yes you emma

dear person reading this:

  • your crooked teeth make your lovely smile extremely cute and endearing  (ノ◕ヮ◕)ノ*:・゚✧
  • your splotches of freckles? yeah, those are places where the galaxies whirling inside of you leaked out to radiance their brilliancy into the world
  • your thighs touch? that’s a GOOD thing. you’re getting proper nutrition! you have muscles! d o  n o t  b e  a s h a m e d!!!! also, thigh gaps are awesome too! anything related to thighs is awesome! all thighs are different because every person is different, and honestly, why does it matter what your thighs look like?? people who are bothered by thighs are weak tbh
  • “bingo arms”???? listen up: you only have bingo arms when you’re WINNING. otherwise why would you be yelling “bingo”?? thought so. you’re a winner – you can do anything you set your incredible mind to!
  • your hair is so unbelievably gorgeous and don’t you deny it. don’t forget to style it, dye it, try new shampoos with it, as long as you want to! your hair is your own, whether it be frizzled or dry or thick or thin – be proud of that, and remember that you can always change it up!
  • your eyes are not too small, or too big, or too wide apart, or too ugly. your eyes are your own mortal doorway into your soul, expressing your thoughts and emotions in dazzling swirls and hues for others to decipher. don’t be afraid to cry, don’t be disgusted by the crinkles at the corners when you smile, don’t hate on the small, microscopic blood vessels running through them. don’t lock your door out of needless shame!
  • scars!!! scars are so cool! they’re visual results from a chapter that makes up the story of your life! no matter where scars are, don’t be conscious of concealing them! ppl loVE scars! even the tiny lil ones! anyone who has a scar is automatically known as an ultimate badass sorry that’s the rule
  • same goes for stretch marks! those little ripples on your thighs, your hips, your waist, your belly? those mean that you’ve GROWN. your body has adapted frequently throughout your life, and leaves those little ripples as little hints of your amazing journey from babyhood to adulthood! (or maybe you’re just a mystical ocean god/goddess and those waves are symbols of your enormous power, onlookers should be on the lookout)
  • sorry, did you say you had a pig nose? do you even kNOW how cute piggies are you should be PROUD of your nose cAUSE U CUTE
  • long, thin nose? p l s. that just means you’re king/queen of everything. don’t deny it. you know how powerful you truly are
  • tummy rolls? everyone has them. seriously, no matter how thin a person may seem, tummy rolls are inevitable. you are not alone! tummy rolls rock! ROCK THOSE TUMMY ROLLS!
  • trust me, barely anyone see your feet anyways. besides, feet aren’t that bad – how do you think your hands would look if they walked everywhere over the earth’s rough terrain? feet are hella 
  • ears are so cool omg they’re like fingerprints, unique to you and you only! plus you can pierce them! repeatedly! how cool is that? ears are best
  • do nOT be anxious about flaunting your legs! wear that short skirt! wear those shorts! own that bikini! your legs are marvelous! ppl would kill for a pair of dandy lookin legs like yours! pale or tan, legs are glorious! L E G S
  • lips. lips. do you know how many magic tricks your lips are able to perform? the formation of words, the ability to smile or frown, the ability to express, to kiss, to wear makeup; lips are ethereal and exquisite in all forms!
  • #1 tip: your eyebrows are always on fleek  (▰˘◡˘▰)
  • and lastly: you are not dumb. you are not worthless. you are not a waste of space, an empty void, a meaningless shell. you are loved. you are worth everything. you are so incredibly intelligent, you are utterly unforgettable, and you are breathtaking in every single way.
  • next time you look in a mirror, blow yourself a kiss and don’t worry – you’ll kill it out there today. ♥
Captain Swan Floor

May I present

Originally posted by swanscapitan


Originally posted by emmasfairytale


Originally posted by fuckyeahkillianemma


The underappreciated Captain Floor grouping.

Originally posted by tough-lass

Emma even kneeled down with Killian so they’d both be closer to it.


Mr. O’Hara, erm it’s not my place to say, but you may have a problem.


