complete writings

smooth sailing

He felt still rather like a man waiting for the axeman’s blade to drop; his body had become accustomed to this breakneck coltish pace, and nothing had convinced it yet that the danger had passed. 


some mid-episode-87 percahlia. 1.5k words. gentle pwp guest starring a Very Bad Nautical Joke* and a copious helping of fluff. explicit, but not as explicit as some things i have written! enjoy.

*to fans of patrick o’brian: sorry. you can already guess what joke it is.


Keep reading

i still like the idea of naruto busting sasuke out of prison and then traveling with him and team taka

The future I wanted two years ago: Stay at home mom, happily married with seven kids, living in a large house in the country with a whole awful lot of land, five horses and three cats

The future I want now: Freelance artist and published authour with another job on the side, single, living in a small studio apartment in the city with my one cat, close to friends

Pieces of Me- Edmund Pevensie x Reader- Requested

Request: Could I request an Edmund imagine? The reader has given herself to other men before and feels like she’s given too much of herself away and no one could love her and is really sad and Ed notices and comforts her and let’s her know that she is loved and it ends all fluffy and cuddly? It’s meant to be a bit more religious, but idk how much you write about that in your imagines. Thanks! I love your stuff btw and sorry if the ask is too long winded.

You are completely fine, Anon! I’m happy that you like, what I’m assuming is, my oneshots. I am completely comfortable writing stories with religious undertones; I myself am religious, so hopefully what I pull from my own experiences with religion and this topic specifically will make a good oneshot! Enjoy!

Warnings: The reader feels that because she has been intimate with people before that she might not be worth as much as people who are ‘pure’. (I would just like to mention that you have control of your own body, and you do want you want with it. I encourage you to safely and legally explore everything, and to not take societies ideals to heart.) 


Keep reading

Adverbs aren’t evil; said isn’t dead
Please stop hitting the wall with your head

Active is grand but not always the best
Sometimes it’s passive that passes the test

Some write with style, others write plain
Let’s all agree that writing’s a pain

The ‘rules’ can be broken, twisted, or bent
All that matters is that you are content

Make your own story and write your own way
This has been a writer’s PSA

Sometimes it’s hard for me to believe that I’m living this life, this unbelievable life where I’m filled with happiness and hope. It would be easier to explain if it all was just a dream, but it isn’t, and it’s making me question one thing; Is it possible to love someone this much?
—  Poets Love Her

I’m trying to lighten up my blog a bit so here’s the old playground!au:

  • first, picture everyone as tiny children
    • Riko is that one kid who takes being “king of the castle” too seriously and he’s always hogging the slides and being a general butt
    • Kevin and Jean go to day care with him, so they’re kinda just going along with it
    • all of the Foxes are pretty fed up with Riko but what can they do?? they get caught trying to beat his swarmy ass into the the sand and they’re grounded
    • of course Riko ends up throwing a tantrum anyways and pushes Kevin and Jean off the play structure
    • the good news is that kids bounce
    • the bad news is that Jean ended up bumping his head and Kevin twisted his wrist and now everyone has to go home and get yelled at for playing too rough
    • the next day Kevin joins the Foxes
    • Jean, perhaps for the best, wanders away and gets invited into the sand pit with the Trojans, who are 500% more civilized and are currently in the process of burying Alvarez
    • meanwhile, the Foxes are determined to take down Riko
    • Dan draws all of them into a huddle and gives probably the most dramatic speech to ever grace the playground:
    • “win because you don’t know how to lose. this king’s ruled long enough - it’s time to tear his castle down.”
    • except, y’know, it’s this tiny kindergartner saying it, surrounded by other tiny kindergartners, and basically they just all climb onto the playground structure and ignore Riko’s yelling
    • the final standoff is between Kevin and Riko as Kevin dramatically shoves Riko down the slide and refuses to let him back up
    • and honestly, the Foxes aren’t impressed with Kevin’s pushiness either (Andrew least of all), but whatever, they’re going home in an hour, it doesn’t really matter

Keep reading

Looks into the distance, *softly whispers*

What if Bitty and Lardo switched places? Sort of…

Lardo is the frog joining the Samwell women hockey team, with a figure skating background that switched to playing hockey but has never had to deal with checking etc,

Meanwhile Bitty joined the same year as Ransom and Holster, he never figured skated or played hockey, but he gets a scholarship in something else. Then somehow he gets dragged into joining the women hockey team as their manager.

