#Don't hesitate to come up with the wildest things. I just want to write

[thesuetyouforgot]

Writing you all an imagine

Okay, not completely true but I'd like to get back into writing more and thought a little challenge could motivate me. Please feel free to request something. Just give a Python (character) and give me a little scenario.

And I mean little bc I'm only gonna write a drabble or dribble drabble - whatever, about 100-300 (maybe 500) words. Though I can't guarantee for anything

Just request whatever you'd like! Y/N, ships, characters from show or movies. Anything Python related should be fine. You can comment here, message me or send an (anonymous) ask. Go wild with ideas really :)

[snuggerudsz]

NAP TIME AND BABY FEVER l QH43

SUMMARY: Quinn comes home to his wife and children napping, and it leads to a very important talk.

PAIRING: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Hi!! I'm on such a Quinn phase always right now. And dad!Quinn actually owns my heart, so I needed to write some more for him. I don't know why the kids are always sleeping when I write these, but I have more dad!Quinn coming out soon, pinky promise. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this. Likes and reblogs are always welcomed. Thank you for reading!!! <3333

The house was silent when Quinn got home. It was peaceful and quiet. That’s never a good sign with children, he thought, worried. If there’s one thing having children taught Quinn Hughes it is that silence is never a good sign. Upon entering the house, he felt immediately unsettled, his eyes darting around, searching for the little ones, who usually came running into his arms, celebrating his return as if he hadn’t left only a few hours ago. 

The defenseman left his equipment bag in the foyer, throwing his keys on the table and hastily taking off his shoes, hurrying up the stairs, looking for a sign of life from his wife and children. Worried, Quinn was skipping steps. He goes into your shared room immediately feeling his heart full. Quinn opened the door to the bedroom quietly and saw his wife, sleeping peacefully in the middle with their two children, Oliver and Aurora, snuggled up against her body. He looked over, a soft smile on his face, mentally wondering how was it possible to live such a good life, surrounded by so much love. Sometimes Quinn still couldn't believe this was his life. Not even his wildest dreams would come close to reality.

He hesitated for a moment, watching the peaceful picture before him. Taking a deep breath, he slowly stepped into the room, carefully made his way over to the bed, and knelt down, carefully brushing a strand of hair from your face. Quinn got up, preparing to turn away and let them rest when you stirred awake, sleepy eyes fluttering open. A bit confused, you quickly took in your surroundings, your gaze finding your husband's. You smiled up at him sleepily and beckoned him closer, doing your best to not wake up the children.

Holding out his hand, Quinn helped you get up without disrupting the two kids. You smiled at him gratefully as he guided the both of you out of the bedroom.

You and Quinn tiptoe downstairs to the kitchen, sitting at the table, drinking some tea. Quinn told you about his day, sharing the stories of the rink, the fun of living out his dreams, and also the hardships of being the captain; you talk about your day at home, telling him about the kids and about how far you've already gotten in the writing of your new book. The two of you stay there, laughing and joking as the afternoon sun casts golden light across the room.

Quinn looked at you with a loving gaze. He could feel a wave of emotion rush through him. Having that sweet moment with you, after seeing you and the children huddled up together had filled him with a longing he couldn't quite explain. He had thought about it before, but never seriously. Now, though, he couldn't help but imagine another kid. Another little one, the perfect mix of the both of you. The thought itself made him smile.

“What do you think about having another baby?” Quinn questioned suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Are you thinking about it?” You answer, looking back at your husband, waiting for his answer.

It’d be an utter lie to say you hadn’t thought about it, truth be told. Both of the kids had friends with baby siblings and you could feel the want for another one deep inside you, missing the baby days. Besides, the sight of Quinn with his teammates' babies always made your mind go blank, full of sinful thoughts. 

“I just,” The defenseman starts, unsurely, “I wouldn't be against having another kid if you're up for it.” He said shyly, almost afraid of your response.

You smiled softly, eyes sparkling in the light of the kitchen. Leaning in, you've kissed him sweetly, voice warm and affectionate, slightly flirty. “I'd love to have another baby with you, Mr. Hughes”

Quinn grinned, eyes full of relief and surprise at his wife's answer. “There’s no one else I’d rather be the mother of my children, Mrs. Hughes,” He answers, the same flirty tone you’d used.

He rises from the table, pulling you with him. He held you close, sharing a few more kisses. They stood in the kitchen, the same kitchen where they had shared so many memories together, holding each other and dreaming about the possibilities that lay ahead of them. They both knew that their family was about to get a little bigger, and they couldn't wait. The room was filled with a different kind of joy, one that was shared between two people who loved each other deeply and were excited for the future.

[ladelinee]

Authors note: This was a challenging part to write. I had many doubts about how to approach it, but I couldn't wait to finish and share it with you all! Enjoy! 🥰

Word count: 3,5K

Warnings: cussing, mentions of pills, a bit of violence.

All shook up

Part 7

"Goddammit man, she ain't killed nobody! And I swear to God, whoever swiped my gun… I'll tell you what, I'm gonna rip his goddamn spine outta that son of a bitch!" Elvis hollered in the living room.

He was clearly getting desperate, pacing back and forth, plopping himself down on the sofa, nervously bouncing his knee, and wiping his face with his hands in sheer frustration.

Most of his guys were in the room supporting him: Joe, Red, Sonny, Lamar, Marty, Charlie, Jerry, Billy…even Vernom, his father.

Elvis's yells made the room fall quiet for a

moment as all the guys jump to attention.

They were sitting in a circle, looking serious and deep in thought. Smoke from their cigarettes filled the air, making it hazy, but they didn’t seem to mind. Each guy had this mix of worry and determination written all over his face, but they were ready to face whatever came their way as a team.

Elvis felt the knot in his stomach tighten as he grappled with the words the Colonel had spoken earlier. He didn't want to admit the truth, but deep down, he knew he was in a challenging situation. The accusations shook him to the core, leaving him with an unsettling feeling.

As Elvis paced the room again, his frustration boiling over, Joe spoke up. “She was so sick she could barely stand. There’s no way she could’ve done anything like this.”

Red nodded vigorously, adding, “Yeah, Elvis, she was practically passed out. I had to carry her. Shooting a gun? Not even in her wildest dreams.”

“Maybe we should start by figuring out who had access to the penthouse. That’ll give us a place to start.” Lamar suggested as he stared at the table deep in thought.

Charlie reacted to Lamar's words “ But we need to be careful. The police are gonna be all over this, and they won’t hesitate to come down hard on us” he warned in a severe tone.

"Women... always causing trouble," Marty quipped, laughing and puffing his cigar.

Elvis erupted in rage, charging over to where Marty was seated and seizing him by the collar. "Ya think this is funny, you damn fool?" He yelled with anger, his knuckles turning white from the gripping.

Marty’s laughter died in his throat as Elvis’s fury bore down on him. Joe and Red rushed forward, attempting to pull him away from Marty. “Come on E, let him go” Joe urged, his voice tinged with concern.

Marty, visibly shaken, straightened his collar and cleared his throat nervously. “I-I’m sorry, Elvis. I was just trying to lighten the mood.”

Elvis looked at Joe and could see from his expression that everyone was there just to back him up. After taking a deep breath and pausing briefly, he approached the group. He placed his hand on the back of the couch and began to speak.

"Alright, y’all…here's the deal: Billy, Lamar, and Sonny, you guys go and check out those who have access to this room. Joe, Red, get yourselves ready for talkin’ with the police. We ain’t hidin’ nothin’. Rest of ya, gather up information and keep the press outta here. Dad, you take care of the Colonel.”

With confidence, the guys nodded in agreement to Elvis's instructions, and each one began to leave the room to carry out their assigned tasks. Jerry approached and gave Elvis a pat on the back. “Don't worry, we'll find that son of a bitch” he said, trying to reassure Elvis.

Still slightly panting with anger and staring at the floor, Elvis couldn't respond to Jerry's words. His frustration simmered, and he simply wanted everyone to leave the room. The only thing that could make him feel better was his upcoming date with Y/n and talking to her about everything. He was eager to see her again and to keep her safe.

The scalding water from the shower had managed to calm his boiling rage. As Elvis carefully wrapped a towel around his hips, he began to lather his face, preparing for a clean shave. His plan was all set in stone; he had his outfit picked out and the perfect undercover car chosen. This time, Elvis had opted to go alone throughout Las Vegas, and he already had a gun in mind to carry for protection and a foolproof escape route from the hotel up his sleeve. A smirk played at his lips as he realised that thanks to y/n, he had the perfect strategy for slipping away undetected.

Emerging from the bathroom, Elvis drifted into a reverie. He yearned for moments alone with her, with no rush. Oh, how he craved the simple pleasures: sharing a meal, witnessing her radiant smile, smelling the fragrance of her hair, and feeling her warmth...

“Oh, there you are!”

Priscilla's voice abruptly shattered the daydream that was consuming Elvis' thoughts at that moment.

