lmao when i was younger, i remember constantly seeing women so sexually dissatisfied in shows and never thinkin much of it but when u lying under some moaning guy as u stare at the ceiling and think about ur grocery list Then U Really Remember
a/n: written for @omgcpwomenfest, day 11. i don’t usually write angsty stuff, but…. have some unrequited pre-ghosthood pining with a side of sapphic self-realization and some ominous foreshadowing. :)))))
“Do you think I should do, like, waterproof eyeliner?
Or just regular?” Jenny asked. “Because, like, they haven’t told us anything about this rush event, you
know? And I just want to be, like, ready for whatever.”
Mandy looked up from where she was painting her nails on
Jenny’s bed. Jenny was standing over her, holding two tubes of makeup and
biting her bottom lip. In the end, Jenny had opted for shorts and her red
Samwell top, the one that always kept slipping off her shoulders. She looked cute—but then, Jenny looked cute in everything, Mandy thought.
“I’d definitely go with the waterproof one,” Mandy
said finally. “Just to be safe. Runny makeup totally blows.”
“That’s what I was thinking!” Jenny said. She uncapped the waterproof eyeliner and hopped back over to her mirror.
“Plus, like, what if I cry or something? It’s going to be a pretty
Mandy nodded and carefully painted another nail. “I
know, right? I’m super excited,” she said, and then added, a little more
hesitantly, “but I’m also… kinda nervous.”
“It’s totally fine to be nervous,” Jenny said.
She’d already finished the eyeliner on one dark eye and was moving onto the
next, her hand steady and precise. The sharp tip of the eyeliner brush dragged
effortlessly over Jenny’s lash line. God, it was almost as if the brush was
drawn there magnetically. Watching Jenny do her makeup never got old.
“What'cha thinkin about?” Jenny asked, catching
Mandy’s eye through the mirror. Mandy blinked.
“Oh,” she said. “You’re just, you know.
You’re really good at makeup.” That earned her a smile.
“It’s all about practice, Mandy dearest,” Jenny
said. “I grew up doing makeup for ballet. And drill team. And cheer. You
pick it up fast.” She winked.
Somehow, Mandy doubted would be as good as Jenny even if
she’d had the same amount of experience, but she didn’t say that.
“As soon as my nails dry, I’m going to get started on
my makeup,” she said instead. “Is it okay if I borrow your
“I could do it for you, if you want.”
Mandy paused. “…What?”
“I could do your eyeshadow,” she said. “But
like, only if you want me to?”
jealous mccree when ur “just friends” ~
- fake nice to whoever ur s/o is
- thinks abt you all the time
- never stops thinkin abt u
- dreams abt kissin u and bein ur bf
- flirts w u bc Fuck Consequences
- even if ur s/o threatens to beat his ass if he keeps flirtin w u
jealous mccree when ur in a relationship w him ~
- he tries not to be so jealous when other people flirt w u but he just cant help it
- he has you and deep down he Knows he doesnt deserve u
- “why would someone as amazing with them be with someone like me?” is a popular thought in his head
- and so when other people flirt w you or even just compliment you he gets so Jealous and panicked bc he Cant lose you
- youre the best thing thats ever happened to him
- he never feels bad fighting ppl that try to get handsy w you tho
- one time he kicked this drunk guy’s teeth in bc he was gettin all touchy feely w you when u expressed how much u didnt want it
- mccree just loves you and would never want anyone to take you from him
Here is the second chapter of my new AU! And yes I am still continuing Lightened Soul, so you can stop yelling at me in my inbox :) Here’s a wee peek at Jamie’s mindset. Enjoy and lemme know what you think!
Jamie sighed deeply and relaxed his shoulders as he was met with the warmth of fire and the smell of onions and peat surrounding him as he walked through the door.
Though, Lallybroch was sorely lacking even the basic of necessities during the famine, it was still leaps and bounds better than the chill of his cave.
He had finished skinning the stag he had brought down and was bloodied and muddy from calves to cheeks. He hoped Jenny wouldn’t see him or she would have a fit about him getting muck on her precious rugs. He hadn’t been due back to the house for a few weeks yet, but the stag presented a good excuse to make the trek home. Even though Fergus would have been able to bring the meat home, Jamie needed human contact once more.
He quickly stoked the fire in the kitchen and set about getting the meat cooking.
