As a final goodbye, Blue Sky Studios came together and gave Scrat a send off on their own terms.

He finally got his nut.

i want to be like her when i grow up

Me, in the early days of this blog: …IDK, blocking people seems a little extreme. Do they really deserve a full on block? Me, now, years into this nonsense:

Dedicated to @msgenevieve447

Emma (2020) meets Clueless (1995).

“Okay, I think we should just move on.”  “The hairdresser certainly did.” DERRY GIRLS (2018– )

Happy St Patrick’s Day! Always a good excuse to put this man on my blog. 

that song only you can hear

So I think we’ve all seen this prompt making the rounds. It couldn’t be more Lieutenant Duckling if it had been designed with them in mind. 

Here’s my take on it. 

AO3

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The two men met in the middle of the council chamber with a matched pair of elegant bows and a solemn exchange of Your Majesties. Formalities thus observed and ceremonially dispatched, they broke into jovial smiles, gripping each other’s forearms and clapping one another on the back. They were far more similar than different, these men—roughly of a height and with the same breadth to their shoulders, the same twinkle of humour in their eyes and the lines on their faces fallen in the same warm places. One had far more of those lines, being a good brace of decades older—as attested as well by the grey in his hair—but were it not for that they may have been brothers.

“How is your wife?” inquired the younger of the two. “And your, er”—the hesitation was brief, barely noticeable—“your daughter?” He regarded his companion intently. “I trust she is eager to see this negotiation concluded?” 

“Ah,” replied the elder man, his smile faltering only slightly. “She is indeed, as is her mother. They are in the princess’s chambers even now, preparing.” 

–

“No,” Emma hissed, wrenching herself free from her mother’s grip and ripping the delicate pale-pink dress from her hands. “I will not participate in this farce and you cannot make me!” She flung the dress to the floor and barely restrained herself from jumping up and down upon it like a child. 

“I am your mother,” Snow replied coolly, “and your queen, and so by the power of two separate authorities I can, in fact, make you.” 

Emma’s fists clenched and her nostrils flared. “You’ll have to drug me then,” she snarled, “or tie me up or compel me with magic because there is no way in any of the seven hells that I will accept this willingly.” 

Snow folded her arms across her chest. “We’ll see about that.” 

–

“And your brother?” asked the elder man. “Is he is as keen to be wed as my daughter?” 

“Oh, indeed he is,” said the younger man with a bright smile that hardly appeared false at all. “Rarely has he anticipated anything more eagerly.” 

–

In a single, slick move Killian snatched the dagger from Smee’s belt, spun around and pressed its tip beneath the chin of his erstwhile companion and friend. “How dare you, Smee?” he demanded in a silky hiss. “You know how I feel about this farce of an arrangement. You are the only one who knew, the only one I told of where I meant to go. You betrayed me, and I will see that you suffer for it!” 

“Killian!” Both he and Smee turned to see Nemo in the doorway, scowling at the scene before him. “No murder on your wedding day,” he admonished. “And you might also want to consider wearing pants.” Nemo raised an eyebrow as he surveyed the prince’s naked form. “Best not to put the cart before the horse, as it were, and I imagine the chapel gets rather chilly at this time of year.”

–

“Excellent, excellent.” The elder man clapped his hands together. “So when can we, er, expect the prince to arrive?” 

“I’m sure he’ll be here any moment,” replied the younger as his eyes darted to the southern doors. “And the princess?” 

“Oh yes.” The elder man’s eyes returned to his companion after glancing, ever so briefly, at the eastern doors. “Any moment.” 

–

“Mother, please,” Emma begged. Defiance was getting her nowhere, it was time to employ pathos. She folded her hands together and looked imploringly at Snow. “Would you truly force me into marriage? With a man I’ve never met? Some useless, limp-dicked—” 

“Emma!” 

“—lump of a prince who will hate that I can best him at swordplay and that I ride astride—” pathos, Emma, pathos! “—and who doesn’t love me!” She widened her eyes and allowed them to fill with tears. “You always said I could marry the man I loved, Mama. You promised.” 

–

They exchanged wide and confident smiles and held eye contact perhaps a heartbeat too long before looking away to focus on their respective doorways. 

–

“Nemo, I’m surprised at you.” Killian resisted the urge to cover himself and instead puffed out his chest. “Smee has always been a snivelling rat of a man, but I never would have imagined you might turn on me like this.” 

Nemo fixed him with a deadly I’m-not-mad-just-disappointed look. “It’s not turning on you to want to see you married, lad.” 

“Happily married, perhaps,” retorted Killian. “Otherwise it’s just shackles by another name. You really want to see me chained for life to some faint-hearted, twee little princess, who will while away her time in needlework and—and flower arranging, and never utter a word worth hearing in all her days?” 

“Rather harsh, Killian, when you’ve not even met the girl.” 

“I’ve met more than enough of her type,” Killian sneered. “And I’m not having it. I’m not marrying someone I don’t love.” 