Elvis's eyebrows furrowed as a feeling of annoyance washed over him. He hadn't expected her to come at that moment, especially when he was already dealing with a lot. This moment felt like déjà vu. Every time he was about to meet y/n, Priscilla suddenly showed up. She moved around the bedroom, smiling tenderly at Elvis.

Priscilla approached him and took hold of his face with both hands before leaning forward and kissing him. Elvis didn’t move a muscle; his eyes remained open and fixed on hers the entire time. He didn’t kiss her back, not even for an instance. He just stood there, letting her kiss him.

“What are you doin’ here, Cilla? you should’ve phoned before comin’ over.” Elvis asked while he gently pushed away Priscilla’s hands over his face. He really hated her surprises, and he was still processing why she was there, just as he was about to leave.

“I just wanted to see if I could melt that icy heart of yours…maybe we can give ourselves another chance” Priscilla answered gently, brushing her nails over his wet chest down to the towel.

Elvis’s jaw clenched as he felt Priscilla’s touch,

“Cilla, this ain’t the time” he managed to say, his voice strained. “I’ve got a lot on my mind. There’s… there’s been a murder and it seems someone got me involved. I gotta go.”

“What happened? Please, you have to tell me” Priscilla insisted, her tone of concern and seriousness. She couldn’t shake the feeling that it might all be a misunderstanding.

Elvis turned his back to Priscilla to take his robe and put it on. "The girl was murdered in my assistant’s office, with my gun. And I know it wasn’t her." He explained as he tied the robe’s belt.

Priscilla's eyes widened in surprise as she struggled to contain her rage. "With your gun? H-How?" Priscilla's nervousness was evident in her hesitant question. She understood something had gone wrong in Angelica’s plan. Then, gaining composure, she changed her expression to a darker tone, "I'm sure she stole the gun. How can you be so certain it wasn't her?"

With his back still turned towards Priscilla, Elvis glanced at her from the corner of his eye and said, "Because... she spent the night with me." He stayed calm, keeping his explanations short and simple.

Priscilla pretended to be surprised. She knew she had to perform a whole act so Elvis wouldn’t suspect anything.

Priscilla’s eyes filled with tears, her lower lip trembling as she struggled to comprehend his words. “Oh, Elvis”, her voice breaking. “How could you?”

"Please, don't act like you don't know what I'm talkin’ bout", Elvis scoffed, looking at the ceiling and rubbing his eyes. "I ain't no fool, darlin'. I know them employees gossip; it’s not the first time, and you sure have your contacts among 'em." Elvis couldn't stand it when Priscilla played the victim.

Immediately, guilt washed over Elvis as he turned and watched her tears fall. Despite his anger, he couldn’t bear to see her cry and felt a deep sense of remorse. “Look, sorry, I-I need to go.”

Priscilla wasn't ready to back down. "Fine," she retorted. "Running off to see your little fling while there's a murder investigation going on. That's just like you, Elvis" she snapped, wiping her tears away. "You can't leave me here; I might be in danger; we need to talk." Her words were filled with a strange mix of anger and helplessness.

Elvis stared at her silently, feeling torn. While he wanted to give Priscilla a break, his concern for their daughter’s well-being held him back. At the same time, he knew that their relationship had changed. Although she remained important to him, the romantic spark was over.

A loud knock on the door abruptly broke the silence between them. Elvis let out a curse under his breath, wondering who could possibly be coming now. As soon as he opened the door, his expression changed drastically. It was the police. Elvis's mind raced as he tried to process the unexpected arrival of law enforcement.

The police officers on the other side exchanged glances before one spoke up. “Mr. Presley, we need you to come down to give a statement.”

"Sure, Sir" Elvis replied with a resigned sigh, casting a final glance back at Priscilla. "I'll be right back" he assured her. "I'll stay, so we can wrap this up later, alright?" With that, he turned his attention to the police officers and followed them outside, leaving Priscilla behind.

The police arrived at my doorstep with a search warrant, and before I knew it, I found myself being escorted into their car without any explanation. I couldn't even be sure if they had read me my rights.

As the police car pulled from my house, I couldn't help but stare out the window. The streets rushed past, each turn carrying me farther from the life I once knew.

The officers in the front seats occasionally exchanged glances, speaking in hushed tones that I strained to understand.

Finally, we arrived at the police station. As I entered, the harsh fluorescent lights exposed the sterile surroundings. My heart pounded as I was escorted to a small interrogation room. The door clicked shut behind me.

Alone in the stark room, I sank into a chair, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on me.

The harsh glare of the spotlight in the police station room was so intense that it felt like it was burning into my retinas, making it nearly impossible to focus. Since Elvis called, my thoughts have been trapped in a thick, suffocating fog. Everything happened so quickly; my world felt like falling apart, but I couldn’t even cry. I was too shocked.

A stern-faced detective and an officer entered the room as the door creaked open. The detective's piercing gaze bore into me as he took a seat, relieving me from the harsh spotlight.

“Miss y/ln, correct?" the detective inquired, flipping open a document-filled folder.

"Yes" I affirmed, meeting his gaze.

"We're going to ask you some questions. You have the right to remain silent until your lawyer arrives. It's your decision," he stated, arranging the papers.

"It's okay, let's proceed."

"Alright. Miss y/ln, to begin with, there has been a murder," he explained, displaying a photo of my office. "Is this the office where you typically carry out your work tasks?"

"Yes, that's correct."

The detective leaned in, his expression grave. "Now, Miss Y/ln, can you take us through what you were up to on the night of the incident?" He shifted his gaze from the papers to me as he asked.

I closed my eyes and sighed. I had to tell the truth, but I was getting nervous as I didn’t remember part of the night.

“Well, I was working in Mr Presley’s private party…” as I was explaining, the officer was taking notes, recalling that night was hurting me more than the thought of the police sending me to jail “(…) and I spent the night with him in his penthouse.”

“Right. Now, Miss y/ln, this is why we searched your property” he said, displaying another photograph. The photograph was the victim’s hand holding a piece of paper.

“It’s a note that reads: ‘Don’t freeze out there while I’m not with you, baby. Meet me at midnight, backstage. -E.’ We also found fibres in her hand that matched your coat at your residence. Can you explain this?”

I froze at that moment. Why did she have that note? It was from the box I left in my office. But how did she come across it?

"Mr. Presley gave me a present. It was a box that contained a coat and that note. I left the box and the note in my office," she explained.

"Then it's possible that in the middle of the night, you took Mr. Presley's gun and shot the girl after she found out about your secret affair?" he pressed, increasing the pressure on me.

"No, no, no... I would never harm anyone or steal, for god’s sake!" I exclaimed, my voice tinged with panic.

"We've traced your telephone conversation with Mr. Presley earlier today," he stated calmly, retrieving another document from the stack of papers and presenting it to me. It was a transcript of our conversation. "'Oh, I know, but I reckon you might have headed to your office after Joe and Red took you back'... Miss y/ln, what do you have to say about this?" The detective asked.

As I heard those words once more, spoken by none other than Elvis, it felt like a punch to the gut. I was left speechless, grappling with the weight of his harsh accusations. Tears streamed down my face, and I couldn't hold them back.

"Okay, let's take a break," the detective said gently. "We'll continue once you've had a chance to compose yourself."

When you sit down to watch a horror film, you know it's going to scare you. Even though you're fully aware that it will give you nightmares, you still can't resist watching it. That's exactly how I felt after my last conversation with Elvis.

Bursting into tears that were almost choking me, I couldn't help but read the script repeatedly, engraving those words in my mind with fire.

I began reading from the start once more, over and over again, and...

Hold on.

“I-t’s me, darling”

“M-aybe this ain’t the right moment”

“N-o darlin’, I ain’t comin’ over”

“O-h, I know, but I reckon you…”

“T-he truth is, I can’t risk hanging…”

“S-orry, darlin’, but…”

“A-one-night stand, I guess”

“N-ot to mention darlin”

“T-ake care of yourself, honey”

“A-nd one last thing”

I- I’m.. not…S- a- nta? I’m not Santa! Santa Claus? But what is this?

As I looked on, my eyes widened, and a shiver ran down my spine. It couldn't have been a mere coincidence. My hands began to tremble involuntarily.

Alex, you are a fucking genius.

Why did he do this? To protect me? No, he would have been straightforward; he was hiding this message for a reason. He wouldn’t hurt me unless someone forced him to do so. Something must have happened. Actually, I didn’t see him around my office this morning, and he never missed a gossip.

Oh god, he is in danger.

"Officer!" I yelled, my heart racing. "Please, you have to help. My friend is in danger, something's not right." My words tumbled out in a mix of worry and hope. If the police took this information seriously, maybe they could finally uncover the truth and find out who was behind it all.

As soon as the detective burst into the room, his expression was a mix of surprise and concern. I quickly launched into explaining the encrypted message from the conversation transcript, but his expression grew darker as I spoke. He abruptly left the room to make a phone call, leaving me wondering what was happening.

He took the nearest telephone just in the corridor in front of me. So I was able to see him. He said, “She knows too much. Alright, thanks," and hung up.

