"you were always such a good kid! we never had to worry about you :)" thanks! you actually should've, though. like about this specifically

blake kathryn
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Peter Solarz

oozey mess

tannertan36
almost home
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

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Acquired Stardust
hello vonnie

JBB: An Artblog!

ellievsbear
I'd rather be in outer space đž
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Andulka
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@xellewoods
"you were always such a good kid! we never had to worry about you :)" thanks! you actually should've, though. like about this specifically
wow you got to the red stop light faster and more dangerously than anyone else. should we throw a party?? should we call nascar
thank you so much adblockers. thank you. I love you. thank you so much
âaverage person eats 3 spiders a yearâ factoid actualy just statistical error. average person eats 0 spiders per year. Spiders Georg, who lives in cave & eats over 10,000 each day, is an outlier adn should not have been counted
SPIDERS GEORG ON ONE MILLION CREEP GUYS
ONE MILLION SPIDERS ACHIEVED
if u donât like my posts send me $1000 and iâll delete whatever one u want
not allowed to say Harry Potter, but what was your book series obsession as a teen
mine was definitely Eragon
Goncharov (1973)
This was such a great fucking movie.
We really don't talk enough about Goncharov on this site.
whats sexier
horns
tails
no nuance. fight about it
fuck it. round 2
whats sexier
halo
wings
halo considering any affix above the head not directly attached
i have a third one
whats sexier
teeth
claws
PLEASE REBLOG THE THIRD ONE TOO I NEED TO KNOW
[x]
Oh itâs Back on my dash!!
CS AU: Some Legends are Best Kept as Legends (1/?)
Summary: Years after ruthlessly humiliating the man known as Rumple von Stiltskin, Killian Jones faced him once again on the battlefield, though it was clear his foe was no longer an ordinary man. Before succumbing to the fatal injury the Dark Oneâs blade had inflicted, Killian managed to strike a blow of his own with the beingâs own ripple-edged dagger. Now, nearly two hundred and fifty years later, Killian finds himself alive and back in his hometown. However, whatever awoke him from his cursed sleep had also raised the Dark One. With all of Storybrooke at risk, can Killian find a way to stop the Dark One once and for all? Perhaps so. With a little help from Deputy Swan and her boy.
A/N: Based on The Legend of Sleepy Hollow short story by Washington Irving, and the Sleepy Hollow Fox tv show. This fic has been rattling around in my brain for over two years now, and I am so thankful to finally be able to share it! If the opening scene seems familiar, itâs because I posted it last year for @killian-whumpââs birthday.
Thank you to all of the mods and participants of the @cssnsâ! I have so enjoyed being a part of the event the past few years! Much love to @artistic-writerâ for her beta services (and for the amazing Killian manip in the art!), and to @kmomof4â for her cheerleading support.
Be advised that the opening sequence could be triggering or uncomfortable for those who suffer from claustrophobia, or simply do not do well in tight spaces.
Rated T / Available on ao3 and ff.net /Â buy me a coffee
Part One
Killianâs eyes flew open and a gasp filled his lungs. A dank, earthy note hit the back of his throat, forcing a cough to expel from his chest. He saw nothing but utter darkness and wondered if something might be covering his eyes. Reaching up to check, his hand hit a hard surface right above where he lay. Rough, brittle wood brushed against his palm and bits of debris fell in the wake of his inspection.
Where the devil was he?
A far off voice echoed in his ears. His name. Someone was saying his name. The compulsion to find this person overwhelmed him and he began to press against the barricade above him once more. With elbows bent out to his sides to try and leverage that which covered him, Killian met the edges of the structure and cold dread seeped into his chest. Raising his knees, they too hit the confines of his prison, and when he stretched his legs back out, only for his feet to find the same resistance, the awful truth came over him.
A coffin. He was lying in a coffin.
Memories of a duel flashed within his mindâs eye. Metal clanging against metal as he and the man heâd once known as Rumple von Stiltskin fought on the battlefield. Though, it had become clear rather quickly that his foe was no longer a mere man.
âYou once fooled me into thinking Iâd met the Dark One on the road over the toll bridge,â Rumple sneered. âYou humiliated me that night. Left me exposed in front of the woman I desired and stole her away from me.â He pushed off Killian, freeing himself from the blade heâd become impaled on and cast a simpering smirk upon his opponent. âI bet you never imagined Iâd actually find him. Find him, and become him.â
The rest of their bout played out in Killianâs head, until the moment of his demise pierced his consciousness. The Dark One had run him through. Killian fumbled over the buttons of his coat, feeling for the wound and trying to determine whether he ought to be relieved or alarmed at finding none.