“Let Ian Choose Your Tattoo.” // Nerve 2016

  • Emma: You're destroying my life to get me to help you defeat the woman who kidnapped you as a baby and tormented you?
  • Gideon: Yes.
  • Emma: You know I'm friends with your mom right?
  • Gideon: Ummm...
  • Emma: And even if I wasn't, you're my son's uncle. That makes you family, and I help family.
  • Gideon: Are you suggesting...
  • Emma: All you had to do was ask. I'm the savior. Helping people is literally the job description.
  • Gideon: Please don't tell my mom about this.
  • Emma: Already texted. You are so grounded when we finish taking down the Black Fairy.
Beauty And The Beast

I went to see this today and it is hands down the best movie I’ve ever seen, and will see, in my entire life. No objections.

Unfollow me now, because this is the only thing I’m going to be posting about for a while.

Emma: I called you my girlfriend.

Regina: What? To who?

Emma: To my parents, and my brother, and Ruby.

Regina: [lets out a long exhale] That’s a bold move, Swan.

Emma: I know. I didn’t even mean to say it, but it just… It just came out. And now… Now I can’t stop thinking about it.

Regina: [sarcastically] Do you want to pass me a note and have me circle yes or no?

Emma: [embarrassed] I’m not asking you to be my girlfriend…

Regina: Oh no?

Emma: No, definitely not! I just thought… I thought that it was weird.

Regina: Totally weird.


Regina: You know, the Excalibur is turning out to be more interesting than I would’ve guessed. Technically, I’m not supposed to be touching it, but I did wash my hands. So, I decided that the Dark One would be okay with it–

Emma: Will you be my girlfriend?
Regina: [bursts out laughing] Yes.

Emma: Yeah!?

Regina: Yes, you idiot!

Emma: [to the rest of the diner] She said yes!

Granny: Good for you, hun.

Leroy: Mazel tov.

fabianprewet  asked:


Softly, Sweetly.


He calls her Andy.

No-one calls her Andy.

It doesn’t make sense, really.

She grew up with her sisters, Bella and Cissy, respectively.

She didn’t have a nickname.

But he calls her Andy.


The first time it happens it booms out across the oak-leaf splattered quad like a the swing of a woodcutter’s axe.

‘Oi, Andy! Andy! Andromeda! Black!’

That gets her attention. The mention of her family name, her upheaval, her responsibility, what her sisters would say if they saw Ted Tonks, Muggle-born, upright and sturdy, striding across the quad with the sun streaking through his head of tawny hair and his amber eyes shining –

‘What do you want?’ she swipes, not unkindly, brisk, blunt, to-the-point.

He gives her a filthy, lopsided grin. It makes her heart ache. ‘Is that any way to greet an old friend?’

‘We’re not friends,’ she reminds him, taking off, legs cloaked in opaque stockings striding against the short length of her black, pleated skirt, a book pressed to the torso of her sweater.

‘What makes you say that?’ He asks, ever cheeky, jogging to catch up with her, all lumbering and broad-shouldered and grinning, fuck –

‘I said, we’re not friends. Tick off.’

Tick off? Really, Black?’

‘Go away, Tonks.’

‘No can do, Black. I have a bone to pick with you.’

‘Which is?’

‘Why d’you say we’re not friends?’


‘Why d’you say we’re not friends? Why d’you look at me in Charms and then look away? Why do you linger around the aisles in the library like there’s a bad smell under your nose?’

She considers this, an accosted look slapped across her face, her resemblance to her sisters probably never more pronounced. She considers, considers the fact that she has been looking, the fact that yes, she has been looking at Ted Tonks, and yes, he has been looking back.

He has been looking back, just as he is now, head cocked to one side, funny, thoughtful, lips twisted in a wry smile, eyes full of the sun.

She answers him, lips tight and expression tight and the whole length of her body, tight. ‘I don’t know,’ she says, her lips still pressed together as she sets off, stalking back across the length of the quad, back straight.

He doesn’t follow her.


He kissed her when they were fourteen.