–

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US Helplines:

UK Helplines:

FREE 24/7 suicide hotlines:

(Source)

ALWAYS REBLOG WHEN YOU SEE SOMETHING LIKE THIS PLEASE; ITS SO MUCH MORE THAN IMPORTANT TO PEOPLE. IT MEANS EVERYTHING TO SOMEBODY AND EVEN THOUGH YOU MIGHT NOT SEE THIS IN THE SAME LIGHT, SOMEONE MIGHT. INFACT YOU REBLOGGING THIS COULD STOP SOMEONE TAKING THEIR LIFE TONIGHT.

I noticed there isn’t one here for Ireland, so

Irish free suicide helpline: 01-116 123

last time i reblogged this, i got this ask:

so please, please reblog. this could actually save a life.

keep yourselves safe!

I really needed a sign… thank you so much for this

Hilarious with or without sound

traditions (1/1)

MERRY CHRISTMAS @ohmakemeahercules​ FROM YOUR SECRET SANTA!!! 

Did you guess it was me?  Let me tell you, capitalizing my first person pronouns and remembering to turn on anon were hard, so very hard, but the hardest thing to do was NOT CLICKING ‘LIKE’ on every one of your responses, because i loved them all SO MUCH.

i know this time of year is not the easiest for you, but i am sending you LOVE and HUGS, and i want you to know that i had the most wonderful time chatting with you these last 3 weeks.  

Also, you like canon, and therefore i wrote canon – actual, compliant canon – and there can be no greater proof of my love.  💕😂💕

But seriously, i loved writing this for you, absolutely enjoyed playing in your sandbox, tackling the original characters, and i hope hope hope you like it.  

i also hope December gets easier for you next year and i wish you ALL THE GOOD THINGS, because you DESERVE THEM ALL.

You are wonderful.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!  🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

PS:  There’s one small reference to firefly in this because i cannot help myself sometimes.

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Thanks as always to the amazing @profdanglaisstuff​ who laughs out loud these days when i say i don’t write canon.  And who makes sure i don’t fall down rabbit holes.  Laugh it up, fuzzball.  (Yes, honey, i’ll quote Han Solo any time i damn well please.) 😍😘💖

And thank you so much to the organizers of @cssecretsanta2020​ for being so lovely and wondeful.

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SUMMARY:  December happens and Killian has questions. Not about Christmas.

About his place in Emma’s life.

But then cookies are baked, hugs are given, smiles are smiled, and it turns out traditions are just the things you choose to keep.

Or the things you choose to start.

Set during the six weeks of peace in S4. Canon compliant if those six weeks include the month of December. 😂

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AO3

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i am using the regular tag list, i hope that’s OK.

@mariakov81 @stahlop @thejollyroger-writer @snowbellewells @captainsjedi @toomanyfandomstochoosefrom @xarandomdreamx @tiganasummertree @mayquita @ohmightydevviepuu @sals86 @karenfrommisthaven @kmomof4 @kday426 @superchocovian @jennjenn615  @facesiousbutton82 @suwya @spartanguard @capnjay21 @shardminds @carpedzem @girl-in-a-tiny-box @ilovemesomekillianjones @lfh1226-linda @artistic-writer @teamhook @katie-dub  @shireness-says @qualitycoffeethings @cluttermind  @fragilebeautifulchaos @optomisticgirl  @klynn-stormz @winterbaby89 @ethereal-madnesss @scientificapricot @fragilebeautifulchaos​ @anxioussquirrel​ @profdanglaisstuff​

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TRADITIONS .

The thing about Christmas in the Land without Magic is that people keep explaining the wrong things.

“We get a tree,” Snow says one morning at Granny’s, in full teacher mode with her earnest eyes and her sincere smile.  “An evergreen.  Last year it was a fir, even though I prefer spruces.”  Her smile turns wistful for a moment.  “They remind me of home.”

The way she says ‘home’ makes it abundantly clear that she does not mean anything remotely near Storybrooke, and the irony of Snow White referencing the Enchanted Forest while lecturing Killian on the nature of Christmas trees is almost too much for him.

Especially since he asked her out for breakfast to find answers to a whole different set of questions.  Questions which are much more important.

“And then we put lights and ornaments on it,” Snow goes on.

“Yes,” Killian says, barely keeping himself from rolling his eyes.  “Many of the children in Neverland spoke of Christmas when they first got to the island.  Seems Pan delighted in taking them right around that time of year.  There was lots of talk of Christmas trees and presents and meals which included geese and pudding.  Although they seemed to have widely different opinions on what constitutes a ‘pudding’.”

“Oh,” Snow’s face falls.  “Of course.”  She falls silent.

“I’m sorry,” he says, because she looks sad now, and he doesn’t want that.  “I didn’t mean to cut you off.  Please tell me what else you do.”

Snow smiles.  

“You’re being kind,” she says.  “You probably know more about this realm’s traditions than I do.”

He grins.  “ Kind is not usually the first word that comes to mind when one thinks of me.”

Snow laughs out loud.  

“Maybe not,” she says, and then her voice gets very quiet.  “But you are.”

He can’t speak for almost a minute.  Snow doesn’t miss a beat, just pats his arm and then focuses on her waffles until he gets his bearings.

“Thanks,” he mumbles once he finds his voice again, and she just looks up, nods at him briefly, and then says, “We’re baking cookies tonight.  Did Emma tell you?”

And that, that is much closer to what he’s actually confused about.

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