#drabbles: emma

[stevesgother]

today i am thinking about being on tour with indie rockstar steve this has nothing to do with djo being on tour rn and he gets done with a show, looking so mmmmmmm you wanna jump his bones right now but you have to wait until you have a moment alone which is almost never :(

GENIUS

and you wait for him on the bus, and he comes in all sweaty and beautiful and you kiss his entire face and tell him how amazing he is-- how amazing he always is. but it's late and you're both exhausted, so you squeeze into one of the way-too-small bunks you're meant to sleep in while you're driven to another major city.

but see the issue (or nonissue?) with the beds being so small is that you're soooo close to stevie. i mean like, there isn't an inch of you that's not touching and you're horny and he's horny and neither of you can sleep so you just. start pushing your ass back against his dick?

and he puts his face real close to your ear and whispers, "I dunno, baby-- are you gonna be able to stay nice and quiet?"

you respond with a nod, so he grabs your hips and grinds his dick into you and he's so big it's actually immoral. you can't stand to not be facing him for one more second, so you quietly shift so that you're face to face.

he kisses you, hard. shoves his tongue into your mouth, bites your bottom lip, sucks on it until it feels swollen and you're making out so aggressively that it almost hurts but not more than it feels so good.

but you can only go on like that for so long until hands start wandering right? and then the next thing you know you're grinding over his fingers while they circle your clit and he's thrusting up into your hand and you're breathing into each other's mouths because that's the only sound you can make that the bus engine will drown out.

under the sheets, you're both naked now, and he's lining the head of his cock up to your entrance and this is literally all you could think about all night. when he finally pushes in to the hilt it's as if he knows you're about to make some sort of obscene noise, so he clamps his hand over your mouth.

"Quiet, sweetheart. Good. Good girl--"

so he fucks you like that-- nice and slow. and because his pace is so much more languid than it usually is, it takes so much longer for either of you to finish so you just fuck lazily like that until you fall asleep and wake up in a new city to explore.

[grtmnick]

“Really Swan?” Regina attempted to scold but in a voice far more breathless than her typical, “Is my o-office really the appropriate place for you to demonstrate your inability to keep your hands off me?”

[graphx]

I would just like to point out that the reason yuugo needs to say this:

Is because Gillian would have shot that man in the heart.

She's the one that notes they are wearing bullet proof vests because she's the one that took the shot.

Gillian (like Ray) was fully ready to kill those bastards AND SHE COULD HAVE DONE IT TOO.

(i really them to have closure after their argument about going back for yuugo and lucas :( They just say sorry and its never addressed again)

In this moment I kind of read it as Gillian wants to kill the people that took their home away from them rather than protecting what they have (they both have valid points obviously but it's interesting how the vengance that first scares emma that she sees in oliver and Barbara almost threatens their chance to live/escape here)

Not to mention the other older kids are fully on board with killing humans. I would have liked to see a bit more of that conflict in the return to Grace field.

For Norman's mindset he saw humans as demons because of his time at Lamba (and even before that it was enforced by isabella's betrayal)

In the first arc he fully accepts that Isabella is a demon that can't reason with and have to beat by any means necessary.

it would be cool to expand on how willing Goldy Pond is to kill humans because they never had a Mom.

I imagine the information at Grand Valley that was available to the kids was much more censored so they wouldn't question the lines in the sky/dome that was put in as a safety measure rather than trackers and they could afford to since it was centered on physical rather than mental development

They had "teachers" and no parental figures before Lucas. They never had Isabella to make them consider another perspective. They never questioned how Sisters/Moms have to make a life or death call at 12 years old while staring death in the face.

It would be so interesting to see the kids desensitized to violence because of how much they have had to hone their survival skills to kill demons. How long would it take them to see others humans (Ratris, sisters) as just demons to kill too?

[primalmagic]

you drove along and left me alone in the parking lot (sbg)

everyone shut up i just wrote something for the most insane crackship to ever exist i hope you enjoy. maverick really needs to work out his shit guys

Even the darkest nights give way to the dawn.

It was a rather ironic saying, really. Because for someone like him, it seemed like the dawn never quite came. No matter how many nights he endured, how many times he lay awake, only for her to reappear in his dreams, the light at the end of the tunnel was always just out of reach- as if the darkness was meant to be permanent. And as stubborn as he was, it tore him down, chipped away at his resolve as he felt the human inside of him fade.

The dawn, to him, felt like a promise. A promise that would always remain just beyond the horizon- close enough to touch, yet too far to claw at with hands stained with ruby red and nails caked in flesh and dirt.  