He remembered the sharp pain then the numbness that had quickly followed. The glint of a dagger in the Dark Oneâs belt and the rush of blood over his hand after embedding it in the demonâs gut. He remembered collapsing to the ground and seeing a swirl of darkness envelop him. Had it been death?
No. It couldnât have been, for he was alive. He could feel the panicked rasps burning his lungs, could smell the petrichor of recent rainfall and the pine that made up his coffin. His pulse raced, heart hammering in his chest which was clothed by the heavy wool of his uniform. He could move his limbs, could cry out for help, and feel the sting of fresh terror pooling in his eyes. He was most assuredly alive, but for how much longer?
How long had it been since theyâd committed his body to the ground? Was the earth still loose enough to try and displace? Could he dig his way out, and make it to the surface before he suffocated?
Scooting along on his back, he positioned himself towards the middle of the box and raised his knees, slamming them into the roof with as much force as he could muster. He supposed he could thank the war for his regimentâs limited resources and the shoddily constructed coffin that was splintering apart with greater ease than he could have hoped for.
Dampened earth began to spill into the cavity, choking the air. Killian pulled at the fabric around his neck, maneuvering it up to his face to cover his mouth and nose as he kicked the dirt down towards the foot of the coffin. Once heâd packed as much of the earth as he could into the corners he shimmied his way towards the opening with his hands over head. With one final deep breath, Killian forced his arms and head clear of the opening. He tucked his legs beneath him and attempted to stand, pressing through the sodden soil until his fingers could feel the brisk air of freedom. Hoping to gain greater purchase, he lifted his leg to stand on the coffin lid. The jagged edges of the splintered wood scraped painfully along his calf, and Killian had to bite back his cry for fear of expelling the precious air in his lungs too soon.
With a new elevation by which to leverage himself, Killian raised up onto his tip toes braced against the outside of the pine box and scrambled for the surface, clawing his way upward until the night air ruffled his hair and mist clung to his face. He couldnât stop the watery laugh of relieved madness that erupted from his chest as it heaved against the pressure of collapsing earth while he wormed his way further out of the hole, finally crumpling to the ground once heâd wriggled free.
Puffs of air billowed from his lips as he gazed up into the night sky. The moon and stars had never shone more beautifully in his eyes which hazed over before hot tears streaked down his muddy face. With a deep groan, Killian raised himself up into a sitting position to survey the graveyard around him, wiping away the grime and tear streaks with the sleeve of his coat. Not that it did much good. Getting to his knees so he might try and stand, Killian was stopped by the sight of the headstone. His headstone.
Captain Killian Jones
Born 1748 - Died 1780
Lees verder
every morning I wake up and think of these words from philosopher cher
Spooky CS Fics: "Moonlit Ghosts"
For today's #13spookycsdays offering, I have a little one shot with some Halloween-tinged feels. There are a few small mentions from 6a episodes of the show, but nothing major as far as spoilers. Henry continued to date Violet from Camelot, and Belle gets to be more involved in the hero fun instead of just miserably wrapped up in Rumple, but I think that's really all you need to know. I hope you all enjoy! :)
Summary: The Storybrooke crew has enough time and peace to plan a little Autumn revelry aboard the Jolly Roger for the kids of the town. The young Author, the librarian, and Emma and Killian, work together to provide some Halloween thrills and chills as well as a haunting story...
Can also be read on AO3 or ff.net if you would prefer...
by: @snowbellewells
Moonlight trickled down a lovely, filtering illusion of brightness amidst the night's shadows, illuminating the surface of the water and glancing off the copper sides of the lanterns Belle had hung around the deck, burning low for effect. Grinning widely in spite of herself â a twinkle in her eye and a mischievous quirk to her smile, Emma Swan waited in the hall below decks, just past the stairs up from the crew and captain's quarters on the Jolly Roger, where their special guests couldn't see her. The elegant old girl bobbed gently with the rise and fall of the waves where she lay at anchor a mile or so out of Storybrooke harbor.
The children circled on the floor around Belle's seat at the stern were wide-eyed, rapt, and silent at the story she wove for them, the lights flickering intriguingly over their faces. Not a single one fidgeted or spoke, their eyes focused on the petite librarian â familiar to them in her pretty skirts and high heels from everyday life in their little town, but transfixing to them tonight in the dark, flowing garb of a gypsy, the moon and pale glow of the wavering lantern flames glancing off the golden hoops in her ears and the rings on her fingers and bracelets clanking together on her arms while she gestured in telling her story. Shadows played over the upturned little faces as well. It said something about just how immersed in the little nighttime cruise Belle and Henry had dreamed up as a fall community event, and Killian had all too enthusiastically agreed to, that even as the story of a horrible cursed monster who chose exile and his strength over love concluded and Belle paused, the sadness in her eyes only visible to those who would know to look, that they didn't recognize her story was in truth woven more from fact than fiction. Belle paused and gestured for a bashful Henry waiting in the wings to join her. Emma couldn't help but smirk even more, adoring the young man her little boy had long since become, as he flushed and looked to Violet seated at his side on an old barrel and she urged him forward with an enthusiastic grin.
