placid water

anonymous asked:

For the writting prompts, maybe percabeth and number 12?

panicked/accidental confession


Friday family dinner turns quickly into chaos.

If it’s not one of the usual kinds of crazy–a baby-flung scrap of food turned into a full-fledged food fight, an offhand joke at the central brazier that turns into an impromptu camper roast, a loud and obnoxious and roaring sing-along–it’s most certainly the other. Screaming, and panicking, and a deafening boom that shakes the ground and rattles dust from the columns of the dining pavilion. The protective barrier around Camp Half-Blood flickers fire-red, then dissolves.

Clarisse is the first to stand, weapon in-hand; Piper is the second. “Everybody stay calm!” she shouts, climbing atop Aphrodite’s table. “Just–just stay calm!”

The screaming lessens, soothed by her charmspeak as much as her presence. Annabeth, for her part, mostly feels Piper’s anxiety atop her own. She gets to her feet and scans the visible borders of the camp, stares hard at the darkening shadows at the tree line, the stretching strawberry fields, the spaces between the cabins. The tall sanctuary of the climbing wall. The placid waters of the Sound. All the places something might easily hide. All the places an invading force might emerge from.


She stares, too, at her daughter’s face, her round cheeks and scared, trusting eyes. “We’re fine, baby.”

“Loud,” Daisy cries, grabbing at her ears and leaning into Annabeth’s thigh. “Daddy’s coming back?”

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Office Ordeals - Doyoung (M)

A/N: I’m sorry I do this to you guys with the lowkey angst
Also, I’m kinda bad with dirty talk so-


Word Count: 1,122

Originally posted by nctaezen

His warm cheek was flush with your breast, your lithe fingers threading through his soft locks.

“I love you,” you spoke suddenly.

His still figure stirred, the gentle sounds of his hands breaking the surface of the placid water resonating. His long arms draped themselves around your shoulders, his warm breath ghosting along your skin. Gently, he pressed a chaste kiss to the tender skin before heaving himself from the water. His weight settled upon your shoulders, his lips moving to the juncture of your jaw.
You called out Doyoung’s name quietly as he pestered the delicate skin, intent on marking the unblemished skin.

“You finally admit it-” he crooned.

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anonymous asked:

You mentioned somewhere that Arya has an association with swans, can you tell more about that?

So glad you asked!  The obvious first association is the “ugly duckling” theme in her story.  Now Arya is not truly ugly, she’s just nonconforming to patriarchal standards of femininity; nonetheless, it’s a source of pain and insecurity in her life.  There’s plenty of signs that Arya is growing up into a beauty all her own.  According to Ned she definitely resembles her aunt Lyanna who was regarded as a “wild beauty” in her mid-teens, but Arya is only 9 at the start which is usually the awkward pre-teen stage for many people.  

Lady Smallwood gave her the dress with the acorns on the bodice (over her heart) and will call her pretty while she is wearing her son’s clothes.  Gendry will say she looks like a “nice oak tree” while wearing the acorn dress.  While Arya may struggle with believing people when they call her pretty, she does remember the people that do.  Not that growing up to be beautiful is the most important thing for Arya, but it is nice when people recognize her as such.  So the “ugly duckling” will grow into a beautiful swan.

There’s also the style of Braavosi swordplay she learns from Syrio Forel called “water dancing.”  It’s the perfect style suited to Arya’s build, her speed and agility, and her little sword, Needle.  Syrio has her practicing balancing on her toes.  Is that not like a ballet dancer?   

The swordsmanship of the bravos of the Secret City is as famed as the beauty of her courtesans. Largely unarmored, and wielding slender pointed blades far lighter than the longswords of the Seven Kingdoms, these warriors of the streets practice a swift, deadly style of fighting. The greatest bravos call themselves water dancers, given the custom of dueling upon the Moon Pool near the Sealord’s Palace; it is claimed that true water dancers can fight and kill upon the pool’s surface without disturbing the water itself.        