Even the darkest nights give way to the dawn, She’d told him, kicking back on his old living room couch, ginger hair splayed across its armrest. And as foolish and naive had he been, Maverick still hates himself for believing her. Hates himself for still holding onto it, hand-in-hand with memories of a fiery smirk and soft hands clasped around his. 

He runs a hand through his hair, absently noting that it’s not combed. It’s not a good day today. Not that any day is a good day, but the first day of school is always, put simply- hell. 

He finds himself creating various analogies for hell, toying with the cap of his pen as he sits down on a rather uncomfortable school-issued chair.

It’s being dropped into a sea of faces, all of them floating, but none of them truly knowing how to swim.

The bell tolls and the children file in, as he adjusts his glasses and puts on a smile. Mask, he reminds himself, Don’t fuck this up for yourself.

It’s the tolling of a funeral you didn’t attend—your own, empty and desolate.

“Hello everyone,” He smiles, positioning himself in the center of the whiteboard, waiting until the disinterested high schoolers glance up in barely concealed annoyance.

It's walking into a room full of clocks, each one ticking louder than the last, reminding you of the time slipping away, never to return.

“You may call me Mr. Thomas.”

It’s like building a house from someone else’s blueprint- only to realize you’ve forgotten what your own foundation looks like. 

-

He scans the roster, eyes landing on one oddly familiar name. Ashlyn Banner, he sees. He doesn’t think anything of it. He watches her in class, eyes downcast and focused, unable to pinprick what about her is throwing him off. 

It comes to him when he teaches his lesson, swerving off the road and straight into his heart, that she looks like her.

Jesus Christ, he needed to get a grip on himself. 

It’d been years. It didn’t matter that he was still hung up on her, something as similar as a slight resemblance should not stab him so hard it feels like he’s bleeding. 

But it’s not just a slight resemblance, is it?

He forces himself to stop thinking.

-

He succumbs to his demons that evening, running through Ashlyn’s file until he finds what he’s looking for. 

Mother: Emma Banner

There’s no question in his mind that it’s the same Emma who left him all those years ago, destroyed him from the inside out and left him to rot. (And so what if he made a mistake? She shouldn’t have left. She shouldn’t have left him). 

He reads farther, eyes freezing on:

Father: Mike Banner

She took that bastard’s last name, He thinks bitterly. 

(Emma raises her eyebrows, chucking an unopened water bottle at him, “I wouldn’t change my name for anyone. I think it’s a load of crap, and I love my name.” “Yeah?” He smirks, unopening it and handing it back, “Marry me then, I’d never ask you to change it.” “Is that a proposal, Mave?” “It could be,” He grins, “Would you say yes?”)

Maverick groans, insecurity and hatred filtering their way into the tiny crevices of his mind. What did he do to deserve this sort of fate, forever longing for his first love? He was surely better than Mike, whoever he was. 

And… then there was the kid. Ashlyn.

Fuck, they had a kid together.

She’d really moved on, hadn’t she? It was just him, standing alone decades apart from those around him. 

-

He didn’t know how to act around Ashlyn. She was so similar to her mother in every way, from the way she braided her hair to the rhythm in which she tapped her feet. He could barely stand it.

But she was also his student, and being unnecessarily ignorant or rude to a student who had done nothing wrong would be a fault in his behavior. And he needed this job, needed to stay in this area to directly relay information to the other cranes. 

So he sucked it up.

That is, until he didn’t have too.

When he receives the message a few days later, he finds himself grinning, truly grinning, for the first time in months. Karma has a weird way of returning, waiting until the perfect moment to deliver its final blow.

Ashlyn had been taken into custody (a term he uses rather… vaguely) by his team, because it was Ashlyn who was linked with the phantoms. The same Ashlyn who was Emma’s daughter. 

Holy shit.

Oh, it was going to be hysterical, this ordeal.

Maybe he and Emma would cross paths again. 

She’d probably punch him, and he finds himself smiling at the thought- of the girl that had once loved him in rage over losing her daughter. Maybe he’d play around with her too, see if he could remove “Mike Banner” out of the picture. A far-fetched dream, but a dream nonetheless. He’d rarely seen her lose her temper, no, Emma was more cunning then that. She was analytical, watchful, deceptive when she needed to be- god, did he love that side of her.

They brought out the worst in each other. She made him feel alive.

He hands his resignation later in the next day, throws the hideous blonde wig away and disappears off the face of the earth.