The chair creaked under him as he sat down a few minutes later, letting the feeling of peace settle into his bones like a tonic, easing him of the pain that came along with his isolation.
It could be worse, he thought. The family could be starving. At least if he had to live out this purgatory without his wife and child, it gave him some comfort that he was able to do even a little to provide for his sister and her children. And his Fergus. The closest thing to a son he would ever know.
Without conscious thought, he reached up to his neck and rubbed the beads of the rosary Jenny had given him before going to war. Let her be safe, she and the child.
Looking up from his prayers, he saw his sister standing in the doorway with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders.
“We didna expect ye until later this month.” She came around and placed a hand lightly on the hand he was tightly clutching the rosary with. “I’m sorry. I didna mean to interrupt your prayers.”
Jamie smiled and patted her hand. “Ye did no such thing. I caught a stag and I needed to skin it before the meat went bad,” he nodded to the fire where the meat was roasting.
He heard her stomach growl at the sight. It had been a good many weeks since everyone in the house went to bed with their bellies full.
“Good, that will do for nearly a week! I could even make a pie!”
Jamie’s own stomach rumbled at the thought of a meat pie.
“What are ye doing up at this time?” He asked to make his own belly forget about the smell of roasting meat.
“Kitty was sick earlier and I was making sure she was sleeping easy when I smelled the food.”
Jamie touched his beads again. “Is she alright?”
Jenny nodded and sat down in the stool next to him. “Aye, she’ll be fine.”
A small amount of relief went through him as he heard this. What would he do if someone in the family got ill? There was nothing to be done. He would be helpless to them. The only healer Lallybroch had ever known and would most likely ever know was gone. And never to return. A spasm of grief went through his body like a musket ball. In a way, it was harder to deal with his lost wife’s absence in the house. A place where they had lived happily together as a family. As the laird and lady.
He could almost see her coming down the stairs, her curls framing her face as she walked towards him with a smile. He saw the two of them stealing kisses in front of the fire when Mrs. Crook had her back turned. He saw her in the potatoes that were keeping their family alive, her healing touch still with them even after she was not.
In the cave – a place she had never been – it was a bit easier. He thought of her and their child always, but it was easier to bare in a place she had not been and would never be.
“You’re thinkin’ about her. Claire. That’s who ye were praying for.”
He glanced up sharply at his sister. She had disappeared from his sight as the past had overwhelmed his senses. Unable to face her gaze, tender and sorrowful, he looked to the fire. The orange and blue flames dancing around in a hypnotic dance.
“Aye,” he answered simply.
“She’ll always be wi’ ye, brother. She lives in the walls of this place, just as Mother and Father do. She lives on in everyone here. Not only through her healing, but from her mind. The potatoes have kept us from starving more than once.”
Moisture threatened to escape his eyes as he clenched his fists to try and reign in his emotion. He never talked of Claire to Jenny. Or to anyone. Even Fergus, who had known her as a motherly figure, had stopped trying to talk get him to talk of her. Perhaps, he spoke to Jenny. He hoped anyway.
“The suffering is too much to bare sometimes,” he whispered, eyes still fixed on the fire.
Jenny made a small noise and reached over to grasp his hand tightly. “I ken, brother.”
“No, ye don’t.” He felt a tear escape the corner of his eye and he made no move to wipe the evidence of his ache away. The ache of the last four years without her. The ache of sending her away.
“Ye have Ian and your bairns. And ye didna ken what it’s like to lose one. Not once, but twice.”
Jenny started at that, leaning back a little as she absorbed the words. She looked down at her hands as she wrung them in her lap.
“No, I dinna ken that kind of pain. But I do know pain, Jamie.”
He stood and walked to the hearth fire. His eyes overflowing from the pain and the smoke. The weight of his heart was too heavy and he needed to release it before it became all too much. Before he had to go back to that awful hole in the earth.
“She was with child, when I…when she went.” His hands clutched the mantle for support as he remembered that last night with her, cradling the child, whispering his love to her belly while she slept. The only words he would ever speak to him. And though he knew it impossible, he wished that somehow the bairn would remember his voice, somewhere in the deepest part of their mind, when they needed it the most.
He took a shaky breath in as he fought to speak through his thick throat. “And we lost our wee Faith in France.”