I was utterly confused. Before I could make sense of anything, he rushed over and grabbed my arm, saying aggressively:

"You're coming with me. We're visiting someone.”

Elvis spent nearly 5 hours giving his statement, determined to ensure that every detail was known. His affair was now public knowledge, but he didn't mind, as long as y/n was safe. Sonny escorted him to the floor where his penthouse was located.

"Sonny, stay close. If ya hear anything, give me a heads up," Elvis urged, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

Sonny nodded with concern in his eyes and said his goodbyes to Elvis.

As Elvis closed the heavy wooden penthouse door behind him, he leaned against it, feeling the coolness of the polished mahogany against his back. With a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes, trying to relieve the pounding headache that had been building up throughout the chaotic events of the day.

He walked into the bedroom and saw Priscilla peacefully asleep in bed. A wave of relief washed over Elvis as he realised he wouldn't have to deal with her just yet.

Elvis was extremely cautious as he quietly made his way into the bed, ensuring not to disturb Priscilla. He positioned himself along the edge, making a conscious effort to avoid any physical contact with her. His mind was racing, and despite his strong desire to take sleeping pills, he resisted, determined to remain awake in case any updates were to come in.

He couldn't get the police's information out of his head: the note clutched in the victim's hand and a shocking new revelation about the weapon - only Elvis and the victim's fingerprints were found.

Elvis spent the night staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. As the first rays of sunlight peeked through the closed curtains, he heard Priscilla stirring. He kept his eyes closed, not ready to face her yet. He feigned sleep, knowing she would probably leave early.

He felt her hand on his waist and her breath near his ear. Priscilla kissed his cheek and whispered, "I have some appointments but I'll return soon. I love you."

Elvis remained silent, his breathing becoming deeper and more steady. He had fooled Priscilla into thinking that he had taken sleeping pills. Noticing his oblivious state, she reached for the phone on the bedside table, ready to make a call.

"I'm on my way," Priscilla said.

Elvis found it odd, but he assumed she was probably heading to have breakfast with Joe's wife or something similar.

Once Priscilla left the room, Elvis slowly opened his eyes. Sitting up in bed, his dark circles were a clear sign of exhaustion.

He heard the door creak open, and for a moment, he thought Priscilla was returning to the room. Quickly, he lay back down on the bed.

“God, Mr. Presley, I am so sorry!" Doris's voice broke in as she saw Elvis in bed with one eye open and the other closed.

"Oh, it's just you, darlin’. No need to worry, come on in," Elvis said, brushing off her apology.

“I'm really sorry; I saw Mrs Presley and thought I could come in to clean the room," Doris said, looking at Elvis, clearly a bit worn out. "Mr. Presley... are you okay? Shall I call in-room dining service?

"Don't worry, darlin’, I'm fine... thank you so much", Elvis replied with a forced smile, but with every intention of making Doris feel comfortable.

Doris continued cleaning as she glanced at Elvis's face once again, her gaze then fixed on the floor. She knew Elvis was suffering; that poor boy was under much pressure, especially as a public figure. She began to ponder as she straightened out one of the corners of her uniform jacket.

"Mr. Presley, I think I need to tell you something," Doris said with a frightened tone.

"Don't ya worry about the mess, darlin’, the guys were here last night. I know it's full of cigarette ashes and Lord knows what else," Elvis said with a smirk.

"No, it's not that, Mr. Presley," Doris said with a serious tone.

Elvis opened both eyes, sat in bed again, and asked eagerly, "Then what is it?"

"I-I don't think it was y/n who killed the girl," Doris said, afraid to speak.

“Ah, I agree. I'm sure it wasn't her," Elvis said while twirling the rings of his fingers deep in thoughts as he nodded in agreement.

"Mr. Presley..." Doris began, cautiously approaching Elvis.

"Perhaps you misunderstood me. I think I know who is behind this murder.”

Need to recap? Part 6 here

Part 8 here

Tags: @pxpresley ❤️❤️

[givemea-dam-break]

Hey hope your having a lovely day or night I was wondering if you would write something for Lucy as I haven't seen alot for her as the other boys.

Maybe when Lucy first arrives instead of the article room being just hers she as to share it with the reader who's been friends with the boys for a while and Lucy is shocked that the reader works withe the boys or something and their is that immediate spark between them.

Anyway even if it's just a Lucy idea you have had that would be amazing as well and if u don't mind tagging me that would be amazing <33

a/n: i would be more than happy to write this! i adore lucy and she holds a special place in my heart (partly because my dad is northern English too and i love their accents) so i hope you enjoy! I'm sorry this has taken so long to come out, i just kept getting stuck in places about what to write haha

warnings: mild language female reader (few pronouns used)

"I'm sorry about the boys. Their test was genuine, but they're like schoolboys and like poking fun."

"It's fine," Lucy Carlyle, Lockwood and Co's new hire, says, but her tone indicates that she's still a little pissed off about it. You can't blame her, you'd been pissed when they did it, too. "How can you work with them? Are they always like that?"

You shrug, fluffing the freshly changed pillows on Lucy's bed. "I've known George since we were kids - don't mistake that for friends, we only knew of each other - and Lockwood... well, he's Lockwood, and you just learn to expect the wildest things from him. I've kind of just learned to either drown out the stupid things they're saying, or I have to be the one to knock some sense into them, especially Lockwood. You'll get used to them."

Lucy places her bags down, brushing her hands over her coat in a nervous gesture. "How long have you been working with them?"

"Only as long as it's been registered, so three months," you say. "George found me just after Lockwood started the company, something about needing someone with good Touch, so you're the perfect fit for the last Talent. And, god, it'll be good to finally have another girl in the house." You walk over to the wardrobe, flinging the doors open. "Okay, so this half of the wardrobe is mine, and this half is yours. I did ask Lockwood if we'd be able to get another, but he's stingy. Luckily for you, most of my clothes stay folded on the floor by my bed, so feel free to use as many hangers as you want -"

"What's in that room downstairs?" Lucy asks, looking over at the bedroom door. "The one on the landing?"

You hesitate. "I don't know. Neither does George. We just know that it's off-limits, and Lockwood gets antsy when the topic even gets brought up. If I were you, I'd steer clear of that conversation for now."

"Right." Lucy sits on her bed, expression tired and confused. "Sorry, this is all just a lot to take in..."

"That's alright. Want me to give you some space for a while? I've got to make a start on dinner soon, anyways. It's my day to cook."

Lucy looks up at you, and something in her eyes pins you to the spot. They're a light brown, glimmering golden in the lamplight of the room, and her hair curls loosely around her face, barely sweeping her shoulders. But those eyes...

"Could you stay?" she asks softly. "Maybe, um, maybe we could get to know each other?"

Grinning, you sit on the bed beside her, giving her enough space to make sure she's comfortable. "Well, it would be a good start if we're going to be sharing a room for the foreseeable future. What do you want to know?"

She eases up a little, relaxing. "Did you say your Talent was Touch? Lockwood never mentioned in the interview."

"Yeah," you say. "I know your Touch helps you hear things, but it helps me see, I suppose you could say. Takes me back to the time of death, or whatever it's linked to. My Listening is alright, and my Sight is a little better."

"I've never really heard of that before. That sounds... cool."

You shrug. "I suppose, unless I'm watching someone being murdered, or something. Usually, it isn't too bad. Lately, my Sight has been needed more than anything."

"Have you got any cases coming up?" Lucy's voice sounds a little more confident now. "With the tests, you guys are well aware that I'm good enough to work here, but I've never seen you guys in action, or heard about it."

"We do, actually," you say. "Tomorrow. Some old lady's husband died not long ago, took a tumble down the stairs, and now is possibly haunting her house. We're going to go and check it out, hopefully find the source and get out unharmed. I'm sure Lockwood will let you tag along. It seems like a simple enough job."

--

Funny. It is not a simple job.

It goes terribly wrong from the get-go, actually.

First problem: George is late, and nothing you can say to Lockwood convinces him to hold off a little bit to give George time to get there. So, essentially, you're going in blind.

Second problem: judging from the fact that Mrs Hope, the owner of the house, says that she's the only one with a key to the house, the human-like shape you saw moving inside is most certainly a ghost. At not even six o'clock, no ghost should really be active.

Third problem: well, to put it simply, Mr Hope is not the ghost haunting the house. No, that would be too easy, right?

Standing on the landing of the second floor, rapier drawn, you stare up at the ghost of a young woman. Faintly, you can hear her voice shouting out to you, but Listening isn't your strength. She's a creepy one, you'll give her that, just hovering in the air a few feet away, dress and hair blowing as if she's caught in a breeze.

"Luce," you say. "What's she saying?"

Lucy watches the ghost cautiously. "Let me go. But... Something feels different. It's like I can feel what she feels."

"She's a ghost," Lockwood says. "She can't feel anything."

"This is different. This -"

With a horrible screech, the ghost launches herself at Lucy, who stumbles backwards into the stair bannister. In unison, you and Lockwood slash through the Visitor with your rapiers, holding her back as a loud crack! sounds behind you.

