics I've started and never finished.
Currently, I have the following WIPs. Message me in my inbox with the name of one of my fics (as they are in my Google Docs - no official titles yet) and I'll post a paragraph from it.
1. Twinning IG (911, Buck & Christopher, background Buddie, matching outfits and IGfamous!Buck)
2. Co-Parenting (911, Buck & Christopher, pre-relationship Buddie, outsider POV)
3. Anxious TK (911 Lone Star, TK & the 126, Tarlos, oral-fixation, BigBrother!Judd)
4. Overstimulation (911 Lone Star, Tarlos D/s smut, what they did THAT morning)
HIT ME UP PEOPLE.
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WIP Wednesday II: ARGH HOW DO YOU HISTORY?!?
So, I normally don’t do two per day - unless one of them is craft related - but my brain firmly decided that rather than work on either of the stories I’d selected, we were going to work on the vampire piece, because focus is for other people.
And I got a lot of words down, which is good, but I also researched a bunch of history for an OC and that.................leaves me uneasy. Always. Especially since it’s really old, European history. So I’m putting this here and if anyone sees any GLARING ASS ISSUES, please let me know so I can fix them in the final draft.
Also, Patrick? Stop speaking with a German accent in my head. Not only have you lived in England long enough to sound pretty local, but you’re Dutch, for crying out loud....and seventeenth century Dutch at that.
....don’t make me knock your fangs out, boy.
“I was born in the United Provinces, with the given name of Pieter,” Patrick began, settling back into his chair. “When the war broke out against Spain, in 1619, I joined the army. Some joined for glory or distinction, as they always do, and I suppose at my age I can’t say I was immune to the idea. I was barely twenty, after all,” he shrugged. “But mainly I did it to protect my homeland.”
“Did you enjoy fighting?” Lord Merton asked, apparently unable to restrain his curiosity any longer.
Patrick waggled his head a bit, thinking. “I liked being a soldier,” he finally compromised. “I still do, or would if I had legs.I like being active, and I like using weapons. I don’t know that it’s the same thing as liking to fight, though. I certainly do not like people dying, although I don’t feel so bad about it if it’s the other side. And I could do without the mess afterward, cleaning up all of the bodies. But I have been a soldier ever since that first war, and I was very good at it. Back then, I continued fighting right up until the siege at Berda in sixteen twenty five. That’s where the Spanish got me.” He gave them all a very serious look. “No one can choose how they’ll die, but if you can, I advise you avoid being shot three times in the stomach and once in the lung. It hurts just as much as you think it does.”
The advice brought the expected round of wincing and cringes from everyone except Richard. After all, he was not only familiar with the story, he was part of it.
“Didn’t you go into shock?” Lord Merton asked, looking a bit pale around the edges.
“Yes, but it hurt first. Fortunately for me, I’d made friends with our doctor here,” Patrick nodded to Richard. “He was one of the English men who came to help us. With people dying all around us, he decided that I was one person who could be saved, and so he offered me the chance to live.”
This time it was Thomas’s turn to interrupt. “I’m sorry, I’d been lead to believe that you were unconscious at the time?”
Again, Patrick nodded. “That’s right. Out cold, as they say.”
Me writing slow burn as I listen to Matt and Ryan talk about how Tom Hank’s son is a disappointment... yes this is therapeutic