- “We met because you tripped over me (because I’m tiny of course) and now you’re trying to propose to me but while looking for me you tripped… over my entire body.”
- “You always try to sneakily kiss me because I can’t get you back but little did you know I’ve been working out just so I can climb you like a tree to do the same.”
- “You somehow forget that I’m tiny and just face-planted into the floor because you tried to lean on me. I know it probably hurts but this is too funny.”
- “I just watched you stack 3 chairs on top of each other to reach the top shelf because I accidentally put something up there. And… now I had to catch you because that was a stupid idea.”
- “I went out and bought super tall high heels so I could finally be your height only I don’t know how to walk in these.”
- “We went to school together but haven’t seen each other in a long time and wow have you gotten tall.”
- “I don’t know who you are but I need you to lift me up so I can grab that thing off the top shelf. I know it’s awkward that we’re strangers and your hand is close to my butt, it’s fine (mainly because you’re cute).”
- “You started messing with me by putting stuff on the top shelf so now I’m getting back by hiding everything in the bottom drawers/cupboards.”
- “Everybody thinks that you’re dating a minor because I’m as tall as a short 13 year old and you’re… I don’t know, super tall.”
- “We don’t own a ladder but we really need to fix stuff around the house so now I’m using you as a ladder.”
Jughead Jones, the once misunderstood, soft-spoken loner who buried his nose in books, fought for his family and friends, was standing before you a broken, inconsolable mess. He was just a boy but now he looked as if he had lived ten years more. The bags under his eyes were dark and heavy, accenting the paleness of his skin as tears rolled down his cheeks. His chin was trembling, his eyes were red, and his voice was breaking.
“She doesn’t want me,” he said.
Staring back at a guy who looked almost like a stranger to you, you sighed heavily. “Who doesn’t want you?”
“My mom,” he said as he wiped the tears from under his eyes, not looking in your direction. He was almost too shy to look you in the eyes as he was at his most vulnerable. But Jughead had been your boyfriend for almost a year and he was your best friend for six years. Seeing him hurt and upset was nothing new, as unfortunate as it was.
“Jughead,” you whispered as you reached over and put your hand on his. He pulled his hand away from your touch and you sighed. “That’s not true.”
He stood up and started pacing your room with his hands gripping his hair. “I called her and told her I wanted to come and see her. She told me not to come. She said I would just get in the way.”
“She doesn’t mean-” You tried to spin the story a little to shed some light on his mother’s possible situation but he snapped when you tried to defend her.
“Don’t tell me what she means!” He yelled. “I was just on the phone with her. She said she doesn’t want me. My mom doesn’t want me, my dad is in jail for murdering Jason and I’m all alone again!”
You stood up. “You’re not alone, Jughead. You have me,” you told him.
He shook his head. “I’m a fucking failure. Everything I touch, I ruin. I tried to stop my mom and sister from leaving, but they left. I tried to get my dad back on track, but he ended up killing a kid my age.” He looked at you as he cried. “He killed someone my age. It could have been me.”
After Padmé dies, a myriad of legends spring up around her, most of the dealing with the strange circumstances of her death. The Empire encourages the ones that say she was killed by a Jedi traitor, while the Rebels favor one that says she was murdered to keep her from fighting back for democracy.
The truth remains shrouded in mystery, as only one person knows what really happened, and her killer would never tell.
Still, truth matters little to legend and myth, and her story continues. Rebels and Imperials alike claim that she is watching over them, protecting them in their diplomatic endeavors.
The people of Naboo like to tell that Padmé Amidala came to Naboo from either the ocean or the moon, depending on who you ask, a gift from one of the goddesses in Naboo’s hour of need. Once Naboo was safe, she was called back, but should their planet ever need her again, Queen Amidala would return.
Legends about her life are also fairly popular, about how she once fought a nexu with her bare hands, no five nexus!
About how she tricked the clever Hutts into giving her what she wanted without having to give them anything in return.
About how she was fierce enough that the Duchess of Mandalore once begged her to renounce Naboo and become a Mandalorian.
About how she was so kind that the Jedi themselves begged her to teach them of compassion.
About how she was so beautiful that Death itself wanted her for a bride and stole her away.
There is only one legend about her baby, although there are many variations on it, but all agree on the beginning: One of Queen Amidala’s Jedi friends was there when she died, the High General maybe, and he stole her baby and tricked the doctors into thinking she had never given birth. Just what that Jedi was doing with her baby was a matter of some debate.
The baby was being raised as a prince or princess, to one day rule a planet and rally it against the Empire.
The baby was being raised by poor peasants, farmers maybe, while the Jedi looked on, a silent protector. The baby grew up brave and strong, but with few worries.
The baby was raised by the Jedi, trained to fight the Sith.
The baby was being raised by Rebels, brought up on tales of the need for democracy, and would one day pull the Empire apart with their bare hands.
Darth Vader listened to every single story he could find and stored them away in the deepest corner of his heart.
-The manga “Shugo Chara”. For those who know
the manga, it’s based from the chapter when the guardians go to Yaya’s house.
