#candice writes

[patheticbabie]

Jason Todd nsfw headcanons

first time posting anything to do with Jay, so here we go ❤️ don't repost without credit please

- Mostly dominant in bed, but if he knows you've had a bad day and just want to gain some control, he'll let you have your way

- Toys!! Lots of toys, he loves using them on you, and testing your stamina

- He gets really horny after going to the gym, so expect him to just fuck you stupid whether it's at the lockers or in the car or at home

- Handsy guy, especially at galas

- Needs to burn off that post patrol energy, so he's going down on you as a soon as he gets home

- The type to send dick pics or audios of him groaning when he knows you're busy. Same goes for you, send something out of nowhere and all you get is a string of texts from him telling you all the ways he'll fuck you

- you're the type to just out of nowhere sit on his thighs especially when he's reading something and you'll just ride his thighs

- will smirk when you ask him to crush your head when you suck his dick

- loves being called daddy, even when you accidentally slip it into convos with Dick. You'll be like "daddy bought me a gift the other day"

- and Dick's looking at Jay and he's just smirking "Jay you like to be called daddy? Kinky"

- yes he does have a daddy kink. It slipped out one passionate night between the sheets, and his mind short circuited for a bit before asking you to call him daddy again

- he's a soft!dom

- praise kink, for both of you. Tell him he's a good boy or that he's pretty when he cums and he goes feral

- king of after care. Will run a bath for you, will have your fave snacks and will play with your hair and massage you till you're feeling sleepy

- if you tell him you bought new lingerie, he'll ask you to model it for him, before trying his best not to rip it to pieces

- to add to that, you in lingerie and wearing his thigh holsters? Or better yet? Not wearing anything but his thigh holsters? This man will be on his knees worshiping you with his tongue, fingers and cock

- has plenty of videos of you and him on his phone, they're for both of you only

- speaking of, if you ask him if you can record him fucking you or eating you out, he won't turn you down. Homemade sex tapes he loves it, especially when he's away on a mission

- into cockwarming when he's going through case files. Will say "come sit on your throne princess, while daddy works"

[candicewright]

Weirdly proud of the fic I'm writing actually

[inafieldofdaisies]

WIP Whenever (since I'm a few hours late for Wednesday) | Tagged by @simonxriley @socially-awkward-skeleton @corvosattano @direwombat @the-silver-chronicles @marivenah @shellibisshe

We're returning to John and Sabrina's AU this midweek and jumping into quite the scene with no other but Candice after John runs into her at his their hotel lobby. Miss Donovan absolutely insisted on this being from her POV, she can't be refused.

"Reginald, we will be making a stop on the way. Where are you headed, Mr. Duncan?" Candice couldn't help but smirk at the obvious discomfort the man next to her was exhibiting upon climbing in after her and putting as much distance between them as humanly possible. The fact he wasn't quick to give out an address to her driver only further confirmed he might be having seconds thoughts about accepting her offer. A little too late. This is bound to be fun. Her plan was back in motion from the moment she had spotted him in the lobby, refusing to let such a perfect opportunity pass by despite the fact she had prior engagements that demanded her attention. Keeping taps on Mooney's defense strategy had become a personal hobby, making his life in prison while he awaited the inevitable even more so. You're about to regret the day you crossed a Donovan, Nathaniel. Deeply. She doubted getting information out of someone like John Duncan and perhaps even steering him in the direction she wanted would be that much of a challenge, quite the opposite: she could already foresee each step she needed to take to a point she felt somewhat… bored. Nostalgic over a past long gone. Over the only person that used to have her heart racing and knew her better than she knew herself.

Yet she had no time to dwell on any of it, not when her current target had finally figured out that with the car speeding down the street he had no choice but to reveal the destination he was in such a rush to get to. I will be damned. "…Brentwood St.", John finished casually reciting the address, seeming completely unaware of how with a couple of words he had given her enough ammo to not only have his freshly-acquired title as Partner stripped away but have him potentially disbarred altogether. Luckily enough, she had other uses for him before things would get to the stage where he'd be contemplating a new career path. The triumph at the idea Mooney's new attorney was making far from an innocent late night visit to a person that without shadow of a doubt be on the witness list and important to the prosecution was short-lived. Curiosity swooped in its place upon realizing her own daughter was on the receiving end of whatever risqué plans John had in mind and the sole reason he was breaking a golden rule. Reginald's gaze met hers in the rearview mirror and she could tell he had come to the same conclusion about the stop they would be making, same place he'd driven her to one too many times. Her quick nod had him raising the privacy screen without uttering a word before she shifted until her body was aligned with the man next to her and she crossed her legs, not missing the way his eyes darted down to the sliver of skin her dress offered, "I heard your client got in quite the trouble at his new home, darling."

