#random scenes in my head

[rmhashauthor]

More Orphan Dreck

I found some more sci-fi... stuff... hanging out on my hard drive and while I don't have a single idea of what I was going to do with it, it did seem like something that kinda-sorta might belong on this very, very young blog. I love worldbuilding and creating new people, so perhaps treat this like an introduction to how my brain processes that. I don't think it needs a content warning, but there is a bit of suggestive language.

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Cass leaped to the side, dodging a huge leg wrapped in a greenish fabric – part of an enormous jumpsuit studded with pockets and loops, jingling with tools and bits of metal. Looking up, she met with the wide, ivory-toothed grin of an enormous Dreen almost nine feet tall and the color of dark moss. “Whoa, sorry about that! You okay there?” the Dreen asked, reaching down to offer help. Cass offered her hand in return, tapping him on the knuckles with her fist. “I'm good, thanks!”

“Haven't seen you here before,” the Dreen crouched, putting himself on Cass's level. He was certainly the largest Dreen she'd ever seen, most being closer to eight feet than nine, but his height barely compared to his thickness – his massive arms and chest were swollen with muscle from years of hard work and his hands were scarred from welding burns and dozens of unknown cuts. “You new?”

“She is,” Captain Landa introduced Cass to the Dreen. “Cass, this is Duna, he's our general systems mechanic and main muscle. Duna, this is Cassiopeia, our new assistant pulse engines specialist.”

“Oh, nice! You're gonna be working with Ouran, then?”

“If she can find him,” Landa nodded. “Of course, you'll be expected to help out wherever you're needed.”

“I can do that,” Cass agreed, “a little variety never hurt anyone.”

“That's very true,” Duna looked her over, his great yellow eyes appraising. “A little variety is very nice.” The corner of his mouth turned up, the large double-fangs his people called dirks peeking out between his green lips. He leaned a little closer, speaking to Cass's ear. “If you like variety, you're gonna love this ship. Whatever your, ah, taste.” To make his point, the Dreen ran out a green tongue so long it touched below his chin.

Cass's cheeks heated and she chuckled, “I'll keep that in mind.” Absolutely!

“Duna,” Captain Landa warned, “chill. Give the girl at least a day before you try to get your claws on her.” She clapped a hand on Cass's shoulder. “Come on, you've still got the rest of the crew to meet. Duna, behave yourself.”

“It's more fun when I don't.” Duna gave Cass a wink. “See you at mess!”

Passing through the machining shop, Captain Landa took Cass by the welding bay. Among the sparks and stink of ozone and hot metal, several workers waved and a few put down their tools to come and greet them. As the hoods came off, Cass was somewhat not surprised to see that many of the sweaty, scarred, scorched humanoids were Drass. While Drass were still new to the Federation Alliance, the people from the recently-dismantled Drassian Empire were generally agreeable, they worked hard and they liked to drink. Cass accepted many handshakes and fist-taps from the semi-reptilian folk, men and women, and more than one appreciative glance. She spotted a pair, two brawny fellows wearing thick fire-retardant aprons hanging out by the smelting pots, gesturing towards her and nodding. Like all Drass, their forearms and shoulders were plated with thick scales and these were pock-marked with burn scars. She waved, and the two waved back with enthusiasm, sharing a look.

Continuing through the ship's many bays, workshops, storage rooms and communal areas, Cass saw many types of folk – aside from the Dreen and the Drass, she saw Juun, Ruku, Mynx, Nuani, Arakan, several kinds of humans, and more, all various sizes, colors, types and even a few hybrids. All seemed friendly, all greeted their captain with respect. “You've got quite the mixed bag here,” Cass commented.

“I take pride in having a colorful ship,” Captain Landa said, “and I make sure everyone feels welcome. Those who don't usually hop off at the next port stop, but over the years we get more and more keepers. Should be pretty easy to find some friends among your new crew-mates – but if anyone gives you any problems you bring it to me.”

“Don't you have an HR department?”

“I am the HR department.”

“Ah, I see. So, where are we headed?”

“Pulse engine bay, where you'll be working most of the time.” Landa led Cass into a lift. “Usually Ouran keeps things running without any help, but even a Leagan needs an extra hand once in a while.”

“Wait a minute,” Cass turned to Landa, “you have a Leagan?”

“Sure do,” Landa nodded, “best goddamn pulse engine spec in the sector, far as I'm concerned. You never seen one?”

“Not up close.”

“Well, don't get your hopes up,” Landa punched a code and the lift descended. “Leagans are a shy bunch, but Ouran is the shyest of them all. He had an accident a few years ago and he's pretty self-conscious about his looks. I think you'll be lucky if you see him once every six months or so, and even then it'll probably just be his shadow.”