“Oh, Jamie,” Jenny whispered and came over to hug him tightly from behind as he wept into the flames.
She rubbed his back in a soothing manner as he fought for control. The control he desperately needed least he fall to pieces and into oblivion.
Jenny took a deep breath and grabbed his hand, an anchor in the misery he was drowning in.
“Come wi’ me.”
They stood in the Laird’s study with a few candles lighting the room from the darkness. Jenny reached up and grabbed the large book that his father had started when he and mother moved here. She brought it over to the light and opened it to the family tree.
Jamie glanced at her for a moment, wondering what her mind was up to before glancing down at the page himself, seeing both his mother and father’s script.
He saw the dates of Willie’s birth and death. His own birth and Jenny’s. And his father’s hand that recorded the death of his little brother and his mother.
And then the breath went out of his body and he feel to his knees as they failed to support him. Underneath his name and Claire’s –which he had added as soon as they came home the first time after she chose him at the stones – he saw his wife’s neat script.
He bowed his head as he traced the lines left behind her. One of the only tangible things he had to remember her by. He could picture her here, fighting back tears as she wrote their daughter’s name.
“Ye see, they aren’t gone, Jamie. They will live on as long as we do.”
And then, Jenny dabbed a quill into the ink pot and added a name next to Faith’s.
And with that he simply grabbed onto his sister and wept.
ok steph being insatiably horny because she's ovulating-- bucky coming home and hearing steph's soft moans coming from her room. bucky tiptoeing quietly toward the sound because god damn he has to see he can't help himself. steph laying on the bed, eyes shut tight. steph rolling her hips up and down against a vibrator, teasing herself, whimpering "buck ... b-bucky." bucky's chest swelling and a groan slipping from his throat. steph being so relieved to see him she's not even embarrassed (cont)
steph making prolonged purposeful eye contact with an bucky, already hard. steph being so overwhelmed with need she breaks the stare first, eyes fluttering shut and lips trembling. “you gonna stand there and watch all day?” she pleads. bucky thinks he could, if not for his cock starting to ache. bucky walking over to the bed in a trance. steph so fired up she takes control, grabbing his wrists and yanking him down, straddling him, impatient, undressing him only halfway. (cont) steph sliding bucky inside and riding him slow and agonizing for half an hour until she snaps and says “I need to fuck you like the world’s ending, bucky” and then fucks bucky’s brains out harder and faster than he thought she could, the little nymph. steph coming stuttering over bucky’s name, collapsing beside him and then immediately asking if he’s ever had a vibrator up his ass
um. this was really inspiring?? :D
“Hey, Buck,” Steph says after a second, her blush spreading down her neck.
Yeah yeah hit my ring ring call me I know I’m always busy s-s-sorry and We don’t even see each other much hardly It never stopped me from girl thinkin bout your body Swear to God, she’s so s-s-s-sexy Thinkin to myself the lord must’ve blessed me many times I wrote many verses girl, many lines about you & me Us together intertwined On some s-s-serious shit Girl you got a nigga st-stuttering Got me on some long term thinkin other than On some diamond ring shit Girl smotherin, we be t-t-talkin on the late nights Takin trips to see each other on the long flights Spending tour money on you girl I don’t mind But it’s been a minute girl, you been on my mind C-c-call me
Hold On Tight To Whatever Gets You Through the Night
It started out innocent. Party just wanted someone to talk to really, someone he could be open with. As much as he hated to admit it, Party was a really sensitive guy. He loved poetry, sunsets and cried more than he liked to admit. But he couldn’t show that side of himself, he was rebel leader Party Fucking Poison and had to be tough. So tough every Drac would fear just the sound of his name and no one would doubt his leadership.
And no one did, except himself of course.
He was his own biggest critique. He was cocky to an extant, it’s hard not to be when kids hang posters of him and make toy models of his ray gun in the Zones. He knew he was a crack shot, he knew he could drive the Trans Am better than anyone else, and he knew he would leave his mark on the world. But, what if he gets captured and is turned into another mindless B.L.I. employee? What if he’s ghosted before he can save Battery City? Or even worse, what if it’s his fault him and the gang get ghosted?
That was Party’s biggest fear. He was terrified that every decision he would make would be his last, that he was unknowingly lead his best friends to their death. Party didn’t know what he would do if one of his stupid plans got them killed. He would go crazy.
