#ryoko1027

[emospritelet]

My Tumblr Crushes:

thatravenclawbitch

ripperblackstaff

jackabelle73

ryoko1027

xiolaperry

timelordthirteen

riskpig

severusvonshakespeare

virgidearie

Hey sexy peeps!

[a-monthly-rumbelling]

Inspired by In Lovelier Colours by @mareyshelley​

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Moodboard for November

A guest moodboard submitted by the lovely @ryoko1027 

[teaespensonawards]

Hey, would vampire AU fall under horror or creature?

It could go under either or both, depending on the story.

[timelordthirteen]

ryoko1027 mentioned you in a post “Happy Thanksgiving from me and my doggo!!! I’m thankful for all of my...”

…@mareyshelley @thatravenclawbitch @mrs-stiltskin @ timelordthirteen @rufeepeach @ishtarelisheba @kelyon @worryinglyinnocent…

Bless you and thank you for all your comments over the years. You are absolutely gorgeous and your dog is a cutie! Have a lovely holiday!

[standbyyourmantis]

Found The Storm ‘Verse while browsing AO3 and just wanted to let you know......I LOVE IT! Currently reading Come Hell or High Water. Super curious as to how everything will work out for Rumbelle in this AU. Think you’ll ever update?

Eeek I’m so glad you liked that! I actually told @midnightagenda (one of my various meatspace friends) I’d update it for her back when she was pregnant aaaand her baby hasn’t started crawling yet so?

I would like to work on it, yes. I had to re-structure the ending some because I don’t have the time anymore to finish the whole season 2 but I do have a solid place where I think I can end things on an up note in a few more chapters. I’m definitely not against finishing it, but I do need to do some prompts for TEA first and I’ll probably get that set up this weekend.

[emospritelet]

Twisted Fate snippet? I’m literally stuck in traffic right. What better time to read a TF snipppet? 😬

Meanwhile, in Storybrooke...

His phone buzzed, making him stop his pacing abruptly, and he reached into his pocket, fishing the phone out and glancing at the screen. His heart thumped harder as he recognised the number there. Belle. They would have sent her the results too, of course. Okay, try to be civil, you fucking idiot. She’s the mother of your child. Your child. Don’t be a fucking prick, for once in your miserable life.

“Hello?” he said, relieved that he sounded calmer than he felt.

“It’s me,” she said, her tone flat. “I got the results.”

“Right,” he said. “Yes. So did I.”

There was a moment of silence. He was unsure what to say, overwhelmed by the enormity of what she was giving him, of the glimmer of light he could sense breaking through the dark clouds that had lain heavy around his soul for so long. It was blinding. Breathtaking.

“Well?” she said impatiently, and Gold licked his lips, his mouth dry.

“Well what?” he said lamely, and she sighed.

“In news that would be a surprise to no one except apparently you, the test was positive,” she snapped. “So, do I get an apology?”

Gold sucked his teeth, ignoring the crawling sense of guilt flowing up through his body. Why the fuck did you accuse her of sleeping around? What the actual everloving fuck is wrong with you?

“I’m waiting,” she said, a sarcastic edge to her voice. “Pretty sure that apology’s coming any time now. I mean we both know how well you deal with the truth when it’s right in bloody front of you, don’t we?”

Her tone made him bristle, and it was as though the clouds had covered the sun once more, a chill creeping over his flesh and numbing his soul. The light that had briefly flared to life inside him flickered and died, disappearing along with his good intentions. It was unfortunate that his natural response to hurt feelings was to be insufferable, but there again he had never claimed to be perfect.

[emospritelet]

As much as I hate Moe I’m interested in what him and Gold will talk about in the next TF chapter. Any snippets by chance?