“How am I supposed to work with someone I can't see?”

“You'll get your work orders, like anyone else. Keep your log up to date and you won't have any issues. Oh! Here,” Landa rummaged in a pocket and brought out a black rectangle. “Ixi has a good hand with small electronics, she worked this up for me a while back.”

“A smartphone?” Cass took it, disbelieving. “This thing belongs in a museum!”

“Ouran doesn't talk, so you'll need one of these to keep in touch with him.”

“He can't talk?”

“Well, he can, but he chooses not to. If you ever do see him, you'll understand why. He prefers to text – Ixi fixed it so it connects to the ship's wireless, and she did something that makes it hop frequencies so no matter where you are, if you're in reach of a signal you can get to him. My link's in there too, if you need me.”

Cass powered the device on, shaking her head as the phone – A smartphone? Really? - screen glowed. A message, a picture of Ixi grinning at the camera, welcomed Cass to the phone's operating system as it booted up. Cass grinned. What a weird bunch.

“And here's the pulse bay,” Landa tapped the lift gate and it slid open. Cass stepped out into a dank, industrial tangle of ladders, chains, pipes, tanks, massive control panels and snarls of wire and tubing. Oh damn, feels like home already. She turned as Landa balled up her fist and banged on a nearby steel plate. The sound reverberated like a gong through the space, chains rattling and liquid dripping in response. “Ouran!” Landa called, “I brought our new recruit down to see the works!” Landa stopped banging, laughing as she turned back to Cass. “If you want to get his attention, just bang on something. He'll hear you. Ain't that right?” Landa looked up and Cass tried to follow, but she saw nothing. “You won't see him, but he's probably looking at you right now. Hey, Ouran? Cass has one of Ixi's phones, nine-seven-seven-six-Alpha-Charlie-Zulu!”

In her pocket, Cass's phone buzzed. Zzt-zzt! “That was fast,” Landa commented. Cass pulled it out, met by a notification that she had a message. Cass read the screen: Hey.

“She got it!” Landa called, and from overhead Cass heard a distinctive pattern tapped on the pipes: tap-tap...tap. “That's him,” Landa said, “two taps and a pause is 'yes', if he does it backwards it's 'no'.”

“Got it. So he really doesn't talk?”

“Not a word since his accident. Which is a shame, he's a really nice guy. Anyway, if you don't mind the quiet ones you two will get along fine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I vaguely remember now what I was going to do with this - sort of a Phantom of the Opera meets Red Dwarf situation. I might get around to it eventually, IDK. I have a LOT of these orphan bits floating around, occupying various corners of this little imaginary universe in my head, maybe they'll turn into something.

[ratressofhell]

RANDOM SCENE IN MY HEAD 1#

Crowley staring at Abyss Abyss: What the fuck are you staring at?!! Don't make me stab out your eyes, I will Abyss Randomly sips her coffee, then throws it at him Abyss: I am gonna go now, oh! AND! You own me cup of coffee Crowley:... YOU THREW IT AT ME! Abyss: It was your fault, there for you pay! You'd refuse an order....? Crowley giving her smirk, but getting sassy Crowley:..The only reason why, you have your rank, is cuz your Hastur's fuck buddy Abyss: Maybe so, but at least he, never used me.... Crowley OH! Here we go again!!!...

[mithrandirl]

[mysicklove]

you always cut toddler yuujis sandwiches into little hearts, and so when sukuna has to stay home and watch the boy, only to hear, “Kuna where is the heart?” his eye starts to twitch and he gives yuuji the nastiest glare (in your pink apron) until yuuji gulps and nibbles on his regular, non heart shaped sandwich, with a tiny frown.

[starry-bi-sky]

(Part of this post with older brother danyal al ghul)

...Okay, look. Sam knows she's staring. She knows very well that she is staring. And that if she doesn't stop staring it's gonna draw her unwanted attention, and that will only have to make her explain why she's staring. Which she doesn't want to do.

She's trying not to stare, which she thinks she should get brownie points for. She tries to look away, to find a spot on the wall to stare lifelessly at, maybe she can burn holes into some of these annoying socialites' heads. But eventually her eyes drift, and suddenly she's back to staring again.

Can you blame her though? Damian Wayne looks like a very close mini-me of her fucking best friend. Seriously, it's like looking into a mirror to the past. If that mirror to the past had green eyes rather than blue and a distinctive lack of a facial scar.

The first time she sees him when her parents drag her over to Bruce Wayne to butter up to him she has to do a doubletake. Then a triple take. Then a quadruple take, just for good measure that she was seeing what she was actually seeing. She was sure she looked like one of those stress toys that when squeezed had their eyes pop out comically like a Saturday morning cartoon, that's what she certainly felt like anyways.

