sorry she's so dark


i see the the “draw pearl (with ears??) at 4am when you wanna draw but don’t know what to draw” door is still jammed wide open


Still going by Devereaux?

anonymous asked:

Nesta, Mor, 30 ;)

(Listen dude, I am fully aware that you probably just want Nesta sin and then Mor sin and I am nearly 100% sure that you didn’t mean what I’m going to interpret this ask as. Most unfortunately I do not care. This fandom is sorely lacking in this area and you delivered this to me and so now you’re going to have to watch as I roll up my sleeves and put my grimy, sinful little gay paws all over this and transform it into femslash (yell at me again if you want them individually and I will do it but dude this opportunity was too good to pass up))

Nesta/Mor + sex: 

Their first time involves a nice little role reversal for Mor. I think Mor is typically the one who is attended to shall we say in the bedroom? She allows her partner to slowly peel her out of her clothes and lay her down on the bed and worship her body with theirs. But this is the role that she ends up taking on with Nesta, for various reasons. 

I think Mor has this knack for putting people at ease around her. People trust her, they feel safe with her, they feel confident with her and able to be themselves. So it takes all of about five minutes for Mor to have Nesta relaxing with her in the bedroom and less than ten before she’s a puddle of want before her. Which pleases Mor no end. 

She starts of slow, very slow, while Nesta is still a little on edge. They’ve never gone this far before but she said she was ready and she is and she’s totally not even a tiny bit nervous (except she is. but Mor can tell and she’s cool with it) It’s lots of gentle kisses on her lips, getting a little harder and more intense. And then she moves to her neck and as she’s kissing she sees Nesta’s eyes flutter closed and feel her relax and she starts easing her clothes off so gently and seamlessly Nesta barely even notices until she’s practically naked before her. 

Mor spends a good long time kissing Nesta all over. She’s in absolutely no rush at all. They have time. And she wants Nesta to enjoy this, every second of it. She also gently stops Nesta from putting any of the focus on her (at least for the moment) Every time Nesta tries to pull herself out her pleasure haze and think about Mor she just shakes her head and softly insists that there will be plenty of time for that later. 

Then she’s coaxing her to lie back down and holding herself over her and carefully dragging her underwear down her legs all the while looking in her eyes. Gently stroking her hair back from her face and murmuring that if there’s anything she doesn’t like this stops immediately. But Nesta just nods and murmurs that she trusts her and Mor gives her one of those radiant smiles and starts slowly kissing her way down Nesta’s body until she’s between her thighs. 

There is absolutely nothing Mor does that Nesta doesn’t like. Mor feels pleasure shiver through her with every single soft moan and shudder that Nesta makes for her. And Nesta does give her a little bit of guidance here and there (because she is familiar with her body and she knows what she likes dammit. And Mor is all for hearing about that…and being shown too but that’s another story) but for the most part she just lies back and surrenders herself to Mor and tries not to think about how easy that is. Because it shouldn’t be this easy. But she can’t help trusting Mor and feeling safe in her arms. 

After Nesta comes (or more likely finally stops coming because Mor just keeps pushing and pushing and pushing until she can’t breathe anymore, wanting to see how many times she can make her gasp her name) Mor is more than prepared to settle herself down beside Nesta with a cheshire cat grin spread across her face and watch her pant and try to recover herself. 

Nesta has other ideas. As far as Nesta is concerned Mor has far too many clothes on. And she hasn’t had nearly enough orgasms yet. Nesta plans to do something about that. 

And so while Mor is expecting things to start settling Nesta is only just getting started. And Mor finds herself being very thoroughly kissed while at the same time Nesta starts fumbling with the clasps of her dress. Mor tries to insist that they don’t have to do this tonight, they can wait, it’s not a prob- but Nesta just growls that she wants this. If Mor does? Mor is a little breathless at this point and more turned on than she would have believed so damn right she wants this. 

Nesta is, understandably, a little bit more uncertain about this than Mor was. But Mor is very patient and she’s a very responsive lover. So she manages to let Nesta know when she’s doing something right (or very right in the case of that thing she does with her fingers) or to guide her into doing something a little different without making Nesta feel patronised or foolish. 