He doesn’t need Mr. Thomas anymore, not for a while. He has what Emma once loved, Maverick, and that’s all he needs to fix this. To regain control of his life and fix everything. 

Love is like a cage with gilded bars, trapping you in a beautiful prison. But revenge is the key you didn’t know you had, the key that when finally used, the weight lifts, leaving you free- with nothing but agony to hold on to.

this is caused by pure adrenaline and absolute boredom. i took too many creative liberties with this prompt. i feel like this is cursed? also i probably made a few mistakes regarding the setting or characters or something but IGNORE THEM please im too tired to edit this. (this entire thing was inspired by this post) should i put this on ao3...? yeah i am why not. here!!

[hoboblaidd]

A mirror. A dagger.

Two hands, gripping, pulling,

seeing each other — that's the edge;

fearing themselves, — the reflection.

Only two. Two forces. Two choices. Gripping tight.

Afraid to let go if it's glass.

Afraid to let go if it's steel.

I am that I am.

Where will I go, without these hands?

And he’s back where this all began.

Solas collapses to the cold ground of the Black City, and the Veil closes around him.

He can feel it, crawling under his skin. Electric pulses of his own magic writhing inside him. He presses his forehead into the rotten ground and tries to breathe through it.

His lungs scream against the pressure of his broken ribs, and he coughs the blood from his mouth. The movement sends a sharp stab of pain through his chest that has him gasping into the dirt, and he clutches his side where Lusacan had torn into him. It is less dangerously acute since Rook - since Casadh - had healed him, but it is agony, more than he’s ever felt, more than he can scarcely comprehend. 

Dimly, Solas knows he is exposed here on the fringes of this city. He has no idea what does and does not live here, but he is so vulnerable.

His vision swims as he tries to get his bearings. He can’t tell how distorted is his vision or if this is what the jewel of Arlathan city has become in the thousands of years since he’d raised it into the Fade. He remembers these once immaculate streets, those once golden pointed spires rising into the fetid air, and the gleaming symbols of the Evanuris looming high above. The blight - his blight - has blackened its splendor to charcoal. But if he could walk, he could traverse those well-trod paths to the center of this place, where Mythal had been murdered.

Mythal, who he had killed. Mythal, who had released him. It should feel like forgiveness but instead it feels like punishment. He will never see her again, and he isn’t sure he wants to. 

But nor will he ever see Dhavi, or feel her warmth as he’d pressed into her, the gasp of his name on her lips. He will never see Nanna, with that spark of mischief in her eyes and the smile that always disarmed him. 

The name of Fen’harel will forever be a curse, and those who had known him as Solas, as vhenan or la’ghilen, would fade with their mortal lives.

He shivers in the cold, feeling it beneath the crackling fire of the Veil in his body. He wonders if it was warmer when Elgar’nan’s sun shone here and finds, impossibly, that he wishes the All-Father were here. They’d never liked each other, and their dislike had festered into hatred. But how had Casadh put it once? It was almost like…family. There were happier memories far beneath Elgar’nan the monster and Ghilan’nain the abomination. They were at least a link to the old world. 

But Solas is alone now, the last of them, truly. Did any of their bodies remain? Is he trapped here forever with Andruil’s corpse?

Casadh’s magic gave him a shred of energy, and with it, he shifts into the ragged wolf and curls back into an alcove. It’s marginally warmer, though that could be a fever. His vision is worse, and it’s only now he realizes he’s lost an eye.

There is nothing left for the world to take. Solas has no freedom. No future. Just this. For eternity.

He tries to calculate the lifespan of the planet. Billions of years remaining, with no guarantee that the Fade - that he - will burn away when its time is finally come. Will he simply keep existing, a Veil keeping dreams from nothing? 

That’s the world. Everything you build, it tears down. Everything you’ve got, it takes. And it’s gone forever.

Solas laughs, wet with blood and as ragged as the Dread Wolf had become.

After all this, after such a monumental failure and indescribable loss, it’s still Varric at the center of it all. He knows, distantly, that he’s not hearing Varric like he did in the prison. The Black City isn’t built that way. But he remembers those words as clear as if his old friend spoke them now, quietly in his ear. 

What a sad, lonely end to his pathetic story.

If he were in the prison, the memory would stop there and simply repeat. An endless loop of his regrets and grief. But he isn’t, and though this place is terrible, Varric finishes his moral.

The only choices you get are to lie down and die or keep going. He kept going. That’s as close to beating the world as anyone gets.