Look, Danny's come a decent way from being that scowl-y, jerkish little ten year old she first met when he arrived like the wind to Amity Park five years ago (even if he was still occasionally scowl-y and jerkish), but one thing that's stayed the same is how reserved he is about his home life prior to being taken in by the Fentons.

He doesn't talk about it much, and Sam's come to know that he's very good at changing the subject when it gets brought up. Even after being friends for nearly four years, the only thing she and Tuck know for certain is that he has a little brother that he refers to as 'starlight', whom he cares a lot about but left on really bad terms with. And that he's never met his father, but wants to and knows who he is.

He's never told her or Tucker who he was though, and glancing at Bruce Wayne, Sam is realizing why. She can begrudgingly acknowledge all the good he's done for Gotham, but... well, if Danny told her that Bruce Wayne was his dad, she wouldn't have believed him at all.

But she's starting to see the resemblance, as subtle as it is.

And she sees the resemblance to Damian Wayne, her eyes dropping back down to him as he wears a very Danny-like scowl on his face, arms crossed behind his back as his eyes swept around the ballroom. He was five years younger than Danny, and god it was so, so weird.

His eyes turned on to her, and they locked gazes for a moment.

Involuntarily, Sam makes a startled noise and looks away. Fingers tap against her purse, black and purple and unfortunately a clutch that only held her phone and her wallet in it. She would have kept a knife on her, but her parents put their foot down and there was a security detail at the door. Only in Gotham.

Silently, she was hoping that the little Danny-me didn't say anything. Or at least, he hadn't noticed her staring. Which was a tall order if she ever heard one -- and unfortunately, her silent prayers went unanswered as her mother's eyes dropped down onto her.

"Did you say something, Samantha?" She asks in a sickeningly sweet voice, a sound that makes Sam's skin crawl. Her dad and Bruce Wayne's attention also turns onto her, and she glowers at her mom from the corner of her eye.

"I didn't say anything." Sam says, barely keeping her tone polite as she turned her head away. Her mother clucks her tongue, disapproving, but from her peripherals doesn't pester her more

Bruce Wayne, the bastard, takes that time to turn to Sam and grace her with his dime-a-dozen billboard smiles. "I've been talking with your parents this whole time, Miss Manson, you must be terribly bored. How is your schooling going?"

Sam eyes him up and down. On one hand, she immediately wants to be snarky. It's none of his business what her school life is like, she doesn't care for his fucking small talk.

On the other hand, this was Danny's whole father. Someone who she knows that Danny has wanted to meet for, what she's assuming, his whole life. He's never brought it up much, but she remembers that very quiet, solemn conversation she and Tucker had with him where he admits to having never met his dad. But god does he want to.

And... wait. Sam's eyes narrow, and she meets Bruce Wayne's eyes. Does this man even know Danny exists? She drops her gaze down to Damian, who was staring at her suspiciously, and then back up to Bruce, and she alternates between them.

Why was Damian living with Bruce, but not Danny? Why hasn't Bruce done anything to reach out to him - what was going on with Danny's biological family that Danny had to be separated from them, but not Damian? Danny's always been kinda mysterious, but now things weren't adding up.

Was Danny given up? Does Bruce just not want Danny, but wanted Damian? Why the fuck does Bruce Wayne know about Damian but not her best friend -- or does he know and just not care? He's fought for custody for his adoptive kids before, does he just not want to fight for his other biological son? Does he think Danny's not worth it?

She's never cared much about the Wayne family before, other than to hear about the advancements on WE's eco-friendly tech, but Sam thinks she's gonna have to look into why Damian Wayne was living with the Waynes.

Slowly, with a protective anger beginning to burn in her gut and crawl up her throat, a scowl slowly curls at the corner of her lip as she redirects her glare from her mother onto Bruce. "It's going fine," She says curtly, jutting her chin out defiantly. "Me and my friend Danny started a petition to fix the leaky faucets in the girls and boys' bathrooms in order to conserve more water for the rest of the city."

She eyes his face, waiting to see if anything like recognition flashes through it. And- and nothing. Sam breathes in slowly through her nose, trying to quell the red that's blurring the edge of her vision -- does he just, not know where Danny is?

Her parents however, make vaguely displeased expressions. "Our Samantha is... quite passionate about her pet projects." Her dad says, laughing low and nervously, "she's very vocal about silly things like that."

"Her friend Daniel is perhaps even worse than she is sometimes." Her mother adds on, fanning her face with her perfectly manicured hands with a sigh. "I swear, he's the one that keeps dragging her into these things."