It was Truth or Dare and it was a Hufflepuff winning streak and it was him, all gangly limbs and shoulders that were yet to be filled out and hands, hands everywhere, pressing her into the stone wall just outside the library.

‘What are you doing?’ she whispered, quietly, softly, insistently, as he pulled back a hair’s breadth. His eyes were still closed.

‘Andromeda,’ he says, none-too-condescendingly, pink lips parted in silent appraisal, his breath caught between them, smelling like the woods on an Autumn day and distinctly boyish, ‘I’m kissing you.’

He does it again, lips soft and rough and roguish, all at once. He’s not that much taller than her.

She pulls away.

‘Don’t,’ she says, softly, venomously, low and dangerous and threatening, ‘ever do that again.’

He looks accosted, in his own, quiet way, wary and cautious and full of understanding.

And for three years, he doesn’t.


She’s resigned.

That’s how she hears him describe her to Clancy Goshawk in the Great Hall when she asks him why she looks like she has a stick up her ass.

‘She’s….’ Ted thinks, thoughtfully, for a moment, eyes full of puppyish hope, lips pursed. Boyish. ‘…resigned.’

Resigned?’ Clancy practically shrieks, falling back in her chair. She tosses her hair, slightly, casting a sly, backward glance in Andromeda’s direction. ‘You’re too nice to her, Tonks. You’ve got it bad.’

‘What can I say,’ he says, cheekily, wafting a hand, ‘I’m a man of many secrets.’

She smirks into her porridge.


‘We’re friends, aren’t we?’ He asks her, one day, catching up to her on her way back from the library.

‘No,’ she answers, shortly, then amends herself, quieter, softer, ‘no, we’re not.’

The puppy cocks his head to one side, surveying her, then says, ‘Can I change your mind on that?’

‘No,’ she says. ‘No, you can’t.’

‘Oh, well,’ he replies, smirkingly, walking backwards, eyes twinkling, ‘I’m going to, anyway,’

The broad-shouldered, cheeky git stumbles, crashing straight into McGonagall with an undignified squawk and a tip of his hat.

She sighs. Damn him, she thinks. Damn him to hell.

But she’s smiling.


When Andromeda smiles, it’s never full blown, nor is it minor, incompetent, miniscule.

Ted was right. She is resigned.

When Andromeda smiles, it’s slight. It’s a half-assed, backwards glance. It’s twisted lips, smirking, eyes shot, doe-like, shoulders hitched, laughter-muffled, achingly, pouringly, sweetly smiling.

He notices that about her.

He decides that he likes it.

He decides that he wants to be the cause of it.

He decides that he wants to make her smile more often.


Ted Tonks may have been a lot of things, but he wasn’t disrespectful.

So when he asks Andromeda why she doesn’t like him, it’s in the quiet, in the hazy hours of the afternoon, on a Sunday, in the back corner of the library.

She’s never there to study. She doesn’t need to. She could pass pretty much all her classes with her eyes shut.

She’s there to read.

She spends all of her time, lazily, eyes soft, thumbing a novel, daintily covered, embroidered in gold thread or upholstered in velvet or bound in leather.

She likes books about stars. He has no idea why.

Ted Tonks may not have been disrespectful, but he was certainly blunt.

‘Why don’t you like me?’ He asks her, brows furrowed.

She doesn’t start, just glances up at him, slowly, like she only just noticed he was there. Her eyes narrow.

‘I beg your pardon?’ She uses that voice again, low and harsh and dangerous. He thinks of her older sister.

‘I said,’ he slides into a seat next to her, ‘why don’t you like me?’

She doesn’t say anything. He continues.

‘Everyone likes me,’ he says, throwing an arm out, always gesturing with those muscled, beefy arms of his, ‘I like Quidditch and I’m not too shabby in classes, and I try to be nice to people. I try to be nice to you, Andromeda.’ He looks quietly furious, dropping his voice low. ‘Why don’t you like me?’