I tried to adjust Blueprint’s story to
PaperJam’s story. So, since (according to his description) he lived with Ink
until a certain age, he met Blueprint before the others. I also tried to make
him the most canonically possible, but adjusting his personality to the
As you may know, English is not my first
language. I deeply apologise if there are any Errors in the story. I checked it
lots of times and hope there’s not a single Error ovo
This will be narrated from PaperJam’s
I never was
good with new people. And I wasn’t very happy when you came.
Ink just came “home” with a baby, claiming that it was my “new brother”. I
didn’t understand what was he saying with that, and then he showed you to me,
my new little brother.
happy with this. I didn’t want a brother. I mean, Ink couldn’t even take care
of me, why would he want to have another one? To let them here alone and
forgotten with me? Wow, good plan, dad. However, he told me that you only would
be staying with us for a day so I could get to know you, since bonding with
brothers was very important and blah blah blah…
We spend a
few hours talking about you and how you came to life. Apparently, you were just
an accident, but not a bad one. And since he created you, you were my brother.
Well, step-brother, because Blueberry was the other one that created you. I
couldn’t help but feel a little bit jealous… you were going to have caring
parents and a better life than mine. What if Ink actually forgot entirely about
idea of having a brother was becoming less and less “exciting” to me.
just before I started to think more things like that (which I thought was very
rare for me), Ink suddenly had to go (I wasn’t surprised, with his work of
protecting AUs and all; he barely had time to be here), cutting our
conversation just when I actually started to enjoy it. Ink stood from the sofa
and was about to open a portal when he realised something important:
going to take care of you?
He told me
that Blueberry and… Honey… I think, were with the other versions of them and he
couldn’t take you to wherever they were. So, he had only one option… that I
didn’t like, at all.
Why I had
to take care of you?! I didn’t ask him for a brother and I didn’t know how to
take care of a baby. I was five years old! I was starting to learn how to write
and read! I remember arguing with him for a while, until I had to accept.
without asking something in return, of course.
In the end,
he went to do whatever he needed and I was left alone with you. An awkward
atmosphere formed where we were, since you found my face very interesting and kept your eyes on me for a really long time. I tried my best to
ignore you, but you were too much persisting and even threw me some mini bones at me
to gain my attention.
smart baby, huh? Well, we were magic skeleton monsters after all. But it was
“What do you want?” I asked you and you only looked at
me and babbled something. I instantly felt stupid, remembering that Ink told me
you haven’t said your first word yet. how would you even tell me what you needed? You kept looking at me and then, surprisingly,
your stomach made a noise.
I had to feed you.
something for you was horrible. I mean, we were in the Anti-Void and only had
some snacks since we didn’t really need to eat, but being you a recently made
creation, obviously needed to consume something, even if you had your HP full. Eventually,
I found some milk and gave it to you, ending getting milk on my face and shirt
because you apparently didn’t know
how to drink it.
enough for me.
I’m not a person that gets mad easily. However, I did get mad that time. I stood abruptly from my seat and went to clean
my face, leaving you alone on the sofa. Ink told me to not leave you, but I
didn’t care. I wanted to be alone and so I did. I went to my bedroom (well,
it’s not a real bedroom… just a bed that Ink made for me) and stayed here for a
few hours. Maybe three or four…
until I heard a soft sound that I didn’t get up from my bed. And when I did, I
instantly paled: You were lying on the floor crying softly. Your soft cries
barely reaching my non-existent ears. And it wasn’t the worst. No, no.
blushing and sweating a lot. Were you sick? In that moment I didn’t know.
went to your side and picked you up, checking if you had hurt yourself from the
fall. Luckily you didn’t have any bruises, but your skull was very hot. Now you
were sick? And I was alone.
could get sick so easily and fast? I didn’t understand that at all! Was that
the real reason of why Ink brought you here? So he could watch over you while
Blueberry and Honey were busy? If that was the reason, he was very
irresponsibly by leaving you with me: a child, taking care of another child!
know what to do. I couldn’t use magic to help you, I couldn’t ask Ink for help,
I couldn’t open a portal and find Blueberry… I couldn’t do anything. And I was
something happened? What if you started to feel worse? What if…
What if you died?
thoughts were swirling in my head, making me fell worst and worst. I didn’t
want you to die.
You had a great life ahead! You would have a caring family and friends and
maybe… maybe we would have been friends! I should have watched you. Maybe if I haven’t
left you alone…
help to feel guilty, even knowing that it wasn’t my fault that got sick. In
that moment, I didn´t cared about anything, just you.