“How?” Solas whispers into the void at the zenith of the Fade. His voice is reed thin, as weak as a whimper. “How could he keep going when he lost everything?”

Life goes on. It’s just different than it used to be.

Solas rasps a wet chuckle. “You were wiser than you knew, my friend.” 

Exhaustion gets the better of him. He does not know if he will dream here, or if he now carries the same curse he had inflicted on the Titans. He surrenders to it all the same, just as he surrendered the dagger to Casadh and his freedom to the world. He’s too tired to keep going, at least for now, but Varric was right. He always had been. It would be new, and it would be terrible, but he would endure. If not for himself, then for those he would never again see. 

They deserved a better world than the broken one he had left. It would never be perfect, but he would try to make it theirs.

Just take it one step at a time. 

[inuiiwonderland]

Good luck babe

But it’s Emma and fem reader having something going on between them in high school and reader who is into women (can be lesbian or bi) having a crush on emma but sad thing is emma is in denial that she might be into women/is lesbian

So while they go on secret dates, kiss, make out, act like a couple in secret without officially being one, reader falls more in love while emma is slowly starting to have weird feelings for her which makes her so scared and confused.

But reader later notices that emma is having trouble with her feelings/is in denial, she tries to help emma with her feelings but emma still can’t accept it so later on they grow a bit distant which is where emma later goes on to “crush” on Draken.

Few months go by and emma and draken start dating while reader sits back and watch the love of her life date someone else. (A man)

Years later emma and draken marry each other and while reader already moved on/ is trying to move on, emma can’t help but stay up late at night and think about her and reader.

The complicated yet beautiful relationship she had with reader and how special and loved she felt in readers arms but she can’t do anything about it because she knows she’s not into women (still denying it) plus she’s married now. But then she thinks back to draken. All the years she spent with him she always felt like something is wrong/missing.

And when she compares her relationship with you and draken. She realizes that she felt more alive and happy being with you but with draken she feels like she isn’t herself

Anyways sorry for rambling this is probably a stupid idea but I couldn’t help but think about her while listening to good luck babe😭(and hinata!)

[beekneelsformommy]

Established Emma Swan x Regina Mills

Summary: Emma falls asleep to regina playing music on the piano.

Warnings: 18+, no smut but please keep to above 18, this is a NSFW account, no warnings other than pure soft fluff.

Word Count: 678

A/N: A short one but the idea was cute, no?

Emma smiled softly, feeling the tiredness take over as she watched the flames in the fire flicker and hearing the cracks of the wood burning within it. She was sitting on the couch, wearing a warm sweater and pyjama pants, along with some some fluffy socks. It was a cold December night, snow had been falling for two days, and it was becoming heavier with every minute that passed.

Regina walked through her hands wrapped around two warm mugs, one filled with hot cocoa and cinnamon for her wife, and the other was an orange and cinnamon herbal tea for herself. Regina herself was wearing her own warm pyjamas and a fluffy jumper. She set her tea down on the table next to the piano, and walked over to Emma passing her the mug of hot cocoa, placing one hand gently on the side of Emma’s face as she lent down giving her wife a soft but warming kiss on her temple, Emma hummed feeling Regina’s lips reach her skin.

Regina still was in awe of how she was so lucky to have Emma as her wife, “I love you.”

Emma smiled up at her “Thank you—wait no—” Emma the idiot as always.

“Thank you?” Regina crooked her head to the side, an eyebrow arched.

“No—no not thank you, I meant to say I love you too, I’m not sure why I said thank you.”

Regina chuckled shaking her head, her finger tilting Emma’s chin up towards her “What am I going to do with you? Hmm?” Regina crouched down in front of the Emma, her dark brown orbs glowing with warmth, she then lay her hands on Emma’s knees “What shall I play for you tonight?”

“The same as always.” Emma voice was already low, exhaustion taking over. “Dance of the sugar plum fairy.”

“Alright. It’s my favourite too darling.” Regina’s lips curled up into a soft smile, holding Emma’s hands and pressing her lips onto her wife’s knuckles, before making her way over to the big beige oak piano.

Regina sat herself down on the edge of the bench at the piano, her back to Emma, her fingers trailing her sleeves of her knitted jumper and she pulled them up her arm in a forceful manor. Regina sat with her back up right and her arms straight out in front of her but controlled, her fingers began on the keys and the music began to hum from the piano, an angelic and feathery sound throughout the room.

