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[the-writing-blog69]

Sweet Dreams

Clara blinked her eyes open slowly, allowing them some time to adjust to her surroundings. She reached a hand up to rub the sleep out of her eyes, opening her mouth to give a short, quiet yawn. She felt the breeze of the cool forest air brush against her face, combing its fingers through her hair. She couldn't see very well, but she could see the vague figure of Pine sleeping, the small rat's body curled up on the forest floor, her cape flipped over to cover her front like a blanket, snoring as her ear and tail twitched occasionally. She felt Patches curled against her side, purring softly as he slept. The one figure that was missing was... Velvet red, a little ways from where she laid, sitting up, a blurry red rectangle making the figure seem taller than he actually was. Wishing to see the nutcracker more clearly, she begun to look for her glasses. She had set it to rest on her stomach before she had went to sleep, but supposed that it must've fallen off whilst she was sleeping. Her hand roamed across the grass, across the moist earth, feeling for the specs that she needed, for she could just barely see without them. Gripping onto the wire frame of the round glasses, and lifting them up to clean the glasses with the end of her now slightly-tattered night gown, before sliding it onto her face, to rest on the bridge of her nose and hook onto the back of her ears. 

There he was... The wooden soldier was sitting with his back turned against her, his wild snow-white hair sticking out in every direction, seemingly even more so due to the night air's humidity. His sword rested against the stump that he was sitting on. She was unsure if Hans has noticed that she was awake yet, as she begun shifting and moving into a sitting position. She stared for a fleeting moment, at his back, wondering what he was thinking, what he was looking at…

Then she decided to break the silence. 

"Aren't you tired?" She spoke, her gentle voice barely breaking above a whisper that was more silent than the wind. Hans turned his head, just slightly, to glance at her with a somewhat startled expression, to connect his red eyes with her mismatched ones. He slowly shook his head and turned back to stare into the far distance.

"Sleep is pointless to me. I don't need it. Not like this." He responded, not even looking back at her while he spoke. But his voice... Clara found a yearning in it, even only by the slightest amount. Even if he didn't need it, perhaps he wanted it?

"Don't you want to take a break, though?" Clara asked yet another question, tilting her head to the side, her pale brown hair rustling and shifting on her shoulders. "I can't imagine not even taking a break to rest would be good for you, even if you don't sleep." Clara continued, standing up finally, and taking a step forward to approach her nutcracker, the grass bending and yielding to her slippers. The red jacket that was his still rested on her shoulders, the gentle scent of oak and walnuts enveloping her. 

"I'll be fine." Hans persisted, waving a hand dismissively towards Clara, almost like he was trying to shoo the girl away before she got too close. Clara acknowledged it, then ignored it, stepping once more closer to him. 

"I can watch over for a while, just... please get some rest, Hans." Clara insisted, continuing to walk closer to the nutcracker, standing beside him. She reached a hand over, almost to touch his shoulder, but decided against it, holding her own hands tightly together. Genuine concern and worry laced her words with the most precious silk, that wavered and twisted. 

Hans simply let out a sigh in response, standing up to tower over Clara, wooden hat only assisting in making him appear even taller than before. "Fine, fine... but if you fall asleep while taking watch, I'm going to continue doing it." He warned, walking off to where Clara had once laid, and shifting, awkwardly moving to lay on the ground, stiff and straight, arms stretched out against his sides and head staring up at the sky. How long had it been since Hans had really laid down for a moment? How long had it been since he had relaxed? He always looked so rigid.

Clara couldn't help but giggle anyways, to try and mask her distress for the poor man. "You look like a plank." She managed out, stepping closer to him, starring down at his form. 

"I am made of wood, aren't I?" He retorted, sounding almost offended. 

"Now, now, Calm down... I didn't mean to hurt your feelings." She knelt down beside him, her legs folded atop eachother. "Can I try to make you more comfortable?" She requested, raising a hand already to assist him. 

"Will you leave me alone after that?" Clara frowned a little, but nodded her head anyways. Perhaps she was more of a bother than she intended to be, but... something about the way he was laying. It bothered her. Made him look like a corpse than a person... even if he wasn't really a human person, he was still a person. A person who deserved help, and to be comfortable and to relax when he needed to. "Well? Get on with it." His voice rising broke through her thoughts, and Clara went to work. She placed her hands underneath where his shoulder blades should be and lifted him, shifting and pulling him closer to her. Hans' eyes widened in partial shock, and in curiosity as to what the girl was doing, but that curiosity was soon solved upon Clara finishing what she had intended to do. 

Hans' head laid atop Clara's lap, his heavy wooden head pressed against the soft fabric of her night gown, and down onto her thighs, the side of his face nestled against her stomach. She did a few last touches, removing his hat and letting it sit beside her, and resisting the urge to comb her fingers through his hair. "There. How's that?"

Hans didn't have blood to blush with anymore, but he's sure that if he did, his entire face would be bright red by now. He hadn't been this close to another human being since the Princess... He quickly pushed those complex and hurtful thoughts away to answer. "This... is much more comfortable, yes. Thank you." He quickly muttered, sure that if he talked for longer he would blurt out something stupid. Clara smiled down at him, lifting a hand to caress his check softly, her thumb rubbing underneath his eye. "Careful. Don't want to get a splinter, now." Hans teased gently, his voice barely above a whisper now. 

"Ah- ah, quite right." She murmured in response, quickly removing her hand, placing it beside herself, and turning her head to watch the distance, watching the stars and the moon. Though he surely couldn't see it in the dark, he could only assume that she was blushing. He leaned a bit closer into her, inhaling the faintest scent of vanilla and clean linen. 