Nesta very quickly discovers that she loves the sound of Mor’s moans. Mor isn’t quite as loud as she herself is (a recently discovered fact) but she’s still very vocal in bed and she talks more coherently than Nesta did. Nesta gets a lot of breathless, hoarse instructions, “Good.” “Yes, like that.” “More, Nesta.” “Please.” “Again.” Which Nesta follows as and when she sees fit (Mor discovers that Nesta is a tease in bed. She likes making Mor breathless and she likes making her moan and she really likes making her come…but more than all of that, she likes making Mor beg. She’s really just too composed and carefree for her own good. It’s good for her to be a little desperate and out of control every now and then. And damn if the sight of her arching her back, her lips parted in a soundless moan, her hands fisting the sheets beneath her isn’t the hottest thing Nesta has ever seen) 

By the end of the night both ladies have very thoroughly explored their partner’s bodies and they’re very happy with what they’ve discovered. Mor now knows for instance that Nesta is surprisingly ticklish. While Nesta knows that Mor has a small scar on her jaw from where she and Cass had a flying/winnowing contest and she slammed into a balcony rail. Nesta has kissed this scar very often. They fall asleep in a messy jumble of limbs and blankets, with their hair pooling together. And Mor thinks that she really rather likes the fact that the hellcat turns into a pliant little kitten if she strokes her tummy just right. 

send me a character and a number and I’ll write you a headcanon

  • Snow: You called me down?
  • Principal: Yes, have a seat. I just have a few concerns about your lesson plans...particularly about why all of them seem to involve birds.
  • Snow: Isn't it great? They're getting the best bird-based education in the country.
  • Principal: How could you possibly know that?
  • Snow: By the time they graduate, they'll be fluent in 12 dialects of sparrow.
  • Principal: How about a language actually in the curriculum like Spanish or French?
  • Snow: Sparrow is very useful!
  • Principal: If you're a princess turned bandit on the run from an evil queen. We're trying to prepare these kids for--
  • Snow: Were you about to say "the real world"?
  • Principal: I'll see myself out.
Random Facts About Zince!

FACTGBGHDGRT NUMMER VIER (okay so essentially if I write in anything besides English, I do not in fact speak that language): Zince has gotten into some shady and dangerous deals in the past.  At one point she tried to sell some very illegal goods to some people with very illegal professions.   It’d be fair to assume that she just doesn’t understand the consequences of doing such things in a larger scale outside of herself and her work.  

There’s even been deal she negotiated and barely escaped intact, physically and emotionally…  

She doesn’t make illegal sales anymore.

ROGUE ONE  starring Jyn Erso and Kiel Ketyrn  😂😉
[mother earth will swallow you :: lay your body down]

“Killian,” she weeps. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The Dark Ones stand face to face on the shore of the lake, as the avatars of all their forebearers scream and swoop around them, as the wind rages, as the sky weeps, as the stars fall. As Emma Swan holds Excalibur in her hands, and Killian Jones stands in front of her, arms spread, baring his heart to her.

(He has. He always has.)

“Now, Emma,” he manages, barely above a whisper. “Bloody hell, love, do it. Kill me. Destroy the darkness. You’ll be free. You’ll have a future.”

“No,” she sobs. “Not without you.”

“Do it!” Something of the demon shows in the black flash of his eyes, even as they glisten with the tears of mortal heartbreak, the impossible task, as he knows what he is asking of her. Tried to bait Rumplestiltskin into killing him, to spare her this, and yet it failed. It had to come to this. It always did.

“Do it,” he repeats, voice barely steady. “I trust you, Emma. You’ll do whatever you have to. There isn’t much time. You have to. You always did.”

Emma’s hands are shaking like a leaf as she lifts the engraved blade, as she can barely stand to point it at his chest, almost blacks out at the idea of driving it into him. The magic hisses and snarls, the Dark Ones past dive and dart at the Dark Ones present, as the shield grows weaker and weaker. In another moment, they will break through, and all will be too late.