Sam's anger turns on its head, and she whirls on her heel like a fire-breathing dragon. "It's Danyal." It rolls out like instinct. Danny's told them both that he hates the Americanized pronunciation of his name, but in a rare moment of restraint, puts up with it for reasons unknown to her. "And Danny doesn't make me do anything, it was my idea."

The name, Danyal, seems to ring some kind of bell in Brucie Wayne's head, because she sees him and Damian quietly perk up like two cats pricking up their ears. Her eyes flick onto him immediately, something dangerous rearing its head. So Bruce Wayne knows about Danny. And he's not reaching out to him. Is he? She's not sure.

She does know that she's gonna rip his throat out if she finds out that he's known about Danny this entire time and has been ignoring him while favoring his little brother. She'll hunt down Aragon herself and steal his dragon-shifting amulet and wreck house on Bruce Wayne if that's the case. Batman and his league of vigilantes be damned. Her parents don't notice her slowly turning head towards Bruce.

But Bruce does, and she makes direct eye contact with him. His smile doesn't falter, he just tilts his head like a curious puppy and looks at Sam's parents. She hopes Bruce can read minds, she hopes he can hear her threatening him.

"Danyal?" He asks, and Sam doesn't know if she hates the fact that he said it correctly or not. She just continues burning holes into him and hoping he might spontaneously combust.

Her mother waves her hand dismissively, tilting her nose up poshly into the air. "Our dear Samantha's little... foster friend from school," she says, not even bothering to hide her disdain, "a creepy little boy with the most garish scar on his face. He's a rude little thing, not good for polite company."

Scratch that, Sam mentally alternates between ripping into her parents and Bruce. She whirls on them. "Do not talk about Danny that way." She all but snarls, and they all but ignore her.

(She's tearing up the upholstery when she gets home. She's going to paint over the fine china. She's going to do something to make them pay for this.)

"Oh yes, he was taken in by that freaky Fenton family a few years ago." Her dad continues in lieu of her mom, and they both shake their heads disapprovingly. "It's just what our city needs, another menace."

"Danny is not a menace." Sam continues, raising her voice while her hands shake with rage. Her parents finally look at her, but she can already tell that they're going to scold her for raising her voice. She bulldozes over them and jabs her black-painted finger at them. "He's got a bigger heart than the both of you combined."

"Samantha, please." her mom says, exasperated. They both give her disapproving looks, Sam thinks about grabbing champagne off the tray of a nearby waiter and throwing it in their faces. "You defend that boy far too much. What do you actually know about him and his family?"

Sam sets her jaw, puffing herself up like a dragon protecting its hoard. She steps into her mom's space. "I know that he loves the stars; you can ask him anything about astronomy and he could give you an entire lecture on the formation, class types, and various gasses that stars are made up of. He can tell you how the Earth was formed, he can tell you about the visible light spectrum and about light curves, and a whole ton of other stuff that I don't really understand. But Danny loves talking about it."

Her face twists and scowls, "I know he cares a ton about the environment and about fixing light pollution, and preserving the forests and natural habitats of animals." She nearly jabs her finger into her mom's chest, "I know he loves dogs, and that there's one he feeds every day on the way to school that he calls Cujo, its a St. Bernard puppy and Danny carries him around whenever he sees him after school, and is in the middle of training him."

It's not a total lie, but it's not the whole truth either. Cujo doesn't need food, but Danny gives him it anyways. "I know he likes spicy food and loves movies but specifically only sci-fi and horror, and he hates most martial arts movies. His favorite superhero is the Martian Manhunter, but Batman comes in at a close second." For reasons to her that were pretty unknown, but it didn't matter.

"I know he loves wordplay and making puns, which I would have never expected from him when we first met, but it's so unbelievably Danny-like that I can't imagine him not making puns." And she smiles a little to herself, she remembers the first time Danny intentionally made a pun once and it got startled laughs out of both her and Tucker.

Her smile suddenly falters, and she swallows. Her lips purse up, wobbling, and she very quickly glances over to Damian Wayne, of whom is watching her with a vaguely bewildered expression alongside Bruce.

She turns her eyes back onto her parents. "And I know that he worries a lot, even if he has a shit way of showing it. I know he had a little brother that he hasn't seen since he was adopted by the Fentons, and he doesn't talk about him often but when he does he he calls him 'starlight'." From the corner of her eye, she sees Damian jerk.

"So- so, so what if he's not 'good for polite company'." Sam's voice, embarrassingly, cracks down the middle. But she's so angry over Danny's behalf that she doesn't really care. "Or that he can be mean, and critical, and stubborn. He's learning, and he's becoming kinder by the day. That's more than I can say about you."