Water dancers are as graceful upon the water (like swans) as they are deadly.  Arya is training to become a bravo and what is Braavos known for?  Deadly swordsmanship and beautiful courtesans.  Hold on to that connection with the courtesans, because we’ll get to that in a moment.  Swans may be beautiful and graceful, but they can mess you up pretty bad too!  

Originally posted by hobolunchbox

And it gets even richer with the swan references later on.  Readers may find some of these themes problematic and there are TWOW “Mercy” sample spoilders, so you have been warned.

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Storm Front

Happy Valentine’s Day to my amazing Secret Valentine, @starscythe!!!  I do hope you enjoy this gift, my friend, as you gift us with so many incredible manips all year long. Meeting you in person in November was such a joy, and I hope we can hug in person again in the near future. 

Without further adieu, here is your  @oqcelebration valentine. :D

He’s heard stories, of course, broken whispers whenever a fierce storm blew in unexpectedly, mumbled musings if an acquaintance suddenly fell ill. These are never voiced loudly, as superstition’s lingering hold on the forest proves to be an ominous task master, leaving such wonderings to drift from one listener to the next, more often than not finding fertile ground stripped bare by black magic’s lingering touch.

The Evil Queen’s dark curse had taken many, but there are those among the forest’s remnants who believe she herself still dwells in this realm. They speak of her in hushed fragments, discuss sightings of a dark, solitary figure who roams the forest at night, a cloaked woman who has somehow lost her magic but now lives bound to it, perhaps in just retribution for a curse so foul it emptied their lands and cast both friend and foe into fates unknown.

Robin has never put much stock into superstition, neither does he give credence to legends or fairy lore. His is a world defined by what he can see, touch and confiscate, a world in which people rarely fit into molds of “good” or “evil”, a world in which he’s observed unspeakable acts committed by the most respected of citizens while those judged as lesser are the very ones who offer shelter and food to the starving. He lives by his wits and senses and surrounds himself with a thieving group of outcasts he’d readily give his life to protect.

Yet even he, the infamous Robin Hood, has to admit that the air feels odd tonight, that there is a charge to the impending storm brewing in the eastern highlands that makes the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. He senses a disturbance, one that feels altogether too personal and close at hand for comfort. Roland must have felt it, too, for the boy had clung to him as Robin soothed his son’s whimpers until he’d finally fallen into a fitful sleep.

It is enough for him to grudgingly admit that tinges of magic probably remain in his forest, even if the queen is nowhere to be found. Dreams of Marian and of his mother plague his sleep and fill him with sense of urgency altogether foreign, one that pushes him towards consciousness even as his body rebels.

A loud clap of thunder finally awakens him, and he’s surprised to find that he’s drenched in sweat. Roland is still sleeping soundly, but one touch to his son’s forehead reveals that the boy is hot with fever. He holds his child close, drawing the blankets up around him, but he worries as all parents do, even as the wind howls just outside their tent.

Roland needs feverfew tea. Unfortunately, their stashes of medicinal herbs have run dry in light of the recent bout of sickness that have ravaged both his men and their families, and he lies there only minutes before deciding to risk a trip to the lake’s edge to gather what he needs. He wakes Little John and asks his friend to keep an ear and eye out for his son before donning his thickest cloak and disappearing into the forest’s canopy. He’s survived far worse storms than this, he reminds himself, ignoring the tingling sensations skittering up his legs that feel altogether supernatural.

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Wyrm Tamer: 3

Author’s Note: i promise this is not a baekhyun x reader fic lmao. what am i doing why am i like this lmao uhmm but yeah uh i love these OCs so much i love strong women *tosses confetti* also theres a lot of historical inaccuracies here but because this is fantasy we can all…suspend belief right
Pairing: Jongdae x Reader (oc; female)
Genre: fantasy!au; drama; suspense; action; romance
Rating: R
Warnings: graphic depictions of blood; some gore; rudimentary surgical procedures
Word Count: 6,111

At this, you make one cut into his shoulder and watch in horror as the Prince jolts awake, mouth wide open as he releases a terrible, piercing scream.