She has gone rigid, taught, eyes fixed on the table, legs pressed together. She’s quietly furious, too, but it’s a different kind. Where Ted is a raging inferno blazing 5 000 miles away, Andromeda is a bed of embers that threatens engulf your entire existence.

‘It’s not,’ she begins quietly, voice measured, breaths measured, ‘that I don’t like you, Tonks.’ He waits. ‘It’s that I do like you. Very much, in fact.’

He’s too confused to be elated. ‘Too much,’ she reiterates, in case he isn’t getting the message.

‘I don’t understand,’ he growls, not unkindly, ‘if you like me so much, then why don’t you –‘

‘Tonks,’ she interrupts him. She’s gone rigid, again. ‘It’s not up to me. I can like you all I want, and nothing’s ever going to happen. You must understand. It’s not up to me.’

He scowls. ‘Then who is it up to?’

She whispers. ‘Who do you think?’

There’s a second where he doesn’t speak. ‘Your family?’ he says, disbelieving.

She looks like she’s about to get angry, like, really angry, but measures herself at the last second, reigning in her anger like a fish on a line. ‘Ted, no. I – I can’t. I mean, yes, it is them. But, but I can’t – Agrippa, Merlin, fuck – ‘

She just swore. She never swears.

He looks at the table. She grabs his arm. Her eyes are filled with tears. He wants to punch a wall. ‘Ted,’ she whispers, imploringly. ‘Don’t you understand? You can’t make me choose –‘

‘I’m not making you choose.’ He interrupts her.

Yes – ’ she hisses, you her voice raises, are!’ she yells.

He notices that she doesn’t yell like anyone he’s heard before. It’s low and guttural, not high or shrieking, like she’s spent her whole life talking in measured breaths. Maybe she has.

‘Ted,’ she continues, quietly, softly, ‘you are making me choose. Just by being around me. Because I can either have you or have my family. And I can’t have you.’

He’s not even quietly furious, now. He’s blatantly furious. He’s angry. And Ted is an angry crier.

‘I’m sorry,’ she chokes out, bitter.

‘Good thing nothing’s even happened between us, then,’ he tries to joke, but it splinters between his lips. It sounds like a slap.

‘I’m smart enough to know where this could go,’ she says, simply. She’s right. She is smart. She’s too smart. Too smart for him, anyway.

Andromeda doesn’t feel things quietly.

He gets up from the table.

She lets him go.


She thinks, after that, that she’s made her choice.

She hasn’t.


She kisses him when they’re sixteen.

There were utterances, splattered all over her Summer, her sister, making jibes and curses about Muggleborns, about Ted Tonks, about their younger cousin and his friends.

She marches into the Charms classroom on the first day back, and its empty save for Ted Tonks. She knew he’d be here. She knew he’d be alone. And she came anyway.

And he’s there, all 5’11 and sandy hair and warm, hazy, casual brown eyes, an easy gait and broad, broad, muscled shoulders, like he probably spent his whole summer chopping wood, and corded forearms and legs swathed in his fucking well-fitting woolen gray pants and rolled-up shirtsleeves and an askew Hufflepuff tie and a simple, easy, ear-splitting grin that breaks his face when he sees her, like he’s happy to see her, which he probably is.

‘Andy,’ he breathes. He’s still smiling.

She makes a choice.

She throws herself at him.


She becomes all about choices.

She chooses to draw him into the broom cupboard on the Fourth Floor, she chooses to visit him in the Hufflepuff Common Room on Tuesday night, she chooses to laugh at his jokes in Care of Magical Creatures.

She makes her choices.

She just isn’t choosing him.


It happens in the quiet, on the downlow, away from her sisters’ prying eyes and the word-of-mouth and that nosy Fourth Year who can’t keep her mouth shut.

She doesn’t sit with him in the Great Hall.

She doesn’t hold his hand on the way to Charms.

She doesn’t return his letters.


Ted Tonks also makes a choice.

He corners her after Charms, when she’s packing her books into her bag and straightening her shoulders and doing a great job of ignoring him.

She doesn’t look at him as he nears her.

‘We need to talk.’