He learned after a few months that this isn’t something you can just bottle up forever because that does make you crazy and explode over the tiniest things. After he screamed and teared up when one of his favorite beaded bracelets broke, Kobra sat him down for a talk. Kobra was a great listener and Party felt comfortable to talk about anything with him. It was his brother after all, Party trusted Kobra more than he trusted himself. But Kobra was his brother and never had the heart to tell Party when he was wrong, so Kobra just agreed with everything Party said and assured him he was a kick ass leader.
Even if it was true, that’s not what Party wanted to hear. Party wanted someone to tell him when he was being totally irrational and an asshole. He needed that reality check. So, he moved onto Jet.
Jet was smart, the true mastermind behind the group and Party was sure that Jet would be honest with him. He wasn’t. He just rubbed his back and told him that he was doing fine. Jet had a heart of gold and didn’t want to hurt Party’s feelings, especially when he seemed so down in the dumps.
Ghoul was zero help as well. He tried to joke around make witty comments throughout the conversation in an attempt to lighten the mood and cheer Party up. The conversation ended up the same, Ghoul twirling his gun while he gave Party a little speech about how badass he was and “Don’t sweat it Poison, you’re making a difference and you know it.”
He gave up then. What was the point of venting if everyone just wanted to give him an ego boost? He knew it was them just not wanting to hurt his feelings or make him feel shitty, but it’s what he needed. He wanted the truth.
And that’s exactly what she gave him.
Neither of them could ever sleep, so they always went up to the roof to relax. Those nights were lighthearted and made him feel like a kid again, filled with games of stargazing and who can point out the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W search lights in the distance first over a shared can of Power Pup.
It was a particular clear night, of both stars and search lights and they told stories instead, both made up and real ones. Somehow, just sitting here and talking about life felt even better than their silly games. It felt so open and inviting that Party spilled his guts, swallowing away the knot in his throat and blinking any tears that threatened to spill from his eyes as he told her everything.
And she gave him the best response anyone has ever given him when he asked for her opinion on him. “Well, you’re kind of a dick every now and then.” She wasn’t scared to hurt his feelings and was always honest with him. And yeah, it hurt at first but he needed that. Because when he woke up the next morning, he felt like a huge weight was off his shoulders and he knew exactly what he needed to do to be a better leader.
That’s what he wanted, someone to talk to. And he never held back on any of his fears and doubts when they were alone. And when she just laughed, pushed his shoulder, and told him he was an idiot for thinking they secretly hated him, he believed her.
But of course, venting shouldn’t be one sided and he wanted to be there for her like how she was for him. They became close after all these long talks, inseparable even. Soon it wasn’t even important stuff, he could see a fucking gecko sitting on a cactus out on patrol and couldn’t wait to tell her about and show her the sketch he did of it when he got back home.
They were just good friends, that’s all. Even when she came into his room in the middle of the night, complaining about bad dreams and didn’t want to be alone, Party didn’t give it much thought because friends help friends and that’s what he was doing. Even when she curled up into his side and draped a leg over him, he didn’t let it get to him. And when he woke up cradling her and his head resting on her shoulder, with her ass firmly pressed against his crotch, he simply got up carefully and got dressed for the patrol.
It was only the next night when Party gave it much thought. She was back in her own bed and Party was tossing and turning in his. He was uncomfortable, hands itching to hold something. He wasn’t sure what was wrong, this was no different than any other night. Plus, he got in a gun fight earlier was exhausted. He should have been out as soon as he hit the mattress. He end up just cuddling his pillow, but it wasn’t the same. It was too small, too cold, too squishy and felt nothing like what he wanted.
Friends cuddle right? That wouldn’t be weird or anything if he asked if he could sleep in her room tonight. He slept better when he was with her, it wasn’t like he was being perverted or was trying to make a move on her. Yeah, it would be fine. Wouldn’t be weird or anything at all, Party decided and headed towards her room.
There’s a lot of pain that comes with this lifestyle, a lot of repressed hurt that Party figured there wasn’t really a cure for at this point. He was always on alert and never felt safe, not even in his bed at night.
But right now, he felt safe. Warm, safe, and content. Who knew human touch could feel this good. Not even in a sexual way, just simply holding her while he slept gave him peace and it didn’t feel like the world was ending anymore. So what he preferred to cuddle with his best friend every night, that’s what friends do.
