(via dejavu394)

1 year ago | 101552 notes |

Someone wants to rp? Or plot? Or just talk? PLEAAAAAAAASE?

1 year ago | 1 notes |
Back. | Open.


She had to get away; She didn’t wanted to see anyone for a long while, she was exhausted and just took her suitcase one day and left. After all, everything seemed somewhat fine and she could get a rest. 

She didn’t knew what day it was when she came back, and she didn’t want to. She entered Storybrooke clutching her suitcase, and directed to Mary Margaret’s house when she bumped onto someone.

"Sorry", she said, looking up; "I was distracted".


1 year ago | 1 notes |
*jumps on head*

Looks at it “Oh, hello there; aren’t you a cutie?”

1 year ago | 0 notes |
;; It’s All Black and White — M!A: Time After Time


M!A — Time After Time: muse finds themselves in a film noir

Green eyes snapped open and the hunter took a gasp of breath, filling his lungs with precious air. He wasn’t sure what had happened. One minute he had been driving and the next…he was here. Wherever ‘here’ was, that is. He was lying on his back, staring up at the sky, thunder rumbling in the distance. He took deep breaths and sat up, putting a hand tot his head, feeling the pang of a headache coming on.

He heard cars rush by and music playing somewhere. But where was he? He saw that he was sitting in an alley. Dean licked his lips and pulled himself to his feet, brushing himself off. He stopped, however, when he found his fingers running against unfamiliar fabric.

It wasn’t the rough denim of his jeans, the plaid, cotton overshirt, or his gray t-shirt. He turned his gaze down to see the long, bulky coat, suit jacket, waist coat and the dark pants; not to mention the blue tie. “What the hell…?” He looked around for a moment and saw people walking by the entrence to the alley where he stood.

He looked down on the ground where his chrome-plated .45 laid next to a dark gray fedora. Dean reached down and picked up both of them. He could feel the gun holster wrapping around both shoulders and his back. Tucking the gun into the holster, Dean held the fedora for now as he sauntered out of the alleyway.


He saw his problem now.

The 1940’s-styled music played from a building nearby, people walked right by him, the men wearing very similar clothes to what Dean was dressed in at the moment.

There was only one explanation. And he didn’t like it.

He was stuck in the ’40s.

"I don’t have time for this film noir crap…" he mumbled to himself as he gazed around the street more, seeing the old-fashioned cars drive by. Gangsters, femme fatale, the nearing thunder storm. It was all so cliche. Dean didn’t like it.

Not one bit.

Emma had been pondering to go or not to the club that night. It was terribly late but if she didn’t went; Tony would murder her ass. She hated being what she was, another girl on that list that was with the biggest ‘badass’ owner of the club.

She was his woman, and of course, everyone else’s. She had to be ‘nice’ to everyone in the club; sitting on laps, kissing, even laying down, one of the things she wanted to do was to get out of this life, but once you go ‘bad’ you can’t go back.

Or that’s what she thought.

As she was walking down the street, clutching her red dress, her eyes landed on a gentleman that she had never seen before; this was a ‘small’ town and she knew almost everyone in there.

She stopped, and looked at the guy, quite handsome if she could add. “Are you lost, handsome?”

Talking to people is difficult when they ignore you.

1 year ago | 0 notes |
Storybrooke—First Comes Love….Then Comes Babies—tag Heroine-in-Feathers


He winced, “Sure you want to eat then?” He hesitated in pushing the soup toward her. He didn’t want to make her sicker if she already wasn’t feeling good.

"And I got it from Granny’s….I would make lunch for all of us, but, alas work frowns on the Sheriff running home for three hours to make his own tomato soup. I’ll do it on my days off." He grinned.

"I would never order you to rest this early in the game. I’d just give you copious amounts of paperwork and come up with reasons for you to stay behind the desk." he grinned. "Though I’d never send you to rest. I can’t be without my right hand you know."

Emma nodded when he told her the truth. “All of us?” She smirked; “Now you’re really sounding like a dad, Sheriff Graham.” She laughed, and pecked his lips softly, as she kept the smile on her lips.

"Paperwork is no fun." She grunted, and hit him playfully on his arm; "Besides, it barely notices it, if Mom and Dad weren’t telling everyone that wants to hear that I’m pregnant no one will ever know.. yet." 

She sat on the chair again, as she looked at the window; “How shall we call the baby?” She asked, out of the blue.

(via huntsmanturnedsheriff-deactivat)

1 year ago | 5 notes |
My muse is sensually moaning your muses name in their sleep… How does your muse react? What do they do?

(Source: xclaude-faustusx, via alwaysasacrifice)

1 year ago | 26834 notes | Meme the Sheriff


I’m going to miss you, but duty calls in the office.

There’s food in the fridge, I couldn’t do anything. 

Meet me at Granny’s for lunch at midday?

I love you!

P.S; I’m going to fuck you hard tonight.

1 year ago | 0 notes |
Send me a ‘✉’ for a “the morning after” note left on your pillow.

(via arielthelionhearted)

1 year ago | 27365 notes |