a short clip of jennifer and colin filming
2x06: Don’t touch me.
3x12: Eh, you’re not so bad.
4x01: You think I’m gorgeous, you want to kiss me, you want to hug me, you want to love me…
A/N: *choked sobbing* [x]
Killian hadn’t slept a wink the night before. How could he? How could he with the memory of her lips — so soft and warm — pressed against his? With the scent of her — honey sweet and distinctly her — still clinging to his clothes? With his heart — so full of light and unbelievable joy — beating out the staccato rhythm of her name?
In all his years — centuries of them — he’d never imagined this, had been too caught up in a place far darker than any one person should be allowed into. Then she’d stormed in — intrigued him, enchanted him — and he’d been lost to her. She’d dragged him under into a world that was somehow clearer, more vibrant, and stunningly real. He’d found purpose again, a spark of hope and something much more overwhelming and breath-stealing he dare not speak aloud — to her anyway, not yet.
He’d fought for her, given himself completely (unconditionally) to her, loved her in every way he knew how, and even then, when she’d joined him outside of Granny’s (gracing him with her smile and her bright green, playful eyes) the night before after returning from their little adventure in the Enchanted Forest, the last thing he’d been expecting was for that.
He strolls leisurely down the sidewalk, no destination in mind, just his head a bit dazed and his thoughts far away. He strokes gently across his bottom lip with his fingers — he swears they’re still tingling — and rounds the corner of a building on Main Street. His eyes lift and his body jerks, going still when he sees his Swan up ahead, walking beside her mother, her hands animatedly aiding in whatever tale she regales to Snow. Charming and Henry are ahead of the stroller, the Prince’s arm slung companionably around the young lad’s shoulders and he can tell by the way they’re shaking that they’re both laughing at some amusing shared secret.
They make quite the picture, the Royal Family, and his heart aches a little in his chest — aches with want and family and home, and before he can even think about what the bloody hell he’s doing, he’s striding down the street and reaching for her arm to gain her attention.
“Swan?” He loses a little bit more of himself to her when she turns those big jade-colored eyes to him, damn her. He gives her a nervous smile. “May- may I have a word please?”
She holds his gaze for a long time, wordlessly, and for a brief moment, he’s terrified — terrified that his imagination had cruelly conjured the last few days of their journey to the past, her returned affections, the kiss — and his stomach drops heavily. Then she’s turning to Snow.
“Could you give us a minute?”
The queen’s eyes flicker suspiciously back and forth between the two of them and he can feel the heat creep up from his neck and into his ears before staining his cheeks. The corners of her mouth tug up politely and she gives Emma a look that only a mother ever could, before continuing down the sidewalk after her husband and grandson.
“Come on,” Emma says to him, and he follows her into an alley.
He’s not entirely sure what he means to say, he hadn’t thought that far ahead, he was just stupidly leading with his heart as he always did. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He wanted to see her again, to see her smile and hear her laugh and watch those eyes of her fill with wonder and hope as they had last night.
Whatever thought had been on his lips abruptly dies away when she swivels on her feet and suddenly launches herself bodily at him — mouth crushing against his, arms around his neck and hands tangled in his hair. He hesitates for only a second, enough for him to feel the spark between them ignite along his skin, and then he’s kissing her back, sighing over her lips and wrapping his arms possessively around her waist and drowning, drowning, drowning.
She pulls away with a smirk and a teasing nip to his bottom lip that makes him see stars on the edges of his vision. Gods but the woman could kiss. He sighs again when she touches her forehead to his, just as she did the previous evening.
“I thought- I thought perhaps I’d merely dreamt last night,” he murmurs.
Emma smiles, he can feel it before she touches her lips to his once more. “You didn’t.”
Killian reaches up, cupping her cheek in his palm, and grins. His heart is so full, so near to bursting.
“We’re going to the park for a bit and Granny’s after. You should come with us,” she tells him.