It should be impossible, you think, for a dying man to sound so frighteningly alive as his life fades. Somewhere in his lungs, spores of courage have taken root, grown into something wild while he slept, and now he pulls them free in an effort to stomach this pain. Jongdae’s voice echoes around his chambers, the wetness of it soaking into the wood, and tearing apart all the gold and the metal as though the sound has claws. 

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The Mushroom Shepherd

Genre: gay fairytales, action fantasy

Words: 8k

Summary: A fungus fairy is born and cast out by her people, she befriends the fairy sent to watch her but something begins to stir close to home

Spores, the fungus fairy, decides to prove herself against a dark enemy to earn her place back in The Canopy and maybe grow closer to her watcher

warning: for violence and fighting

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northern lights; prologue

- | Next »

Pairing: Jimin x Reader
Genre: Romance ( Smut | Angst ) | auras!AU
Summary:  In a world that strives for homologation and demolishes any sign of individualism, Park Jimin is nothing but an outcast since the very early years of his life for he can see people’s auras in shade of colors that tell him so much about their personalities; all it takes is a glimpse of their true colors in the form of colored energy that surrounds them as northern lights in the night sky, to know even their darkest secret. He has learned the hard way that his ability is something it’s better to hide, to deny for he has no desire to be deemed as crazy. He has learned that solitude is a far better place to live in and he’s determined to not let anyone inside his walls. That is until she comes and asks him what her color is. And that’s when he decides pink is his new favorite shade.
Word Count: 2.030 K
AN: this story finds its origin in a dream I had after listening non stop for hours to non stop for hours to “Colors” by Halsey (listen to it, it’s a beautiful song).

Originally posted by lostinbangtan

The sand is warm against his feet, infiltrating between his toes as he puts the whole pressure of his body on them, sighing in relief as the warmth engulfs him whilst his eyes fix on the cerulean expanse in front of him. His knees push against his ribcage as he encircles his legs with his small hands, his chin resting on the bare sun-kissed skin whilst the sea waves fill his ears erasing all the mean voices swirling in his rattled mind.
This is his safe haven, the desolated coast where no one will approach him, disturb him or accuse him of being crazy, an outcast that this world will never be ready to comprehend or accept.
Park Jimin is a peculiar ten-year-old boy whose best friends are shriveled books that won’t ever point a finger at him but, instead, welcome him in the worlds enclosed between the yellowish pages. Books don’t lie, don’t mock and most of all: they don’t have anything secret to reveal behind what’s already there.
He has learned the hard way that solitude is a far better place to live in when you hold in your heart a secret so ludicrous not a single person is ready to believe what you say it’s the utmost truth. Not even the people that claim to be your parents, and therefore supposedly able to love you no matter what abilities you’re born with.
In his ten years of life he has learned that people lie quiet often and expect to get away with it by being exceptionally eloquent with their words. They always doubt someone is going to be able to see right through them, especially when they are under a kid’s gaze. They do not believe, because they fear a reality where someone could spill all their darkest secrets with a simple glimpse in their direction. Deeming him insane is nothing but a convenient approach to dismiss the real matter.
In a society that strives for homologation and demolishes any sign of individualism there’s simply no place for someone like him, for he’s a nuisance, an inconvenience, an error in the perfect structure of what is claimed to be human and mundane.

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the warmest color

an allurance fic

words: 2.3k
read it on AO3!
summary:  Lance understands why Allura is afraid to let her guard down around anyone, even Blue. In the middle of an intergalactic war, there’s no room for vulnerability or weakness. But he wants her to know that it’s okay to open up.

a/n: A birthday fic for my lovely friend Erin (@voltrash)!!! Happy happy belated birthday and I hope you enjoy this love! Special shoutout to @breeeliss and @flusteredkeith for inspiring me with the idea for this fic and for being great cheerleaders 💙💗💙💗

Despite being treated to a tasty dinner courtesy of Hunk and finally beating Pidge at Killbot Phantasm Five, Lance still feels out of sorts.