"(name)!" Lucy cries. "Help!"

Glancing behind you, your heart almost stops. Lucy has broken through the bannister, and the only reason she hasn't fallen and broken all of her bones is that her boot is stuck in one of the gaps, and she's grasped onto a painting on the wall. Even within a second, her grip is slipping.

Lockwood throws a salt bomb, drawing the ghost away as your reach over, careful not to fall down the gap yourself, and grab Lucy's hand, pulling her back up.

"You okay?" you ask, still holding onto her. "No ghost touch?"

She shakes her head, mumbling, "No. I'm okay."

Something in your chest eases at that. The case is nowhere near over, but she's okay for now, and you find that's all that matters to you.

[clxckwork-sun-n-moon]

about to get dinner, but!! gib 👁️ (please)

17.

well considering I literally just threw a snippet of So Cries the Wolf in your direction I really should talk about this one, huh.

for starters this shit is currently going through so many revisions on the spot. it started out as a general plan, got a more detailed plan, got a full plan complete the ending, and then the plan blew up so now I'm kind of racing along like that one gif of Gromit the Dog on a model train laying down tracks as I go

there's definitely some conversations I had ideas of and managed to slot in, but also several conversations and ideas that no longer fit. I was also getting stressed about making sure all the questions were answered by the end of the story and yknow what - I've decided not to do that. not everything gets a nice tie-off or an explanation. I have a collection of ideas for me as to why certain things happened, but bringing those answers up in the story in a natural way is just not feasible. when the story is finished, I can sit down and explain, or I'll leave it to readers to debate over. if people do. it'd be hilarious if So Cries the Wolf had a theory channel, I'd eat that up

I can't really remember what inspired me first to write SCtW. I wanted something supernatural and horror, which isn't an area I'm used to, but that's part of the challenge on it. at the time I was very new to the DCA fandom and Eclipse figures were fascinating to me. like, these two guys could make a whole new guy! often imposing and terrifying. I wanted to make an Eclipse. but what kind? what setting? well, why not spooky flesh-n-blood demon? I'd seen mers, monsters, angels after all. and now I'm 47.7k words into some of the wildest shit I've written in a long time

18.

kinda mad you didn't pick a passage for me because oh my god there's so many. let's go with this scene from Chapter 3:

Caught mid-step, Eclipse hesitated. Their brow furrowed as they lifted one of their hands to their eye-line, as if seeing the circling red silk for the first time.

“No,” they said quietly. “They were not part of the design. These were given to us.” That absolutely piqued your attention.

“Given to you?”

“Yes. A gift. A reminder.”

“A reminder for what?”

“...We have forgotten,” Eclipse murmured, his voice dropping and hollow. This was new, very new for you. This was regret on his face. Sympathy turned your stomach over, urging you to approach and lay a hand on the demon’s arm. He didn’t pull away, not immediately at least. But the snarling teeth returned and he stalked back to the edge of the circle.

this was one of those moments where I was on the train, I had nowhere to write anything down, but my brain just slapped a short exchange of lines between Y/N and Eclipse and I had to type into my notes app to write in my document later. since it came to mind fairly early on, I couldn't use it right away, but I knew it would take place during a heart-to-heart between the pair and it sure did fit in perfectly

this one I enjoyed firstly because that was the first little point where it's suggested Eclipse has memories from the DCA. like yeah, technically the ribbons don't belong to Eclipse, they belong to the boys! but the ribbons ended up on him. same with the memories.

secondly fun because we got our first look at soft Eclipse. he's definitely gotten a lot softer in the last two chapters, but at this point we'd just had grouchy, griping, physically violent Eclipse. they'd been throwing temper tantrums up the wazoo, the main emotions they'd shown had been anger, irritation, and general brattiness. this got to be the first moment of their wall coming down, and it felt right that it got wound in with the ribbons - something that wasn't a physical part of them, but instead from outside

25.

Montague gets stomachaches from peanut butter. unfortunately, Montague loves peanut butter. Y/N has had to endure a number of various days where Monty decided to snaffle one of their sandwiches and ended up on the sofa in demon doggy discomfort

36.

...I did three years in circus club. take a solid guess what I was most proficient with.

jokes aside, I do a lot of hiking, so I know general forest navigation as well as animal tracking. I've learned about septic tanks by staying in cabins (way more luxurious than Y/N's but still off the water grid). I absolutely adore reading up about myths, fables, legends, cryptids, seeing who overlaps with what (okay that's less of a 'what I know' and more of a 'what I want to know more about constantly'). I know birds. I fuckin LOVE birds. and cats.

I know some things, and all of them go off in different directions, so I never feel like I can say I know everything about one thing. but a lot of the little things help with bigger things I don't know about (ish)

[sixthoctavarium]

It's Been A Good Run

This is a decision I've mulled for a long time, and after some thought, I've made a final decision.

As of this moment, I consider myself retired from fic writing. Unless something drastically changes, I am through writing fanfiction. This was something I was hesitant to post, particularly because I knew it would disappoint people, but I figure it's better than never saying anything and leaving everyone hanging.

Unfortunately, this means that the Sword Saint Chronicles is now dead. I did not intend for this, particularly because I'm always one who believes in finishing what I started, but at this point, barring any drastic change, the series will not be completed.

To explain my decision, let me give a little background on my adventures in fic writing and about me.

You see, prior to writing fanfiction, I had a lot of things going on in my life. I spent time with friends, I played the Final Fantasy Trading Card Game, I played a lot of video games and pinball, and I attended a lot of conventions. I had plenty going on. In early 2020, I discovered Hamefura by chance while browsing TVTropes, and seeing that, the premise interested me. I then read some manga scanlations and was even more hooked. Then I found out an anime was coming and got excited. Now when this originally happened, I didn't think I'd get too much into the fandom. But then COVID happened, and suddenly I was working from home, and most of my pastimes were now a no-go due to things being on lockdown. Because of that, and because of the stress of this sudden change, as well as (unfounded) concerns about my job, I began to immerse myself into Hamefura. It was a major reason I got through the pandemic sane, and seeing new episodes on Saturdays was a highlight of the week for me.

Then one day, I began thinking of potential fanfics to write. Now that I suddenly had time, I decided to jump in and write. I started off with That Night In A Safe Haven, which turned out well. Afterwards I then did Six Interesting But Ordinary Weeks, which people seemed to like but now I can't stand. I read that and cringe. But I kept it up because it's a reminder of how much I improved.

Then I came up with the idea for Fight Like A Lady, which I consider to be my first true "hit" fic. And then things went from there and I kept writing. I had the time, and I had ideas, and also a sounding board in the r/otomegame Discord, so I kept writing.

I've gone places I never imagined with my writing. I saw fics which got their own entry on TVTropes, but never in my wildest dreams did I ever think something I wrote would make it. Then I wrote Catarina Claes MUST DIE, and at the conclusion, someone found it worthy enough of warranting a TVTropes page. I was honored. And moved. I actually got emotional from it. I told my best friend that I think I now know what it feels like when a baseball player gets the call that they've been elected to the Hall of Fame.

And so I continued to write, and things went on. But then the pandemic lockdown began to let up, and I slowly began to do more of what I'd used to do. In July of last year, I went back into the office and began working from there instead of my home. And then this past winter and spring, I worked a ton of overtime. Suddenly, the time I had to write was shrinking, and unlike when I first began, I started to be somewhat annoyed at writing because it was taking time away from my preferred pastimes. But I still had ideas and wanted to write them.

Eventually, I began my most recent (and as of now my last) fic, My Next Life As A Planeswalker: All Routes Lead To The Multiverse. And I found while writing it that my interest in the Hamefura fandom was not what it once was. I went through and finished the story, but at the end of it, I knew I needed a break. Unfortunately, that break will be permanent now. Simply put, I've got a lot of other things I want to do, and with work, my interests, and the like, I just don't have the time to really dedicate myself to fic writing.

If you're disappointed, I understand. I totally get it. But I wanted to be upfront and let everyone know what I've decided. If things change, or I get the itch to write again, I might jump back into it. But as of now, I don't think I'll ever get back into it.

I want to thank everyone that's read my stories, left kudos on AO3, and commented on them. Your comments, praise, and criticism were what fueled me, and I can't thank you enough for them. Its your noticing my stories that made this such a rewarding experience.

Thanks for taking the time to read this as well. I'm glad to have gone through this and learned things about myself, but I feel it's time to move on, and again, I'd rather let you all know what's happening.

Until next time.

[denthetrickster]

Hunter x Hunter + Marvel Crossover Idea

I was just in the car for hours listening to music and came up with wildest crossover ever. Hunter x Hunter and Marvel.

Specifically a story focused on Kikyo Zoldyck and her having amensia upon arrival in the MCU, but is found by a college student who immediately takes her to the hospital and with no one claiming her, they essentially decide to assist her and house her etc. Kikyo is still herself, so she has a lot of her regular tendencies just toned down a bit. Everything in this world is new to her but of course, you could blame that on her literally being from HxH or her amenisa. Though some things are familiar to her but let's just say stuff that she probably never tried or put herself around, in her world, she would be experiencing what said thing is for the first time.