"Goodnight, Clara." Hans spoke up, allowing himself to close his eyes for the first time in quite a while. 

"Sweet dreams, Hans." Clara glanced down at her nutcracker, and debated to press a small kiss onto his head...

No, that would be simply overstepping boundaries at that point, wouldn't it?

-

Just a little drabble I wrote for my version of the nutcracker

[the-writing-blog69]

[the-writing-blog69]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24666832

Chapter three of digimon D-X has been put up!

[the-writing-blog69]

First chapter is out!!!!

http://archiveofourown.org/works/22719130

[the-writing-blog69]

tropes i will never get tired of

fake dating

omniscient narrator who immediately contradicts the characters (“This is fine,” she said. It was, in no way, shape, or form, fine.)

deadpan jokes while swordfighting

the “I FUCKING LOVE MY WIFE” guy

oblivious pining that slowly escalates until A is going on page rants about how pretty B’s eyes are but still doesn’t seem to recognize they’re in love

Strong Leader Type having to physically fall down in order for the other characters to see how exhausted they are

funny villains who talk and make jokes with their heroes while they’re fighting them

the villains presented as the protagonists

*increasingly pulls out bigger and bigger weapons from more unlikely places*

“I said all of your weapons” *pulls out more*

“ALL OF THEM” *pulls out one last tiny dagger*

traumatized character using humor to cover up ptsd

characters going out for a break at a restaurant/movie/whatever and something bad happening

using the “*gasp* what’s that over there???” trick to avert the enemy’s attention and it working

a villain’s weakness being something totally random and nonsensical

a hero duo arguing over who’s the sidekick while fighting a villain

“don’t be silly, we don’t need [important thing]”  “you lost it, didn’t you?”  “yeah”

“what’s the one thing I told you not to do tonight?”  “raise the dead”   “and what did you do?”  “raised the dead”

“I think that went pretty well” *explosion in the distance*

[the-writing-blog69]

Quite curious on what Digimon roleplayers are still around. Like or reblog this if you’re a digimon roleplayer!

[the-writing-blog69]

Reblog if you're an active digimon rper

I’ve just started, and it would be neat if I could rp with all of you folks.

[the-writing-blog69]

Seeking Digimon RPers

Can you please reblog this if you’re an active roleplay blog within the Digimon fandom and okay with roleplaying with OCs?

[the-writing-blog69]

call out to myself

[the-writing-blog69]

"..." for Clover.

pokémon ask meme | open!

The Copperajah simply observes, much like its former trainer—and current one, by extension—had always been so fond of.

“I’m afraid that I don’t quite understand why you fear my trainer, young lady. You two are much more alike than he’d care to admit. There’s nothing to fear.”

[the-writing-blog69]

Government Assigned Warriorsona

Name: Mothmeadow

Age: 21 moons

Gender: female

Clan: Riverclan

Class: medicine cat

Breed: Norwegian forest cat/Maine coon mix.

Appearence: She has white fur on her legs, stomach, chest, and the bottom of her mouth. On her back, head, and tail is dark brown, that is speckled with blonde and dusty brown, along with some tabby gray. The fur on her back hangs over her legs and stomach like a coat, dropping and slightly shaggy. But her fur is also soft with leaves and flowers stuck in it. She has a thin build, not much muscle, not much fat, just... A thin cat that looks like she's wearing a pelt that has been dragged across the forest floor. Her claws are almost always out, and they're very sharp. She has bright yellow eyes that can leer into your soul.

Personality: a strange character for sure. She always acts like she knows something you don't, and is always messing with her patients. But she likes to joke and she's very funny and with a bubbly personality she's always a hoot to be around.

But that's just the facade she has set up. Underneath all that is actually a killer mastermind, that has accumulated quite the body count.

Backstory: she is the sister of Maplemoon, and was separated from her by Echofur. They know they're related though.

[the-writing-blog69]

Don't kill yourself, please.

If you’re suffering from depression and are looking for a sign to not go through with ending your life, this is it. This is the sign. We care.

If you see this on your dash, reblog it. You could save a life.

[the-writing-blog69]

"You're-You're welcome..." She shakily spoke, offering a sad little smile to the man in front of her. Her red hair shifted as she tilted her head up at him, the exact same red hair that Aster had. Clover had her mother's eyes, though, a pale blue. "It wasn't very hard to find one... I heard that if you spin ten times at sunset, it'll evolve into a rainbow colored Alcremie. I tried to do that, but I tripped while spinning and it became swirled with blue and pink cream. She's very pretty." She laughs lightly, trying to lighten the mood, before her expression drops into one of grieving again. "I miss him..." She murmurs, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

Clover looked at the greatball in her hands, then at Rose. "I-I heard that my dad had one of these when he was young, and I know you two were friends... I thought it would be nice." Today marked the day that Aster died. And Clover wanted to do something nice for him. A Milcery was contained inside. A love sweet was placed on top the ball.

A Milcery...? It was true, Aster had had a Milcery at one point, back when the two of them had participated in their Gym Challenge. It had long since evolved, of course, but... the sight of the little creature still tugs at his heartstrings a small bit.

“Thank you,” he says, barely above a whisper, carefully taking the ball form the girl, as if he’s afraid to break it. “This truly means... so much to me.”

[the-writing-blog69]

[the-writing-blog69]

she knows she’s not allowed to bark at the cat, so her loophole is just to make a bunch of noises that are not barking instead.

[the-writing-blog69]

Thank you!!!!!!!!! Looks lovely!!!!!!!!!

Uhhhhh I can't really do the pencil thing but,,,,,, pencil thing + Evelyn Elwood

Did not expect an oc

Yet anyways....