If he’s honest with himself, it’s because things are still a little weird, as much as he’d like to pretend otherwise. Nothing seems quite right, and Lance isn’t quite sure how to handle it.

Shiro’s back, but it seems like whatever happened out there while he was gone has taken more of a toll than anyone realized. He almost seems like a stranger.

Keith, too, is subdued. Though Lance has noticed him start to embrace his leadership skills, he still seems ambivalent about his role as the new Black Paladin, especially since the Black Lion rejected Shiro upon his return.

On the surface, everything seems like it should be fine. But Lance knows better. Like placid looking water with a vicious current flowing underneath, Lance knows that there’s always a risk of being pulled into the riptide.

And though he knows that the many changes that have taken place over the past few months have officially deigned him the Red Paladin, he lets his feet lead him to Blue’s hangar instead.

 When he gets there, he finds that he is not the only one seeking comfort from Blue’s warm, familiar presence.

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Feelings (SidLink Fanfic)

Rating: General

Genre: Romance

Ship: Prince Sidon x Link

Words: 2,536

Chapters: 1

Sidon has some feelings he wants to share with Link and tonight’s going to be the night.

Written and edited in six hours. Was four pages on Google docs.


Late nights had become a safe haven for the two of them, a time when they could spend any quality time together. For both Prince Sidon and for Link, it was a time when nothing else mattered except the fact that the two of them were together. It didn’t matter necessarily what they were doing because they found a certain joy in it either way.

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Fluffy Fridays—Chapter 112: A Way Home

Fluffy Fridays—Chapter 112: A Way Home

Pairing:  Captain Swan

Rating: T

Summary:  A series of unrelated, fluffy one shots featuring  Killian Jones and Emma Swan and the relationship that makes us all  swoon. Will contain both canon and AU stories. My contribution to  Operation Rainbow Kisses and Unicorn Stickers (aka, my attempt to drown  out the season 4 finale angst with ridiculous levels of fluff.)

Missed the beginning? ( 1) ( 2) ( 3) ( 4) ( 5) (6) ( 7) ( 8) ( 9) ( 10) ( 11) ( 12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28) (29) (30) (31) (32) (33) (34) (35) (36) (37) (38) (39) (40) (41) (42) (43) (44) (45) (46) (47) (48) (49) (50) (51) (52) (53) (54) (55) (56) (57) (58) (59) (60) (61) (62) (63) (64) (65) (66) (67) (68) (69) (70) (71) (72) (73) (74) (75) (76) (77) (78) (79) (80) (81) (82) (83) (84) (85) (86) (87) (88) (89) (90) (91) (92) (93) (94) (95) (96) (97) (98) (99) (100) (101) (102) (103) (104) (105) (106) (107) (108) (109) (110) (111)

Tagging a few people who may be interested: @sailormew4@annaamell@flslp87@emmateo26@fleurreads@doracianstormrose@mermaidswans@bethacaciakay@ultraluckycatnd@allfangirlallthetime@effulgentcolors, @ilovemesomekillianjones@kat2609@brooke-to-broch@missgymgirl@hellomommanerd @galadriel26 @the-lady-of-misthaven@charmingturkeysandwich@jennjenn615@laschatzi@kimmy46@snowbellewells@iamanneenigma @daxx04 @lapi-lazuli@nickillian@a-rose-for-a-savior @in-spirational @gillie@manic-pixiefangirl@britishguyslover@ginnyjinxedandhanshotritafirst@nofeels@holmes-a-holic@kmomof4@linda8084


CS Genre: Canon divergence (2x9)

“So any ideas where Cora might have gone?” Emma asked as she, Snow White and Captain Hook convened a mini strategy session while Mulan and Aurora went off to look for ways to save Philip from the wraith.

“She believed Lake Nostos would be the ideal location in which to open the portal,” Hook said. “It’s a place of great magic, and it’s thought to be the place by which all the realms are connected.”

Snow gasped, and Emma looked toward her, curious about her reaction.  “What?”