It was in
that moment when Ink decided that he should go home, and so he did. He came to
the Anti-Void and found me on the sofa, hugging you like it was the last time
I’d see you and honestly, that’s what I thought. He rushed to my side,
worryingly asking what was wrong. I wasted no time and explained him what
happened, apologising for being a bad brother and almost crying
wasn’t expecting was that Ink just took you and, with a quick spell, healed
you. I mean, I knew magic were fast and efficient but, that was just too fast. When I asked him why, he
explained that you were having some problems with your soul.
brother (and also you, reader), Ink told me you were created without a soul,
since you were just a magic drawing. So, he made an artificial one for you with
the same paint he used to create you. Apparently, he didn’t want you to become
like some “evil flower”.
was like your eyes: a blue diamond. And that soul was filled with Prussian blue
paint that could give you the emotions you needed. It seemed like your body
wasn’t used to having it yet and would make you sick from time to time. I
didn’t quite understand that, but I was relieved when he said you would be
The rest of
the day was peaceful. Ink and I talked about random things while you slept. It
was… nice, being with them like we were a family. That’s what we are, right?
it was time to bring you back home. Ink said that you won’t be coming anytime
soon because he wanted to protect you from dangerous people (aka, Error). It
kind of made me sad, not being able to talk you again for a long time, but… it
had to be done, hadn’t it? Ink made a portal back to Underswap and gave me time
to say goodbye to you. After that, he started to walk to the portal, stopping
when you started to squirm under his grasp.
walked to the portal. You immediately looked at me and gave me a huge simile,
saying (or trying to say) something that made us look at you in surprise:
My name. Yes, my
It was kind
of babbled and wasn’t my full name but… It was your very first word. And it
wasn’t “dad” or “mom”… no, it was “PJ”
have idea of how happy you made me that day. The day when I found you, disliked
you and then liked you and accepted the idea that we were brothers. And, in the
bottom of my soul, I hoped to see you again.
having a little brother wouldn’t be that bad, right?
I hope you
liked it! It was an idea I had for while uvu and really needed to make it. We
now know more about Print and PJ’s relationship. I won’t say PJ likes him
because he’s not my character and don’t want to say incorrect things (since he
isn’t one to make friends). So, I only will say that Blueprint’s first words
made him very happy.
I’m sorry if it looks rushed, but this isn’t a story. It just PaperJam talking with Blueprint and telling him the story (with some people spying on them(?))
Summary: Bruce gets caught talking to himself by a curious Dick Grayson
Bruce Wayne had learned to ignore many things in the few years since he’d become Batman. Initial irrigations had even turned to comforting reminders. The chill of the cave was a welcome shock that helped his brain transition from Bruce to vigilante. The long drive from the manor to Gotham proper had turned into a time to plan instead of wasted minutes. And the bats. Chattering. Flapping. Swooping when he was least expecting them. They’d become a welcome presence alongside him. Their noise the background to his work. Their rare visible presence a constant reminder of vigilance.
He had never considered them as companions to speak to. They were only bats, after all.
They had never answered his muttered musings to himself or offered up answers to questions not sent their way. His hushed tone had grown over time to conversational, as he worked out plans, walked mentally through crime scenes, and picked apart toxins. They were much like walls in the way that they soaked up his words and kept them tightly as their own.
He was sure that things would have gone along that way for years longer if a small, ever-curious boy had not entered his life. Dick was always asking questions. Most of which Bruce had ready answers for. Their subjects those that (most of the time) were enriching to his young ward’s mind.
It had been years since Bruce had to curtail his habits to anyone other than Alfred. He’d developed a public persona with strict rules and guidelines for when he was at Wayne Enterprises or public events, and the hours he put in as Batman were done as a man far removed from the man he was in the sun. His home self, the man who was neither smile nor mask was free of those restrictions. Free to frown, and rub his forehead, to be frustrated or pleasantly amused by the misplacing of his favorite book, and yes he was free to talk to himself.
“If I clip that wire, and solder it here the whole thing will run a lot faster.” He said, his hands already angling the wire clipper towards the blue line. “Then if I just–”
- This is my first “fic” well it will be more of a drabble -
I REPEAT THIS IS MY FIRST FANFICTION EVER!!!
Warnings: unedited, first fic I’ve ever written, hopefully super fluffy fluff
Poly!Hamilsquad x reader
Summary: The boys have been really busy lately, reader is sleepy and clingy, the boys just love the way she acts when she needs more sleep.
AN: I hope this is good for the first imagine I’ve written, I was inspired by @a-schuylerr ‘s poly!hamilsquad imagine, “heavy eyes”. I wrote all this in one sitting, feel free to tell me if you like it or tell me some improvements, thanks :)
Now you weren’t going to lie, You haven’t been sleeping very well the past few days.
All the boys were very busy. Hercules with his tailoring, he is having to deal with a very picky rich woman who wanted everything to be her way or the highway.
Alexander was busy with all the work his boss, George Washington, was giving him. Then there is always fighting with Jefferson.
And John is busy…. Well you aren’t really sure what he’s been busy with, he’s just going in and out of the apartment constantly.
Then there was Lafayette. He was busy with volunteering at a local high school, tutoring children learning French. In fact, he is loving teaching his native tongue to the youngsters so much that he is thinking of possibly applying to be an official French teacher.
Now listen, it wasn’t that the boys were ignoring you, not by any means. They were just all so busy. Alex was staying up all night until dusk working on god knows what on his computer. Here being kept up late in his shop working on all his clothes he was making. John doing whatever it was John was doing.
The point is, they all got into bed once you were asleep and all at ungodly hours in the morning. You missed cuddling with them. And you tried you damn hardest to get them all to go to bed at a reasonable hour, but no matter your persuasive tactics, they would not budge from their respective places.