It makes her start, almost imperceptibly, but she presses her lips together and keeps her eyes downcast and looks as though she has no idea what he’s talking about. The words bore a whole in her.

‘What about?’ She says on the sly, nose titled.

She goes to leave when he doesn’t answer, but he grabs her wrists. He’s desperate.

She holds his gaze. ‘Let go of me.’ Her voice is even.

He does. ‘I can’t do this anymore.’

She looks as though she hasn’t heard him, tipping her head up to look at him, back straight. ‘What?’ Her voice breaks on the word. It’s small. She ticks.

‘Andy,’ he says quietly. ‘I can’t do this anymore.’

She courses back, eyes wild. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Moving past him, she’s almost at the threshold when –

‘Yes, you do.’

She turns around.

‘Andy, I – ’ He starts. ‘Andromeda. You know  – ’ His voice breaks. ‘I can’t do this. It – it hurts. It’s not enough. I mean, it’s good and all, snogging you – ’ He catches her smile. He mentally kicks himself in the shins. ‘ – but I can’t – ’ Her face breaks with his voice. ‘I can’t keep doing this. I want – I want more – ’ He steps forward, taking her hands. ‘I want you.’

She wrenches her hands from his grasp. ‘Teddy, that’s all well and good, but –‘

Don’t.’ He stops her. ‘Don’t pull that ‘Black Family Values’ crap on me.’ It may be the darkest selection of words he’s ever said to her, like he doesn’t know, but of course he knows, he knows all about the training stamped into her posture, the stillness in her eyes, the clasping of her hands, her voice –

‘I told you before.’ There it is again. Still. Calm. Deadly. ‘I don’t have a choice.’

‘I know,’ he wrenches the words out, ‘I know. And I can’t ask you to choose. Because it hurts you. And if there’s one thing I don’t want –‘ He reaches for her again. She lets him hold her arm. ‘It’s to hurt you.’

‘You are hurting me, Tonks.’ She says, evenly. She’s looking up at him through her lashes, the blunt strands of her hair. It kills him.

‘Then – fine.’ He says. ‘I’m not making you choose.’ He releases her. ‘You can have your family, Andy. I’m out of the running.’

Her eyes widen, even though she probably knew what he was going to do two steps before he did it.

‘You don’t have to choose me. I’m not a choice. Because it hurts too much to have you, but not be with you. It hurts me, Andy. I want you. Everything about you. I – ’ He utters the next words, quietly, looking at the floor. ‘I love you.’

She doesn’t let him finish.

She leaves.


She goes for almost a whole year without speaking to him, properly.

But it doesn’t stop the sun from bleeding in through the ink, like a kind of poison.

They smile at each other during class.

He sits nearer to her in the Great Hall.

He drops off Muggle books for her in the Library.

And it’s just like it was when they were fourteen.

Being with each other.

But not being with each other.

It lasts for almost a year.

And then they graduate.

And then it stops.


Andromeda Black makes a choice when she’s seventeen.

She packs her bags and whirls Cissy into a hug so tight that she thinks about the chinaware on display in their Mother’s vanity cabinet, leaves Bella all the books about horses they used to share when they were 10, empties out her drawers and leaves a note on her dresser, because they knew, they knew all along.

And it’s all just too much, anyway.

The sly glances and the easy smiles and the causal touches from him, and the snide remarks and tight-lipped expressions and underlying disapproval from them. They all rose to a crescendo in her ears that was so loud it felt as though she was drowning, that her ears were bleeding. She cut the chords.

Andromeda Black has a piece of parchment in her hand with a scratchy address on it, ripped from the envelope of Ted’s last letter, one that she didn’t respond to.

She treks through the woodland bordering a cottage, and she remembers, just as she thought when she held the paper in her hand and apparated there five minutes ago, that it’s peaceful, that it’s serene, that it’s beautiful.

We could have horses, she thinks. I could have horses.

And there’s a small bump swimming under the lace folds of her petticoat and tears swimming in front of her eyes as squashes bluebells under the soles of her riding boots.