- so mild amount of original characters but also the introduction of actual canon marvel characters into her life, the first will essentially be those present in Iron Man 1 (for now) as to why or how I rather keep that to myself until I plan to write this-

- with this story, I had a lot of found family aspect, as well as bonding, and just her understanding or trying to find herself while memories hit every now and then. As well as old and current tendencies keep rising up in her current and new life. Her memories are not completely lost to her just blurry but she always has a feeling on them. So like if someone asked her if she was single, she'd be hesitant to reply because she has a feeling she loved- or loves- someone but she can't recall who.

- the Zoldyck family will return sooner rather than later in her life and would have to deal with their mother and her sort of new personality and way of living. She's still herself but definitely not the same one they always new.

- Kikyo essentially realizing she was a shitty mother in a way. She feels very complex about herself but don't get this twisted. She also understands her purpose as a Zoldyck and their job so while her feelings are complex about it she has also come to an understanding. Basically "Murder is fine, if your getting paid." - Kikyo. Her words not mine. (her assassin and just overall violent tendencies are another thing that would be important to the story and would pop up) And of course that could've been said better 💀 I'll writer her better when I actually start writing this fanfic.

- if I write this fanfic, you could essentially summarize it as, Kikyo becoming the badass maternal figure we've always wanted. Yes, she's "adopting" some people from mcu- in a way. Kikyo is a mom at heart- so expect her to start treating someone like her child (probably can be blamed on the fact that she feels maternal because she is a mom but can't recall if she has children and so she proceeds to become a mom to someone else because it just seems right to her)

- also expect Silva/Kikyo (duh), Hisoka/Illumi (I'm not sorry), and people realizing SHE IS A MILF 😳- (when they meet Silva they don't know whose more lucky- Silva or Kikyo)

[tragedicna]

(psa.)

hi new followers <3. thanks for taking the time to follow me and i really appreciate it!

just wanted to let y'all know to never hesitate in reaching out to me to interact! in fact, i'd love that!

while i enjoy kickstarting things through memes (because i'm not the best at plotting), my dms and discord is always open for plotting and discussing!

don't hold back on throwing your wishlists or wanted plots at me! i'm your GENIE in a dumpster, ya don't even have to knock 3 times, i'll be waiting! i have a wide variety of muses, but if none of them are what you're looking for then i'd be down for adding other muses (or making new ones for your muse! if you got an npc in your character's lore you want to write against, i am down! you got a muse on a wishlist you super want, i got you!).

bottom line is, DON'T HESITATE. I CAN MAKE YOUR WILDEST DREAMS COME TRUE <3. just hit me up, bruvs!

[bimbo75]

Random Writing 2:

I had never met Natalya's friend Jake before, but when she brought him to my party that night, I couldn't take my eyes off him. He was a bit drunk and stumbling, but even in that state, he was undeniably attractive.

As Natalya and I poured shots of my homemade liquor, I noticed that Jake was struggling to keep up. But he was trying his best, his eyes locked onto me as he downed his drinks.

Natalya excused herself to go back to the party, leaving Jake and me alone in my basement. I couldn't resist the temptation any longer, so I placed a hand on his shoulder and led him to a back room.

As I locked the door behind us, I could sense Jake's hesitation, but I could also feel his curiosity. I took charge, climbing onto the bed with him and running my hands over his body. The alcohol had loosened him up, making him more pliant and willing.

I took my time, exploring every inch of his body, making sure he felt pleasure beyond his wildest dreams. He was so responsive, his moans and gasps driving me wild with desire.

When it was over, I lay there next to him, feeling a mixture of contentment and sadness. I knew that this was just a one-time thing, but I couldn't help feeling a sense of longing for Jake.

As he got up to leave, I looked at him with a mix of regret and hope. "I hope you don't regret this," I said.

Jake shook his head, his eyes searching mine. "I don't," he said, before stumbling out of the room.

Over the next few weeks, I couldn't get Jake out of my head. I would think about him constantly, wondering if he felt the same way I did. I knew I shouldn't get my hopes up, but I couldn't help wanting more.

Then, one day, Natalya showed up at my door with Jake in tow. They had been out for drinks and Jake had mentioned our night together. Natalya had encouraged him to come see me again.

As I looked at Jake standing in my doorway, I knew that this was my chance. I took a deep breath and asked him if he wanted to stay for a drink. He hesitated for a moment, but then he nodded.

We talked for hours, catching up on our lives and sharing stories. I could feel the chemistry between us, the tension growing with each passing moment.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I leaned in and kissed him, my lips meeting his with a passion that had been building for weeks.

Jake responded eagerly, his body pressing against mine as we fell onto the couch. We spent the rest of the night together, exploring each other's bodies and getting lost in each other's arms.

From that moment on, Jake and I were inseparable. We started dating, exploring the city and each other with a newfound sense of freedom and joy. I knew that we were taking a chance, but I also knew that it was worth it.

[velvetwastaken]

Hi velvet! I got emotes for the ask game! ❤️👻🦈💭💡🎨

Oooo, thanks for the ask, ridl! :)

❤️What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?

This is a tough one, just because I kind of forget what I've written sometimes lol!

But I do still really like this line from Resolute: "She hesitates, her feet rooted to the ground, wondering what else she should offer Ganyu, besides, you know, her whole heart."

I think it captures the earnest nature of Keqing very well. And it's just such a nice sweet line.

👻 What is your wildest headcanon?

I'm pretty boring. I don't have many, if any, outlandish headcanons, and if I have any that seem to be, they do a have a basis in canon if you squint and I talk fast enough lol.

I do have a lot of Opinions on adepti and illuminated beasts and how that all works and relates to each other and everything else, but that's mostly me trying to order it in a way that makes sense to me, personally.

🦈 Which character is the toughest to write?

I think... Keqing. And I'm really not sure why. I think she's more consistently portrayed in canon than Ganyu is, and yet she seems to be mischaracterized more than Ganyu in fan works somehow. If I had to guess, I think it's because while Ganyu has a lot of depth as a character, Keqing is more complicated. And it's easy to focus on only a few of her characteristics and forget the rest, or downplay the growth she's gone through, but then that ends up falling short of her character as a whole. It's a balancing act, I think, to get either of them to 'feel' right. I'm still working on it. But I find Keqing harder to get into the right headspace to write for. Maybe that means I need to write more Keqing-centric fics lol

💭 What inspires you and your writing?

The thing about inspiration is it comes from everywhere. I strongly believe that we are all made up by little bits of everything we've seen, felt, heard, experienced, etc. I'm just as inspired by a book I read as I am by a conversation with a friend, as a reddit thread or a piece of fanart. And I have a wip to show as an example of each of those lol!

And I think it's great to draw inspiration from many sources! But it's important to know when the 'inspiration' is leaning to far into the territory of becoming derivative or downright copying. And I have a lot of thoughts (and fears) about that, but I won't bore you with them lol

Suffice it to say, I take inspiration from wherever I can, and literally anything can inspire me if I'm open to it.

💡How many WIPs do you currently have?

Far too many :(

I don't even have an accurate count anymore since I've moved away from writing on gdocs. A rough estimate would be somewhere in the neighbourhood of 15-20, and they vary from a few lines to completed outlines to 30K+ words of half finished rough drafts.

I write waaaay to slowly T-T

🎨 If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

If anyone wanted to make fanart of anything I've written, I would be beyond flattered. I would absolutely not be picky about what fic or what scene lol

But, gun to my head, I'd go with something from Must Love Cats. Maybe Ganyu wrestling with Onyx LMAO

Thanks again for the ask! Everyone likes talking about themselves/their opinions, and these are always my excuse to do so lol

[sunnylands-world]

Wildest dreams - fluff/angst/kinda smut

Pairing: draco x fem reader

Summary: just a friends to lovers type thing

Word count:1,235

Warning: I think this has everything fluff, angst, and smut but they never really do anything

A/n: I had to write a fic based off one of my favorite taylor swift songs

���♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

He said, "Let's get out of this town

Drive out of the city, away from the crowds"

I thought Heaven can't help me now - taylor

"draco are you crazy will be expelled and I haven't even gotten to -" He pressed his lips to hers kissing the worries away. "Do you trust me?" He said and even in the darkest of nights his eyes still shine and she knew she'd follow them anywhere so she doesn't hesitate. "Always" he grabs her hand pulling her to somewhere; her heart beats fast and she feels herself shaking but she knew she was safe with him, he'd never let anyone hurt her.

He's so tall and handsome as hell

He's so bad, but he does it so well - Taylor

"Hello potter have you come to eh, try to steal my girl?" The cocky tone in his voice doesn't go unnoticed by Harry as he looks at you ducking your head deep into Draco's side. Your eyes trailing up his body from your eye level at his chest, finding that smirk you love. You can feel yourself shiver and turn to putty under his stare as the blonde looks down at you, eyes meeting your innocent ones. His hand grabs your ass making you gasp. Harry doesn't stay any longer leaving you to fantasies over draco.

