Do not fall in love with a writer.Do not fall in love with a writer.More Like This
They can paint with colors that you have never heard of before, and create new worlds with one strong emotion. They have a heart that outstrips any fuel source, and is full of butterflies and frustration. They come alive in the early hours of morning, when the only noise they can perceive is the one coming from your sleeping form; they sleep when the sunlight isn't quite in the shape they need to work their magic. They can conjure up the most simplest of cliches, and leave you in a burning wake of words, singeing your arms and eyes with embers of passion and misnomers. They have moments of weakness, and brief seconds of strength, and the only thing they will keep to themselves is how many times they said, "You can do better than that". They've fallen in love with the impossible, and wept over the improbable. Their wishes comprise of fanatical love tales, and the harmonizing of fates that were almost lost to the dusty shelves of old book s
Santa GizkaT'was the month of Winter and all through the ship,More Like This
Not a gizka was squawking, not even a bit.
The passengers were snuggled, sleeping in their assigned bunk,
Except one Mandalorian, who was awake and slightly drunk.
As he sat at the table, a mug of ale at his side,
He stared at a lone gizka, no damage done to his pride.
When from the cargo hold arose such a clatter,
Canderous instantly jumped to see what was the matter,
HK had beaten him to the source of the sound,
His blaster drawn, pointed intently near the ground.
There it sat, a giant grin as it wiggled its butt,
A small, yellow gizka, plump and round like a hutt.
A bundle of items enclosed in a large sack,
Was slung over its shoulder, and rested on its back.
It had a broad face, the gizkas smile so huge,
And the Mandalorian wondered just what was in that booze.
The gizka spoke not a word as it hopped around,
Distributing presents, leaving them neatly on the ground.
New lightsabers for Bastila, motor oil for T3,
Breath mints for Za
The Awoken-Pilot-(Spock X Khan's Sister!Reader) "We all have that moment when we want to seek revenge on those who have hurt us. To kill everything that is not our equal. We all have that evil trapped down inside of us. The key is not to let it escape you, not to let it control your actions or cloud your mind. Many, many people have failed at this, and they fell to disaster. Don't be that person." -AnonymousMore Like This
"Khan... Is my brother." You told Kirk and Spock, "But I am not the cold blooded killer he is. He has awoken and death is inevitable."
"How do you know we can trust you?" Kirk asked, folding his arms. He was standing in front of your cell, the same one they had held your brother in.
"I swear upon my very soul and being that if I fail or do something to betray you, that I will die slow and painfully until even my soul is broken."
Spock turned to Kirk and whispered something to him that
Always There- Haruka x ReaderMore Like This
You two had known each other since you were little.
Neither of you could remember just how you met, and neither of you really cared. It was enough that you knew each other.
Haruka's childhood heavily included you just as yours included him. He could remember a small girl dragging him to the park, buying him ice cream, and having him push you on the swings. As you grew, he remembered the fortune you would spend on arcade video games and the failures you would suffer until you came to him, puppy eyes wide, begging for tokens. And as always, he wouldn't deny you. You could recall the visits to the library during middle school where you and Haruka studied in silence. By then, words weren't even needed between the two of you to communicate. You had learned to watch for the other and in that way, you could tell when Haruka was engrossed in a novel just as he could tell when you were tired.
He would nudge your shoulder and take your hand, silently leading you home all the way until you were c
New Kid: A WTNV Middle School AU Fan Fiction“Good night, Night Vale. Good night.” I said into my very new and very high tech Microphone ending my broadcast. It looks like I’m going to need some more black paint because the first coating is starting to flake and it looks red again.. Not good. I took off my headset (Station Management wouldn’t give me enough allowance to buy a real one. Instead, Station Management lent me their old earmuffs. The girly pink kind that are too fluffy. I hope that dumb spoilsport Steve Carlsberg never sees me like this. He’d just ruin everything! Ooh… I hate that guy.) and leaned back. Tomorrow I’d have to tell Intern Dana about another successful broadcast and mention her to try and get some more paint from her dad. My relaxation was short lived as a great thrashing and thundering came from inside Station Managements office and the door was thrown open, light swirling and filling the little square illuminated from the open threshold.More Like This