The cottage is small, and cosy, built of stone and host to a chimney that leaves gusts of smoke drifting on the afternoon air.

And he’s there, standing in the yard, swinging an axe, wearing a thin flannel with that’s gone transparent and sweat forming on his brow, with a determined and hewn expression, somehow more at peace and more unhappy than she’s ever seen him.

He’s there.

And she’s there, standing at the edge of the wood, in a dress and a tweed blazer with a suitcase in one hand and the other resting on her stomach.

She’s there.

He sees her.

And it takes all of five seconds before he’s dropped the axe and she’s dropped her suitcase, and he surges toward her and she’s sprinting against the folds of her cotton dress, and he grabs her and she wraps her legs around him and his arms grasp her back and her waist and she holds his steady, steady jawline and kisses him like she’s wanted to for the past five years, completely and unburdened and without thought.

And he holds her against him, waiting even after they’ve pulled back, both of their eyes closed and their noses a hair’s breadth away. Her breathing is unsteady.

He lowers her to the ground with such care and thought and adoration it makes her heart break, making sure her footing is steady and that she’s standing upright that she has to swat him off, consumed with laughter, alight with happiness, her chest full of it, of him.

‘Teddy,’ she whispers against him, shaky. His hand cradles the back of her neck.

And she says the words that she’s wanted to say ever since she told him no, that she had a choice, and that the choice wasn’t him. Her voice breaks and her eyes are full of morning dew.

‘I choose you.’

anonymous asked:

What's your favorite Swan Queen scene?

Ahh so many to choose from, but my absolute favorite is Regina teaching Emma magic and Emma floating to Regina on that bridge. They both look stunning and gorgeous and it’s so romantic imo. Aladdin much?

Plus let’s not forget Regina crossing realms to find Emma - what was that about true love transcending realms and “I will always find you?”. Yes, Regina finds Emma and what happens? Regina sees Emma sing and they re-enact Aurora meeting Prince Philip. 

but also this - and what I love about this next one is that CSers used it to say that’s how Emma will look at hook and then when we pointed out she looked at Regina like that the person deleted the post. A hidden gem all that eye sex

then there is this one complete with the meet cute trope and aren’t the 2 of them just adorable? Regina didn’t even know Emma is the Saviour until later.

but then there’s this scene from Neverland and the fondness in Emma’s eyes as she looks at Regina and then their eyes meet as they both hug Henry

and then there’s this one from 3b and argh it just has me scream at throw stuff because again romantic much in a stakeout? I mean what’s with the framing and wind blowing and the focus on the lights and all that

As you can see, Anon, I can’t stick to one scene because there’s so many good ones, I just can’t. 

I hope we will see some more Disney tropes for SQ in 611. 


Thank you @sugaselfie for tagging me to do the selfie tag! Here’s my face, ya’ll. Enjoy it. Recoil from it. Whatever floats your boat.

Tagging @agustdlightsmycigarettes @minbboongbboongi @yoonmin-smile @craigy-ferg @cocoratscha @kihyunseyesmile @thereisnofuckingreason @jayonthestreets @sopeonthestreet @ralph-mountainlodge @socialily @thebottomofyoongisshoe @fangirlingprobs @jeonyoons @sonyxqueenofthewholeuniverse @katisfandomtrash @jungkookio @agust-kook @totalkpoptrash @kimnamjoonismybiaswrecker

A New Neverland (Peter Pan Imagine)

Originally posted by my-fxxfics


When we got back to town it was already morning. I dropped Gardner off at the clinic and I snucked back home. Thinking I successfully got back unnoticed, Emma cleared her throat from behind me.

