that's my emma tag

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Just some random fanart of some random characters!

There’s:
Allen from @asktoastythearcanine
Tara from @ask-mirai-and-friends
Brandon and Emma from @ask-brandon-the-feraligatr
Morty from @baby-yveltal
and Caine from @asktheghosteevee

I think Beatrice, from Much Ado About Nothing, is the Great Hope of Shakespeare’s female characters even though she ceases speaking after they publicly declare their love for one another because you know if Benedict ever fucks up she will tear him apart.

gif not mine (x)

a/n: I kept seeing this gif on my dash and I had to do something about it. Here, have some CS high school AU…

“I’m here to ask you out.”

Killian slowly drew his head away from his Geometry textbook, peering up at the blonde girl fidgeting at the side of his lunch table. He hoped the smirk he shot her was less surprised-hopeful, and more amused-cocky. 

“What’d you, lose a bet or something, Swan?”

“Or something,” she retorted, looking nervous but determined as she slid into the seat across from him. 

Killian cast his gaze around the cafeteria, his eyes not missing the way Emma’s friend Mary-Margaret and her boy scout of a boyfriend were watching them tensely from across the room.

His eyes slid over to meet Emma’s. “I thought you didn’t want to be seen with me, love,” he said, not attempting to hide the scorn in his voice. He nodded over in her friends’ direction. “Your mates don’t seem to approve.”

She didn’t rise to his bait, however. “Who I spend my time with is none of their business,” she said simply. Her expression softened, guilt in her eyes. “Killian, it was wrong of me to try and keep us a secret. It wasn’t fair to you, and I’m…well, I’m sorry.”

Killian kept his features schooled carefully. “And so now you want to go on a date?” he asked, arching an eyebrow at her.

Emma wrinkled her nose cutely, and he almost surrendered his heart to her right then and there. “Well, it sounds lame when you put it that way, but yeah, I guess that’s what I’m proposing.”

“Whoa, love, no one said anything about proposing,” Killian quipped, holding his hands out placating gesture. “You’re fast-tracking a bit there.”

She snorted and shook her head, her long blond tresses falling across her shoulders. “You’re an ass,” Emma said, the fondness in her tone contradicting her words. “Now, do you want to go out with me or not?”

Yes, yes, a thousand times yes, he wanted to scream. "Well, with a delivery like that, how can a man say no?“ he said instead, reaching across the table and grasping her hand in his. He could see the panic in her eyes, but she swallowed and gave him a tiny smile, squeezing his hand. It felt like a victory. 

"Dinner, then,” she said, a playful flutter to her eyes. “Friday night.”

“Pick you up at 6,” Killian replied, feeling a genuine smile form on his face. He probably looked like a lovestruck goof, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“I’ll be wearing a dress,” Emma warned him, issuing it like a challenge.  

“Then, I guess I shall have to plan accordingly,” he told her, refusing to back down. 

She cocked her head at him, biting her lip to keep from smiling. “It’s a date, then,” she said, letting go of his hand and standing up. She turned to go back to her friends, but swung back to him at the last second. “One more thing.”

Emma leaned across the table, one hand tugging on the collar of his leather jacket, and then her lips were on his, kissing him senseless in front of what felt like the entire student body. She pulled away after a long moment, leaving him stunned, and with some seriously chapped lips. 

Looking just as wrecked as he felt, Emma licked her lips. “I like roses,” she declared out of the blue, more than a little breathless. 

“Noted,” Killian gasped out, feeling as though he’d had the wind knocked out of him. They’d kissed before (done more than kissed, if he was perfectly honest), but nothing on par with what had just occurred. 

“See you Friday,” Emma said, recovering enough to shoot him a saucy smile before flouncing back to where her friends held court. 

Killian touched his fingers to his lips, oblivious to the stares and whispers of his classmates around him. No, none of them or their remarks or gossip mattered. Only one thing in the universe seemed to at the moment.

He had a date with Emma Swan. 

That’s what George Washington was talking about. Like I’m gonna take what you have, bitch. That’s mine now. Gimme that. You see that? That’s mine now. That’s my land.
—  Michael Jones, giving an excellent summary of American history.

The thing is, we don’t know HOW it’s all going to play out, or what is going to happen with this.  I choose to be optimistic, because seeing the dark side of the Savior is something I, personally, have been interested in all along.  I’m anxious to see the people who love her, supporting her and being there for her unconditionally throughout this. It’s GOING to be tough and it’s going to hurt like a bitch … but it’s also got potential to be AMAZING, and I’m choosing to have faith, like I have always had, in the writers, in the story they’re telling, and in Emma Swan, herself.

So no, I’m not going to be debating this or humoring talk of character assassination or anything of the sort. ANY MOTHER would react to a threat on their child in a way not unlike this.  Does it make her evil?  Hell no.  Is she irredeemable and OMG NOT EMMA anymore?  HELL NO.

Just sit back and watch the rest of the season.  I personally think it’s gonna be FANTASTIC.  And I appreciate that not everyone feels that way.  I’m not going to change your mind, you’re not going to change mine.  And I’d prefer to see where this ride takes us, and enjoy every second along the way.

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                                                Well my heart is gold 

                                                                 and my hands are cold