“I love you,” she cries. “Killian, I love you.”

“I know.” He manages one frail, final smile for her, does his best to look brave. “I’ll see you again one day.”

Emma is drowning, clutching for herself, feeling as if the dagger itself is ripping through her. As she swings her arm back, and drives Excalibur home.

He staggers. Goes to his knees. She gasps, retching, as she throws the crumbling-to-ash-blade away and crawls to him, gathers him into her arms. “Look at me,” she sobs. “Look at me.”

He does. She can see the light of him, of her pirate, of the man who gave up everything and more for her, the warm, warm blue, shining up at her. As the darkness comes screaming out of her, of them, as she can feel it scour through her, as she feels as if she’s come up from a deep, deep dive, as she breathes, as she clutches him to her chest and weeps as if she cannot stop.

She breathes.

He does not.

A star falls from the sky, and its reflection splashes in brilliant, blinding circles into the water, as the darkness pulls him from her arms, as his body goes under. As she falls flat, almost incoherent with grief, clawing toward the edge of the lake, unable to take her eyes off him for a moment. As the darkened streetlamps come on again, as the world starts turning again, but stops in its tracks for her. As she shakes, and shakes, and screams.






Killian Jones is falling, falling, falling, falling, through nothing. Through space and time, through dimensions, through life and death itself, the burning wound still in his breast, Icarus flown too close to the sun. He is content to fall, for in this transcendence he is nothing, and he is at rest, and it is good.

He is only barely aware of sensation again, but a strange, fogged, impossible sort – twisted and yet clearer, not the demonic magic, not even life itself. He has gone beyond that. Something rocking beneath him. The sound of water. At one with the sea, forever here to soothe his soul – yet he is a fool to hope so. He is a sinner, he is the dark made flesh, he is destined for no easy surcease, no peaceful hereafter. He will wear the chains he forged in life, and now for all eternity. He will burn.


It’s Emma, he thinks, with a leap of terror. She’s followed him down here. He hasn’t saved her after all. The darkness still has her, he failed, he –

But no. It’s a different voice. Deeper.

One he hasn’t heard in centuries.


His eyes fly open.

He looks up, and stares.

He remembers, now. Dying in Emma’s arms.

He had never expected to wake in Liam’s.

I hope Emma actually does say the “Dark One out” line (sounds like something she’d say on a walkie to Henry or David, if so?).

I like the idea of everyone biting their nails and expecting scary villain Emma dressed in a crazy outfit, and she shows up totally normal, like, “Hey guys!” 

(And everyone’s walking on eggshells while she just tries to resume her normal duties, like sheriffing and joking about her Dark Oneiness to her very unamused family and getting her lust-slaking on with her hot adorably concerned pirate boyfriend. And she doesn’t get why everyone’s side-eying her all the time and they seriously need to lighten up because ‘seriously? we have more important things to worry about and anyway why doesn’t everyone realize how awesome this is? I’m still the Savior and it’s even better because no one can stop me or hurt anyone because I’m the fucking DARK ONE. I’m unstoppable.’)

(And maybe Killian and David and Snow and Henry can see the light in her eyes burn a little less bright, and maybe she tries to dissuade them from trying to ‘help’ her because she finds herself liking the power a lot little bit. Maybe she can’t see what’s happening. Maybe she can, and she doesn’t care.)

(Because that Emma who begged them to find a way to save her?  The Emma who sacrificed her own soul and her happiness for others?  And who always got hurt, who couldn’t enjoy one day of peace without some witch or ice queen or snow monster from fucking everything up, who was scared (too scared to admit love until it was too late), and weak, and flawed, and troubled? THAT Emma? Oh, baby. That Emma is gone, gone, gone, and good riddance.)

I don’t want to see VILLIAN-DUN-DUN-DUN!Emma. I want to see our Emma struggling and fighting like any human being would against the corruption of the Dark One’s essence. It will make her triumph (with her loved ones’ help) that much more beautiful.

“Uh– would you mind helping me out for a sec?” Shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, Rylie gave a tiny half smile. “Would be very much appreciated if you could say yeah.”