Say you'll remember me

Standing in a nice dress

Staring at the sunset, babe

Red lips and rosy cheeks - taylor

Draco felt like a foul waiting at the last step for you but he did anyway And it was worth it when he saw Harry spit his drink out. He turned to the steps as you walked them blushing madly and he smiled. He wasn't sure if he'd just seen a princess walk out of a book or if you were even real and better yet here with him, surely you could have gone with someone else. Of course you could have with the way your dress flowed like the wind outside, it's color a soft blue like the sky in the morning outside the window he opens, and the red on your lips made you look fierce. He felt his knees go weak when you came close.

"Come on Draco don't lose your balance yet, you haven't even danced with me" you tease a pout on your lips. He brushes you off with a smart comment but you were right he'd already lost his balance but not now, from the first day he saw you in your robes he knew he'd fallen but he had no intention of ever standing again.

I said, "No one has to know what we do"

His hands are in my hair, his clothes are in my room

And his voice is a familiar sound - taylor

"His breath wafers across your skin, his fingers never seemed so out of place as he pulls your clothes away. "Are you sure about this? I won't hate you if you don't want me in this way" Draco met your eyes concerned laced with blue. "yeah, yeah I want this," you said, nodding your head nervously, sounding like a heart attack was on the bridge. "good cause i- I want you too" he says his eyes run over you before they're back at yours and he steps forward looking from your lips to your eyes. Draco didn't know if he'd be able to slow himself down; he'd been waiting forever but it was worth it when his lips met yours and a moan leaves your lips, your fingers gripping his hair eagerly. He hadn't been this restrained before but he could do it forever to hear that sound again.

Say you'll see me again

Even if it's just in your wildest dreams, ah-ah, ha (ha-ah, ha)

Wildest dreams, ah-ah, ha - taylor

He was mad, he couldn't go back to sleep now, not after seeing you walk in a snow white dress in his dream so he simply looked at the ceiling. He figures you are asleep now, tucked warm under your comforters, feet out because you didn't cover them. You liked the chill in your toes and the warmth on your skin but you weren't sleeping you looked to your wall and you knew he wasn't fair just some layers away. You were fighting this urge to lay with him, you swallowed rather hard at the thought of him holding you close. Should you run the hall bare feet on the cold wood to get to him? this thought seemed silly because you'd walk glass to be in his arms and he'd climb mountains to find the ring for your finger.

You'll see me in hindsight

Tangled up with you all night

Burning it down - Taylor

You scoot closer to him trying to fake sleep, you'd never have the confidence if he thought you were awake. You weren't even supposed to be in the same bed but somehow you'd both managed to end up in the same room laughing till you both laid down and now you were turning to feel his bare chest under your warm cheek. "y/n are you aware?" you tensed. When you didn't respond he pulled you closer, brought his arm around you and you relaxed into his body. "I love you" he says, voice shaking thinking you were fast asleep but you heard and you smiled. Perhaps you both were braver when you believed the other wasn't awake.

Someday when you leave me

I bet these memories

Follow (follow) you (you) around (follow you around) - taylor

"I'm sorry, I promise I'll be back," Draco says, kissing your forehead. you weren't ready to say bye even for a little while. Draco broke into pieces watching your eyes blur over with tears so he pictured you happy that would be easier, he'd be able to walk away without crumbling.

Say you'll remember me - taylor

"Draco?" You called out and he stopped turning a bit. "You'll remember me, right? Promise you won't forget" you said searching his eyes. He smiles not like before but more like forever. "I'll never Forget your pretty face My love and I know I didn't say before but I love you always" he says and tears fall from your eyes. "I know" you say and he turns fully. "I heard you say it before" you smile even though you're breaking apart.

"and - and I love you too forever" he smiles, walking to the train and you watch him pull away. He'd be back after college. He wanted to own a business and you never held him back from doing anything even if you were heartbroken seeing him go.

Say you'll see me again - taylor

You kissed his lips, sealing the bond between you. "Mrs malfoy?" your head turns looking to the crowd. "What's next for you two?" the reporter says," mic held out to your face."well I'm gonna ride off into the sunset with my husband" you giggle and draco squeezes your small hand in his big one. His eyes meet yours and he truly had forever and always written in his blue gaze. He picks you up carrying you to the car as you giggled and bring a smile to his face."where to?" he says, hand gripping the steering wheel as he looks at you. "your wildest dreams" you say back and he chuckles, his deep voice showing through. "very well"

Request open 💙

Join taglist aka Draco's lovers

Draco's lovers:

@sarahthehuffpuff @supercoffeeblogs @alexxavicry

[ignoremeimnothere]

Pity Party For One

Editors Note: HELLO, I am new to Tumblr and after silently reading gorgeous stories for a month or two now I finally got the taste for wanting to write again. I am not great, it is a skill I am desperate to improve so to help me with this, if you have a request don't hesitate to give me a go. I'm a pretty dark person so nothing is off limits apart from smut (I am physically incapable of writing it) but practically nothing else. I think my two main people to write for currently are Sebastian Stan and Chris Evans but am open to other characters they've worked with if I know enough about that person. I guess we'll have to see how this goes. Anyways, enjoy this godawful drabble, feedback WELCOME.

It was currently 3 AM. Most of the city was asleep, apart from you, sat on the rooftop basking in the peace. You had barely slept for weeks now. Your brain is way too busy to let you rest, and when you did you were plagued with the wildest dreams. This had become your little night time ritual, when you were sure the rest of the hotel were asleep you would sneak onto the communal rooftop only accessible to those on the top floor (your current co-workers) and think, cry or write your feelings out. 

Life is weird right now. Big changes happen regularly and it’s hard to keep up. Your last project took a year to film, a drama where your co-star was Chris Evans. It was your first big film and over the period, a lot of drama happened in your family life too, causing you to find a family within the cast and crew who you adored. The film wrapped months ago, the idea of press eased your worries a bit, knowing you had some more time to be with some familiar faces but that would soon come to an end and you couldn't settle the anxiety storming your mind. 

Tonight was particularly bad, you’d been spiralling all day and itching to get to this part of your day. You had nothing lined up after this job and that nothingness was worrying as it usually triggered a big bout of depression. This cycle was something you were overly aware of, try as you might to avoid it, it’s not always the easiest to have continual work as an actress, things take a long time. Most relish in the breaks they get, not you. 

Attempts to be silent were ruined by your sniffling, your shoulders jumping as you choked on a sob. You were extremely emotional tonight, tears appearing ever since you bid goodnight to Chris, your neighbour. You were aware he could appear anytime but he hadn’t previously, you knew he slept like a log. But you had to have some composure while here as the patio doors connecting the bedroom to the outdoors were surprisingly thin in Paris. 

You lean back, doing whatever breathing exercises that come to mind and focus on the sleeping city below you. Being awake in the middle of the night was always the weirdest and most freeing feeling. The only noise is an occasional car rev, drunken calls of ‘bonne nuit’ and mopeds running around. You take it in, it’s always lovely being in Europe. Eventually your breathing calms, accepting your emotions you just look on with tears pooling down your cheeks. 

‘Babe?’

You jump a mile, arms instinctively wiping your face as you wait for him to walk into your sight. Chris picks your legs up and sits in front of you on the bench, propping them back down but keeping hold of them. 

‘Hey’ He smiles sympathetically, one arm over your bare legs, the other lightly grabbing your forearm. 

‘Hey’ You barely muster a whisper, your throat scratched from your pity party. 

‘Are you okay?’ 

‘I’m good’ You force a smile, meeting his eyes. 

‘She says with tears down her face’ 

‘I’m an actress, it’s just drama’ You work on clearing your face, soaked sleeves rubbing over your sore cheeks and tucking your hair behind your ears. 

He shakes his head disapprovingly. Another silence fills the air. The sadness radiates affecting him too. 

‘What's wrong stink?’ The affectionate name opens your flood gates. 

‘Just overthinking, as usual’ You hate seeing him sad. ‘I’ll be fine I’m just having a minute’ 

His face told you that he didn't believe you at all. ‘It’s not like I’m next door for when you need me’ 

You scoffed. ‘Chris I’m a grown woman, I can deal with myself. Anyway the tours almost up, you’ll be free of me soon’ 

‘Doesn’t mean I wont be here for where you need me’

‘Doesn't mean you’ll still be next door’. 

Chris huffed. He turns back to the city, thinking of what to say next. 

You didn't want to put him in this position, being comforted wasn't a comfortable experience for you ironically. You adored Chris and cringed at the idea of bringing his mood down to match yours, he shouldn't even be awake. To escape the situation you decided it was time to call it a night. 

‘Let’s get back to bed, we need our beauty sleep for the cameras’ You meant it as a joke but you were too exhausted to say it in a comical way. Instead climbing off Chris you make your way to your room. You turn to wish him a good night for the second time that evening only to bump into his chest. Silently, he gently ushers you forward, closing the patio doors behind him. 