"I'm not at liberty-" "To discuss it?", she let out a laugh, "All work and no play isn't that much fun, Mr. Duncan. You eventually come to realize that." She didn't let the fact her remark was met by silence from his side discourage her- his instincts might have been screaming he was walking into a minefield, but dropping down his guard was inevitable. "Are you worried how it might look at the trial? So unfortunate of him to keep misbehaving like that while still insisting on his innocence and facing the danger of rotting in a cell for the rest of his life." Her smile was sickly-sweet as she let her expression brim with compassion for the task bestowed upon him, yet deep down all the misteps Mooney had made during his incarceration- the fork incident being one of many the prosecutors could pick from, brough her utmost joy. "I see no love has been lost here.", John retorted, attempting to sound nonchalant in hope she'd reveal her cards before he had to address his client. All she offered him was another loaded look as she swooped her hair off her shoulder and changed the subject, "How's the hotel been treating you, Mr. Duncan? Or better yet, Portland?" "I've had less eventful work trips." "Ah, way to make me curious. Is this your first time in town?" "Yes.", he paused, "Is this where you offer to show me the sights?" She quirked up an eyebrow, "Are you asking?" His blue gaze narrowed at her flirtatious tone, "Answering my question with a question. Shouldn't have expected anything else."

"Indeed, darling. And what about 310?" "Excuse me?" The confusion that met the number won another hearty laugh out of her, "Room 310 has been giving you trouble, as Julie put it. I couldn't help but overhear." "Giving me trouble? I'm afraid you misheard her, Ms. Donovan. She said 510." Her marriage to a detective and years spent in court dealing with both the guilty and innocent had taught her to read people to a point it had become an instinct. Everyone had a tell when lying, their body language always offered more than their careful answers, and she had been observing his since their first 'accidental' meeting. No matter how small his tells were, she didn't miss the way his lips pursed as he parroted back her question, how his eyes darted before focusing on hers once more- John was doing his hardest to deceive her again, convince her she had heard wrong instead of caught him in a lie. "Is that so?", she cocked her head to the side, "Shame, would have meant we're neighbors." They were in fact neighbors- one call to the front desk was all it had taken to figure out his room number and confirm the hunch she had about him avoiding her while also providing an insight into the source of the frustrated noises and curses carrying over in the middle of the night from the room next to hers.

She leaned in closer, close enough she could whisper in his ear as her hand landed on his knee, "510 sounds a lot like my 309 neighbor… keeping me up at late hours and not in the way I like it." His bated breath urged her hand to travel upward, her test put in motion while actual seduction was nowhere on her agenda for the evening, yet the fact he was headed to see Sabrina left her with no choice. She had to know, to figure out what mess her daughter had found herself in, if she was wasting time on someone whose loyalty was as fleeting as his code of conduct. "Next time you find yourself unable to sleep…", her words drifted off just as she made it to his zipper. ...You won't be visiting my Sabrina, that's for certain. It was then that his fingers snaked around her wrist to stop her advance, "I'm not interested." "Hmm? No?", she let the question hang in the air between them, giving him a chance to change his mind and prove her right, "An honorable man, Mr. Duncan. Nothing I respect more." Candice backed away with that, resuming her previous position like nothing had happened, smirking at the small sigh of relief that escaped him. Her hand rose and gently knocked on the glass separating them from her driver, "Reginald, how far are we from Mr. Duncan's destination?" The emphasis she put on the last part flew over John's head as he matched her small smile that didn't stay on his face long, "Not too far, Miss, but traffic is moving slower than usual, seems there was an accident of sort. Could be a while longer." Her smirk only widened when he whispered under his breath, "My fucking luck." Your unlucky night is quite lucky for me, Mr. Duncan. What a better way to find out more about the person trying to charm my eldest daughter and no doubt use her to free a guilty man...