“It’s just…” Snow said, looking suspiciously at Hook, “yeah, Lake Nostos has powerful magical properties, but there’s a bit of a problem.  It’s gone.”

Emma’s brows furrowed. “Gone?  What do you mean it’s gone?”

Snow explained of a time she, Charming and Lancelot had gone to the lake in order to cure his mother.  They’d found only one, tiny snail shell full of the precious water.  Now the lake bed was completely dried up.

Emma whirled and glared at Hook, arms crossed.  “What would Cora want from a lake that’s no longer there?  You sure you’re not leading us astray?”

Killian frowned, taking a step forward.  “And what the bloody hell would I have to gain by lying to you?  If you’ll recall, Cora has the compass and the ashes.  By leading you on a merry chase I’d merely ensure I missed my opportunity to travel to the Land Without Magic where I can finally skin my crocodile.”

He had a point. Emma may not totally trust the too-hot-for-his-own-good pirate, but she did trust that he wouldn’t work against his own self-interest.

“Fine,” Emma said. “Lead us to Lake Nostos.  We can work out a battle plan on the way.”


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Stonathan Headcanon

This is completely dedicated to the shook eggos™ gotta love my fam. hope you enjoy it and please excuse any grammar/spelling mistakes. 

His pale knuckles rap sharply on the door, then fall back to his side in a fast motion. Jonathan Byers takes a stiff step back as he waits for a response, pretending to admire the large pool and opulent expanse of flowers decorating the backyard of Steve Harrington’s home.

The area is bathed in silver moonlight, a lustrous gleam reflecting off the placid water, giving it a ubiquitous magical atmosphere. It reminds him of a night not too long ago; although now, all is quiet, save for the familiar sound of insects and nocturnal animals.

He isn’t sure why exactly he is here. After all, Steve isn’t expecting him. It was a spur of the moment decision, something very unlike the sixteen-year-old boy. But somehow, not talking to Steve is much worse than beating the crap out of him. He hasn’t spoken to him since the night the jock saved his life.

Jonathan is so lost in his thoughts that he is quite startled when the door flies open, banging against the wall.

Expecting the worst – perhaps a parent – Jonathan’s tense shoulders sag with relief to see Steve Harrington’s huge grin plastered on his face.

“Well, well, well, Jonny boy!” Steve spreads his arms extravagantly.

A faint blush tinges Jonathan’s cheeks with color. He wants to say something – anything – but he just can’t muster out the words. This is due not only to his social anxiety, but also to the fact that Jonathan is just now processing the nickname that Steve had given him.

“Cat got your tongue?” Steve muses, his smirk tilting to the left side of his face.

“I-I, um, just wanted to, uh, thank you… for the camera,” Jonathan blurts hurriedly, wincing at the crack in his voice. He had been through a lot in the past few months, yet that didn’t change the fact that he was a still a teenage boy.

Steve raises his eyebrows. “That’s it?”

Jonathan can only stare at him in response. Steve’s hair is immaculately gelled back as usual. This is a feat only feasible when it comes to Steve Harrington – even more so when it’s almost midnight. Jonathan can’t help but think that it looks like fluffy cotton candy. What would it feel like to run his hands through it?

“Man, are you okay? You sure you aren’t here to beat the shit out of me again? That would kind of suck since I saved your life and saved a month’s worth of allowance to get you that camera.” Steve points at the camera around his acquaintance’s neck. Jonathan is clutching it tightly, his knuckles unhealthily yellow.

Jonathan looks down, ashamed and flustered, scuffing his feet against the pavement.

“Why don’t you come in? My parents are out of town,” Steve taps his fingers against the door.

At this, Jonathan glances up, licking his lips anxiously. There is an underlying tone to Steve’s voice, something that almost makes him sound… nervous?

As much as Steve Harrington is egotistical, he also cannot mask his feelings. Jonathan deciphers the look in his accomplice’s eyes easily, for reading people’s emotions is a task that he is always able to ace.

Steve Harrington seemed to be shy… and insecure.