You decide you’re too tired to protest, instead you climb into bed waiting to be joined before making yourself comfortable. You end up getting spooned by Chris, as your breathing starts to slow you hear him softly speak.

‘Whatever it is, it’ll pass. He kissed your head while you let out a sigh. ‘You’ll be okay’. 

You begin to cry again, Chris just holds you and that's how you fall asleep.

[skaldingrayne]

For the writing asks:

🥺🎯💔🎢🤭

Love you friend ❤️

Ahhhh! You asked and I get to play one of these, yay! You are a lovely friend, thank you 💜💜💜

.

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels? Y'know that moment of hesitation before a character asks an important question you know has been bothering them, they stand their shuffling their feet in that liminal space, anxiously chewing their lip, looking anywhere else around the room but at the target of their nervousness, stammering a bit over what they are trying to say? Maybe there's a little hoarseness in their voice, a suspicious sparkle in their eye, the scent of salt in the air? Ooo, love it bc you know that whatever it is, it's gonna be something big

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🎯 Have any of your readers accurately guessed major plot points? Care to share which? Oh gosh - I'm certain they have, I have very clever readers. The problem is I have many plot points and an awful memory. I consider it a win when readers can guess a twist though - it means I've foreshadowed thing correctly. I've heard of some writers (cough cough Game of Thrones) would rewrite scenes when they thought fans had guessed to closely but that just seems silly to throw all your hard work signposting your plot points and character development out a window like that when really, it's a sign folks are enjoying/caring about your thing, right?

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💔 Is there a fic of yours that broke your heart? I'm not going to spoil them by explaining why, but: we are known by the stories we share (multiple points in the story), Keeping the Fires Burning, and Burn

And now here is the one that always puts my 💖 back together for me after: of Weeds & Wretched Things

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🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride? we are known by the stories we share hands down. epic giant monster battles, cozy fantasy, slice of life, saving your bro from the angry spouses that want to kill him while debating sexual technics, found family, gremlin Ciri, angst, fluff, massive amounts of deep canon lore and world building both, multiple near-death experiences, and an entire fleet of tattooed singing sailing witchers

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🤭 Do you have a favorite tag to use when posting your works? "Lambert doesn't just have issues he's got the whole back catalogue he keeps bagged in mint condition" & "Friends to Lovers to Idiots to Lovers" are my two favs i've personally come up with and would like to use more; @round--robin's amazingly brilliant Kaer Morhen's Fanon Hot Springs; and no beta we die like witchers never fails to make me grin but I HAVE an amazing lovely fantastic beta reader so i don't often get to use it

Thank you again @trickstermoose67 for giving me an excuse to play! 💜

[a-zira-fell]

If you're doing the drabble thing, 35 or 48? I really love your writing but it's okay if you don't get around to it! 💖

Read On AO3

“I just wanted to let you know, that I think you’re beautiful.”

Crowley was clearly drunk and Aziraphale had no way of finding out where he was. Except for a miracle maybe. He knew, that Crowley would be okay eventually, but the fact that he was calling from a phone box alone, was concerning.

“Are you quite alright?” he asked, carefully.

“I’m fi – fine! Angel. ‘m fine.”

There was a muffled rustling noise at the other end of the line and Aziraphale vaguely wondered, if Crowley had sat down.

“You’re just. Pretty! You’re so, so pretty.”

Aziraphale blushed.

“Thank you, darling.”

“’n you say – you call me darling and dear and uh, and dear boy and…” he drifted off.

Aziraphale waited a moment, but the demon didn’t hang up, so Aziraphale sat down on his chair and leaned back.

“Don’t you like that?”

“Wha’?”

“The names… pet names,” Aziraphale said. It had never quite occurred to him, that they were, in fact, pet names.

“Yeah. Mhh, I do.” Then, after a moment, “Shouldn’t let anybody know.”

“Oh.” There was tug of something in his chest. Emotions, that wanted to escape, but Aziraphale kept them locked in carefully.

He could hear Crowley take another swig of whatever he was drinking.

“You think, maybe you should stop?” he asked.

“Wha’?” Crowley said again.

“Drinking. Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

“’s not that easy, angel,” Crowley slurred. “It’s good. Drunk, but wi-  when you’re too. You’re softer when I’m drunk.”

The angel shook his head, but didn’t reply.

“Y’know. Not softer softer. You’re not… squishy. I’m- I… I- yeah, you’re squishy but you’re always. Squishy, not just when I’m drunk.” He paused and Aziraphale was almost sure, the demon had completely lost his point until he cleared his throat and continued. “Just, you’re nice.”

“I’m always nice,” Aziraphale protested. A snort came from the other end of the line, followed by a coughing fit. He knew, he shouldn’t have indulged Crowley in this argument.

“D’you think I need your help?” Crowley asked, when he finally stopped coughing.

“What makes you ask that?”

“’s just. You’re here. Haven’t hung up yet.”

“I don’t know,” Aziraphale said. “But I wish you’d let me. Help, that is.”

“Nothing you can do, angel.” Crowley sounded disturbingly sober in that moment.

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale said. He wanted so badly to be there for Crowley, to hold him and keep him safe until –

Another swig.

- until he really sobered up.

“God!,” Crowley exclaimed, followed by angry yelling. “Shit! Oh, fuck! That hurts. Why does that even hurt? ‘s not like. Like I disrs- dis-sss,” he hissed.

“Disrespected?” Aziraphale asked, helpfully.

“Yeah, disr’spected her or… or anything. I just… Why’s it hurt?”

And another swig.

“Az’ra- Aziraphale.”

“Yes?”

“I wanna kiss you.”

In the silence that followed, Aziraphale could hear his own, heavily thumping heartbeat; he was surprised, that he hadn’t made any noises, because it was just the alcohol speaking. He shouldn’t let himself hope.

This wasn’t how their drunk conversations usually went.

“Well, this is new,” he mumbled eventually, and half-hoped, Crowley wouldn’t hear him at all.

“No, ‘s not.”

Crowley had another drink, before he continued.

“Been too godda- Eugh! - too damn long. So long. Almost the beginning.” He briefly paused as if to give Aziraphale time to catch up. “Yeah, mayb- I thi- yep. No, I wasn’t in love then. Still wanted to kiss you, though.”

Aziraphale undid his bow tie and opened the top button of his shirt. Just to breathe, he told himself.

“Wanna mess up that hair… mhh, ‘n pull you close. ‘n I wanna taste you, ‘n you’d love it.”

Aziraphale‘s chest was aching with unspoken emotions. Such feelings, he had always kept buried with a certainty, that they were unwanted. To hear Crowley say these words, was opening floodgates, Aziraphale wasn’t even aware he had.

“Shit,” Crowley cursed. “’m sorry. I messed up.”

The line went dead.

Aziraphale stood up momentarily, tried to call back, before he realised, that even if the call mysteriously – miraculously – went through to that specific phone booth, Crowley wouldn’t pick up. He grabbed his coat and miracled himself to the source of his feelings.

Crowley was indeed sitting in a telephone box, legs pulled close at an awkward angle, head buried between his knees.

Aziraphale opened the door slowly, noticing the almost empty bottle next to him and the lost stare.

“Oh, angel,” Crowley said. “If only you were really here.”

Aziraphale knelt down next to the demon and held out a hand.

“I’m here,” he said, breathlessly. “Come home with me?”

Crowley only stared at him, eyes wide, as if his wildest dream was coming true.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, and again, Aziraphale blushed. “’s not here. ‘ziraphale wouldn’t. He wouldn’t have his shirt open.”

The angel’s hand began to tremble with unshed emotion, as he finally reached out to Crowley.

“May I?” he asked weakly.

“’nythin’,” Crowley slurred, wide, glassy eyes looking up at Aziraphale; he put a finger to his chin, tilting Crowley’s face.

“Oh,” the demon breathed out. In a surge of surprising control over his body, he leaned forward abruptly, pressing their lips together. Aziraphale gasped and instinctively brought a hand up to the back of Crowley’s head. He tasted like too-cheap alcohol, tasted stale; it wasn’t good, but Crowley’s lips were soft, insistent and Aziraphale didn’t find it in him to deny him anything.

Eventually, Crowley sacked back against the wall of the booth, eyes closed.

“Come home with me?” Aziraphale asked again, voice as shaky as his knees.

“Yeah.”

As he helped Crowley get up, two more empty bottles were revealed in the corner of the small space.

Aziraphale had not expected to end up watching a drunk demon rest in his bed, but exactly that was, what he did the rest of the night, after unsuccessfully trying to concentrate on a book.

“Fuck,” it came from under the covers, hours later.

“Crowley?”

The demon in question sat up, head between his hands, before he waved a hand, then shook his head.

“That’s better.”

“You shouldn’t be allowed to miracle away a hangover after last night,” Aziraphale grumbled, but there was a smile in his voice.

“Oh angel,” Crowley said again, voice soft an Aziraphale wondered vaguely if he remembered.