Party’s a pretty intentive guy, he has to be. But he never really noticed how long her eyelashes were or how her eyes crinkled when she laughed until now. Those thoughts filled his head throughout the day and he wondered what the hell was wrong with him. He never had these thoughts. There was no room for a love interest in his life. It was all too risky. She could get hurt, he could get hurt. He knew if she died he would loose his mind, and he didn’t want her to fall into darkness if he got ghosted.
He knew he should just break things off with her, put an end to this before it gets started. But he couldn’t, her touch was too much and he couldn’t bring himself to leave her side no matter what. And he never did.
“What are you thinkin’ about?” She asked, peering up at him. Her naked chest was flushed against his, there sweaty skin sticking them together. His breathing was sill ragged and he ran a hand though his disheveled hair.
“Nothing,” he shrugged. “Thinking about us.”
“Mhm, I guess just how we ended up here.” He felt a soft kiss on his jawline and he smiled, stroking her back.
“You’re too cute,” she giggled, rolling over to face away from him. “Goodnight babe,” she yawned over her shoulder at him. Party wrapped an arm around her lower waist, holding her against him and snuggling his head into her shoulder blade. Their chest rise and fell as one, even their heart beats matched. He sighed happily, letting the warmth and comfort of having her body next to his lull him to sleep, already seeing the scene of a better world and her beautiful smile come into vision.
It seems every female illustrator or manga artist love Sailor Moon and see it as their childhood inspiration. To me, I’ve never watched Sailor Moon but thinkin’ I should give out a try at manga art. I’ll do the whole Sailor series.
I hope you think about me. Not in the middle of the night when you’re lonely… that’s too easy. But in the morning when you go to make your coffee and your hand reaches for the creamer and you’re not sure why because you don’t even take it in your coffee. Before you can stop yourself, I hope you think of me and how my lips always tasted of French vanilla and how I’d slip on my gloves before buttoning my coat as I walked out of the door. I hope in the second it takes you to put the lid on your coffee, that you think about me and just for that moment you miss me.
i mean, the rational part of my brain is definitely like “lol destiel is never going to happen, stop thinking it’s going to happen”
i can’t help but notice this theme that’s been stewing since season 9 when metatron decided to write his own story about love and then we have cas destroying a library, literally ripping up the pages of the books, to get his grace back
and then we have the stynes nearly burning all of the books in the bunker, and instead cas is thrown against them and later dean stabs a book instead of stabbing cas
and i can’t help but think about how scully and mulder became canon on the x-files where tptb wrote an episode about an author’s story getting away from them and getting out of their control and that was tptb admitting that the relationship between scully and mulder had turned into something they never intended but they couldn’t ignore any longer
“But you ain’t part of it, are you?“ said Granny conversationally. "You try, but you always find yourself watchin’ yourself watchin’ people, eh? Never quite believin’ anything? Thinkin’ the wrong thoughts?”
“Well, basically, there are two sorts of opera,” said Nanny, who also had the true witch’s ability to be confidently expert on the basis of no experience whatsoever.”
“You can either be on the stage, just a performer, just going through the lines… or you can be outside it, and know how the script works, where the scenery hangs, and where the trapdoors are.”
“Gytha Ogg, you wouldn’t be a witch if you couldn’t jump to conclusions, right?” Nanny nodded. “Oh, yes.” There was no shame in it. Sometimes there wasn’t time to do anything else but take a flying leap. Sometimes you had to trust to experience and intuition and general awareness and take a running jump. Nanny herself could clear quite a tall conclusion from a standing start.”
“There’s a kind of magic in masks. Masks conceal one face, but they reveal another. The one that only comes out in darkness. I bet you could do just what you liked, behind a mask … ?”
“The trouble is, you see, that if you do know Right from Wrong, you can’t choose Wrong. You just can’t do it and live.”
“It was central to Nanny Ogg’s soul that she never considered herself an old woman, while of course availing herself of every advantage that other people’s perceptions of her as such would bring.”
darrencriss: Put on some kicks I love but never wear, thinkin, man, why don’t I rock these more often? After walking only four blocks away from home I remember oh yeah they’re not the most comfortable. #whatididforlove #chicksdoiteveryday