He was using the student kitchen to stress bake, and told the girls that showed up lured by the smell to grab as many as they wanted, and next thing he knows, he’s surrounded by a pack of amazons devouring his baked goods and wondering how best to adopt the tiny adorable baker, and well, by now the Stockholm syndrome has set in and Bitty is exasperatedly fond of all of them.

Keep reading

liebesleid (m) · one

ongoing miniseries |  request: reincarnation au with yoongi.
(—or a story of perpetual unrequited love.)

pairing: yoongi | reader
genre: a lot of angst and drama with a sprinkle of smut.
word count: 7.313
warnings: alcohol mention.
author’s note: a thousand thanks to @lthyl for helping me with the outline, you have the patience of a saint :’D ILY 

⇢ chapters: one | two


Chapter one: dolente.

The same melody repeats itself every dawn.

It is one of those casualties of life you want to deem insignificant, even if it has been going on for years now. Every time you find yourself in that narrow space between dormant and conscious, you can hear the sound of a piano with a clearness that’s almost eerie — as if someone’s caressing the black and white keys right next to your ear, producing a song that resonates in your chest and makes your throat constrict in ways you cannot understand.

It’s a melody you’ve loved ever since day one. It stays deep in your heart even if it keeps repeating itself to the point of annoyance, echoes against the corners of your mind and makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand. It is as familiar as the voice of your mother, as the cool sheets of your bed and the warmth of the shower that prickles at your skin.

Keep reading

SMUTTY ONE SHOT INCOMING

Put Your Lovin’ On Me - COMING January 11, 7:30 a.m. CST

Summary: Bucky needs to forget. He needs someone who can help him erase all the wrongs he’s committed and the monster he thinks he is. You’re just what the doctor ordered.

  • WARNINGS: Smut, Angst, Fluff, nightmares, night terrors, PTSD-like symptoms, choking (not the good kind, but it leads to the good kind?), NSFW gifs ahead, metal arm kink, like a smidgen of dirty talk?

Originally posted by gliceria

Fic: Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of

Summary: It’s a cold, snowy night and Stiles is halfway through his shift at the campus coffee shop when a tall, dark and handsome stranger walks in, one who seems unaware that he’s being haunted by a wolf.

In which Stiles Stilinski sees the ghosts of animals with unfinished business, and Derek Hale is unaware that his dearly departed sister left a few things unfinished.

Notes: Here it is! I finished the WIP about Stiles seeing ghost animals, which won the WIP poll by a wide margin a few weeks ago. Let me tell you, I had so much anxiety because of that poll, worrying that my story wouldn’t live up to the expectations of those who were voting. But here it is.

Read it here.

anonymous asked:

Jocasta Nu survives that bit with the murder (somehow) and winds up with Rebel Intelligence (where else). Post ANH she ends up teaching Luke and possibly also Leia. Certain truths may get told a sight earlier (cough*Vader*cough). On a completely unrelated note it's not exactly easy for sundry rebels to take Vader seriously anymore due to someone spreading Temple gossip courtesy of the de facto Jedi Grandmother.

Okay but why not go full AU here and drop Jocasta into the Double Agent Vader storyline.

She’s an intelligence agent, of course, and by the time we reach the OT period she’s probably working closely with Mon Mothma herself. And if we assume that Anakin shared a bit of Tatooine culture with her (though far from everything), then she might very well recognize the name Ekkreth. Especially since she already knows that Anakin is Vader.

If Jocasta survived, I think it would be because Anakin failed to kill her in the Temple. Which, realistically, would probably mean he knowingly let her escape. So she knows better than anyone, even Obi-Wan or Yoda, exactly what he did. She was there.