Belle's natural storytelling gift had been so evident that no one else would notice she clearly needed a moment to compose herself once more and a pause to gather her still raw emotions. But she looked up at her grandson from where she sat as Henry came to stand at her side, Emma could see her mouth a "thank you" to him, which he responded to with a quick squeeze of assurance at Belle's shoulder. Soon he was beginning to read his own story, voice just a bit shaky at the start. Emma knew that Henry was more than a bit anxious, as he had not read any of his works aloud for an intended audience before, and she smiled fondly at her lanky, dark-haired son, bespectacled, and wearing his school uniform with a maroon and gold striped scarf in an effort to look like Harry Potter for his costume. He cleared his throat and his ever-deepening voice had soon wrapped them all up in his own tale, just as Belle had done before him. He will never have a more captive audience, and her maternal pride in his gift wants this moment, this recognition of his talents, for him.
Her eyes flitted over to find Killian at the helm, one arm propped on the ship's wheel, looking at ease and happy with the scene set before him. He wasn't actually steering them anywhere while they sat at anchor, but he still looked the very picture of dark, dashing pirate captain in the red vest and black leather duster he had brought back out for the occasion, appearing more dangerous Captain Hook than he had for some time. It had been all she could do not to snicker and pat him on the cheek when a few of the little girls had been too meek to talk to him upon boarding the Jolly and their wide, guileless eyes had lingered uncertainly on his curved metal appendage. Unable to bear the hurt puppy look on his face for long, however, Emma had plied him with caramel apples on sticks to hand out as snacks, and felt herself fall for him even more to watch her pirate charm and befriend every last child, even the most shy and uncertain â those ones most of all, if the truth were told.
Look me straight in the eyes and tell me your current music taste isnât what your father played in the car when you were a kid.
CS AU: The Craving in Between (1/1)
Summary: Emma shivered at the biting wind whipping through the street as she crossed from one alley to the next, the tight, thin dress beneath her jacket doing little to help keep her warm. Sheâd chosen it earlier that night hoping to impress a certain teaching assistant from one of the classes she and Neal shared. Killian Jones. A doctoral candidate several years her senior, and super hot to boot, Emma couldnât deny sheâd initially started flirting with him just to get under Nealâs skin, but as the semester went on and her overtures were met with equally witty and flirtatious banter, Emma had to admit there was something about Killian Jones that drew her to him.
Emma rolled her eyes, and not some mystical, mumbo jumbo, supernatural bullshit. A scoff left her lungs, hanging before her in a mist of cold sarcasm as she recalled her exâs words warning that Jones wasnât human. Shaking her head, Emma thought to herself, âWell, what the hell is he then, Neal?â
Emma was about to find out.
A/N: This fic is inspired by a scene I read in The Vampire Diaries books over 20 years ago. Youâll see it reimagined later in the fic. I am also borrowing elements of the lore TVD uses, but this is NOT a Vampire Diaries AU.
I had originally considered posting this as a two shot, but couldnât find a place to separate it that I was happy with, so you get to read the thing in its entirety. Much love to @kmomof4ââ and @artistic-writerââ for their beta services. Also, I cannot flail enough over @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713ââ art! Please go give Kayla some love, she absolutely deserves it! Finally, thank you to the @cssnsââ mods for holding this event again. I have loved being a part of it over the last few years!
Rated M / ~17,500 words / Available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee
~/~
The bar was its usual self, brimming with wall to wall co-eds blowing off steam at the end of a long week that had them hurtling towards winter finals. Emma Swan sat perched on a barstool, on display in a red dress that highlighted all of her assets. A few of her male classmates had attempted to garner her attention, but she was too preoccupied to pay them much heed.
It didnât stop them from continuing their efforts though.
âHe isnât here,â Emmaâs ex, Neal, told her after she spent more time looking around the bar in search of a certain pair of vivid blue eyes, auburn scruffed jawline, and artfully mussed dark hair than paying any attention to whatever he was saying to her.
âWho?â Emma asked with an air of innocence, sipping her drink then snapping her attention to the door as it opened, revealing⊠not him.