Tagging, @strangefable @florbelles @unholymilf @purplehairsecretlair @aceghosts @onehornedbeast @thesingularityseries @cassietrn @theelderhazelnut @voidika @nightbloodbix @macs-babies @finding-comfort-in-rain @carlosoliveiraa @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @vampireninjabunnies-blog @trench-rot @la-grosse-patate @wrathfulrook @fourlittleseedlings @jackiesarch and anyone with something to share this week <3

[druidx]

Her Countenance was Light - Chapter 5

CW: Cadaver and unintentional (character) anti-semitism Chapters: 01. 02. 03. 04. AO3 Tag list (ask for +/-): @aquadestinyswriting @hannahcbrown @jacqueswriteblrlibrary @babyblueetbaemonster

The next morning dawns bright and clear, and Elowyn is up with the light, taking the longer route to the station. She slips in as the night shift filters out, making her way down to the Tombs, intent on catching Snips before he leaves, having worked through the night as he often does.

She knocks on the door to the morgue and lets herself in. "Morning, Snips," Elo calls. "Is it?" Snips looks up from collating notes at a desk in the corner, blinking owlishly as he removes his glasses, looking from Elo to the clock. "Ah, so it is. What can I help you with, my dear?" "A… woman came in last night," Elo says. For some reason, it's harder to remain dissociated in the light of day, when dark thoughts are held at bay by the sun. "Ah yes. You've been assigned the Strucker case?" Snips asks, brightening. "Good. The General deserves to have you on the case." So does she, Elo thinks, but she says nothing about that and just nods. "Farren said you were looking over the body last night. I figure you haven't had chance to do the write-up?" "Not completely." Snips taps neat fingernails on his stack of notes. "I've completed my assessment but have yet to formally collate those thoughts into a report." "Right. Well since I'm here – what do you have for me?" Snips pulls on a pair of gloves, throwing another to Elo as he beckons her towards the bank of chillers at the back of the room. "I assume Breakwood gave you my initial findings?" "Blunt injury to the head and stabbed through the chest." Snips opens one of the freezers, pulling the victim's tray out. Elo has to take a step back. From this angle, Ev– the victim looks so peaceful, as if she might only be asleep. She's as beautiful as Elo remembers. "As should be obvious," Snips says in the cold tones of a career clinician, "there is blunt force trauma to the right side of the head. From the red flecks found in the wound, Candice has confirmed that whatever struck her was a metal implement. What is less obvious is the chest wound." He pulls the sheet aside to illustrate the wound while maintaining the victim's dignity. "See there?" he asks, pointing to the small incision just under the victim's left breast. It is small and circular, maybe a centimeter in diameter. "It goes all the way though. I have Candice searching for something that could have caused it. It's a very precise and unusual weapon. Not something I'm immediately familiar with." "I'll be honest," Elo says, "if you hadn't told me that was a stab wound, I would have assumed it to be a gunshot." "There's no residue and no damage to the surrounding tissue," Snips says as they dispose of their gloves. "Plus the angle of entry is upwards. Unless her attacker was laid on his back, that angle is extremely difficult to achieve with a gun." "You also said something about it being very precise?" "Mm. The placement of the wound is directly between the ribs, straight into the heart." "Something not possible with a bullet. I see." Elo nods. "Is there anything else I should know about the body?" "No. I've nothing more for you, but I know Candice wanted to speak about the artefact recovered from the victim's hand." "Thank you, Snips." Elo pats him on the shoulder. "Get some rest."

She's halfway to Candice's office when there's a cry and a crash. She breaks into a run, revolver jumping to her hand.

The door is open when she gets there, and Elo peeks in. Candy is crouched on the floor, clutching her hand. "Candy?" The woman gives a breathy whine. Elo swiftly checks down the rows of shelving. Finding no intruders, she hurries to Candy's side, crouching next to the small woman. "Candice." The tech is clutching her clenched hand to her chest. Elo brushes lilac-streaked hair away from a pale face. "I'm– I think… I'm okay," Candice says. "Let me see your hand." Candy blinks. "My… my hand?" The smack of leather soles sounds in the corridor, and then Snips is there. "What happened?" he asks, hurrying over. Voice tremulous, Candice says, "I was getting the artefact out, and I… I don't know. I came over all dizzy and the tray slipped. I tried to grab it… It fell somewhere." "Help me get her up," Elo says to Snips. "Sit her on the chair." The mortician does as bid and between the two of them they manhandle Candice onto her chair. "Now, show me your hand," Elo demands. Snips gently takes the offending limb, uncurling the arm from Candice's body and easing the palm open. There is a burn mark there, and Elo sucks in a breath as she sees the imprint of text. Snips is being more practical, and snaps for her to get ice, even as he's reaching for where Candice stores her emergency first aid kit. Though she's not clumsy by nature, her job is more hazardous than most office workers, so she keeps a kit close at hand. Elo hurries off to get the ice

