COLIN SINGING

during SJ McArdle's "First Tuesdays" livestream

😍😍😍❤️❤️❤️

🎸🎸🎸🎶🎶🎶

My god!!

.

"it's that fuckin chocolate guy again!!" I say, already knowing I'm gonna reblog

My Godddd

W I T C H C R A F T

CS AU: Some Legends are Best Kept as Legends (2/?)

A/N: Based on The Legend of Sleepy Hollow short story by Washington Irving, and the Sleepy Hollow Fox tv show. 

I failed to mention my intentions as to a posting schedule for this fic when I dropped it earlier this month. I’m planning on updating every other week, trading off with my csmm fic, which drops next Sunday. So far, this is shaping up to be four parts total, but as always, I am at the mercy of the muse.

Thanks again to all of the mods and participants of the @cssns​​! Much love to @artistic-writer​ for her beta services (and for the amazing Killian manip in the art!), and to @kmomof4​​ for her cheerleading support.

Content Warnings for this chapter include character death.

Rated T / Available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / Part One

~/~

Part Two

Present Day, Storybrooke, Maine

Leaves crunched under Deputy Emma Swan’s boots, despite how careful she was trying to be while searching the perimeter of the old farmhouse. A call had come into the station about a disturbance. Hunters who’d been setting up their blind for the weekend said they’d spotted a suspicious figure, so now here she was, traipsing about the abandoned farm on an unseasonably cold night instead of manning the phone at the station, or patrolling the quiet streets of Storybrooke in a warm squad car.

One day she was going to beat her brother in rock, papers, scissors, forcing him to join Sheriff Humbert on pointless calls searching after figments of other peoples’ imaginations.

Graham had insisted they split up when they’d arrived. The farm was extensive, with a dilapidated house, a storm cellar, and old barn rotting away on the property that had once been the sight of a Revolutionary War battle. The Storybrooke Police Department had fielded a number of calls regarding the property over the years, enough so that some people in town considered the place haunted. Just another colorful tale for the tourists.

Emma had never put much stock into any of the legends and fables her town had become famous for; Revolutionary War ghosts, curses, the Dark One. It was all nonsense. Something she had to remind Henry of on an ongoing basis as his fascination for such legends had continued to grow over the years. Still, she couldn’t really fault his obsession. Mary Margaret assured her that most kids fell down the occasional rabbit hole, becoming something of an expert on subjects they immersed themselves in, and having a notorious legend like, the Dark One, originating from your hometown seemed like the kind of thing that would spark the imagination of any twelve year old boy.

The piles of books were getting a tad out of hand, though.

The snap of a twig jolted Emma back into her current reality. Even if this was a wild goose chase, Emma couldn’t afford to get distracted with thoughts of her son and his other-worldly interests. Especially when she heard Graham call out halt! to someone from the other side of the barn.

Emma jogged towards where she’d heard Graham’s command then broke into a full on sprint when his scream pierced the night.

“Graham!” she cried out, gun drawn and flashlight searching the area. “Graham! Where are you? Call out!”

Pained gurgles echoed in Emma’s ears when she turned the corner of the barn. Raising her gun, she trained it on the hooded figure standing in front of her boss and friend.

“Freeze!” she ordered.

A twittering giggle that sent shivers up Emma’s spine spilled from the man as he flicked his wrist with a simpering remark. “You first, dearie.”

Emma’s heart began to hammer wildly in her chest when she realized she couldn’t move, but she didn’t have time to wonder how he’d managed to paralyze her, not when she’d just become aware of the man’s other hand impossibly embedded in Graham’s chest cavity. With a sharp tug, he removed it and Emma knew she’d never forget the scream that left Graham’s lips as something glowed a bright red in his attacker’s palm.

Incapable of moving, even if she weren’t frozen in place, Emma had no choice but to watch as the figure reached into his own chest and removed a hardened lump of something black and rotten. He then pressed the object he’d taken from Graham into his chest and smiled wickedly as the sheriff crumpled to the ground before him. Clenching his fist, the blackened item disintegrated in his hand, ash pouring to the ground and scattering over Graham’s still form before the man dusted off his fingers and started to approach her.

A rush of cold wind swept between them, halting the perpetrators steps. His head snapped up as the clouds parted, the moonlight revealing a scaled quality to his skin that had Emma’s stomach rolling in revulsion. His eyes fell shut as if he were straining to listen, but the only sound stirring in Emma’s ears was the thundering of her pulse.

The man flicked his wrist once again, and impossibly vanished in a swirl of dark smoke. It took Emma several erratic heartbeats to realize she’d been freed from her paralysis, shock and disbelief making it impossible for her to move until she remembered Graham and stumbled towards him. Her knees slammed into the cold, hard earth and a sob caught in the back of her throat when her eyes met Graham’s vacant stare. Even knowing it was too late, Emma reached for her walkie and called for back-up.

“Officer down,” she called out with a lamenting strain choking her voice. “I repeat, officer down. Need an ambulance and back-up, over.”

Keep reading

Killian Jones in 5x15.

He is 💜

Of course I love 'and they were quarantined' but take a moment and consider 'and they were videoconferencing.'