âJones,â Neal grit out. âThatâs who youâre all dressed up for, right? You, and every other pathetically simple-minded girl at this university.â
âExcuse you?â Emmaâs eyes swung back to his, her hand clenching around her glass while she decided whether or not to hurl its contents into his face.
His expression gave her pause. It wasnât exactly remorse, more like he was steeling his resolve to say something.
âLook, Emma. It isnât your fault,â he said, leaning in so he wouldnât be overheard by those around him. âJones has this⊠ability. He can make people feel things, do things, they wouldnât otherwise do.â
âWhat the hell are you talking about?â
âHeâs not⊠heâs not what you think he is.â
âA teaching assistant?â
âNo,â Neal whispered harshly, flicking his eyes around them quickly before coming even closer to whisper into her ear. âHuman. Jones isnât human.â
Emma couldnât help the snorted laugh escaping her.
âIâm serious!â Neal hissed, grabbing her wrist in a tight grip. âMy father told me all about him. Emma, the man is dangerous. Iâve seen you flirting with him, and Iâm telling you to be careful. Donât go drawing his attention.â
Emma yanked her arm away from him, every bit of humor gone from her mood. âWeâve been over and done with for over a year, Neal. You donât get to tell me who I can or canât flirt with.â She stood and grabbed her jacket off the back of her chair, forcing her arms into the sleeves with irritated force. âAnd Iâm not the only one whoâs been flirting,â she stated smugly. âIâve already got the manâs attention, and thatâs made you jealous. Youâre the pathetic one, Neal. Not me.â
Enraged, Emma exited the bar, pulling her jacket tightly around her to ward off the brisk night air. Knowing Neal would be in hot pursuit, she darted around the corner that led back to the off-campus home she shared with three other housemates, planning to take a shortcut down the alleyways.
Her heels clipped along the pavement, snapping a terse rhythm as Emmaâs mood continued to sour. Stupid Neal and his stupid jealousy. She hadnât been the one to end their relationship at the end of sophomore year. Finding him in bed with another girl had done that quite effectively. He was lucky she was willing to let him back into her good graces at all, so they could at least be civil with one another as they finished out their courses while pursuing the same degree.
She wasnât feeling too gracious towards him right now, though.
Emma shivered at the biting wind whipping through the street as she crossed from one alley to the next, the tight, thin dress beneath her jacket doing little to help keep her warm. Sheâd chosen it earlier that night hoping to impress a certain teaching assistant from one of the classes she and Neal shared. Killian Jones. A doctoral candidate several years her senior, and super hot to boot, Emma couldnât deny sheâd initially started flirting with him just to get under Nealâs skin, but as the semester went on and her overtures were met with equally witty and flirtatious banter, Emma had to admit there was something about Killian Jones that drew her to him.
Emma rolled her eyes, and not some mystical, mumbo jumbo, supernatural bullshit. Another scoff left her lungs, hanging before her in a mist of cold sarcasm. Not human. She shook her head. Well, what the hell is he then, Neal? She was almost curious to know what her ex thought Jones was. Almost.
Maybe the night wasnât a total loss. Emma knew Killian lived close to campus, something her stalker-esque housemate, Ruby, had discovered earlier in the year. If he wasnât at the bar sheâd been staking out in the hopes of running into him, then he might be working late with one of the professors he assisted. She could always head that way on the off chance of running into him on the quad.
Wow, Emma. Desperate much?
Another huff puffed past her lips. Yeah, she wasnât going to wander around campus in the freezing cold just to catch a glimpse of him. She was not one of the pathetic, simple-minded girls Neal accused her of being. In fact, she was going to head home and not think about Killian Jones for the rest of the evening.
Too bad the evening had other plans.
Keep reading
Reblog #2 for todayâs 13 Spooky CS Days is my 2020 submission to the @cssns. Who doesnât love some vampire!Killian?
i have a genuine quashtion dont make fun of me.
are sex talks real did your parents give you a sex talk?
yes they did give me a sex talk
no they did not give me a sex talk period
no but they gave me a book about it (and didnt talk about the book)
orphan button
nuance??????????????????//
I think if your friends donât like your S/O, itâs important to have a candid and vulnerable conversation with them as to why. Not saying theyâre always right (they often are) but if you have a nondefensive, private no judgement conversation with them about why then you can usually tell if it is a friend problem or a significant other problem or perhaps a bit of both. âMy friend doesnât like my boyfriend because she misses the amount of time we used to feel together and has felt lonely since I got with him.â and âAll of my friends hate my boyfriend because he is heinously disrespectful to them and creepy when Iâm not in the room.â are too totally different ballgames and you canât just decide which way the situation leans without asking pointed questions.