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@justren21
You can’t go backwards. You aren’t going back to your old life. It’s gone. You aren’t going back. Your vibration is way too high whether you see it or not. If you are seeing this post it means you are on the vibration of this post. Everything is getting better. You are on a new timeline where everything works out in your favour.
Sneak Peek! [The Heart of the Saviour]
Rating: This peek is Teen, I guess. I expect the rest of the fic to be Mature, maybe straying into Explicit? I’m not sure, it’s not finished yet!
Warnings: Abduction, Ransom, Mortal Peril.
Length: Currently over 70k… and still going…
Summary: One night, in every corner of every magical realm, every boy aged nine to seventeen disappeared. Not one remained. That was when Pan made himself known to the realms, and from that night the eve of every boy’s ninth birthday meant their disappearance, until finally the realms demanded to know what he wanted to return their children to them. Pan told them he wanted the saviour, and while most realms were confused Snow and David knew what he meant and confessed the role their daughter was supposed to have played in breaking the curse. The realms voted and agreed to Pan’s terms, and Pan stopped taking the realms sons, holding the children he’d currently taken as insurance of their compliance.
For the next fifteen years Emma’s birthday wasn’t a celebration, it was another tick on the countdown clock to the end of her freedom. Not that she was ever free in the first place, but to save every male child in the United Realms including her younger brother, Leo… She understood that she had a job to do, and she would do her duty with her head held high. What she didn’t count on was the sparkling blue eyes of the man Pan sends to escort her to Neverland in time for her twenty-first birthday.
Notes: So this is a sneak peek for my NLNY fic for 2022. I was hoping to have this written in time, but it’s become a monster and it’s not done. I can’t start posting properly until I’ve finished writing, so instead please enjoy the art up the top there and the opening of chapter one…
A huge, huge thank you to @kmomof4 for betaing this for me, and for being super supportive while I’ve been tearing my hair out over this. Thank you to the @neverlandnewyear mods for running this event again, and for letting me push my date back, even if the only thing it’s achieved is me getting the art done so I can share that… Ooops!
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Chapter One - Cargo
Dreams are the ships that sailed away…
Keep reading
YOU GUYS IT’S DECEMBER 10TH YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND THIS HAS BEEN IN MY QUEUE SINCE FEBRUARY
you have the rest of the day to reblog this
Thought of the day: It's easier to be miserable than to make a change. We stay in toxic relationships- with food, with people, with media- because they are known, they are familiar, they are comfortable. Making a change means trying something new, stepping out of our comfort zone, and putting in the hard work to better ourselves and our circumstances.
i see the younglings post things like "are you still on tumblr at 30?" and "go take care of your kids instead of reading fics"
and i just feel sad
because you have a bunch of young people who are terrified of getting older.
they think age is going to change them, into something boring, something different, something grey.
and i just want to tell them, reassure them:
you will still be the same person.
isn't it wonderful?
you will love the things you love for so many years. you will find joy in the same things, decade after decade. you will feel the same inside, through all this time.
yes, the body will change. yes there's more responsibilities, less time, even less energy.
but there's no magical age where you stop enjoying that specific story, that specific game, that specific hobby.
but you know what also comes with age?
you have less fucks to give.
i rewatched revenge of the sith
I will hate watch this movie forever
You were alive in 2006? How old are you??
If you were born post 2006 you shouldn’t be following me I’m dead serious
Sometimes the pancakes scene, when Killian is coming up behind Emma and she’s all coy, reminds me of BH&H; the morning after a night of delightful sin and he’s not ready to let her go and she’s willing to let him twist her arm a little about staying just a bit longer...
You mean a little something like this…
“You know angel, stealing is a sin, and stealing from a demon, that’s downright dangerous.”
Killian’s warm breath ticked her ear and his voice was pitched low in that way that always made her pulse throb between her legs.
“I haven’t stolen anything,” Emma protested, meeting the rock of his hips as her ass nestled perfectly to his groin.
“I do believe that’s my bathrobe, you’re wearing.”
“I borrowed it, I didn’t steal it.”
“Ah,” he chuckled, cheek nuzzling against her temple and hands circling her waist to pull her flush against him, “Borrowing implies you mean to return it, but since you still haven’t brought back that black silk shirt for months…”
“It’s nice to sleep in,” she admitted, and immediately wished she hadn’t, feeling his interest sharpen even as his fingers started toying with the belt of the robe she absolutely hadn’t been planning to steal.
“You sleep in my shirt?”
“Maybe.”
“Well then, why don’t you come back upstairs and see what else there is to pilfer from my wardrobe,” Killian urged, weakening her resolve to leave.
“Borrow,” Emma insisted primly, leaning back into his embrace, “Stealing is a sin, as you said, infernal one, and you would know.”
“Oh, I definitely would, and I definitely will. Sin with me some more, Emma.”
Something I made while dealing with my own stuff and hoping drawing this would pick me up somehow. Maybe it worked.
FT my cat. His name is Mischief
Awakening - Watercolour painting of The Dark One. I couldn’t resist painting this pose. With special thanks to the DOP Stephen Jackson who always makes this show look amazing. My other Once Upon a Time fanart can be found here and the print gallery here.
Please don’t save and repost. If you like this, reblog, retweet or pin is greatly appreciated! Thanks! Enjoy the S5 premier!
What really fucks me up about a 40 hour work week and I’ve tried to explain to people over and over is that like of you do the math you have maybe 3 hours every day to just like. Rest and be with your family. And that’s kind of it
Like the average adult needs about 8 hours of sleep every night, so that cuts your 24 hours to 16 right off the bat.
You’re working for 8 hours, so 8 left.