Regina’s beautifully elegant red painted fingers danced along the keys, with each full sound of music escaping like she was dancing among the stars. It was delicate and beautiful, and every single time she played, Emma could swear she fell even more in love with her—she was even more beautiful when she was in her element, playing the music she wanted to and for the person she loved, what could be better than that?

Regina finished with a soft but loud attack on the keys, she closed the lid quietly, turning around to see Emma fast asleep spread out on the couch and the throw slowly collapsing onto the floor.

Regina couldn’t help but smile, her Emma, her savior, fast asleep on their couch. She looked so peaceful, like nothing could go wrong and everything was perfect and right in the world.

Regina pushed herself up from the bench, walking over to her sleeping wife and picked up the throw—manoeuvring her body as she slid in behind the blonde.

One settled Regina pulled the throw over the two of of them. She curled up into Emma’s warm body, her legs intertwined with Emma’s, one arm under Emma’s neck and dangling over the side of the couch—the other arm draped over her wife’s waist. Emma instinctively let out a soft moan as Regina wrapped her hand around Emma’s.

The two of them curled up on the couch, in front of the fire until the last flicker of the orange flames from the fire went out.

[pompeianred]

"A friend who once loved me ..."

She's been summoned to Mother's chamber. There's a surprise for her. Rhaenyra expects a new dress or a new toy, some trinket. Instead, she walks in to see a girl standing next to Mother. She has curly red hair and is about Rhaenyra's age.

"This is Alicent, the Hand's daughter," Mother smiles. "She's just arrived from Oldtown. She's come to stay. Why don't you show her around?"

"Hello, Princess," Alicent greets politely.

"You can call me Rhaenyra. Do you want to see the weirwood?" She ignores Mother's raised brow. The weirwood is creepy, but she wants to see what Alicent Hightower is made of.

Alicent nods without hesitation.

Rhaenyra grins. She thinks she's going to like Alicent Hightower. "Come on," she says, reaching out to take her new friend's hand.

[darlingsfandom]

Her First Real Kiss .

Fluff! A little bit of an illusion to smut…

Emma Skillpa x Female Reader!

The house smelled of clean cotton and warm apple pie as you walked down the hallway to find Emma sitting on the couch, laundry basket on the floor by her feet and window wide open as she folded the clean clothes. The sun glowed on her making her light up as the goddess she is. You smiled to yourself watching her so peacefully. She carefully folded a pair of your panties and set it in your pile before you walked over to the arm of the couch , gently leaned against it and smiled.

Emma turned to lightly and jumped when she seen you there. You gave her a pity smile. She brushed her hands over her dress quickly before getting back to folding.

“Emma?” You asked sitting down next to her. “I know you’re my friend and I tell you everyday how much I appreciate that you’re letting me stay here until everything’s finalized with the new house, but …” you chewed your bottom lip for a second before taking a breath when she looked at you with soft eyes .

“Yes?” She spoke up still folding a shirt.

“I’m just going to be sad when everything’s done and not being able to see you everyday.” Your lips turned into a frown making her lips do the same. “And I’d be really sad if I didn’t get to do something with you that I’ve wanted for a long time.”

Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Emma tilted her head to the side. You placed your hand over hers as you moved closer to her until your knee was touching hers.

“Emma Skillpa…. Have you ever been kissed?”

Emma quickly swallowed the lump in her throat as she tried to look everywhere but at you but the fact her cheeks were flushed made you giggle.

“What kind of question is that?!? Of course I’ve been kissed! I mean John and I …”

“No emma , have you really been kissed by someone who actually cares about you?” You squeezed her knee making her lock eyes with you. She bit her bottom lip. “Let me show you what a real kiss is.”

Your fingers traced over her cheek gently before pushing some of her curls out of the way. Her face was perfectly cradled into your hand. You admired how soft and innocent she looked looking at you with those damn doe eyes. You leaned in closer until the two of you were nose to nose.

“I’ll be gentle.” You whispered against her lips while keeping eye contact. Emma had calmed down since you had the question. Her lips parted slightly until you gently pressed your lips against hers. She sat still for a split second. Her hand reached up to grab yours and pulled it off her face which made you pull away from her lush lips.

“No…” She whispered. “Come back.” It sounded more like a plea than a demand. How could you say no to her? You had eyes on Emma when you moved into the neighborhood a year ago. She was putting her laundry on the line when you met. Since then you found a way to be near her despite what people in the town said about her. And now that you had some remodeling going on you had been staying at the Skillpas.

