one of my favourite things about this new era is the fact that taylor is letting her hair out, natural waves and all; she isn’t conforming to society’s standards and instead she’s out here serving her own damn looks like a fckn queen
I don’t understand why people are talking shit about Michonne getting her ass beat . When Rick got his ass beat by the governor It was Michonne that saved his ass ! I can’t believe people are saying that she’s gone soft and stupid nonsense like that . But let me tell you something, Michonne is a warrior! She is not a robot. She is a HUMAN BEING . She may have looked bad beaten up but she WON THE DAMN FIGHT! She is the QUEEN AND RICKS KEY 👸🏾
Summary: Dean has a nice conversation with his “Princesses.”
Warnings: talking about dragons and princesses and stuff (not sure if that’s a real warning but I’ll put it in case)
Word count: ~700
“Daddy, why is Uncle Sam taller than you?” a small voice asks, and it catches your attention almost immediately.
You look up at Dean and wait for his answer, wondering how he’ll try to explain this one.
“I’m not really sure, Princess,” he admits, and her little head cocks to the side in confusion. “He just is.”
“Will Sissy be taller than me?” she asks, setting down her watering can on the ground and looking over to where her younger sister was playing in some mud.
“Maybe, I’m not sure,” Dean answers, picking up the small shovel and rake she had set down earlier. “But it doesn’t matter if she is.”
“Because I’ll always be there for her,” your eldest daughter says with a nod. “Like you’re always there for Uncle Sam.”
He pauses for a second, her words making a smile grow on his lips. He looks over to you, as though trying to figure out where she would learn to say something like that, and you shake your head.
She figured it out all on her own, from watching her father interact with his brother.
“Daddy?” she asks, and he turns his attention to her once more.
“Yes, Princess?” he answers as she scoops up her watering can.
“I wanna be just like you when I grow up,” she says happily, trotting a few feet forward to water a small plant growing from the ground.
His heart constricts, and he smiles as he watches her trot forward a few more paces to water another plant.
“Why is that, Princess?” he prompts.
“Cause you plant flowers with me and have tea parties with me and cause you love Mama and Sissy a lot and because you’re so cool like Uncle Sam,” she explains, like it’s the most simple thing in the world. “And cause you love me.”
“Of course I love you,” he says in a thick voice, this conversation with his oldest daughter making his heart swell. “You’re my Princess.”
“Daddy! Wanna princess!” a smaller voice chimes, and he sees his younger daughter toddling toward him, her face, arms, torso, and legs covered in mud.
“You’re my Princess, too,” he presses a kiss to her forehead as she latches onto him. “You’re both my Princesses.”
“Mama you queen!” she chants, clapping excitedly, and he grins as mud splatters across her hot pink tutu that she had to wear to play outside.
“Yeah, Daddy! If we’re princesses, Mama has to be a queen,” his oldest proclaims, and he grins slightly.
“Is that so?” he directs the question toward you, where you lay tanning in the sun’s rays. You crack an eye open and look at him, raising an eyebrow.
“Damn right I’m a queen,” you mutter, sending him a knowing look.
“Mama queen!” your youngest chirps, and she races on chubby little feet toward you.
Dean watches as muddy handprints make their way to your clothes, a quiet groan leaving your lips at the mess.
“Daddy, I think Sissy isn’t a princess,” his oldest says, her nose crinkled slightly as she watches her younger sister. “She’s too muddy. Maybe she can be a dragon.”
“Princesses can get dirty,” he tells her, and she hums. She pauses for a moment, as though thinking about his words.
“No, Sissy is definitely not a princess,” she states once more, looking up to him sharply. “You can only have one princess and that’s me.”
“But what happened to always being there for her?” Dean asks, and she huffs as she picks up her remaining gardening tools.
“Well, I’ll always be there for her, even if she is a dragon and not a princess,” she says with ease.
“I think your Mama needs some help with the dragon, huh?” he asks, noticing how you were trying to keep your youngest entertained without getting too dirty.
“Yeah, Daddy,” she nods quickly. “You’re the knight, you have to save her from the dragon.”
“What will you do?” he asks as she gathers up her watering can and huffs.
“I’ve gotta try to turn the dragon into a princess again,” she says, and she hauls her watering can toward her sister, where she promptly dumps the water onto her sister.
And when his youngest starts to bawl at her sister’s actions, he knows that her idea of always being there for her was just slightly different than his idea of being there for Sam.
It was supposed to be a sketch but my love for Furiosa could not be satisfied with a sketch, and suddenly I needed to paint all those belts and that damn mechanical arm, and then part of the Rig wanted to be in there too. Also I’m all for goggles+scarf Furiosa.