You all had the day off today, though they were at home, they were all still doing work. You were up, but still very sleep deprived and feeling sorta needy, you needed to touch them, you missed them.
But, it didn’t matter that you missed them and all you wanted to do was cuddle and watch a movie and eventually fall asleep. It didn’t matter because you had to go to the supermarket to get some food.
“Hey guys, I’m going to go to the store to get some food, anyone want anything?” you asked by the front door slipping on your favorite pair of boots, ‘cause it’s cold as hell in New York during the winter.
To your surprise, both Laf and John jumped up and said they’d join you.
You were more than happy to have them come along. The three of you set off down the stairs of your building after you all put on your coats, Laf made sure both you and john had on a scarf and a beanie and were warm enough.
Once at the store you took out your list of items you needed and the three of you set off to look for your desired items. The trip ended up taking much, much longer than anticipated, it took two and a half hours.
By the time you were in the check-out line, you were leaning heavily on Laf’s shoulder with your hand intertwined with his. John was looking at the two of you with so much love in his eyes.
“Mon amor, are you tired?” Laf teased.
“Mhm,” was the only response you were able to produce.
While you were waiting in this horridly long line, you closed your eyes. Above your head John and Laf glanced at each other, down at your sleepy form, back at each other, then smirked.
The boys love it when you got sleepy, ‘cause when you got sleepy you got clingy and cuddly and become very dependent on your four boys to take care of you and hold you.
John quickly texted both Herc and Alex to tell them that you were in this mood. He told them to get some blankets out and wrap up whatever they were working on.
All whilst checking out, you leaned on Laf and mumbled half awake sentences about hurrying up. John and Laf only internally “awwww”ed and lightly chuckled at you behavior.
On the car ride back to your apartment you sat in the back with John cuddled up to his side, your head on his chest. His soft humming, one hand running through your hair, the other rubbing your thigh in soothing motions, and the steady rise and fall of his chest were all coaxing you into sleep.
When you got back to the apartment building, John shook you awake. Your eyes fluttered open, you closed them again, your eyebrow creasing with the unwanted and unexpected awakening. You slowly brought you hands, curled in loose fists, to softy rub your eyes.
“W-wha’s goin’ on? Wha’ happened?” you murmured sleepily
“You fell asleep, baby girl, we’re back at the building now, you gotta get up,” John replied, a smile on his face. You were just so damn adorable.
“Oh,” you pouted slightly, you were so tired you couldn’t see straight. You lifted your arms with as much strength as you could muster and made grabby hand at Laf, signaling to him that you wanted to be carried,
Laf chuckled and did that thing people do when they see something so cute they frown and smile at the same time, trying not to exclaim out loud how cute and adorable and precious you were being.
Laf scooped you up into his arms. You wrapped your legs around his waist, you arms wound tightly around his neck and nuzzled you head into the crook of his neck. His hands rested at you lower back and one under your jean-clad bottom to ensure you don’t fall. The placement of his hands pushed you closer to your boyfriend, you hummed contently, loving the physical contact.
Oblivious to you, Laf’s head shot up to make eye contact with John. Their eyes wide, trying their damnedest not to make any noises about you kola like behavior.
Laf, with you curled around him, carried you to the elevator, John strolled behind you two, looking at your head and how every now-and-then you would nuzzle your nose into his neck, your eyes closed and a content smile in your face.
When you finally got to your floor and into to the apartment, Laf set you on the bench near the front door that the five of you use to put extra bundle necessities in, and to sit in to put on and take off your shoes.
After taking off his own shoes, John bent down to unite and take off your shoes. While he was busy doing that you very slowly took off you coat and other winter accessories.
You softly rubbed you eyes again and looked up at John, who had now stood at full height, looking down at you making sure you got everything off without trouble. He smiled at you and offered you his hand. You smiled a small smile back and took his hand. He helped you up and you leaned against him.
As you neared the living room, your feet dragged. You were just so sleepy.
Alex was sitting all alone on the couch. Unknown to you, Laf had quickly gone to him once he saw Alex was seated on the couch and told him of your adorable sleepy clingy behavior. He kissed him and told him he needs to cuddle with you alone for a minute.
Once Alex saw you his face lit up, when he saw how you leaned on John and how cute you looked. His smile got bigger and internally thanked whatever god or gods there were that this beautiful woman, and handsome freckled man beside her, loved him. Alex could write for days on how beautiful and adorable you looked, clinging to John’s arm.
“Awwww, come here sweetheart,” Alex said to you, winking at John, silently telling him he knew what was going on and what was going to happen. John walked the two of you over to the couch, you crawled into Alex’s lap nuzzling you head into his neck, one hand at your side, the other wound in his hair.
Above your head John gave Alex one or two affectionate greeting kisses. After they parted, John planted a soft, lingering kiss to the top of your head, then headed to the kitchen to help put up the couple of food bags Laf had taken from him before you even registered that you needed to take off you coat, just seconds ago. He kissed Herc for maybe a little longer than needed, but nobody was objecting. The two men who went with you on your shopping trip filled in Herc on how cute you were acting, how they just love you leaning on them, your clingy-ness, your little stumble shuffle combo as you attempt to walk at a reasonable pace.