“How can I deny you?” You repeated while moving closer to her. Your mouth was on hers again. Emma held your hand tightly in hers as the two of you sat on the couch sharing a passionate kiss. Her lips parted slowly which allowed a tiny moan to escape. You pulled away and looked into her eyes.

“Emma Skillpa, did you just moan for me pretty girl?” You blushed at your own words because never in a million years did you think you’d be able to kiss her let alone make her moan! She sounded so innocent.

“I… I’ve never kissed a girl and it felt nice.” She pouted at you. Her cheeks were bright red, eyes were full of passion and innocence and her hand squeezed yours again.

“If you let me, I’ll show you what it’s like to be touched by another girl. Who better to show you than your best friend!” You tucked her hair behind her ear making her shrink a little. Emma stood up slowly and looked down at you before she walked over, shut the curtains and walked away for a second only to come back quickly.

“Couldn’t let my pie burn. That would make everyone upset.” She spoke timidly. You stood up and cupped her face before planting a kiss on her lips taking her by surprise. Emma’s arms wrapped around you gently and stayed there as you moved your lips against hers. It was sweet , passionate and romantic. Neither of you wanted it to end.

“I want you to show me.” She spoke breathlessly as the two of stood in the middle of her living room holding each other listening to the sounds coming from the open window behind the closed curtains. The sun was peeking through lighting up the room. This felt right to be holding her like this, kissing her ! Emma pressed her forehead against yours while running her thumb up and down your spine as you gave her another loving kiss that would eventually turn into something much more desireful .

[stevesgother]

When Steve Harrington was young-- eight or so-- he'd wait until his mother and father fell asleep before wrapping his blue blanket around his neck, stuffing his favorite action figure in the waistband of his pajama pants, and sneaking down the stairs towards the door in the kitchen that led straight into the garage.

Despite how popular, how handsome and charming he was destined to become, when Steve was small, he had little to be proud of. He was cute, sure, but he was homely. His hair was a bright, bleach blonde-- not yet the crisp chestnut brown it would grow into, and he wore glasses. Thick lensed, coke bottle glasses that made his eyes look bigger than they were. Steve didn't have a lot of friends, didn't like all the popular things that his classmates liked. His hair stuck up at weird angles because of the two cowlicks on either side of his forehead.

Steve Harrington did have one friend though, and he was on his way to visit him tonight.

If Steve was unpopular, the Eddie Munson was practically an outcast. His mother having died when he was a baby, and his father a drunk because of it, he was sent to live out the remainder of his childhood with his uncle in a dingey trailer park on the sketchy side of an already sketchy town. Eddie was a year older than Steve, but that hadn't stopped him from trying his luck at a conversation with the boy-- hanging upside down on the monkey bars one afternoon.

Eddie's uncle Wayne let the boys stay up when Steve came to visit late at night, let them curl up on the thrifted sofa and watch cartoons or reality game shows like Family Feud. Steve hadn't understood it then, but perhaps Wayne knew. Knew that just because Steve wasn't an orphan like his nephew was, didn't mean he was all that better off. Knew that Steve was lonely, because he didn't have an uncle to love him the way Wayne loved Eddie.

They shared Steve's blue blanket and would stare at the ultraviolet of the television screen until their eyelids grew heavy. They'd fall asleep, heads knocking together as they dozed off, hair sticking out at all sorts of funny angles. When Steve woke up in the morning, he felt different than when he woke up in his own bed at home. The sun shone differently here, in Eddie's trailer with the sleeping boy clonked with his head in Steve's lap.

Things changed as they grew. Steve's brown hair grew in, and he ditched the glasses for contacts. His father made him join the basketball team; girls liked him, wanted to talk to him.

And Eddie. Well, Eddie was Eddie. Still trailer trash, who loved DnD and sold Ketamine to jocks and addicts make enough money to get the hell out of this shithole town. Eddie who missed Steve-- the only real friend he'd ever had. Before everything changed.

Weird that they've been thrown into each other's lives again in such a peculiar way. Interdimensional demons? Wonder what might come of that.

[grtmnick]

"For the last time Regina Mills, you can't dramatically pretend to be dead every time we go a couple days without having sex," exclaimed an entirely exacerbated Emma Swan.

"But, orgasms sustain me...," whispered the prone brunette through only slightly parted lips.

"Regina!"

[graphx]

tpn artbook things I noticed!