He nudges his nose against her, enough that her mouth angles back up and brushes softly over his once more. “Are you sure?”
She says it exasperatedly and he knows he’ll never get tired of hearing his name spill from her lips, no matter how she says it.
“Very well, as you wish, love,” he chuckles, carding his fingers through her hair and simply enjoying just being with her.
Emma leans back to meet his eyes and she looks happy — beautiful and carefree and…his. Her fingers wrap around the charms on his necklace and she gives it a playful little tug as she starts to back out onto the street, leaving him no choice but to follow.
(The normalcy is short-lived — naturally, it is Storybrooke after all — because before they can think anymore on playdates with the infant Prince and breakfast with the lot of them, Leroy comes barreling down the street screeching about the latest catastrophe to strike the town. Emma exhales heavily and throws an apologetic glance his way.
“It hasn’t even been ten hours since our last crisis.”
He reaches out for her, hand resting firmly against the small of her back — steady, strong, comforting — and her smile blooms, slow and wide and delighting him, before she takes off down the street and he goes after her.
To the ends of the world and time, he’d vowed, and wheresoever else she desires.)
Colin, you need to stop (x)
↳ ten characters [1/10]: Emma Swan
jennifer and colin irl brotp :: cutest cuties to ever cute"what’s it like working with colin o’donoghue? he seems like a real sweetheart."
"he is lovely. i’m grateful to have him and his whole family in my life."
Colin O'Donoghue filming OUAT - July 16, 2014
also! there is an escape button on every page so if you’re looking at the site and you live in a dangerous environment and need to hide it, it will redirect you to google.
THIS SITE IS SO RAD EVEN IF YOU DONT NEED SELF DEFENSE THINGS YOU CAN BUY A WATER BOTTLE SAFE
New photos from Avengers: Age of Ultron (x)
I hate when my phone dies and I can’t get to a charger for like an hour. What happened while I was gone? Is Kate still married to William? How old is Blue Ivy? Who is the president Idk man my phone died
The Doorway Effect: Why your brain won’t let you remember what you were doing before you came in here
I work in a lab, and the way our lab is set up, there are two adjacent rooms, connected by both an outer hallway and an inner doorway. I do most of my work on one side, but every time I walk over to the other side to grab a reagent or a box of tips, I completely forget what I was after. This leads to a lot of me standing with one hand on the freezer door and grumbling, “What the hell was I doing?” It got to where all I had to say was “Every damn time” and my labmate would laugh. Finally, when I explained to our new labmate why I was standing next to his bench with a glazed look in my eyes, he was able to shed some light. “Oh, yeah, that’s a well-documented phenomenon,” he said. “Doorways wipe your memory.”
Being the gung-ho new science blogger that I am, I decided to investigate. And it’s true! Well, doorways don’t literally wipe your memory. But they do encourage your brain to dump whatever it was working on before and get ready to do something new. In one study, participants played a video game in which they had to carry an object either across a room or into a new room. Then they were given a quiz. Participants who passed through a doorway had more trouble remembering what they were doing. It didn’t matter if the video game display was made smaller and less immersive, or if the participants performed the same task in an actual room—the results were similar. Returning to the room where they had begun the task didn’t help: even context didn’t serve to jog folks’ memories.
The researchers wrote that their results are consistent with what they call an “event model” of memory. They say the brain keeps some information ready to go at all times, but it can’t hold on to everything. So it takes advantage of what the researchers called an “event boundary,” like a doorway into a new room, to dump the old info and start over. Apparently my brain doesn’t care that my timer has seconds to go—if I have to go into the other room, I’m doing something new, and can’t remember that my previous task was antibody, idiot, you needed antibody.
I went into our stock area today for some EG tubes, tips and flats and it took me two minutes to remember what the heck I was getting. i chalked it up to having such a long day but after reading this i have realized horrifically that it is a near daily occurrence not just for myself but many of my coworkers. Awesome.