Snips is unravelling gauze as Elo returns with ice from the back of the ice box. It's not the cleanest, but trapped between the gauze, it will do for now, Snips says. Elo nods, seeing he has it well in hand, and turns to where the tray fell. The artefact has slipped from the tray and slid partly under a set of drawers. Once again, to Elo it appears to be made of that light blue stone, and it is fortunately unbroken. She takes the blue tissue from the tray, using it in lieu of gloves to pick the artefact up. A thrill runs up her arms, like a static shock, and she almost drops the thing as her muscles clench in protest. "Buggeration!" she swears Snips looks up sharply. "What did you say? Where did you learn that word?" he demands. Elo blinks. "Learn what?" she asks. "Buggeration? I don't know. Some students from England–" "How dare you speak these words!" He's now left Candice, and his eyes are flashing dangerously. "I demand you stop it this instant!" "Stop doing what?" Elo asks, and she's surprised at the venom coming from their usually mild-mannered mortician. "I'm not–" "That!" he snaps, his face contorting in a snarl. "When did you learn Hebrew? Why are you speaking it here? It is a sacred language, and I demand you stop immediately." He is stalking towards her, his body rigid, his shoulders hunched, like he's going into a fight. "Snips…" Elo is confused, and – she is not frightened, she is not – but it's so surprising to hear this vitriol coming from him, that she is shocked. She takes a step away from him. "Snips let me put this thing back in the fridge at least." "No!" he grabs her wrist, teeth bared. She instinctively pulls away, but his grip is strong – stronger than she would have expected. "Now," he growls. "You shut your mouth now, you impertinent welp. You will be silent!" He twists against her struggling away, and her grip slips, and the artefact falls from her nerveless fingers. "Snickersnip!" She finally comes back to her senses, and twists her body, putting herself between her mortician and the artefact, pushing them both away, to avoid further burning. They hit a set of shelves and it rocks dangerously for a moment before righting. Snips is staring at her, shock and confusion written all over his face, as she presses him against the shelves, her arm twisted awkwardly between them. The rattle of something settling on the shelf above them and Elo's ragged breathing seems overloud in the sudden silence.

Snips' grip goes slack, as does his jaw, so Elo steps back "Snickersnip, what are you talking about?" she demands. He is staring at her, his eyes wide, and she thinks it's because she just body-slammed him into a set of shelves. "You… you were speaking Hebrew." "I was not," she tells him, as emphatically as she can manage. "I was speaking English. I don't even know what Hebrew is." "No, you… You were definitely…" He remains leaning against the shelves, looking confused and pained. "Did I injure you?" she asks quietly. Silently, he shakes his head. "Good." Elo turns away from that look of dismay and confusion, because the damnable artefact has fallen on the floor again, and she cannot see it. It's a key piece of evidence, that she is assured is melting, and she must find it, and get it back in the ice box before it vanishes completely. "Did… Did I injure you?" he asks, equally quietly, as she scours the floor. Elo's words come out harsher than she means, as she says, "Might have some bruising. Nothing I've not had before." A bark of laughter escapes. "You're a lot stronger than you look." She turns her attention back to her search for the artefact, thinking that it didn't seem like ice to her. Melting ice feels brittle, and it felt solid enough to her hand. It didn't even feel cold or damp, and she wonders how sturdy it really is. She has a gut feeling something very bad would happen if it were to break. "Sargent–" "Look after Candice," she snaps, frustrated at Snips. She is still confused and alarmed at how he acted. She knows what languages she speaks, and she has never even heard of this Hebrew, let alone spoken a word of it. The vitriol was most unlike him, and it makes her wonder just how well she really knows him.