Two people who meet for the first time while social distancing. They work in different departments or in different cities. At first they're dressed business casual and keeping things professional. Then one day a pet appears and conversation gets casual.

They start sharing tips for how to exercise in a tiny apartment. They commiserate over the lack of favourite foods or activities. It turns out they were both going to go to an event that is now canceled.

Eventually, they're both in their pajamas. Work day is done, but their call has now moved to the evening. They cook the same meal, stream a movie together. When will this lockdown end?

So much potential for pining. So many longing looks. Social distancing video calling coworkers to friends to lovers.

How dare you hide this in the tags??

I love this 💜

another kind of green (7/10)

Emma Swan spends her days in pretty white dresses and heavy layers of makeup. Day after day and dress after dress, she poses for pictures and acts like she’s in love and having the happiest day of her life with the man standing next to her.

It’s not. This is all a gig, and at the end of the day, she’s no longer the girl in the pretty dress who’s faking getting married for a magazine cover or a wedding convention. Instead, she’s the girl who probably never wants to get married.

Little does she know, she already is.

Rating: mature

a/n: I apologize for the wait on this one. I’m obviously super spacey lately because I forgot I was supposed to be posting this story🙈

ao3: beginning | current

tumblr: 1 | 2| 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

-/-

Emma didn’t notice the leaves change.

Yesterday, she swears that she looked outside and all of the trees were full of deep green leaves and that the grass on the ground was an equally vibrant shade. Today, however, there are brown leaves on the ground and orange and yellow leaves hanging off of limbs, and the grass growing next to the sidewalk is browning the slightest bit. She blinked, and the days changed from early September to mid-October.

How in the world?

Where did all of the time go? Wasn’t she just doing a local commercial (her least favorite kind of job) for the autumn festival that’s happening downtown? How is time for that to already be happening? They shoot those weeks and months in advance.

“On your left,” Killian calls out, and Emma doesn’t flinch. She’s used to it.

“You’re late.”

“Traffic.”

“You walk here.”

“A hell of a lot of pedestrians, Swan.”

Keep reading

another kind of green (6/10)

Emma Swan spends her days in pretty white dresses and heavy layers of makeup. Day after day and dress after dress, she poses for pictures and acts like she’s in love and having the happiest day of her life with the man standing next to her.

It’s not. This is all a gig, and at the end of the day, she’s no longer the girl in the pretty dress who’s faking getting married for a magazine cover or a wedding convention. Instead, she’s the girl who probably never wants to get married.

Little does she know, she already is.

Rating: Mature

a/n: thanks to you all for giving this little thing a shot, even with its goofy premise. Gotta love those prompts. lol. But really, you’re the best! 😊 

ao3: beginning | current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

-/-

For a moment, his mind is hazy, a mixture of too many glasses of champagne and the lust running down his spin, curling around his bones and his skin in a thick heat that fogs his brain and his vision, but then there’s the feel of sharp nails scratching down his back through the cotton material of his t-shirt and the warmth of a mouth hotly pressed against his own. She tastes of vanilla cake and champagne, and she feels like absolute heaven.

The haze evaporates when her tongue runs over his bottom lip, all of his senses suddenly able to focus on just that one feeling and how good it is, and he might as well have not had a single sip of alcohol today. He’s sober in a sense, at least as much as one can be after so much champagne, but he could get drunk on the feeling of this woman and the way that her breasts press softly into his chest as he presses her up against the hotel wall with a soft thud that echoes down the empty hallway.

For minutes, who knows how long, Killian’s consumed by the way her tongue moves against his and the way that she likes when his teeth nibble against her lips. He’s consumed with the way that her hands feel in his hair, nails now scratching his scalp, and he’s consumed with the way her waist feels as his fingers dip down further, palming the firmness of her ass.

How the hell did he luck into meeting someone so beautiful today?

Keep reading

another kind of green (5/10)

Emma Swan spends her days in pretty white dresses and heavy layers of makeup. Day after day and dress after dress, she poses for pictures and acts like she’s in love and having the happiest day of her life with the man standing next to her.

It’s not. This is all a gig, and at the end of the day, she’s no longer the girl in the pretty dress who’s faking getting married for a magazine cover or a wedding convention. Instead, she’s the girl who probably never wants to get married.

Little does she know, she already is.

Rating: Mature

a/n: I hope everyone is having a good weekend! 💚

AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2| 3 | 4 | 5 |

-/-

Emma filed for an annulment of her accidental drunken marriage yesterday.

She also took a pregnancy test.

Neither of those things were exactly in her life plan. Or whatever hypothetical life plan she’s supposed to have.

Luckily, that test (and the three she took after it because she does not trust those things) all came back negative because if getting accidentally hitched isn’t bad enough, getting accidentally knocked up would be even worse. That’s significantly more permanent and time consuming than marrying someone she doesn’t have to see every day, and she’d pass out from stress if she was actually pregnant.

And the extra-large margarita she had two days ago would have been a pretty big mistake.

(It was already a pretty big mistake when it made her a sloppy kind of intoxicated that had her telling Killian Jones that she liked the smell of his hair.)

(Ruby and Mulan have not stopped making fun of her for that.)

(Killian Jones, Emma Swan, and alcohol are obviously not a good combination.)

Keep reading

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