(She remembers when Danny finally admitted to her and Tucker being his 'closest friends'. It was sometime before the portal incident, and it felt like a milestone because beforehand he only really referred to them as his companions or allies.)

(At the time, he'd looked unsure of himself. Skittish like a stray in the back of an alleyway, almost shy in his own way. It had come out stilted, slow, like an infant taking its first steps, and it would have been endearing if it hadn't been heartbreaking.)

Her parents rear back like she'd struck them, and her mother holds a hand against her chest in aghast. Sam doesn't care, she blinks the sting out of her eyes. "Samantha." Her mother starts.

Sam cuts her off, "I don't care what you have to say, you-- you pricks." she snaps, around her, there are gasps. Belatedly, she realizes she's grown an audience, but again she doesn't care. "Danny might be an asshole, but he cares. And I'd rather be around someone whose mean but cares, than someone whose nice but doesn't."

With that, she whirls on her foot and turns on Bruce Wayne, who has been silent the entire time with a surprised expression on his face. He starts to shake out of it when Sam turns to him, but she doesn't give him the chance to speak. "Enjoy your party." She snarls, and then stalks away.

[percysjakcson]

BROOKLYN NINE-NINE — 3.02 "The Funeral"

[c0mbatchameleon]

Snippet / microfic / something idk

Aka where Regulus wakes up half drunk on the floor of his brother’s apartment and forgets that the spare bedroom is no longer a spare bedroom

The moonlight has carved out a hollowness into the room when Regulus opens his eyes. There’s music playing, still, for an audience of empty cups and a few toppled chairs and the snoring bodies of his friends on the couch.

Barty is splayed out over Evan, face buried into his neck like he doesn’t need air, but rather, he lives and breathes the boy beneath him. Evan’s hand has planted roots in his skull, twisted into matted hair. Flecks of glitter sprinkle every inch of the boys, a sparkle here and there in their hair, embedded in their skin, their eyelashes and parted lips. They’re a grimy sort of angelic in their blacked-out state, sleep blanketing them in an innocence you’d never find otherwise.

It’s not the first time he’s waken here, stiff back and sour taste in his mouth. He stumbles to the kitchen sink and sticks his head in, letting the water run rivers down his face and neck as he drinks it in gulps. It’s about a full minute of that, and then running his hands over his face for good measure, before he continues his trek to the bathroom, scouring the cabinet for mouthwash and taking a swig straight from the bottle and then swishing it and spitting into the sink, hands gripping the porcelain to hold up his own weight. It’s a wonder he’s been able to stand for this long with exhaustion dragging him down like an anchor tied to his limbs.

He trails behind himself into the hall and then his usual room, hands held out in front of him in the absence of sight. It takes a minute to find the bed. Once he does, he’s unceremoniously tugging back the covers and collapsing onto the mattress, sleep already overtaking him.

He sighs, half in relief and half in pain, pulling up the covers and-

“Well this is new.”

“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.”

Regulus’s skull collides with the headboard before he can form a cohesive thought.

Sleep has made a hasty retreat, driven out by adrenaline and pure fear. The man in his bed—James, to be specific—instinctively shoots a hand out, clasping onto his arm.

“Shit, are you okay?”

“What the fuck are you doing here!?” Regulus whisper-yells, propped halfway up on his arm with the other hand clutching his head.

“What am I doing in my bed?”

Regulus blinks. Fuck. He forgot this bed actually belonged to someone. Not just someone. Of course, never just someone.

“I… forgot you lived here.”

His eyes have adjusted to the darkness, now. He watches James stare at him, dumbfounded, for a few beats. And then he bursts into a fit of laughter.

Of course the fucker is laughing. It blooms on his face like Spring itself; even here, dimly lit and squinting, it’s blinding. Rays of sunlight cutting through his teeth as he gasps for breath inbetween. Flower and leaf and fruit sprouting from his throat, and Regulus is just too tipsy to avoid the vines coiling around him, his arms and legs and chest, taking root in his own throat, planting seeds in his lungs.

He’s too tired to fight the branches stretching out like hands and pulling at the corners of his own lips, coercing a smaller laugh. He doesn’t even think it’s that funny, maybe James is just delirious. Maybe he’s still a little drunk, too.

“You forgot I lived here. In my room. In my apartment.” James relays, his hysterics reigned in to a splitting grin. Blinding, blinding, still blinding. He’s on his side, head resting in his hand—the other hand is still on Regulus, a light touch burning holes through his clothes, the skin on his shoulder, the muscle and bone marrow, planting more seeds, sprouting more life. He’s staring up at Regulus with sparkling eyes. Who gave him this much joy? Who gave him the idea to direct any of it his way?

