oh-we...l..l

I got tagged by @tyranttortoise

Rules: List your top 10 favorite characters from 10 different fandoms (in no particular order)
and then tag 10 people 

  1.  Sans (UT)
  2. Papyrus (US)
  3. Sherlock (BBC Sherlock Holmes)
  4. Legolas (Lotr/The Hobbit)
  5. Thorin (The Hobbit)
  6. Thranduil (The Hobbit)
  7. Fili and Kili (The Hobbit)
  8. Undertaker (Kuroshitsuji)
  9. Kise Ryouta (Kuroko no Basuke)
  10. Makoto (Free!)

Im trash im fully aware (and there are many that i havent called here but God forbid i name them all)

I tag @imaginexhobbit @letsallbecalmchaps @undertaleimagines @thesnowdinlibrary @undertaleimagines @skelimagines @humerusimagines @sansybones @papyrusthegreater-uf @frisk-the-determined-archived

(i picked yall pretty much at random)

anonymous asked:

Everyone always draws stuff about Marionette remembering all the moment's she's had with Chat Noir, post reveal. But what I want to see is what would Adriens reaction be to remembering all those moments post reveal?

If only there were more Ladrien moments >w< I just imagine Adrien just thinking about his obession with ladybug like *omg she was so close to me this whole time* but also reflect on marinette’s actions around him cause COMMON IT’S OBVIOUS. spelled embarrassed wrong oH WE L L 

Dear Old Dad

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there’s no one like you.

Burgers & Pie

written for a project for my fandom studies class this quarter

The first thing Castiel registers when he hits ground is how empty he feels. Empty, cold, and guilt ridden, he thinks with a grimace. He stands, wobbly at first, and looks to the sky. It’s alight with the fiery scars of his siblings burning wings. My fault, he thinks, all my fault. He stumbles into a clearing, eyes glued to the stars, limbs weighed down with mortality. How had he gotten here? A once loyal servant of the Host cast out. The story sounds all too familiar. But this time, it’s worse. Lucifer hadn’t gotten the rest of the Heavenly Host thrown out of their home. Castiel had.

The next thing Castiel registers is that he has no idea where he is. He calls to his grace, urging his wings to unfurl before he remembers. No wings anymore. He falters. No grace anymore. He breathes out a shaky breath, the air filling his lungs so they expand against his ribs. No matter how many lungfuls of air he gulps he still feels hollow and breakable like a bird’s bone.

Somehow, he finds a road. His damp trench coat clings to him uncomfortably like a once familiar skin that’s yearning to be shed. It’s empty. There’s not a car in sight, certainly not the black sheen of the one car he’d like to see most right now. He doesn’t know what else to do so he picks a direction and he walks. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.


When Dean doesn’t know what to do, he paces. It annoys Sam to no end, especially when he’s trying to do the whole “recover from almost dying” thing. Dean won’t say what’s bugging him, but Sam knows. It’s Cas. They saw the angels fall, hell, one of them splashed into the lake right outside that church, and Dean isn’t taking it lightly.

“Any phone calls?” Dean calls, his voice tight, as he makes his way back into the living room after an aimless trip to the kitchen.

“Nope. Why, got a hot date?” Sam manages to quirk a smile in Dean’s direction.

“Shut up. I’m just worried is all.”

“Worried about what?”

“Oh, you know, nothing really, except that slightly inconvenient apocalyptic halo meteor shower.” Dean crosses his arms resolutely across his chest and finally sits down. Granted, with an undignified huff.

“You’re allowed to care, Dean.” Sam knows he’s trying to do the impossible yet again. Nothing can get through the impenetrable wall of emotional constipation that is Dean Winchester. Dean fixes him with a blank stare. “About Cas,” Sam supplies.

“Cas is fine. Always is.” His tone is dull, emotionless. Sam opens his mouth to probe deeper but Dean stands. Conversation over. “I’ll be in my room.”


Cas almost thanks God for the trucker that picks him up in the middle of the night, but he’s certain the gratitude would fall upon deaf ears. A faithless angel, he muses with a wry smile, who would’ve thought he’d be the type.

“What’s the joke?” The trucker asks, glancing at him briefly before turning back to the road.

“Oh, nothing. I suppose I’m just happy to be heading home.” The words taste wrong when he says them. The Winchesters are all he knows, but that doesn’t mean they feel the same way. Sure, he had given up everything for them once upon a time, but that was someone else’s story. A different Castiel who wasn’t yet schooled in the art of power hungry betrayal. He winces. There’s no way they’ll take him back.

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