She finally spots the artefact. It has skittered under a cabinet, and she can just see the corner of it. Elo glances back to see Snips having done as she'd commanded. Candice still looks pale, and her glassy eyes stare ahead blankly as Snips speaks to her in a quiet voice. Fortunately she seems to not have been affected by their sharp words and resultant tussle. The mortician is not paying attention to her, which she is glad for – she can do without another confrontation – but even so, as she kneels down to retrieve the thing, she doubles over the blue cloth and hoicks it out, preparing for that shock. It doesn't come. She lifts it from the floor and dumps it back in the tray. It has not changed back to ice, to her eyes at least. It remains that solid, pale blue stone. Without speaking, she returns it to the ice box.

When she gets back, Snips has Candice standing, clinging to him with her free hand, like he is the only thing keeping her up-right. "I'm going to take her to Matilde," Snips says. "When I return we need to talk." "Snips-" "No. No, don't you 'Snips' me," he says, doing a passable impression of her slightly wheedling, slightly threatening tone. "We need to talk. So you can choose to remain here, or in my mortuary, but I will return, and I shall be… cross if you aren't here." "All I was going to say," Elo replies, capitulating internally, "is that maybe this is a conversation to share with Farren. He should be in by now. How about I meet you upstairs, and we'll commandeer an interview lounge?" The mortician narrows his eyes at her. "I won't skip out on you. You have my word on it – my bark and my blood as my bond." They both blink. She doesn't know why she said that, except that it feels right to do so. Snips looks taken aback, but then he nods. "Very well. You will need to tell Constable Breakwood what transpired here eventually, and it would be best to deal with both things at once, rather than having to repeat the conversation." They nod tightly to each other, while Candice stares at them both. "Come now, my dear," he says to Candice. "Let's get that nasty burn seen too." He is far more gentle with Candice than he has been with Elo, as he leads her away.

Elo watches them go, and tries to think. She has never, in all the time she has spent as an officer at this precinct, heard of Snips behaving like that to another member of the department. Some part of her is still reeling from having him turn on her like that, but the copper in her pushes it away and tucks it down with the knowledge that it is Evalyn Strucker who lies dead on his autopsy table, and she has a job to do. But the artefact… It scritches at her mind. It will not be forgotten so easily. She is afraid that they are all correct, and it is melting away into nothingness, but part of her refuses to believe it's true. Part of her wants to turn and take it from the ice box. She wants to cradle it in her bare palm and touch the surface with her fingers. She wants to speak the words engraved into it, if her mind can ever wrap its way around them.

She blinks and finds herself stood in front of the icebox, her hand resting on the handle. Elo gives a sharp exhalation and steps back. This is stupid. She has things to do, a murder to solve and a murderer to find. She does not have time to stand around, giving in to the childish flights of fantasy. It might have been fun, once upon a time, to think that she was special, that those red eyes meant something when she was younger, that the gobbledygook language she spoke to her friend with was something unique and particular to only them. But now she is an adult, with no time to indulge. There are real threats out there, and her friend is waiting for her to bring the killer to justice. Nothing less will stand. Disgusted with herself, Elo turns away, the fire of vengeance burning in her blood, and finds it is almost, almost, enough to drown the scritching that starts again in the back of her brain. Every step away from the artefact in the ice box makes it worse and by the time she has crossed halfway over the floor it's intolerable again. She snarls at herself, and actually scratches the back of her neck, by the base of her skull, to make the damn thing stop. It does not help.

Muttering expletives to herself, she turns and strides back to the ice box, hauling the door open and glares at the thing inside. She expects the satisfying rush that comes from scratching, the deliciousness of release, but if anything the itch is only worse. She's stopped thinking halfway over the floor, the irritation in her mind is that bad, and she stares with hate, with longing, at the thing lying there on a steel tray and medical blue paper towel, the speckled stone blushed over with yellow from the fridge's bulb, and because she truly has stopped thinking about anything other than getting release from this itch, she reaches in with bare hand, and grabs the artefact.

A lot happens then.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

“The problem is no longer getting people to express themselves but providing little gaps of solitude and silence in which they might eventually find something to say. … What a relief to have nothing to say, the right to say nothing, because only then is there a chance of framing … the thing that might be worth saying.”

—Gilles Deleuze

[h/t Candice Dyer]

[c-vs-the-world]

I always see aus about Eddie, Steve, or Billy being experiments/having powers, and it got me thinking. I have a thing for awful characters, like the worse they are in canon, the better they are in fanon yknow? So who's a character that is worse that isn't written about in this au?