“Where were you?” Emma asked sternly.
“Out.” I said casually taking off my jacket.
“Out? Out where?”
“Just, out. Getting some air.” 
“Really? The dirt on your hands and mud on your shoes say different, so I’ll ask again, where were you?”
“You’re not my mom, I’m not Henry. I don’r have to answer to you.” I bit back.
“But I’m now your guardian. You live under my roof, what I say goes.”
“Why do you care?”
“Why are you being stubborn again, you were fine one minute, now you’re back to having attitude.”
“Why do you want to know where I went? I came back didn’t I? Shouldn’t that be good enough?”
“I just want to keep you safe.”
“No, you’re trying to keep yourself and Henry safe. If you want to know so badly, I didn’t go near your precious son. I went to the woods.”
“And what did you do there?” 
“Not casting spells before you go all saviour on me, I have no magic remember.”
“I wasn’t thinking that.”
“Keep telling yourself that, maybe you’ll start believing it.”
“What’s got you all worked up? Where did you go? What did you do?” 

Emma’s right, I am all worked up but I don’t know why. Why I couldn’t I just have told her I was with Gardner? That I saved him and took him to the clinic?

“If you must know so badly, I was in the woods clearing my head. I heard someone call for help and found a boy in a hole with a bear trap around his ankle. I helped him, got him to the clinic and now I’m here. Happy?” I forced out of my mouth.
“You met a boy?”
“Out of all of that, you picked up only me meeting a boy?”
“No no, I mean, you helped someone?”
“Yeah? What, is that shocking to you?”
“No, it’s not. That’s good, you helped someone. Heroic.”
“Okay okay, chill. I’m not like you heroes, I saw a kid in danger and I helped. I did it all the time in Neverland, not a big deal.”
“Uhuh, keep telling yourself that maybe you’ll start believing it.” Emma said with a smirk.
“Funny, real funny.”  
“Get cleaned up, we’re going to the clinic.” 

Emma left with me with that statement and went downstairs. Me, a hero? You save someone one time and they identify you as a hero. I still don’t understand why I got so defensive talking about Gardner, it’s not like he’s Peter or a Lost Boy. I pushed the thought aside and went one to clean myself up. When we got to the clinic, Gardner was all bandaged up and ready to go.

“Hey, tree top.” Gardner said jokingly.
“Hey, Greenie.” I said. (see what I did there) “You okay?”
“Yup, doc fixed me up but my ankle is broken. I have to be on crutches for a while.” 
“Awe, I’m sorry. But hey, I brought the sheriff and she’s going to find a place for you to stay.” I said to brighten his mood.
“Really? That’s great!” 
“I’m assuming you’re Gardner Murffey, I’m Sheriff Emma Swan, you can call me Emma.” Emma said introducing herself.
“Nice to meet you miss Emma. So, Tree Top here said you’ll find me a place to stay?” Gardner asked.
“Tree Top?” Emma questioned.
“It’s his nickname for me.”  I said.
“Well, I would love to do that, but I have to call your parents to inform them you’re alright and tell them where to find you.” Emma said.
“Don’t bother, no one will pick up the phone nor care.” Gardner said.
“And why is that?” Emma asked.
“Because my family doesn’t care, I ran away because I abused and left to fend for my own.”
“He’s like me, Emma. You have to let him stay.” I spoke up.
Emma looked between Gardner and I before signing, “Regina is going to kill me.”
“Yes! Thank you, Emma.” I said.
“Is that a yes I can stay?” Gardner asked.
“That is a yes.”
“Then, yes! Thank you Miss Emma.” Gardner said.

Emma’s POV

“Another one?” Regina asked in disbelief.
“He’s a runaway, not from here. From my world, he can’t do us any harm.” I reasoned.
“How do you know that? What if he’s a Lost Boy? What if that girl is trying to start something?”
“She’s not Regina, she’s never met this boy before.”
“Yet she so happens to find him in the woods and becomes so close to him?”
“She saved him and it’s natural for her to become protective over lost children, she is from Neverland.” 
“Whatever the circumstances maybe, I will not deal with another basketcase.”
“You won’t have to, I’ll take him in.”
“Another teenager? You can’t save them all you know.”
“I know, but I think this would be good for her. Having someone who understands her, that’s not Pan.”
“If this little charity case of yours goes downhill-”
“It won’t.”