I’ve written none of that so far, but I suspect Gold will want to know why he didn’t say anything about the baby :/

[emospritelet]

Wovenlace #5 one night stand and falling pregnant au I love when you write Wovenlace. 😜

Seven-thirty in the evening, and already he’d had to deal with some idiot who thought that assaulting a police officer was a fucking stellar idea.  Weaver rubbed his knuckles to ease the ache in them, scowling as he thought of the paperwork he’d have to go through before Lieutenant Drake would be happy. He eyed the half-empty bottle of whisky in his desk drawer, briefly considering pouring himself one, and dismissing the idea almost immediately.  There were still two and a half hours until his shift was over.  More if he got called out on something.  Best to keep a clear head.  Coffee would be better.

He flipped open one of the new files that had been dumped on his desk, curling his lip at the contents.  Reports of two black men seen hanging around the entrance to a youth centre.  The person who had called it in suspected them of dealing drugs, and there were grainy photos provided.  Weaver didn’t need to look at the pictures to know who the individuals were: two ex-gang members who called themselves Merlin and Lancelot.  They ran basketball and martial arts programs for underprivileged kids, trying with some success to keep them away from the gang lifestyle that plagued some of the neighbourhoods.  Growling under his breath, he wrote how many fucking times, these are the good guys! across the front of the file, and tossed it into the tray of cases to be processed.

“Weaver?”

A voice made him look up, and Detective Fa raised a slim black eyebrow at him.

“Visitor for you,” she said.

“Who is it?” he asked absently, opening the next file.

“Thought it might be one of your informants,” she said.  “Nervous and pretending not to be.  Name of French.  Said it’s urgent and she’ll only speak to you, or I would have dealt with it.  I put her in room 4.”

“Thanks,” he said, a sinking feeling in his belly.  French.  Well.  Could be coincidence, but I doubt it.

Fa had hurried off, and so he pushed back his chair, taking up a notebook and pen out of habit and making his way to interview room 4.  How long had it been since he had seen Lacey French?  Four months?  He had assumed she had left town long ago; she had always said that she didn’t like to stay in one place too long.

She looked up as he entered the room, and he tried not to let any emotion show in his face.  He was used to that, after all.  She was as beautiful as ever, but there was something else there.  An air of sadness, of hopelessness, darkening her blue eyes.  She was bundled up against the winter night in a woollen pea coat, a scarf wound around her throat.  Her skirt was still ridiculously short, but she appeared to have swapped her bare legs and high heels for thick tights and chunky boots, at least.  She looked a little thinner around the face, and he tried to squash the urge to take her home and feed her something that didn’t come from a dumpster.  That was how this entire farce had started, after all.

He pulled out a chair, sitting down opposite her, and dropping his pad and pen on the table.  Lacey was fidgeting, plucking at the skin of one hand with her finger and thumb, teeth tugging at her lower lip.  She wouldn’t quite look at him, as though she were ashamed.  Not like her at all.  It was intriguing.

“Lacey,” he said calmly.  “I haven’t seen you since—”

“Since I snuck out your window at two in the morning?” she interjected.  “Yeah. Sorry about that.  Not exactly the stay-and-cuddle type.”

“Well, neither am I,” he said coolly.  “So perhaps we can move on to the present.  Why are you here?”

She finally met his eyes, her gaze frightened, hunted, but then looked down at her hands again.  Her nails were bitten, dark red polish chipped and flaking.

“This was a mistake,” she muttered.  “I should go.”

She sat back, eyeing the door, and he shook his head.

“You came here for a reason,” he said.  “Do you have some information for me?  If so, perhaps we should take this conversation elsewhere.”

Lacey looked up at him, her eyes flashing.

“Information?” she snapped.  “What, you thought I came here to rat on someone?  Is that all I’m good for?”

“Well, I’m hardly likely to think you came here to pick up where we fucking left off, am I?” he snapped.  “If you’re not here for payment, what the hell is it?”

“I’m pregnant!” she blurted.  “Seventeen weeks.  I just - I thought you should know.”

He gaped at her, his heart beginning to thump painfully hard, shock stealing his breath, his voice.  Lacey gave him an agonised look, then pushed out of the chair, quick as a scared cat, and lunged for the door, wrenching it open and disappearing before he could move.

Send me a ship and a number and I’ll write a ficlet