Even here, in the middle of the night, waking him up just to shed glitter on his clean sheets and yell at him for existing in his own home.

Regulus doesn’t deserve it. But he can’t find it in himself to deny it right now.

“I may have, uh, passed out in here drunk a few times when you weren’t here last year.”

“A few times?” James asked, eyebrows raised, hand still there.

“Ok. Maybe a lot. Forgot it wasn’t actually mine,” Regulus admits, trying not to shortcircuit from the contact. Trying to relocate the mask of indifference he misplaced after the 3rd or 4th shot. He can just barely feel he’s still smiling, stupidly. He can’t find the right muscles to make it go away.

The analog clock on the dresser across the room reads 3:27 AM in a blue glow. Regulus knows the sensible thing to do now is get up, but the soft arms of sleep are extending from somewhere below, furling around his body and pulling down. The mattress, James’s mattress, might be the softest thing he’s ever laid rest on and it’s enveloping him like quicksand. He lets his head drop forward like dead weight as he musters the strength to move.

“Well don’t let me stop you, then,” James says, amusement and something strangely resembling adoration painted on his face. “I can sleep on the couch, if you want.”

It’s all way too casual for the absolutely absurd offer.

Regulus stares at him in disbelief. “You’re just gonna let me kick you out of your own bed.”

James shrugs, “You look comfy.”

There’s the distant hum of a car engine passing outside, an intermittent clicking sound from the run down heater in the room. The window shade is somewhat transparent, which defeats the whole fucking purpose of the thing, much to Regulus’s annoyance—he’s awoken, against his will to many a sunrise in this room—and a nearby streetlight gently pollutes the darkness, illuminating James from behind in a halo of muted yellow light.

“That’s fucking ridiculous,” Regulus replies, still not moving. James laughs softly. A few daisies sprout in the garden growing between them. “Barty and Evan are on the couch, anyway.”

“I’ll take the floor then.”

“You’re not sleeping on the fucking floor for me.”

“Well I’m more than happy to share, then.”

“You’re not- what?” His bemusement distracts him momentarily from the growing effort of keeping his eyes open. James squeezes his shoulder lightly, the bastard, drawing a small breath from him that he hopes to god goes unheard, before finally drawing back his hand.

“I sleep on the floor or we both sleep here. Your choice.”

“And if I sleep on the floor?”

“I’ll still sleep on the floor out of spite. I don’t think you could get up if you tried, right now, anyway.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Regulus groans. He fully collapses in defeat onto the pillow as he says it, which might take some of the edge out of the remark.

“I really don’t mind the floor, love. Good for the back and all. I’ve got tons of extra pillows and blankets, anyway,” James says, gesturing to the floor next to his bed.

“Just sleep in the god damn bed,” Regulus sighs. He shuffles so he’s on his back, one arm bent over his head rather dramatically, and closes his eyes. He’s fully relented in his battle with his own exhaustion now, and it’s closing in fast.

James doesn’t move for a moment. Regulus can feel his gaze like a beam of sunlight through a magnifying glass. He doesn’t need to open his eyes to smell his own clothes begin to smoke in the wake of it. “Are you sure?” he finally asks, playful tone receding. “I just- I should warn you I’m a bit of an.. active sleeper. And I know you don’t always like people touching you-“

“It’s alright when it’s you.”

It comes out nearly a whisper now as he sinks. He’ll blame it on alcohol or delirium, tomorrow, if he’s not outright denying having said it. He doesn’t actually know why he said it out loud. Regulus usually keeps the truth to himself, as a general rule.

The last thing he hears before falling asleep is James’s small intake of breath, followed by a faint “Oh. Yeah?” and then reality rescinds entirely.

[inkstainedheartbeats]

“I’d die for you,” Eddie whispers in the dark. They’re at his trailer. Metal music is playing at a low level. It’s the day before Dustin comes back from his nerd camp. Steve’s already planning on coming out to the kid that might as well be his brother.

“I’d live for you,” Steve whispers back. Eddie doesn’t know the truth about the Upside Down. Will never know if Steve has any say. But he knows about the dark moods that Steve suffers because of them.

It’ll be a mantra he repeats later. ‘You promised to live’. As punches rain and meat monsters roar. He promised.