So it’s going to be difficult for her, to say the least. She cared a lot about this kid, and she did what she could to help him without fully understanding the situation and without having regular access to him, and obviously something went horribly wrong. She was there in the Temple. She knows what happened. She knows what he did. It’s not something she can ever forget. Sometimes the thought of it makes her physically ill.

But she also sees what he’s doing now, and she’s perhaps better equipped to work with him than most other members of Alliance Intelligence. When the Inquisitors’ lists of Force sensitive children start coming in, she knows what that means. And when his coded phrases reference Tatooine stories, sometimes she knows what that means, too.

Eventually she sends him a coded message directly. That wouldn’t be completely out of the ordinary - Anakin’s primary Rebel contact is Leia, but sometimes he communicates with Mon Mothma as well. But when he gets this message, he knows it’s not from Mon Mothma. She doesn’t usually send physical deliveries, and she certainly wouldn’t send something like this: a carefully wrapped package of biscuits, with a note included that says “Don’t forget again.” It’s signed “Grandma.”

It’s a pretty big risk, even if there is no directly incriminating information. But Jocasta’s felt alone for a long time now. She has a place in the Rebellion, but most of her life was spent surrounded by other Jedi, and now it’s just her. Just her, and on the rare occasions when they’re stationed on the same base there’s Ahsoka Tano, grown now and insisting she’s not a Jedi. And now Ekkreth, someone she once knew as a boy called Anakin. He’s grown now, too, and it’s no less strange than Ahsoka. She’s used to thinking of both of them as children.

And yes, there’s quite a large part of Jocasta that blames Anakin for the loss of the Order and the Republic. But he’s also the only one left, and sometimes she isn’t sure if she blames him or if she blames the Jedi or even herself. It would be easiest, and maybe best, to simply blame Palpatine, but Jocasta’s learned that logic alone can only get you so far. Her emotions are harder to tame. It’s funny, she thinks bleakly sometimes, that it took the loss of everything she’d ever known and believed for her to start questioning those beliefs.

So she doesn’t know how she feels, really. But a few weeks later, when a delivery arrives for her on the Rebel base on Settra, she lets herself smile about it. There’s a seemingly untouched package of biscuits inside. Beneath every biscuit there’s a datastick. She runs each of them through the decryptions. They’re copies - abbreviated, limited, but there - of the Jedi Archives.

Eventually, she hopes, they’ll meet again in person. She still doesn’t know what she’ll do. But this is something. It’s a beginning.

Being best friends with Michael had always been the easiest thing in the world. He never failed to make you laugh, and most of the time he knew you needed it even before you did. You’d wake up most mornings, especially ones when he was on tour halfway around the world, to texts sent at 3 a.m. his time, full of memes and rants about whatever video game he’d been playing, and why he was angry about it. Your favorite times were when you were together though. He’d always needed to be as close as possible to you, snuggled into your side while you marathoned TV shows and scary movies, pretending that he wasn’t over six feet tall, draped over you and nuzzled into your neck. He had a penchant for prodding at you until your hand came to rest in his hair, his hand finding your free one. Neither of you seemed to notice when your friendship began to morph into something more serious, the kisses he’d press to your cheek turning moving down the column of your neck, and to the bare skin of your shoulder, where the collar of the Iron Maiden shirt you’d stolen from him had slid down. The first time he kissed you was a rainy Monday night, after he’d spent a long day in the studio. You’d been in the kitchen of the apartment that was yours, but also unofficially his, and he’d sneak up on you, winding himself around your waist and pulling you back into him. He’d murmur his hello, his voice deep and scratchy from a day of singing and no doubt yelling at the rest of the his band, and then he’d spin you to face him, taking your cheeks in his hands before closing the distance between you. It was safe to say you spent a lot of time over the years thinking about what it’d be like to kiss Michael, even if you’d deny it, and a part of you wanted to have the whole fireworks, seeing stars experience, but when his lips finally pressed gently against yours, it was better. He felt warm and wonderful, everything that he’d been missing in your past relationships. He felt like home, and when he pulled back to kiss your forehead, a smile spread slowly across his face, and you knew he felt the same.