Jason motherfucking Carver.

Basically this is my proposal for an Experiment/Powered!Jason Carver.

(Tw: 1 mention of hitting a kid/child abuse, & lots of religious themes/trauma)

Okay so;

His first memories are of nothing but the white halls of the lab and the other children

He's number 009

He's always been talkative, even when Papa gets mad at him or when Creel tries to shush him

He escapes by accident, coincidentally also when he was 9 years of age- A malfunction with the locks and security + powers made for a mostly clean escape, and from there he wandered into town

The cars and buildings scared him and he ended up running into the first house he could find- a nicer 2 story surrounded by similar houses

He was alone for the first 24 hours, after raiding the fridge and cupboards, he stumbled upon a book laying open on the coffee table in the living room: The Holy Bible

He was transfixed and read through it until the front door opened

Mr. & Mrs. Carver, the local pastor and his wife, froze at the sight of him until mrs carver shouted and forced him into a tight hug

She told everyone the Lord had blessed them with a child, and since CPS wasn't able to find anyone related or willing to take this filthy, scrawny boy, they were allowed to adopt him

He began to be homeschooled and taught about the bible

The first time he showed his new parents his powers, he expected to be praised like Jesus was from the disciples, instead he was met with a heavy backhand and a long prayer session. His father was not raising some devil spawn.

By the time he began 6th grade he was a good, normal, god-fearing Christian boy.

At least for about 8 years. Not bad, if you all Jason.

[vincent-sinclair-deserved-better]

Candice Walker

Name: Candice Walker

Nicknames: Candy

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Age: 14

Height: 5'0”

Hair: Very soft and well cared for, gold blonde, wavy, waist length

Eyes: Light green

Style: She mainly wears pink. Skirts and dresses, frills and small bows, puffy sleeves, glitter, flower patterns, hearts. Together with her height, it makes people think that she is younger than she is. Always wears nail polish

Occupation: Student, 10th Grade

Personality: Independent, Reliable, Mature, Determined, Protective, Charming, Vindictive, Smart, Organised, Resilient, Hard-working, Deceitful, Loyal, Loving, Self-respecting, Cruel, Calculating, Observant, Distrustful

Likes: Cats, glitter, the colour pink, sweet food, baking, raspberry and strawberry flavoured things, the night, The Sims, strawberry milkshake, sewing, her non-biological aunt and cousin, bubblegum and lollipops, cute hair clips and pins, rose-scented stationery, horror films, poisonous plants

Dislikes: French class (especially the teacher), bullies, rich people, the police, her mum's family, lies, abusers, unnecessary and unjustified violence, seeing animals in pain, people she loves crying, Bussels sprouts, her hair getting tangled and knotty, having to use unfamiliar hair care products

Skills: Sewing, making simple jewelry, picking pockets and locks, making chocolate and candy, running, climbing, sneaking, gaining people's trust

Backstory: Her mother was part of a fairly well-off family, but was kicked out and disowned once she got married to a man her parents did not approve of. Only shortly after she found out she was pregnant.

Candice's parents were hard-working people and always tried their best, yet with only her dad working a minimum-wage job because her mother had to take care of her, money was an issue. Her father soon fell back into old habits, stealing, tricking people, shoplifting, etc. Meanwhile, her mum managed to get a job at a strip club - initially only cleaning and helping at the bar, but as she got closer to the other employees, some of the dancers offered to teach her.

Even though her mum wasn't too happy about it, Candice did learn her dad's skills for acquiring other people's possessions and money. Her dad would have tried to keep her away from it as well, but it just was part of their lifestyle, and after she got into trouble for being caught stealing one too many times, he figured it'd be safest to teach her how to do it properly.

When she was around ten, however, her father was sent to prison.

Her mum started looking for another job, but with her not having a degree and being a single mother, chances weren't good. Eventually, one winter, Candice got really sick and her mum couldn't afford her medication, so her only choices were to either give up custody of Candice or... go and ask her family for help.

Against all odds and her expectations, her parents agreed to meet her, to pay for Candice's treatment, and even offered her a job: as a cleaner. She worked at her parent's house until her youngest sister had her third child, then she was sent to help her family. Candice hates seeing her mother work for "those people" because she doesn't even get the small level of respect that the other staff receives. The family makes it known that they only allow her mum to work there because they want to, not because they need it.