‘But why?’ Jonathan wonders. Steve spoke to him the way that one would to – No. He would not venture there.

‘Steve Harrington is not like you,’ Jonathan mentally rebukes himself.

“An answer this year would be good, y’know,” Steve retorted, the odd edge still evident in his voice.

“Yeah. Sure, I’ll come in,” Jonathan speaks before he can stop himself, taking an involuntary step up to the door.

Steve steps back, an ear splitting grin lighting up his face.

Jonathan cautiously steps into the colossal home. It is not new to him that the owners of the Harrington household are wealthy, but somehow, however grand it is, there is still a type of cozy feel to the house. In some sense, it reminds him of his own home, of his mother and Will.

Jonathan turns around to face Steve, only to drop his jaw in shock.

Steve had dropped the white robe that he was wearing only moments ago to reveal a graphic crop top and shorts.

“Like what you see, Jonny boy?” Steve snorts, running a hand through his styled hair.

“I’m not really sure how to answer that,” Jonathan mutters.

“I know you hate me, Jonny, but, I mean…” Steve gestures up and down with his hands, displaying his toned abs to the shorter boy.

“I don’t hate you,” Jonathan replies in a rush, the moment turning completely serious. “I don’t hate you,” he repeats more calmly this time, his heart racing at a million beats per second.

“No?” Steve shuts the door and takes a few steps closer to Jonathan.

Jonathan gulps and shakes his head, still maintaining eye contact with Steve.

Steve continues to make his way to Jonathan, who is now completely intimidated, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

‘Is he going to hit me?’ Jonathan doubtfully thinks.

Stopping just a few inches before him, Steve takes the time to examine Jonathan’s face. He isn’t good at reading people, but the corner of his mouth tilts once he notices that Jonathan is absolutely petrified.  

Steve stands close enough so that Jonathan could point out all the tiny details on his face – like the mole next to his mouth, and the glint of admiration in his eyes.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Jonathan Byers. I would never hurt you.” Steve’s eyebrows furrow as he speaks.

And then he does the unthinkable.

Without waiting for any response, Steve cups Jonathan’s face in his hands and tilts his head to kiss him.

At first, Jonathan’s eyes fly wide open, clearly not expecting this. But then he collapses into Steve’s indomitable frame, letting the stronger of the two hold him up.

Jonathan’s lips are as soft as velvet, and they lock onto Steve’s plush ones like two pieces of a puzzle.

Steve pushes Jonathan against a wall for support, letting him run his hands through his hair, disheveling it. For once, Steve doesn’t care about his appearance, for he’s too busy leaving the heavy sting of passion and ardor in the air.

Just as the jock moves the camera aside from around Jonathan’s neck so that he can press his body harder against the more fragile of the boys, Jonathan regretfully pushes him back in order to gasp for air.

“I thought you like girls,” Jonathan pants in confusion.

“I do.”

“But you… do you like boys?”

“The question is, how do I not like boys, Jonny? Especially when you’re one yourself.”

Jonathan allows himself to smile, glancing down in modesty. He cannot believe this is happening, that one of the only people he likes is admitting their feelings to him right at this moment.

“You know your whole face changes when you smile. Why don’t you take a picture of us with that camera?” Steve daintily clasps the camera hanging between the boys.

“No, I, um…” Jonathan struggles to find the words – he’s so overwhelmed by many emotions.

“Oh, c’mon. Do it for me.” Steve gently lifts the strap from around his friend’s neck, turning it on and around so that the lens faces them.

Just as Steve is about to click the button, Jonathan grasps Steve’s face and boldly kisses him.

The flash goes off, and Steve stares at Jonathan in awe.

“Spend the night,” he decides confidently. “Go up to my room – up the stairs and second one to the left. I’ll be right back with beer and popcorn.”

Jonathan nods without hesitation, taking the camera from Steve and beginning his ascend. He can’t stop smiling like an idiot, in a haze due to the deluge of happiness.

Needless to say, the rest of the night was spent with the tinkling sound of laughter, whispering hushed secrets in the dark, and candid photos of Steve taken by Jonathan.

