and naw

flashsans451  asked:

Will Storyshift Chara be making A Apperence Or naw(If no Dat would suck Its a nice au)

Welp Underverse will suck for you then.

I don’t know how many times I have to say that I have the plot ready. I’m not taking request about which AUs do you want to appear in my animation. I’m sorry.

Diggle is very much the soothsayer and the person who can give him a good piece of advice. But in terms of a heart to heart and a dynamic conversation, Felicity is the one for him.
—  Stephen Amell

Feet were stupid. Why didn’t things work the way you wanted.
You gave out an frustrated sound that made your dads look up too you.

“He tries to walk again”, Magnus said, a soft smile on his face.
“Doesn’t work, mmh?”, Alec asked you and you pouted at them which only made both of them laugh.

That wasn’t fair. They were taller, older. They could walk, not remembering how hard this was! You cried out and both of them stopped laughing.

“Naw, don’t do that, (y/n)”, Magnus begged and came to you.
Still pouting you let him help you standing on your feet. Once you stood yourself he started the music box with his magic and let you dance.

You wanted to stay angry but the music was just too good, so you started giggeling, while looking at Alec who smiled brightly.

“That’s my boy.”

requested by anon. I changed it up a little bit but I hope you still like it ^^

You can find all my Imagines|Confessions here
Requests for Imagines|Confessions are open. Send me some ^^



It is expected that we become friends, being roommates and all. Throughout high school, I promised my future self that I would not become a college trope, but life has a way of taking us the exact opposite direction and then laughing in our faces. So here I am, sitting on the lawn behind our dormitory with her friends who have become mine and my friends who have become hers. Here I am, dressed for spring in a snapback on my head, a bro tank, cut off shorts, converses, a flannel around my waist. Here I am, sharing an avocado sandwich with Sophie, trying to avoid her sticking the straw of her kale smoothie into my mouth—trying not to imagine my lips touching the same place hers were on a minute ago—which somehow ended up with her head on my shoulder and her hand cupping my knee. Here I am, fitting into so many stereotypes.

“Hey Sophie! You down for SF this weekend?” One of our mutual friends called.

“Naw, I’m going shopping with my roommate,” she answers for the two of us.

“‘My roommate’”, another friend copies Sophie’s inflection and snickers. “Why don’t you just say ‘Jess’ or ‘my friend’? Isn’t she more than just your roommate?”

“Meh,” she pokes at my kneecap before moving away. “Semantics.”

As I turn my head away, she steals my snapback and puts it on her head instead. I wince at the sun in my eye and glare back at it. Perhaps I have gotten enough vitamin D for the day. 

“Babe…” Sophie starts.

“I’m leaving,” I say. I try to look nonchalant as I brush the grass off my legs but I can see our mutual friends looking between Sophie and me.

“Jess!” Sophie grabs my hand and scrambles to stand up with me. I do not wait for her to grab her bag before walking away but she squeezes my hand and I do not let her go. “Alright alright, let’s go home.”

Walking home with her was easy. Our footsteps effortlessly match, our hands swing between us in tandem, our bodies know how to respond to each other’s presence. She does not let go of my hand until we get back to our room and I land on my bed with an undignified hmph and she lets herself fall with a bark of laughter. I curl up on my side with my knees pulled up to my chin and she copies my pose, scooting closer until her toes brush against my ankle.

“Roomie dearest,” Sophie says. “You’re definitely more than just a roommate.”

I nod once to show I heard and let out the rest of the breath that I did not know I had been holding.

“You’re more than just—,” she continues before abruptly stopping.

I know the words that should follow but that she cannot say yet. I feel the absence linger in the minimal space between our faces and hear more than its meaning.

“That’s what makes you special,” she whispers. “We share a home.”

When she cups a hand over my ear and brushes a finger through its creases, I open my eyes and see her smile grow when our gazes meet and think I’m glad I am living the trope of a college student who befriends and then falls in love with her roommate and how fortunate I am for Sophie to have found a home in me too.