MATCHING YUUGO AND RAY VEST IM GOING TO EXPLODEEEEEE

Norman with a gun is so funny to me. He is trying so hard to look cool but he is a bird with hollow bones, the recoil from that lil thing would send him to the floor faster than Ray slapping him

stop pretending ur helping Norman, Don is literally doing all the work behind u

he is so scared to be next to ashye even in the poster (rip zack's nose scar)

the fact that norman looks so much like Nat in the concept art XD is that a cowlick or a halo???!?!!

(CHARLIE BROWN????) I regret pointing this out to my sister because now it's my pfp in her phone

vincent's sense of style will never be anything less than amazing. Look at Cislo he is SO READY for game night :D (JEMIMA AND ZAZIE WITH STUFFED ANIMALS AUGHHHHH)

HES IN HIS COMA EVEN IN THE ART IM- jail. jail for a thousand years. right next to his dead dads too IM DONE

have a Dominic it will make you feel better

Paula not knowing how party poppers work is adorable.

what they deserve (im embarrassed to have andrew's face in my camera roll)

look at Ray and Gilda pretending not to care about their little brothers (they love them more than life itself)

HE IS CARRYING THEIR THINGS JUST LIKE A DAD SHOULDDDDDD (upgraded from old man to walking coat rack :D)

why does phil get a father figure that hasn't died D:/ (jk love that for him more stronk phil plz)

YELLOW EYED VIOLET AND BROWN EYED PHIL JUMPSCARE

(my sister: gillian is dying in the bg

me: this ani't about her)

Barbra 🤝 Gillian stealing demon masks and keeping them as souvenirs

EMMAS LOST SHOE!!!!!!!

.......i'm not gonna say anything here........

there was no Don glow up he was always beautiful to me

little bunny revenge arc

he slept in the dining room???? because he didn't wanna go in the old rooms of his siblings where he wrote poachers DDDD:::::::

the ominous messages behind them!!!!!!

[papa-mcgucket]

Fiddleford smiles nervously as he fidgets with the cord of the phone. A moment later he closes his eyes in dissapointment, but not surprise. He takes a deep breath. "Hey Emma May! Just callin ta say hi again! I, uh, know ya havnt been answerin, but..." He pauses then takes another breath and continues, forcing his voice cheerful. "The kids are doin great! They'd love ta meet you, and their big brother. Speakin of, how is my tater tot?" He bites his lip as he continues leaving the message "I, uh, id love to talk to em when you get the chance. Please call me back. I love ya both. Call me back. Bye." Fiddleford hangs up the phone and sighs, hitting his forehead onto the wall afterwards and just standing there.

[broadwaybaggins]

Lovely 🌸 May I request from May prompts 12. birdsong with Henry and Emma (Mercy Street) ?

We interrupt your regularly scheduled doctors and nurses saving lives in Chicago and Pittsburgh to bring you doctors and nurses saving lives in 1862 Virginia.

The night had seemed like it would never end. The wounded had been an endless barrage, wagon after wagon, man after man, some with injuries so gruesome they left Emma shaking and even Anne looked ashen. For so long, it seemed like they lost more men than they saved, but sometime late in the night, things had started to turn around. They had more victories than losses, and the wounded had slowed to a trickle. By the time the sun was coming up over Alexandria, Doctor Foster was convinced that the worst was over. Emma washed her hands in a basin until her skin was red and raw and the water was filthy and wandered out on shaking legs to watch the sun rise over the city. Someone had beat her to it. "Reverend Hopkins," she said quietly, announcing herself so as not to startle him. He looked as weary as Emma felt, dark circles beneath his eyes. "You should get some rest." "As should you, Emma," he said, dropping the formality, but neither of them moved. "I just...wanted a breath of fresh air." Emma nodded and licked dry lips as she came to stand beside him, her arms crossed over her chest against the chill of the morning. "Me too. And to see the sun coming up." She almost smiled. "At times last night, I thought it never would. I thought it would never end, that that night would last forever." "It seems that God has granted us another day, and a beautiful sunrise," Henry agreed, looking out at the brilliant pinks and purples and oranges. "The birds are even singing." Emma paused to listen, tears welling in her eyes at the soft, but unmistakable, sound of birdsong, and they reached for each other's hands at the exact same time.

[frickingnerd]

secret make out sessions

pairing: ema skye x gn!reader

summary: you surprise your girlfriend at work, yet somehow you end up making out in the storage room...

“someone might see us, stop–!”

you had surprised your girlfriend with a visit at the police station, to bring her some homemade food. yet somehow, ema and you ended up in the storage room, making out.