“So, you and I will be sharing a room until Emma fixes you up with a room.” I said.
“Nice room you got here, very white.” Gardner said taking a seat on my bed.
“You also have to go to school.” I said.
“What?” He said disappointed.
“Yeah, we still have to go. Sad, I know.” I said.
“Do I have to?”
“If I go down, you’re coming down with me.” I joked shoving him lightly.
“Hey, we just met. I don’t have to go down anywhere.”
“Oh really? I think that hole is calling your name.”
“School is an excellent option.” 
“That’s what I thought.”
“Where’s the bathroom, I gotta go.”
“Down the hall to the left.”
“Thanks, be right back.”

I heard the door close and I laid down on my bed. I smiled thinking about Gardner, I’m happy I met him. He understands me, more on a personal level than Peter. Did I just say that? No one is better than Peter, but maybe Gardner.

“I die and you replace me?” I heard a voice say.
“Who said that?” I asked sitting up. “Gardner?”
“You don’t recognize my voice, my Queen.”
“You think you can replace me?” Peter said.
“No, never. I can never replace you, baby. Where are you? Why can’t I see you?” I asked turning around frantically trying to find him.
“I’m talking to you from the underworld, sweetheart. I have a plan for you to bring me back.” Peter said.
“Yes, yes what is it?” I asked.
“Y/N, who are you talking to?” Gardner asked walking into the room.
“What? Nothing, no one.”
“Are you sure? I heard you say why can’t I see you, see what?” 
“Oh uh-a bug, there was a bug.” I lied.
“Oh okay-” Gardner started talking but another voice took over my ears.
“Y/N, are you listening to me? Pay attention to me!” Peter yelled.
“Can you repeat that, sorry I was lost in thought for a minute.” I said.
“I said can you show me around town, you feeling okay?” Gardner asked.
“How dare you not listen to me, I’m still your king.” Peter said.
“Yeah sure, come on let’s go. I’ll show you to Granny’s too, I heard the food is good.” I said.
“That sounds great, can we go there first? I haven’t had a decent meal in months.” Gardner asked.
“Yeah, I’m hungry too.” I smiled.

We headed downstairs, out the door.

“You will not ignore me, Remember where you come from and the people who killed me. They are not your friends, they think nothing of you.” I heard Peter say, but I ignored him and focused on Gardner. 
“I will speak with you later, just remember this you are mine and mine alone.”

And I heard nothing else.

(A/N: Part 5? Sorry if this seems rushed, I just wanted to get Peter in the story since it’s a Peter Pan Imagine.)

A Long Conversation - The Dark Artifices

This is the (super super adorable) extra short story that’s included in the hardback/paperback first editions of Lady Midnight!  In case you got LM on ebook or audiobook and are missing out, here it is! (it catches up with the rest of the TMI characters up to the point where they arrive at the LA Institute.)

Clary looked around the Institute’s music room with a tired but gratified smile.  It was a hot New York summer night, the windows were flung open, and Magnus had magicked up icicles that sparkled down from the ceiling and cooled the space.  The room was filled with people Clary loved and cared about, and in her personal opinion it looked pretty good, considering she’d had to race to find somewhere in the Institute they could hold a party on about twenty-four hours’ notice.

There was really no reason not to smile.

Two days previously, Simon had showed up at the Institute, breathless and wild-eyed.  Jace and Clary had been in the training room, checking in on the new Institute tutor, Beatriz Mendoza, and some of the Conclave students.

“Simon!” Clay had exclaimed.  “I didn’t know you were in town.”

Simon was a graduate of Shadowhunter Academy, Clary’s parabatai, and a Recruiter, a job created by the Consul to help replenish the diminished ranks of Shadowhunters.  When likely candidates for Ascension were found, Simon would talk to them about what it meant to become a Shadowhunter after a mundane life.  It was a job that often took him away from New York, which was its downside; in the plus column, Simon seemed to truly enjoy helping scared mundanes with the Sight feel like they weren’t truly alone.

Not that Simon looked like a dependable voice of reassurance at the moment.  He looked like a tornado had hit him.

“I just proposed to Isabelle,” he announced.

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