“Whatever I said or did… I didn’t mean it.”

The words cut through the thin sheen of hope surrounding the illusion Aziraphale had held.

“You didn’t?” he asked, uncaring if his emotions showed just a bit too clearly, because he was tired of waiting, and pining, and hoping.

“Wait.” Crowley turned around abruptly, fingers digging into the side of the mattress, as he sat on the side of the bed. “What did I say?”

Aziraphale shook his head. If he uttered those words, if he told Crowley, it would make everything real, even the pain would be real. More real, than ever before.

“What did I say, angel?” Crowley asked again. Then, “Did I do anything?”

Aziraphale clenched his hand into a fist, well out of Crowley’s view.

“Show me?” Crowley requested and Aziraphale’s ability to deny Crowley anything had died the previous night alongside the barriers around his heart. He stumbled out of his chair, over to where Crowley was sitting and before he could change his mind, he leaned down and once again pressed their lips together.

Crowley reacted immediately, mirroring Aziraphale just hours earlier; with a surprised intake of breath, he grasped at the back of his head, fingers driving into the angel’s soft hair.

It was better now, and when Crowley’s tongue licked at Aziraphale’s lips in a desperate inquiry, the angel’s knees gave in, dropping him down onto the cold floor, as he braced himself against Crowley and opened his lips.

“Oh, God,” he breathed out when they parted. Crowley was still holding on to him, but Aziraphale welcomed it.

“Really?” asked Crowley. “I did that?”

Aziraphale giggled. He was not usually in the habit of giggling, but all the anxiety and insecurity leaving his mind and soul so quickly left a space that needed to be filled. With giggling for example.

“You called me, drunk, rambling a lot, and then you told me that you wanted to kiss me and hung up.”

“And then you came to my rescue. Like a… guardian angel.”

Crowley grinned and Aziraphale had to restrain himself not to roll his eyes.

“And you said…”

“What?”

“You said you weren’t in love with me, then.”

“When?”

“In the beginning.”

“Oh. Yeah, no. I wasn’t.”

There was a hesitant moment, where neither of them dared to speak.

“And n-“ – “We’ve come a long way since.”

They spoke at the same time.

“Oh,” Aziraphale said. “So you…?”

“Yeah.”

The angel raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t make me say it, angel,” Crowley scrunched up his face, pulled away from Aziraphale, but the angel knew, he would give in if necessary. He saw it clearly in Crowley’s eyes.

“Okay.”

The demon leaned in and pulled Aziraphale close, pressing his face into his neck, arms wrapping around his shoulders.

“It’s been so long,” he said. His voice was breaking and Aziraphale knew, he had to hold on to Crowley. It had been so long.

[saltandburn-ilovesamwinchester]

Beauty In Her Breakdowns

Where have all the good men gone

And where are all the Gods?

Where's the street-wise Hercules

To fight the rising odds?

Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed?

Late at night I toss and turn and dream of what I need

Sitting in at the table in the kitchen, you watched your glass of whiskey like someone was going to take it away from you. "Hey, you. I've been looking for you," you hear your best friend say.

You didn't bother to turn in his direction. Keeping your head down on the table, you fiddled with the rim of the glass. "Hi," you managed through a cracked voice and a broken laugh.

"Y/N, what's wrong, sweetheart," Dean's soft voice soothed you as he sat beside you on the bench that the bunker had to offer. "Come on, talk to Dean."

Dean caught your hand on the glass before you could turn it upside down. He didn't bother to remove your fingers, but slid his between yours to tell you he was listening.

Propping one elbow to match his, you spilled everything. "Dean, it's over. He's moved on," your chest heaving as he scooted closer to you and brought his arms around your waist.

I need a hero

I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night

He's gotta be strong, he's gotta be fast

And he's gotta be larger than life, larger than life

"She could .. give him.. everything," you cried as you told Dean about your boyfriend. You held onto his arms as the tears soaked his blue and black plaid shirt. "What am I going to do? I thought I had it right this time," you sighed as your fingers tightened in his shirt.

"Shhh.. honey. You're going to make yourself sick," he said as he rubbed your back with one hand and held your head to his chest with the other. "And that.. that dick, doesn't deserve you," Dean whispered through gritted teeth.

You let the words of your best friend sink in. The handsome green-eyed hunter was years older than you. You knew nothing could ever destroy a bond like the one the two of you shared.

Soon, the tears stopped and there were just tear stains on your face. Dean had pulled away but he kept his hands on you. You tried not the let the smile show as he hands stayed on your hips. He threw his long legs over the bench and looked at you. "Come on, sweetie. Let's go lay on the couch and we can talk more.

Somewhere after midnight in my wildest fantasies

Somewhere just beyond my reach

There's someone reaching back for me

Racing on the thunder end rising with the heat

Isn't there a superman to sweep me off my feet

Dean layed flat on the brown cushions and you were in between him and the couch. Half laying on his right side and half way between the leather, your head rested on his chest. "Dean," you asked raising your head to see his face but never moving from his body.

"Yes, Y/N?"

Thinking carefully about your next question you grabbed his hand, "Dean, can you tell me about your first breakup?"

"Do you think this is the right time, honey? We don't have to talk if you don't want to. We could just lay here.." his strong voice carrying you away.

"I think it's a good time. I just need to talk it out. Tell me, Dean. Please," your voice barely audible.

He tossed his arms around you again to pull you close. Readjusted and looking into his somber eyes, he began..

I need a hero

I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night

He's gotta be strong, he's gotta be fast

And he's gotta be larger than life

As your best friend's story came to a stop you found yourself wiping away a tear. "I knew this was a bad idea. Now you're crying again," Dean looked at you with hesitant eyebrows.

"I'm fine. Continue your story."

Up where the mountains meet the heavens above

Out where the lightning splits the sea

I would swear that there's someone somewhere

Watching me

Through the wind and the chill and the rain

And the storm and the raging flood

Oh his approach is like the fire in my blood

It wasn't long and the sound of Dean's steady heart had you falling asleep. He had his hands buried in your hair again, calming you down.

Just as you started to drift off he whispered near your ear, his breath heavy with sorrow and pitty, "I'm sorry that all of this happened to you. I love you, Y/N."

I need a hero

And then we'll dance till the morning light

Dreaming he'll lead, he'll tight tonight's the night

I need a hero

I'm holding out for a hero ' til the end of the night

He's gotta be strong, he's gotta be fast

And he's gotta be fresh from the fight

I need a hero

I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light

He's gotta be sure, he's gotta be soon

And he's gotta be larger than life, larger than life.

Larger than life, larger than life

Oh baby, baby

Baby, tonight

♤♡◇♧

Sorry for the sudden feels, guys. This ole thing has been sitting in my drafts for a while now and I had to get it off my chest. There comes a time when we can't handle things on our on anymore and usually there's a special person to help us hold on. Y'all are my special people. It's the reason why I love to write. I understand I'm not the best, but I enjoy putting every feeling into words. So, mistakes are mine. Please like, comment, share. I beg of you, if there's anyone that needs someone to talk to, reach out. ❤

@waywardbaby @imperiusimpala @leatherandapplepies @ain-t-bovvered @idreamofplaid @plaid-lover-bay25 @oldfreakything @maddiepants @sammyimpala-67 @the-magic-rabbit-99 @waywardnerd67 @tumbler-tidbits

[polarbearvien-prettycurves]

Erratic Poet

Taking my breaks to write as to why it is so hard to be like this. Some times I had the urge to splurge everything but the moment I get the chance, I find myself getting away from it.. just like today and yesterday. I didn't intend to but it happens yet I let it slip away. I even try to shrug it off but the more it ruminates in me everytime I do so. How to overcome this? Will I ever be able to do it? I've been like this for years now. It has been my source of oxygen around a decade ago but now it suffocates me. Yet, I cling to it for me to breathe even if I feel like gasping for air.

I should be relaxing since I am pausing from working. Some minutes to be free for stressing myself from everything. Then, here comes me, beating myself up and waiting for those things to happen again before it lasts again.. This time I think it is for real now. I don't know if I should be happy that it was extended or it should have been better if it all went away when the year has ended? Will it really be like that or still be the same differently? I already set myself to leave the noodles on my plate as 2020 ends but why the odds are not always on my favor? Am I bad person in my past life to feel like this? I even doubt myself everytime I feel so lost? Let me correct though. Was there ever a time I didn't feel too much? Take me back there then. Better yet, kill me now. It's always been my wildest weird dream but I couldn't do because I still have to live. Maybe that's the reason why I'm still alive and kicking. Can I just be happy while living? I wonder how does it feel like? Poor me, I was always get afraid with those rare times as I anticipate the sadness that comes after. It has always been this way most of my life. At this point, I want to have a different story. A happy one without hesitations, just simply feeling the moment without thinking what comes after. I always miss enjoying the present because of this. It such a whirlwird and a tornado of feelings and thoughts. I am drowning. It's tiring to keep swimming, how long should I keep doing this? Can I just stay somewhere peaceful and be happy?