“we're getting in so much trouble if my boss catches us. you know that, right?”

ema rolled her eyes amused, as you kept pressing your lips onto hers. despite the threat of your girlfriend losing her job, you didn't seem too bothered. and honestly, ema shouldn't care that much either!

“you hate your job anyways…”

you mumbled against her lips, before kissing her again, making ema chuckle in response.

“mmhh… true!”

she grinned, before finally letting loose and allowing herself to enjoy this little make out session.

[storyofmychoices]

 Detention VII.V: A Brush of Magic

[Beckett Harrington x Emma Carlyle Masterlist] 

Pairing: Beckett Harrington x Emma Carlyle (F!MC) Book: The Elementalists (early in book one) Word Count: ~ 700 Rating/Warnings: general, no warnings (grumpy/sunshine) A/N: This is part of my Detention series at the beginning of TE1 and my Stolen Moments: brushing hair back series.

Synopsis: Emma tracks down a particularly mischievous book, while Beckett gets caught in their path.

Emma's brow knitted together in determination, her gaze narrowing on a particular mischievous edition of The Enchanted Pixie Scrolls. She tiptoed through the stacks, trying to hide in the shadows. No matter how quiet or how stealthy she was, the book swooped and twirled in the air, taunting her at every turn. If she hadn't known better, she would have thought there were actual pixies inside, laughing at her dismay. The thought lingered a moment as she considered it...it couldn't be, could it?

She shook her head, turning her attention back to her quest. It didn't really matter. The end result was the same; she needed to reshelve that book before she could leave detention for the day. Her gaze swept over the space. "Now, where did you go?"

Airy giggles floated behind her, the corner of the hard cover poking her in the back. She spun quickly, lunging toward the book. Her fingers brushed against the book's cool leather spine, but it fluttered away. "Get back here!"

She dodged left and right, avoiding other books and students, tracking the elusive book through the library. A playful smirk pulled at her lips. She shouldn't. It probably wouldn't even work... but what if it did?

Too late to turn back now.

With careful consideration, she leaped forward, a quick spell slipping from her lips as the floating books in the aisle came together, creating something resembling floating stairs. She tried not to waste time thinking about Beckett's horror if he saw her stepping on books. He was already wound so tight it might push him too far.

Each book shifted under her weight, her stride wobbling under the uneven stairs; however, she was too far committed to give up now.

She lept up one more level, then jumped forward, extending her arm just as the book attempted to flit away again. "Oh, no, you don't!" This time her efforts were rewarded, and her hand clasped around the hard front cover of the book. Emma's added weight caused the book to drop...fast. Emma struggled to hold onto the book as it fought to be free. She quickly mumbled a spell, the air swirling around them, slowing but not stopping their descent.

"Watch it!" Beckett growled, trying to step to the side, but it was too late.

Emma and the book landed with a thud right on top of one Becket Harrington, his now trademark grumpy scowl growing.

"I got the book!" Emma declared proudly, lying across his chest. Her bright eyes filled with her accomplishment as her gaze met his, not noticing how close they were.

"Good for you."

"Oh, don't pretend you're not at least a little bit impressed."

"You seem to be congratulating yourself sufficiently already."

Emma rolled her eyes as she eased herself off of him. "You don't need to say it. Your cute flushing freckled cheeks tell me all I need to know."

Despite his protest, the color only grew deeper at her words.

Emma ran her hand over his broad shoulders and chest, smoothing his blazer as he stood beside her. "There, all better. Not a hair out of—" Her words paused as she noticed a stray strand of his brown hair hanging over his forehead. Her fingers gathered the offending lock, brushing it back over his head. His hair was softer than she expected. Her fingers lingered, raking gingerly through his silky hair.

His eyes closed as he leaned into her touch. The frown on his face softened, giving way to something she might even consider a smile. The pair drifted closer, their faces only a breath away.

"Emma," her name slipped from his lips as his eyes met hers. He leaned forward, closing the gap until something smacked against their chests.

The book, still clutched in Emma's free hand, flapped between them, breaking the moment.

Beckett cleared his throat. "We should get that back where it belongs before—"

Emma cut him off before he could continue his thought. "—before you break your no-kissing rule and have to admit you like me." Her brow rose playfully.

She expected him to protest, his ears reddening, betraying his words, but he didn't. He paused before her. His cool grey eyes filled with rare openness. With careful precision, his long fingers gathered a loose curl of her hair, tucking it behind her ear. "Just returning the favor."

Without another word, he turned. "This way," he directed, leading them to where the book belonged.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little bit of silliness! 💖