Out of all the times Jonathan had felt out of place in his life – being around Steve couldn’t be anything more right.

Canon Arya Stark Appreciation Week Day 4 - Foreshadowing

“You,” Ned said, kissing her lightly on the brow, “will marry a king and rule his castle, and your sons will be knights and princes and lords and, yes, perhaps even a High Septon.”  eddard v, agot

Eddard out here telling us how the story’s going to end, bless him.

Arya felt as though the lake were calling her. She wanted to leap into those placid blue waters, to feel clean again, to swim and splash and bask in the sun. But she dare not take off her clothes where the others could see, not even to wash them. At the end of the day she would often sit on a rock and dangle her feet in the cool water. She had finally thrown away her cracked and rotted shoes. Walking barefoot was hard at first, but the blisters had finally broken, the cuts had healed, and her soles had turned to leather. The mud was nice between her toes, and she liked to feel the earth underfoot when she walked.   

From up here, she could see a small wooded island off to the northeast. Thirty yards from shore, three black swans were gliding over the water, so serene … no one had told them that war had come, and they cared nothing for burning towns and butchered men. She stared at them with yearning. Part of her wanted to be a swan. The other part wanted to eat one. arya v, acok

Arya’s going to the Isle of Faces you guys, and I’m not positive what she’s going to do there, but I’m going to go ahead and assume it’s save the world.

He is a man of the Night’s Watch, she thought, as he sang about some stupid lady throwing herself off some stupid tower because her stupid prince was dead. The lady should go kill the ones who killed her prince. - affc, cat of the canals

these haters at the night’s watch better watch themselves because the wolf princess is coming

The girl smiled in a way that reminded Jon so much of his little sister that it almost broke his heart. “Let him be scared of me.” The snowflakes were melting on her cheeks, but her hair was wrapped in a swirl of lace that Satin had found somewhere, and the snow had begun to collect there, giving her a frosty crown. jon x, adwd

We’re at ADWD and the queen imagery is still going strong.

Suddenly she looked like she was going to cry. “I wish you were coming with us." 

Different roads sometimes lead to the same castle. Who knows?“ He was feeling better now. He was not going to let himself be sad. "I better go. I’ll spend my first year on the Wall emptying chamber pots if I keep Uncle Ben waiting any longer.” - jon ii, agot

Nuff said.

anonymous asked:

hi there <3 I've been following you for quite a while now and I always wanted to tell you that I LOVE YOUR TAGS. I always, always read them and they so often make my day and also make my little heart go "yesyesyes I feel the same" so I just wanna say thanks

Oh, thank you so much kind Nonny 💖 –I LOVE writing them, especially as most are inspired by that most magnificent human being & the sweetest Muse I could possibly imagine, Benedict Timothy Carlton Cumberbatch. *sighs & smiles like a guileless goof*  I’m happy they bring some sunshine to your day–perhaps in reflection of his sunny smile

Originally posted by benedictscumbercollective

(okay, once I found the smile gifs, you know I simply couldn’t stop at just one)

Originally posted by bethereinagiphy

Originally posted by purenovembersoul

Originally posted by benedictscumbercollective

Um…yes…oh my…where were we? Ah, the tags.  My tags. *how did it get so hard to concentrate, when did it get so hot in here?*   Excuse me, I need a something cool to drink

Originally posted by benedictscumbercollective

…wait a moment, that’s not helping a bit. Perhaps I need to take a dip in a placid pool of water…there’s one that might do the trick right over there…

Originally posted by sherlockspeare

…yup…nope…that’s not helping either…how about a little

Originally posted by vanityfair

Nice try, Ben, but I’m not getting a whiff of breeze, and all this is making me do is wonder what your cologne smells like & how it might mix with the natural scent of you delicious skin…oh jeez, now I’ve really gotten off topic, haven’t I?

Okay, there’s only one thing for it, I’m afraid

Originally posted by cucumberbenny

Okay…okay…I think that will do…for the next few minutes, anyway.