—//—//—

Has a part two

[thosewildcharms]

Any personal headcanons on Rick and Michonne as a couple? Like their favorite things about the other, what they argue about, love languages ect. lol they’ve set up camp in my brain and I just want more of them 🙇🏻‍♀️

this is so funny because i've been thinking about their love languages ever since danai did that interview with YNB after 1x04! yvette said rick's is words of affirmation and michonne's is acts of services, and I definitely agree but I also think they display pretty much all of them, and quite a bit? rick is obviously into giving gifts and loves quality time (family fun day, begging her to spend just a few more days on the road in 7x12) and to say they both love physical touch is an understatement. this gorgeous gifset highlights it all beautifully.

anyway, some headcanons~

I really don't think they argue about much? they are very in sync most of the time. historically their big arguments are about how to handle major threats (negan, the crm, rick's PTSD) and since nothing bad is ever happening to them ever again because I said so there's no need to fight about those things anymore

michonne's favorite things about rick are how affectionate he is with his family, his strength, his accent, and his hair

rick's favorite thing about michonne is everything

i actually think they talk about books a lot. they're both nerdy as hell in different ways and love that about each other

michonne likes to cook and is very experimental while rick likes to bake (mostly secret family pie recipes) and they love feeding each other and their kids

michonne absentmindedly sings and does little dances when she's doing things around the house and rick stops whatever he's doing to lean against the wall and watch her and smile

that scene we saw in 9x01 where they cuddle up in bed and unpack their day was a ritual they started way back at the prison, even though back then it was obviously platonic (we do actually see them talking when everyone else is asleep several times throughout twd). they would linger and chat before heading to their respective cells at night. in the six years michonne spent without rick, she continued the tradition herself, talking to him out loud alone in their bedroom

rick DEFINITELY teases michonne about being oblivious to his feelings for her before The Couch

michonne hits back by teasing him about Whatever the Fuck He Was Doing With Jessie 💀

you didn't ask for grimes family headcanons but:

after they got home, michonne has a moment like that scene at the end of kill bill vol 2 and has a near silent hysterical laugh-cry of relief by herself in the bathroom before calmly walking back out to join her family. only rick notices

rick on the other hand is afraid to let any of them out of his sight. he spends the first six months he's back home being a total insomniac watching the three of them sleep because he's afraid if he closes his eyes he'll wake up alone back at the CRM

antony azor who plays rj is apparently very shy and reserved but opened up unexpectedly with andrew lincoln and so obviously this is also exactly what happened with rick and rj. father and son bonded INSTANTLY

his first night back, judith asks rick to finish reading the wizard of oz to her because he never got a chance to. it takes a good five minutes for him to compose himself but she does finally get the full story from her dad

rick and michonne do have an actual wedding ceremony, but it's just for them, judith and rj.

[princessbrunette]

you’d never been in trouble in your life.

scolded, sure. told off for staring? almost daily. but only now had you ended up in the sheriffs office, wound up in more trouble than intended all for being curious. you’d been wandering around the obx, off in your own world— your favourite lonesome activity. the pogues had been off on some mission that pope hadn’t allowed you on, so naturally you found your own fun, frolicking through the forest to find cool looking mushrooms and plants. you didn’t mean to end up on a kooks property. you also didn’t mean to set off their alarms.

you play with the lone leaf you had shoved into your pocket before the owner of the land had called the cops on you and had you taken in. you were fine, you had got in the police car yourself and didn’t resist in the slightest— but you were a little afraid. the leaf you’d plucked from the ground brings you comfort as you sit on the cold office seat swinging your legs. then, you hear the commotion before you see it.

pope had been called upon your request to collect you, and bounding in wildly by his side was jj, yanking his red cap off his head to cuss the place down.

“control your dog, heyward.” the female officer sneers as they arrive in the main area where you were in holding. pope locks eyes with you and bounds over, wide eyed.

“what happened here?” he stresses, brow creased in exasperation. you blink, looking around with a shrug still twiddling with the stem of the plant you’d plucked.

“all you gotta do is sign her out. dont need any commotion. owner of the land said he wouldn’t press charges for tresspassin’ with your written word that you’d stay off his property.” shoupe rolls his shoulders, clearly over the whole ordeal too. you could tell deep down he thought it was ridiculous, but he was dedicated to putting on a front and doing his job.

“she got arrested for walking on some grass? shoupe, you know that’s not right.” pope steps forward in emphasis, and immediately two officers stand beside the man in charge protectively, causing pope to sigh and slow his movements.

“the owners recently had a break in. stole about five thousand worth in jewellery, and a couple hundred in cash. when they caught her snoopin’ around on the land they suspected she could maybe have been the burglar.”

jj’s eyes practically bulge out of his head, ducking his head in disbelief. “her?” he deadpans, arriving at your side to grasp your shoulders. “this lil’ girl. you think she was responsible for a damn heist? y’all must have lost your minds i swear to—” the blonde raises his voice and pope shakes his head dejectedly, holding up his hand.