But you actually work 8 to 5 at most offices, not 9 to 5, and that lunch is basically just long enough to retrieve food and eat. 7.
It took you 20 minutes to shower this morning, 10 to get dressed, and 45 to make a bowl of oatmeal and eat it. We’ll say 15 to get your stuff together and out to your car. 5 and a half.
You get home and have to cook dinner, 30 minutes min for that, probably more like an hour, so somewhere between 5 and 4.5 hrs left. And then you’ve got to eat it, 30 minutes if you’re being healthy about it.
So at best you’ve MAYBE got 4/4.5 hours left every week day and that’s assuming you ran exactly zero errands, didn’t stop by the gym after work, didn’t have to stay late, have a wicked fast transition time between tasks AND a commute of like 5 minutes by car. If you have to go to the store after a quick run at the gym, pick your kids up from soccer across town, and you factor in a 30 minute commute both ways, you’ve got enough free time for like one episode of show Monday through Friday. And weekends have got to be for cleaning the house and going to visit your mom for a few hours.
When do you write, or paint, or read or sew or go on hikes? When do you go on spur of the moment adventures with your wife and try to perfect your grandma’s soda bread? What happens when it rains on Saturday after being sunny all the rest of the week so you can’t go to the zoo that day and you don’t have enough money for the museum? Why are we all just content to postpone our whole lives, put off “happy” and “healthy” for a miniscule amount of extra value we’re producing for someone else?
And it’s also a thing that fascinates me about hustle culture like. When do y'all rest? When do sleep and food happen? How do you make 3 different jobs work without dying?
Idk idk like I said I’m real fucked up about it. It amazes me that more office workers aren’t great big socialists because we have this miserable job where we’re monitored constantly and just have to sit. Still. And maintain focus on ONE THING for EIGHT HOURS in a BORING GRAY ROOM with exactly two short breaks at designated times and I just?? How does that not suck for literally everyone else?? You said yourself, Angie, you’re useless after 3 pm so just?? Organize with me and negotiate for shorter days??? Like you’re literally already only producing 6 hours of value, you don’t need to be sitting there for longer than that.
…then add the Neurodivergent Tax of taking more time to do these things and recovery time afterward, and you’re looking at a deficit that has to come from somewhere
I saw a discussion of this on Twitter and honestly people defending hustle culture blow my mind. There were so many responses along the lines of “who needs 45 minutes for a bowl of oatmeal?!” and just… missing the point.
Of course you don’t need to take 45 minutes to cook a basic meal and eat it. You could hustle it. You could, say, “optimise” your lifestyle by taking time once a week to cook a batch of nutritious paste or whatever and just grab it out of the fridge each morning and stuff it into your mouth, chew while getting dressed, and be out the door in five minutes.
But is that any way to live? Did we, as a species, spend thousands of years developing the culinary arts and recipes so that most of the population could eat nutripaste each day?
Cooking is an art and a social activity, eating food is a social activity.
Hustle culture defenders are so ready to speedrun every aspect of their lives that doesn’t relate to work and it’s honestly horrifying. Why are you all content to just… not live?
Notes: This was supposed to be for @csmarchmadness, but shit happened and better late than never, right? Anyway, I was kinda inspired to write soft and emotional smut after chatting up with three certain individuals who know who they are and agree that Killian Jones is a gentle soft boy who prefers softness to roughness. A special thanks for @optomisticgirl and @shireness-says for listening to me bitch and moan while I tried to finish this. Summary: Killian Jones isn’t what Emma expects. He’s gentle, soft and possibly more damaged than she originally thought, beautiful and broken. But so she. Word Count: 3,700+ Rating: E
Gentle.
It’s not a word Emma thought she would associate with Captain Hook, but there’s no other way to describe the man in front of her right now. For all of his violence and over the top innuendo, there is nothing but softness and earnestness in the way he looks and touches her. His hand, even with rough callused palms and crooked fingers, is feather-light as it traces the ridges and divots of her spine. The way his lips meet hers isn’t raw and vicious like the kiss they had in the jungles of Neverland, but sweet, slow and deliberate.
And it’s confusing the hell out of her.
This isn’t what she expected.
Emma doesn’t do this. This kind of softness or gentleness or whatever the hell this is wasn’t something that happened to girls like her. She’s not afraid to admit that she’s had a fair decent amount of sex in her life; more than a few nameless men and women have come and gone from her bed, each less meaningful and even less consequential than the next. Yet right now she’s out of her depth as he guides her to lay in the middle of his bed while laying light kisses down the column of her neck, each one as delicate as the wings of a butterfly. It’s lovely and nice, but also foreign and overwhelming, causing emotions she didn’t realize she still had to ricochet off her heart and rattle around in her chest like a rusty game of pinball.
Keep reading
Touch
(I cannot remember for the life of me if I posted this… I’ve been going through my drive and I’m just going to post all the random snippets of writing I have. If something sparks interest, I’ll try to put some more work into it. All work has not been beta’ed, so forgive my mistakes.)
Touch Rated: M
She wonders if he means to constantly touch her. His touch ranges from simple and sweet, to determined, bold and sends shivers down her spine.
For a guy with one hand and a metal hook, the man knows how to vary his touch.
Keep reading
Back when I used to talented enough to write things!
Will anything ever bring us as much joy and comedic bliss as the reveal of Jason Mendoza? Will I ever feel as alive as I did in that moment when Jason utters the words “heaven is so racist”? Will there ever be a moment in time that slaps me so hard in the face with surprise as the moment Jianu the monk rapidly turns into Jason the Jacksonville dirtbag? Will we as a society ever capture that kind of magic again?