But seriously, Nonny–thank you. Writing my tags are one of my daily joys, fun with wordplay (both sweet & naughty), and truly the closest I’ll ever come to posting a selfie here. They are, in fact, me–in all my beautiful obsessiveness.

Cheers, dear! 💖

Originally posted by explosivecumberbatch

huntressofthenorth  asked:

request for a drabble of the Losers taking Pennywise to the Grove to swim and a turtle is chasing Pennywise?

(Oh wow. I’ve never been this ecstatic to get to a prompt, seriously.) 

Ben was one of the only kids to put sunscreen on aside from Eddie, despite the fact that over half of their club were as white as snow and he was sure that Richie had as much a chance of burning in the summer sun as he himself did. 

Nonetheless, Ben was afraid to nag his friends since a.) Eddie was already doing a bang-up job on that and b.) Ben wasn’t sure why he was so worried in the first place. Perhaps it was because, after visiting places like Florida and California at different points of his young life, Ben was more than a little uneasy about being sunburned. It could get real bad, so bad in fact that your skin could develop boils that were sensitive to the touch and painful to carry on with. 

The thought of his worst sunburn ever caused Ben to shudder where he shifted from rock to rock, and instead of dwelling on those unfortunate memories any longer, he turned to the most audaciously bizarre member of the club with a curious eye. 

“Hey, Pennywise… where’d you learn how to swim anyway?” Ben asked. He, like the other Losers, had gotten much better at making pleasant conversation with the almost 7ft. tall clown. And yet, Ben was rather soft-spoken and polite, so one could arguably never tell if he’d gotten used to having an alien for a a friend or not. 

An alien who was dazzled by the concept of arm floaties apparently, as once Pennywise caught wind of Georgie’s, the clown had been hypnotized. At that moment, Pennywise had managed to get a hold of one and was trying hard not to pop it with his curious claws. Georgie had had to keep the other one on at the very least, despite sulking over how floaties made him look like a baby. 

Pennywise looked up, still distracted so much that one of his eyes was still purposefully staring at the swimming aid that would just not fit over his forearm, let alone over his upper arm. 

“Don’t swim.” The clown replied off-handedly. “I can float.” 

Pennywise’s lower lip protruded in an over-exaggerated pout. He shook a massive arm out with helpless abandon. “Georgie. Billy. Help.” 

Georgie’s high-pitched giggles (which were beginning to turn into scream laughter the longer they stayed friends with this ridiculous creature) and Bill’s exasperated sighs dulled the mile-a-minute conversations occurring between the rest of the Losers (Richie and Stan were curiously absent) and Ben’s one-sided attempt at distracting himself. 

“You d-don’t need these.” Bill groaned, all while trying to pry the floatie off of the clown. “Georgie needs them for safety.”

“Nuh-uh!” Georgie retorted, offended. It didn’t mean much when he couldn’t escape the torrent of giggles bursting forth from his mouth. “I can swim! I can swim better than Penny, even!” 

Somehow, someway, despite both their whining and pleading, Bill managed to retrieve the aid and give it back to Georgie. He stomped his foot and held it out at arms length, but Bill was insistent, feeling too old for this shit. 

“I’ll just have Penny save me if I start drowning, which I won’t!” Georgie figured, already standing dragging Pennywise over to the shallow end of the water. Pennywise let himself be led, sniffing as he stared at his reflection in the surface and breathing in the cool, clean scent of freshwater. It was… pleasant, not better or worse than Pennywise’s abode in the tunnels of the Derry sewer system, but nice. He could tell why the kids enjoyed it at least. Kids had more fun when the environment was clean, not dirty. 

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I’m On A Boat -A Sequel to “Come and Make Me”

A/N: I’m so humbled by the multiple requests for a sequel to “Come on and make me”! I tried to fit in what everyone asked for and hopefully, this is the sequel you all hoped and dreamed for. Thank you so much for the incredible support for me and my craft that you guys show through these requests, likes, and reblogs. As a side note, I made this short to see if you guys want more of what this story is providing.


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