couldn't come up with a good title

Near slowly made his way across the room, feet dragging along the floor ever so slightly as he let out a yawn; he’d been working on a particularly tough case for the past week, and hadn’t been getting much sleep because of it.

He stopped in place as he spotted the person he’d been looking for. They were sitting nearby, their back turned to him and their attention seemingly focused on something. “Perfect,” He thought to himself, a small grin coming to his lips as he slowly and quietly began to make his way over.

The detective stopped when he was behind them, intent on surprising them a bit; he leaned down, draping his arms over their shoulders from behind and trying his best not to actually scare them on accident.

“Good morning,” He said softly, voice holding a subtle playful tone to it, “You’re up early today. Did you sleep alright?”


closed || silphey

The last thing he remembered was dying. The stool being knocked from below him, the scratchy rope quickly cutting off his life. Then… darkness.

He sucked in a large breath, eyes wide in shock before squinting at the sudden sunlight. He stood, taking in his surroundings as he clutched for his ever-present flute. Yes, he still had it. But where in the world was he? In some sort of forest, but small dark paths wound across the ground.

Louder than the birds chirping, he heard strange sounds in the distance, at once curious and frightened by them. He made his way towards the noises, until he came to the edge of the trees, faced with a completely alien sight.

Or course, he ran. He ran down what he didn’t know was called a sidewalk, to frightened to get in the way of those giant, rumbling monsters that he didn’t know were cars. As a horn honked, he turned to glance behind him, only to run headlong into a woman and send them both sprawling on the ground. “Ah! M- My apologies, ma'am… W- Where am I?”

Word gets around when it’s something like this. As much as he thought he was hiding himself, it wouldn’t stop others from gossiping or Arcee from overhearing conversations. And what she heard took her back. Her mate? Carrying? That wasn’t possible. Well, technically it was, but still, they hadn’t done anything and she clearly didn’t have a spike, so how could that happen? 

How else could it happen? Magic anons. Call it intuition, but Arcee knew there was something wrong. She could feel it in their bond. There was no time to waste as she put down the datapad and went in search of her mate, figuring he was probably in their room. She was going to get down to the bottom of this.


A/N: Last night I was rewatching Hat Trick and that moment when Jefferson thinks that Emma actually believes him was giving me all the feels. So here you go. And as always, I take prompts!


Emma could pinpoint the exact moment that Jefferson allowed himself to hope. He looked away from her, clearly overcome with emotion. He swallowed as he tried to get a hold of himself; he didn’t want her to see him weep. His voice wavered just slightly when he spoke, and when he finally brought himself to look back at her there was an expression in his eyes so intense that it took her breath away. She felt a stab of guilt at her heart for what she planned to do. But what choice did she have?

“So you – you’re gonna help me? You can get it to work?”

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(Closed Rp with zeldamaniac23)

“You all are quite persistent! Just,” Samantha jumped over a fallen tree just in time to miss an arrow to her leg. “Leave me alone!” She finished. This group of Hunters were starting to get annoying. They were too determined about catching her. The hybrid would have attacked if she had enough energy to use her powers and her weapons would just slow her down. She decided it would be best to run and fight another day.

While continuing to try and outrun the current Hunters after her, Samantha noticed something out of the corner of her eye. She looked to see what looked like… Another pack of Hunters?! “This is not good.” She said. “Fighting might be what it’s boiling down to here…”



Minkey fluffy drabble

I was inspired to write this when Minho said he was pretty technologically impaired in the ceci interview


Key and Minho had been sitting across from each other at the dining room table for nearly two hours. The only sounds you could hear were the light tapping of thumbs on a screen, and the two breathing. Every once in a while Key would pass his phone to Minho, asking if the selfie he was going to post on instagram was edited well enough. The taller boy always agreed, barely looking up from his phone.

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