Alex looked down at you fondly and said something you didn’t quite catch… Wait, when did you get into Alex’s arms. Ohhh, he so warm, and smells so good. And him rubbing soothing circles on your back, the other on your knee and thigh. Good lord- you could drift off into sleep right now. You feel his warmth and affection seeping into you, you were just too tired to know what was going on. His actions soothed you, you were falling asleep again, but you felt as if somewhere, far away, someone was trying to talk to you. You whimpered, burrowing your face closer to his neck, if that was even possible.
You are just about to fall asleep once again you feel his chest rumble as he says, “Hmmm, how ‘bout that,love? Would you like that? Did’ya hear me, little one?”
You grunted out a small “what”, getting metaphorically drunk of his warmth, sent, and the warm breath being blown on to your neck as he talks.
He chuckled lightly, if you’d have been fully responsive at the time you would have heard the smile in his voice as he repeated himself, “I said, how ‘bout we get you out of those jeans and into some sweats and we can all cuddle in bed, we have all had a long week, I think we all deserve a cuddle session.”
You slowly nodded, liking that idea, but not quite understanding in your half-asleep, well mostly asleep, daze.
As soon as you had finished nodding, your other three amazing boyfriends came out of the kitchen, Herc in the lead, eager to see you and cuddle you.
Herc crouched down in front of you and Alex and rested a hand on your thigh softy to get your attention. Your eyebrows crease once again, like they did in the car before you slowly lifted your head from the crook of Alex’s neck and was met with the face of your fourth lover, who had an endearing smile on his face, looking at you fondly.
“Hey there, sleepyhead,” Herc murmured to you, but the room was quiet enough that everyone herd it, even Laf and John who were embracing each other and smiling fondly and the small group on and in front of the couch.
“H-herc, hey, man, I m-missed you,” you mumbled, not having enough energy to speak very loud. You slowly lifted your arms from Alex to attempt to latch on to Herc.
Your lovers all chuckled, they found it amusing yet endearing that you called people “man” and “dude” when you were, or weren’t, tired.
Herc easily picked you up spun around in the direction of the bedroom, all after you had wrapped yourself around him, just like you had done with Laff not even ten minutes ago.
The rest of the boys followed in suit, John stopping by the thermostat to turn the heat down a little, once you were all five in bed, with all those big, furnace bodies *cough, cough* Laf and Herc *cough,cough*, somebody is bound to get a little over heated *cough, cough* you or Alex *cough, cough.*
Herc set you down on you feet, Laff by your side to keep you from falling over. John get you someone’s boxers, probably Alex’s, and grabbed a Black Lives Matter shirt, probably Herc’s, judging by the size, just a little bigger than Laf’s shirt.
John tossed the boxers and shirt to Laf so he could help you undress and dress. While Laf help you, the other boys got in more comfy clothes as well.
Laf slowly slid your jeans down your legs, being very patient while you wobbled and grabbed his shoulder to steady yourself when stepping out of them. Next came you panties, you were fine with being bare in front of them, they loved you for you. He steadied you as you stepped into the boxers. He slid them up your legs, when he stood at full height, he looked down at you and smiled, seeing your eyes closed and head tilting forward.
John kissed the place where Laf’s shoulder meets his neck and murmured in his ear, “You get comfy, I’ll finish changing our sleepy little one.”
Laf nodded an okay, turned and kissed John on the lips, only to part a couple seconds late when they heard your tired needy whine. Laf chuckled against the freckled man’s lip, and muttered to him, “Our princess sure is cling today, better get moving, she just might, how you say… pass out? Oui, pass out.”
Now it was John’s turn to nod. He pecked Laf’s lips once more, then turned to you. Your eyes were drooping closed, trying to stay awake, but failing.
“Hey, darlin’, lets get you out of that shirt, huh?” John murmured against your forehead, his southern drawl coming out on certain words in his sentence. The more relaxed he was, the more that sweet hint of southern twang came out. Normally that would have soaked those boxers you were wearing, but you were much to tired to even fathom that.
John slowly got your shirt and bra off, then slowly slid the shirt down your torso, his fingertips purposely skimming the sides of your breasts and your sides making you shiver and whimper a little. When you were sleepy and not focused, your skin’s sensitivity became heightened. But John knew not to go father, besides he was becoming more and more tired himself. When the shirt got to your waist he let go of the ends letting it fall and end a couple inches past your bottom. He pulled you in for a hug, which lasted at leas thirty seconds, your head facing sideways on the front of his shoulder.
John released you from his tight embrace. Alex swept you up into his arms and guided you to the bed, where you crawled to the center, the sheets where ice cold making you whine as your sensitive skin came in contact with the ice cubes you called sheets. But hat discomfort faded away quickly as Herc settles in on your right, John cuddled beside him, Alex to your left, Laf on the other side of him.
You sunk into Alex and Herc’s warm embrace with no effort, sleepily think about how much you love your boyfriends. Them bed became warm. as the room filled up with the love and affection you held for each other.
You were the first to fall asleep, your boys soon to follow.
As you drifted off to sleep Alex’s arm curled around your waist, and Herc intertwined his fingers with yours.