And Candice herself they treat like she owes them their life - which, in a way, she might, but the only reason she behaves properly around them is because she doesn't want her mother to be punished.

Bonus:

Candice "Candy" Walker, 14; Adelaide "Ada" Walker, 32; and Daniel "Danny" Walker, 33

@immortal-velociraptor @myers-meadow @kalid-raven @rottent33th @bluecoolr

not me never knowing who to tag or not to tag, especially in non-Cylas related stuff

[lecoindecachou]

I hope Candice Patton's career thrives after this, wishing her only the best things going forward

[antihcroes]

okay some fc suggestion questions, does anyone have any fcs that are blonde & have the vibes of s.tar butterfly from s.tar vs the forces of evil - someone who’d fit well for her (but i’m not writing star, i’m writing an oc semi based off her & her personality & such)

and i also am looking for fc suggestions for rapunzel. preferably someone who fits a younger aged version of her & such. like post-movie, the series, age. if you know i’ve previously used candice king for her but … i want to get more into writing punz at a younger age & like her ‘main’ age as i was mostly writing her older/descendants age before. & even if candice did play a teen for like 8 years … girly is 36 & yeah -

so yeah any fc suggestions for these two would be much appreciated!!!

[patheticbabie]

risky + best friend's older brother!jason

Risky + best friend's older brother!Jason

warnings: 18+ smut, masturbating, sending nudes, daddy kink, MDNI

30th birthday event💗

hearing his phone go off he briefly looks down while in the middle of chatting with Steph about the latest case. Seeing your name, he had an inkling about what it could be about, but yet again he could be wrong.

Taking the chance while Steph’s back was turned to him, going through the files on the batcomputer, he opened the text to be greeted with a photo of her dressed in nothing but a red thong (his favourite), topless in front of her mirror, with the text “miss you daddy”

Groaning quietly to himself, he quickly replied to her, “yeah baby? Show daddy how much you missed him”

Watching the three dots appear then disappear, he glanced up from his phone to make sure Steph was still busy. Finally getting a reply back, it was a video. He gulped, already getting hard in his jeans. Wanting nothing more than to watch the video, he cleared his throat and adjusted himself discreetly.

“Hey Steph, just send over the files when you’re done. I gotta go meet up with Roy”

Waving her hand at him, he quickly walked out of the cave and rushed to the nearest bathroom at the manor. Making sure to lock the door, and taking a deep breath, and pressed play on the video. He watched intently as you finger fucked yourself, heart racing at hearing at how wet you sounded, hearing the breathless gasps and whimpers that he knows so well. 

Grabbing his cock through his jeans, he cursed to himself feeling how hard he was, going insane at the thought of tasting her on his tongue. The video ends with her moaning “please daddy, come over” and showing how her pussy was clenching at the empty feeling.

Groaning to himself, he unzipped his pants, hand fisted around his thick and heavy cock, pressing record on his phone, pumping his cock with slow strokes. “Fuck  bunny, you see how hard you made daddy?” the video ends just giving her a little taste, before texting it to her.

Not even a second later, he gets a reply back

“Is that for me daddy?”

“Only yours baby, don’t worry I’m coming over right now”

[candicewright]

I want to throw out a question to people because I can't really wrap my head around it. Why is it that people who are ostensibly leftists and kink positive turn around and shun certain artistic expressions of kink? I understand that if you think kink is gross you also wouldn't like kink art but every day I see more and more kink positive who call out some "gross art" and I have to wonder why that is. (I should also specify that i am talking about non-mainstream art, i understand why there might be aspects to critique there)

[thegreatcrowdragon]

Trans Candyman argue with the wall

[spryfilm]

Blu-ray review: “The Offer” (1966)

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

“I am a product of long corridors, empty sunlit rooms, upstairs indoor silences, attics explored in solitude, distant noises of gurgling cisterns and pipes, and the noise of wind under the tiles. Also, of endless books.”

— C. S. Lewis

[Candice Dyer]

[anthillbooks]

“I was. I am now a changed man.” He winks at me. Liar. He’s a dying man. That’s a whole different thing.

- From The Ashes: A Phoenix Project

Entry 12

[rogueonestan]

when will my inspiration for writing return from war