poor rescuers is always left out of these sorts of things

A Home In The Highlands + A CS One Shot [Outlander Style]

After binge watching over the holiday break, I just had to write this for @fergus80 and @xpumpkindumplingx who wanted some CS smut in the Outlander wedding night style. Also, I love Jamie and Claire so this is in no way devaluing that other ship that’s now taken me on as a passenger! This one is rated M for certain, folks!

The fresh white roses were slightly wilted by the time Emma pulled the flower crown from the top of her head. They’d been strung together early that morning, woven around the twisted wooden halo by an elderly woman all the men affectionately called Granny. She had helped Emma with her tangled hair, brushing it into fine silky waves and telling her she looked like nothing less than an angel. It had been impossible not to offer a grateful smile at that kind remark, even though the term wasn’t what he would have called her. No, he’d deem her a princess once again - just like he had from the day they met.

“You want me to….sit in a saddle? In this dress?”

“Aye, Princess,” he’d smirked before rolling his eyes. “Sooner rather than later too. Miles to go before the light loses the road.”

“I’m not a princess,” she’d scowled, staring up at the back of the beautiful black horse at her side. “I can walk.”

“I’m sure you can,” he had nodded, bending down fast to tug on the dragging fabric of her skirt and tearing it off up to the knee. “But you’re going to ride - right up on this mare with me, lass. Now up with you.”

“Excuse me! You can’t just-” she’d shot back, disbelief painting her features as she glared at him. “-do that! That dress came from France and I can assure you that my father would not be pleased to see you act in such a manner, soldier….”

“Well, I am from Ireland, m'lady, and that gown is not really high on our list of concerns at the moment.” he grinned, holding her waist a bit too suggestively as his whisper skimmed her ear. “Now would you like me to lift you or can you get on the bloody horse yourself, love?”

“Do not call me ‘love’…”

“Very well,” he smirked. “Princess.”

Emma wasn’t sure how it had all evolved from there, her mind still searching for pieces of the memories that made up the past few weeks. It had taken her a few rounds of stealthy research to figure out where she’d landed when she fell through the portal near the wishing well weeks ago, some force of magic or witchcraft taking her from the woods near her childhood home and landing her decades in the past. She speculated the era by reading a letter she’d found with a fallen soldier, but she knew it for sure the moment she met him.

She was in Ireland - the newly acquired company of a small rebel brigade in 1743.

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And So It Begins - Pilot Arrow 1x01 Review

Summer project time!!! I’m going to review Season 1 and 2 of Arrow as part of the Arrow rewatch. I’ve never reviewed episodes I’ve already watched, so this will be an interesting little experiment. Rest assured they will be shorter than my S3 reviews if I have any hope of maintaining my sanity this summer. Well some will be.

Before we get to the pilot I must first tell you my pilot story. I was knee deep into my Vampire Diaries obsession, headed into Season 4, when I saw a few promos for Arrow. I recognized Stephen from The Vampire Diaries (rest in peace Brady the werewolf), but didn’t know much about him or the show. However, any actor who looks like this 

and does that

…will grab my attention. My husband and I debate Fall TV shows like we’re choosing our Fantasy Football picks. Our conversation went something like this:

Me: What about Arrow?

Husband: (shrugs) Eh.

Me: It looks good.

Husband: You know what it’s about right?

Me: No.

Husband: The Green Arrow.

Me: What’s a Green Arrow?

He rolls his eyes.

Husband: Not A Green Arrow, THE Green Arrow. It’s a comic book character. Think Batman with a bow and arrow.

At the word “Batman” my ears perked up and my eyes brightened.

Husband: Yeah. Figured that’d get your attention.

Me: Oh I am so watching that. What else do you know?

Husband: He’s not a “good” superhero exactly. The Green Arrow kills people. Also, he’s married to The Black Canary.

Me: Who’s the Black Canary?

Husband: Sort of like a poor man’s Wonder Woman. My guess is that’s who Katie Cassidy is playing.

Me: Why don’t you want to watch?

Husband: I’m not a big Green Arrow guy.

Me: Well, he’s dark & twisty with a built in romance. I’m sold.

You can insert your laughing gifs here about my excitement over Laurel & Oliver.

I watched the pilot. I was AMAZED. I demanded my husband watch it. It was non negotiable. This was a must see. He watched the pilot in total silence. After it was over he turned to me and said, “Holy shit. That was awesome.” My response? “I KNOW!!!!” We were both hooked.

I say this having nearly 30 years of television viewing under my belt. 

Arrow is the best pilot I’ve ever seen.

Let’s dig in…

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usskillian  asked:

Historical AU: A goddamn reincarnation fic where CS or OQ meet in medieval times. Emma/Regina get burned (or whatever) for being a "witch" (having magic). Revenge ensues.

She had always known this was coming.

A frenzy of witch-hunting had gripped the country since the King had sailed to Denmark to marry Princess Anne, and blamed his near-sinking on the maleficent influence of mysterious females, daughters of the Devil, who consorted with sorcery and poison and black magic and all sorts of demonic instruments. Regina Mills had watched and waited, knowing that most of the “witches” rounded up and taken for torture in the Tolbooth were nothing more than harmless wisewomen, village crones with a bit of herbologie or astrology, but she felt no desire to save them. Such shameless impostors stained the name of the true witches, the powerful sorceresses like her, who did hate James the Sixth and would gladly see him dead. James was an intractable foe of magic and anybody who practiced it, obsessed with stamping it out, and Regina only regretted that her weather-working spells hadn’t quite succeeded. She would kill him eventually if it was the last thing she did. She and her apprentice, Emma Swan, might be the only real witches in Scotland in this God’s Year 1590, but even a blind squirrel would find them eventually. At which point, Regina had no intention of going meekly. They would have to burn the entire world if they thought they were catching her.

Emma, for her part, disagreed with her mistress’ preoccupation with vengeance. Thought they should try to save the wrongly convicted women of North Berwick from the chains and whips and flogging of the King’s inquisitors, but Regina reminded her coolly that her opinion held no weight. Emma was an orphan waif, seventeen years old, who would have no friends and no food and no roof over her head if Regina had not recognized her talent and taken her in. She remained, however, confoundedly stubborn, proud, and independent, and the two women butted heads repeatedly in the course of Emma’s training. Indeed, Regina had debated turning in Emma herself, rid herself of a dangerous rival and earn immunity from the Crown, but somehow she’d never gotten around to it. As pathetic and naive and idealistic as Emma was, she was still a witch, a real one. Real witches looked to their own.

The King’s agents came for them that night.

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