1. “I don’t hate you.”
2. “Maybe there’s more to me than what meets the eye.”
3. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
4. “It wasn’t supposed to be this way.”
5. “Anything for science.”
6. “Some say I have mixed morals… when, in reality, I just follow logic.”
7. “Why are you stealing my clothes?”
8. “It’s nothing personal.”
9. “The blood’s just from a nosebleed; don’t worry about it.”
10. “Give me the computer, I need to look up cute penguins.”
11. “I hope you die in a hole filled with spiders.”
12. “Don’t touch my food.”
13. “You’ve got that whole drunken-sway thing going on.”
14. “You think this shit is simple?”
15. “Tell me what you want me to say.”
16. “There was a time I thought I loved you.”
17. “No matter how bad things get, I’ll always be here for you.”
18. “I’m just as fucked up as you are.”
19. “This is bad, right?”
20. “You may think your secrets are well kept, but I know everything.
21. "Why isn’t anyone listening to me?”
22. “This is damaging my self-esteem, I hope you know.”
23. “I am here to grace you with my presence.”
24. “You’ve gone too far when the other one can’t walk away.”
25. “I honestly don’t think you’re like me at all.”
26. “Sometimes I feel like I’m tearing myself apart and I can’t stop.”
27. “I never knew you could bend like that.”
28. “You’re like a giant cinnamon role.”
29. “I don’t want to ruin you.”
30. “Aww, who knew you were such a cute kid. I always assumed you would’ve resembled a donkey.”
31. “I just want a hug.”
32. “You should be very, very scared of me.”
33. “It’s funny; I used to think anything was possible when I was a kid.”
34. “My entire universe is/used to be you.”
35. “I’m sick of feeling so useless all the time.”
36. “You won’t scare me away.”
37. “I don’t believe in love at first sight, but I believe in hate at first sight.”
38. “Get your hands off of my stuff.”
39. “When I was told I was going on a blind date, I never thought it’d be you.”
40. “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”
41. “We need to talk.”
42. “I don’t understand why you feel like you have to keep stuff from me.”
43. “I never knew you were a cat person.”
44. “Did you seriously get a tattoo?”
45. “How’d you get so good at first aid?”
46. “You’ve never seen Lion King?”
47. “Are your nails painted?”
48. “I really don’t care what you think.”
49. “Because that’s not weird at all.”
50. “I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship.”
Send me a pairing and a number and i’ll write you a drabble: “I think we need to talk”
Warning slight spoilers for chapters 78 + 84
Writing this actually made me cry…sooo heads-up?
Moblit the Brave
Moblit Berner did not consider himself to be particularly
brave. That’s not to say he didn’t do his job. He did. And he liked to think he
did it well. But he’d never been able to easily forget the queasy feeling of
fear. It seemed to strike Moblit at the most inopportune times.
Such as now.
He intended to speak with Captain Levi Ackerman. Or rather,
he’d been intending to speak with
Captain Levi Ackerman – for the better part of the morning. Paying only half a
mind to his regular duties, Moblit had watched Levi go about his business,
waiting for the right moment to approach him.
It wasn’t that Moblit was scared of Levi. The captain did,
however, have a certain unapproachable quality, and Moblit found himself
waiting for the right moment to strike up a conversation.
The moment came sooner than expected.
As Moblit climbed the stairs from the storage
rooms, a hand snagged his collar. Moblit grasped the front of his shirt and
spun, instinctively raising his fist. It was caught in an iron grasp.
Levi stared at him, unamused. “Why are you following me
Summary: Dean and Rowena have an arrangement that gives them both what they need.
Warning: dom!Rowena, sub!Dean, being restrained during sex, blow job, thigh riding and face riding
Word Count: 3500
A/N: I got an ask about Dean x Rowena and had never really thought about them before. I was instantly inspired to write them, and this happened. It ended up being long enough for me to break it into two parts. Hope y’all enjoy! XOXO
Every now and then, when even the huge bunker seems too small to hold the two of them together for any long period of time, Sam and Dean take off on their own. It’s an old tradition, something they’ve done since they were old enough to get away, taking a week here and there when motel rooms became claustrophobic, when someone had just one too many irritating habits for them to coexist peacefully.
This time, Sam has taken off to some cabin where he can hole up and read or whatever it is he does while he eats his organic fruits and vegetables.
And Dean? Well, Dean is sitting in a tiny motel room, drinking and waiting.
alright, hi there. i’m a moderately accomplished visual artist, poet, novelist, and fanfiction writer who’s about to be That Guy.
so right now there’s this whole “don’t tag as #me or #kin” thing going around (as well as people drawing interactions between characters and saying “don’t tag as #[ship name]), and there’s started to be this collective decision that this is now a moral burden on the audience. that consumers of art have the moral obligation to go through an artist’s blog before reblogging any of their art and find out their opinions on specific tags before tagging them as such.
i am here, with my multiple published works and several years in online art communities, to tell you that this isn’t how art works oh my god.
it is not the moral obligation of a consumer of content to go find out every single thing about an content creator and try to conform to the original intention of a piece of artwork. intention in creating artwork is all internal. in some artwork, it comes through externally to the audience without them having to hunt it down; however, in artwork where that is not the case (often where the artist doesn’t want the intention to be externally obvious), the motivations for creating a piece of art are entirely internal on the artist’s part, and lose their relevance one the art hits an audience.
because what’s the job of an audience? to fucking interpret art.
once you put your content out in public, you are opening yourself up to feedback, critique, interpretation, and derivative content. that interpretation will not always line up with your original intentions for a piece. sometimes, that interpretation will be wildly incorrect. but it doesn’t matter how incorrect it is–an audience has the right to interpret your art and react to it in any way desired, and it’s that reaction and interpretation that creates the two-way dialogue necessary for good art.
good art doesn’t come from masturbatory “here is every single thing about this piece that you need to see and here is precisely how you should interpret it” circlejerks. good art inspires creativity, not cuts it off before it even begins.
see, i get really passionate about this because this is the same shit authors like Anne Rice used to go after fanfiction authors of their work. at one point in time, there were actual lawsuits against fic writers and fanartists for supposedly infringing on the original authors’ intellectual property by creating derivative work.
and a lot of those stemmed from pieces where the audience’s interpretation of a character or a story was different from the original author’s. a common one was where a fic author would make a character gay, and then the original author would be like oHOoh NnNOnOO NOoott the HomoOSeXUalLS!!!111!!
anyway. tangent aside, once you put your content out in public, you are entering into an implied agreement with your audience where they are free to interpret, discuss, and create derivatives of your content, without regard for your personal feelings.
yes, art can be personal, and that’s good! but public art is a two-way dialogue between an artist and an audience. it can be extremely personal on the artist’s part, but if the artist still chooses to make the art public, it being personal doesn’t have an effect on whether or not there’s a moral obligation of the audience to stick to the artist’s original intentions.
in short, if you really have such a huge personal problem with someone relating really hard to your OC and tagging as #kin, or with someone seeing flirtiness in how you’re drawing your two favorite characters interacting, then you shouldn’t be putting that content in the public sphere. it’s fine to have those sensitivities, it doesn’t mean you’re a bad person or flawed somehow, it just means that the particular content you’re creating is too personal and shouldn’t be put into the public sphere.
sharing art is a great experience, of course, and it’s always good to have a circle of close friends, maybe an art teacher or something, who can give you feedback and help you improve. but like… if you can’t deal with public engagement with your work, then don’t post it on a public account. email back-and-forth between friends or pass your sketchbook around instead.
anyway i have no idea how to end this *fingerguns* B)
guess it’s time for my first follow forever with this blog! :’) I could never imagine I would reach this milestone so fast, especially after remaking and turning my writing around. and even if numbers are not really that important, it is still heartwarming and incredibly touching to see 6,000 people giving me and my writing a (second) chance.
This one was inspired by this gorgeous pic. I blame it fully for this drabble and its tooth-rotting fluff.
The garden had been a sanctuary for Azriel and Elain since the very start of their relationship, back when they had been nothing more than tentative friends thrown together in a time of need. But even then, Azriel had always enjoyed being able to sit on one of the many benches, wings out as he quietly watched Elain tend to the blooming flowers. It was a still, soothing peace – one that he had often yearned for in his long existence, but rarely attained. His friends were a rowdy bunch after all, and the world was forever a dangerous place; far too dangerous to allow him any measure of rest.
But Elain, lovely Elain… she could calm Azriel down like no other and yet could also set him all ablaze with a single touch. (She was shy and sweet, no doubt, but underneath all of that careful poise, underneath all of the ingrained manners and etiquette, was a fiercely passionate heart. She was truly a wondrous thing to behold, in every aspect of life.)
As their relationship progressed from friendship into something else entirely, they spent more and more of their time in the garden of the house she kept with her sisters. Azriel treasured the moments they had together amidst the carefully manicured plants… Like when he would be lounging on his usual bench, eyes closed against the bright sun, until Elain would suddenly be at his side, a small smile tugging at berry-colored lips. She’d settle softly next to him without out a word, her body half on top of his so they could both fit on the bench’s narrow iron frame.
There was just nothing quite like the sheer warmth of those moments. He hoped the memories of them would forever stay clear in his mind, that even decades, centuries from now, he would remember the feeling of Elain Archeron lying atop his chest, her head tucked into the crook of his neck as he ran his fingers through soft, soft hair.
The first time she’d done it, laid with him like that, she’d been so hesitant, afraid of making the wrong move, of scaring him off… afraid of asking for what she truly wanted after she’d had her heart so brutally broken. But when Azriel had opened his eyes to find her standing nervously in front of his bench, her hand half raised towards him, he had only reached out and tugged her onto him. He could bear her weight easily, and would gladly do so for as long as she wished. Elain, for her part, had worn a soft smile as she slowly relaxed into his body, her cheeks flushed with color. There was no embarrassment in her countenance, however, not with Azriel.
So, yes, their time in the garden was precious. It was a place so wholly peaceful that even Azriel, who lived the majority of his life wreathed in shadows, who greeted pain as an old friend, could not help but bask in it. It was also the only place that seemed to ease the visions that so often plagued Elain. Though it did not happen nearly as often as it once had, there were still days where her mind was so full of the threads of their futures that she could barely think. Days where Azriel could do nothing more than be there and listen to the soft murmurings of futures he could barely decipher, watching over the world around them as Elain’s eyes remained clouded and sightless.
There was nothing else he could do… but bring her into their favorite sanctuary. The peace of the garden helped to rein in her visions, the quiet buzz of life around them giving her strength. It was the familiarity, Azriel thought, that helped her most; the one tie apart from her sisters that she continued to have to her former mortal life.
Today was another bad day. Azriel had awoken to Elain’s feverish mutterings, had tried to calm her in his usual way (soft hands stroking down her sides, kisses pressed to her shoulders as he tried to bring her back into the present). When that didn’t work, he immediately wrapped a shawl around Elain’s shoulders (modest even in immortality, Azriel knew she be humiliated if she woke to find herself in nothing but her thin night gown) and spared a brief moment to pull on some pants, forgoing a shirt in his urgency. He lifted Elain gently, holding her tight to his bare chest as he walked them down into the ever-peaceful garden.
Instead of heading to their bench, however, he sat amidst the grass, Elain laying against him in the v of his legs. He knew that she would come back faster down here, amidst the product of all her hard work, the flowers rustling in a gentle breeze. So Azriel sat, keeping his arms around the seer as a reminder that he was there, but loose enough that she didn’t feel locked in. (It was hard for her, when her body was here with him, but her mind elsewhere. She was often panicked when she came back.)
Azriel sat and he did what he did best. He listened. His wings were a shelter around them, the riddles of Elain’s visions contained within as she muttered them to him. Azriel memorized them all, catalogued them for later. He was the spymaster after all, even on days like these.
Slowly, slowly he felt Elain return from wherever she’d been. He only relaxed fully when she crawled away from him though, her hands going into the flowers all around them. Her mind was still half in the future, eyes slightly glazed, but she kept her hands busy, using the task in front of her to regain control. Azriel watched as she methodically picked flowers, weaving them together with a kind of artistry that all of the Archeron sisters, even Nesta, seemed to possess.
He stayed carefully silent as he leaned back onto his elbows, his attention never wavering from Elain. She looked so heart-achingly beautiful in the dawn light, soft and gentle but with that innate strength of hers shining through as she slowly mastered her powers.
And then she finally, finally blinked. Her eyes were clear as they gazed at him. Blessedly lucid.
“There she is,” he said softly, proudly.
Elain immediately smiled, even through her exhaustion and pain. She crawled back into his embrace, wrapped loose arms around his shoulders as she ducked her forehead against his. Her eyes closed. “Hello,” she said, her voice filled with relief.
Azriel’s hand went under her hair to rest on the back of her neck. “Hello,” he responded in kind.
(There would be time to question her about the visions later. She deserved a little bit of peace first. She always did. Azriel would have given everything he had, if only he could continue to give Elain Archeron the peace she deserved.)
She shifted back a bit from him, her arms falling into her lap as she looked at the flowery creation she held in one hand. Her fingers trailed over the red and pink petals.
“What’s that?” he asked.
A mischievous glint lit in Elain’s tired eyes. “It’s for you.” She crooked a finger at him, gesturing for him to duck forward.
He did so. And then Elain reached up placed the flowers atop his head, hands almost benevolent as she settled them in his hair. Azriel blinked in surprise. A crown. She’d made him a crown. He felt something like heat fly to his cheeks.
“I’m not entirely sure a spy like me is fit to wear a crown,” Azriel finally managed to reply, sardonic.
Elain watched him for a moment, her fingers tracing over the whorls of the Illyrian tattoos that covered his shoulders. (Their design was unlike those of his brothers – these swirls looked like smoke and mist and shadow.) Finally, she looked up to meet his burning gaze. “You’re much more than just a spy, Azriel,” she said in a soft voice that left no room for argument. “And you deserve more than just a crown.”
He had to swallow past the emotion in his throat when she took one of his hands in hers, kissing the inside of his scarred palm without fear or revulsion.
“Regardless, I think something’s missing here,” Azriel told her after a pause, reaching out to pick a pretty white flower with his free hand. He put it gently behind her ear, tucking her hair around it. “There. Now we match.”
Elain responded with rosy cheeks and a smile… and then by throwing her arms around him again, pressing kisses to his jaw. She was always so beautifully tactile with him, especially after a vision. He buried his head in her neck for a long moment, wanting to just breathe her in. Her arms tightened around him at that, fingers running through the hair at the nape of his neck. Azriel held on long enough to be surrounded by nothing but Elain, by her comforting scent.
When he reluctantly loosened his hold, she didn’t go far, only placing her forehead against his. This time she kept her eyes open though, and he would had to be blind not to see the love and adoration and want shining there.
“Hello,” he said again, his mouth mere inches from hers, his voice rough.
“Hello,” she replied, breathless.
Azriel’s eyes flicked down to her lips for the briefest moment. “I’m going to have to kiss you now.”
Elain smiled, a thing so bright it was almost painful. “If you insist.”
And he did. After all, how could he not? It was Elain.