“jj, chill.”

he scoffs, taking a lap— leaving you with your boyfriend and the sheriff.

“now no one’s pointin’ fingers here. i don’t believe this young lady is capable of such a crime either. but they called it in, and i had to check it out. she’s all good to go.” shoupe stares the two of you down, and you shuffle towards pope, watching him as he lets out another disgruntled sigh, crossing his thick arm over himself to itch his opposing shoulder which made his bicep bulge, attracting your wide eyes again for a moment.

“yeah.” is all he says, hastily signing away the papers, keeping his glare on the officer. “this is some bullshit and you know it. we good to go?” he asks seriously and shoupe silently nods, allowing the boy to guide you away from the station — maybank already taken off to the car.

outside, heyward stops infront of you and you blink up at him with knitted brows, unsure if he was mad at you.

“did they hurt you in there?” his voice is gravelly, more serious than you’re used to. it takes you a moment to shake your head.

“uh-uh. i got in the police car by myself.” you note and his own brows furrow, placing two coarse hands on your arms.

“you need to be careful when i’m not around. okay? i know you like to explore, right it’s your thing — but just… you need to watch out for these cops. you saw what they did to john b a while back, what they accused him off. they are dirty. do you hear what im saying?” his voice is gentle, but his expression is urgent— not letting go of you. it’s only then you let the tears pool in your eyes, not quite understanding the severity of what could have possibly happened until then.

“i’m sorry.” your lip wobbles and his hands rise to cup your cheeks instead, thumb pressing to your bottom lip as if to stop it from shaking.

“don’t be. it’s those asshole cops who should be sorry. look, there’s nothing to be scared of sweetheart. i’m here. jj would’a burned that place to the ground if they laid a hand on you. but… i just don’t want you to get into trouble and wind up like me. yeah?”

you nod, and he pulls you to his chest, your hands clutching onto the loose muscle tank he wore as he holds you. “i’m sensing you need some food. do i sense correctly?” you hear the smile in his voice, and everything feels okay again.

“mhm.”

“cool. cars this way, let’s get you some fries, bambie.”

[plattenbauprinz]

„What have you done?!“

Ever seen a hobbit all angry and feral? Wonder what happened, guess we will never know

[james-p-sullivan]

[puppyeared]

Tell me about a song you like right now, maybe an animation you just watched that made you think thoughts and feel things

Only Acting by Kero Kero Bonito!! I want to make an animatic for Macaque using this song and some parts of Shadow Play and the s4 special.. although im still mapping it and deciding whether I want to use the radio edit or not lol

[aroaceleovaldez]

emo Nico x scene Will Solace...

[idjits-areus]

I absolutely *love* the parallels between Dean and Cas' "I need you" and Sam and Gabriel's "I need you."

Dean and Castiel's:

Cas is being controlled by Heaven, well Naomi, and he's physically hurting Dean to get the angel tablet. At this point Dean's on his knees and begging Cas, trying to reason with him.

"Cas. Cas. I know you're in there. I know you can hear me. Cas...It's me. We're family. We need you. I need you."

The simple "I need you" is what pulled Cas out and allowed him to regain control.

The simple "I need you" that was originally scripted as "I love you."

Like, even though the words changed, we can still see it and feel it. Subtle subtext or not. Nothing's subtle about supernatural. They knew what they were doing even when they claim that they didn't.

Sam and Gabriel's:

After Ketch brings Gabriel out of Asmodesus' hands and back into the Winchester's, Gabriel doesn't talk, move, do pretty much anything. He's just kinda stuck in his own head. And you know Sam has to go and give Gabriel one of his famous little pep talks to try and get him back.

"Gabriel, you have to dig yourself out of this hole. Look, I know you think it's safer inside....And this is my life. No matter how many times I tried to fight it, this is what I was put here to do. This is where I make the world a better place. And sure, yeah, hookers in Monte Carlo sounds great, but your family needs you. Jack, your nephew, needs you. The world needs you. We need you. Gabriel, I need you."

The same "I need you" doing the same exact job here. Except for the fact that instead of Gabriel pulling a Cas, he just corrects Sam's words from hookers to porn stars. In my opinion, that's Gabriel's way of trying to hide the fact that he cares just as much as Sam does. Behind the comedy and the jokes he uses as defense mechanisms.

I know just reading words doesn't do any justice, but if you've seen the episode you know what I'm talking about when I say that Sam said it with feelings. And more than just sympathy and 'we need him to help stop Michael' feelings. Ever since Tall Tales, Sam has had *something* for this archangel. It's a shame that the writers never really explored that plot much.

It's-the parallels between the two "I need you"'s is what gets me. Like, they could've just left it with Sam and Gabriel. They could've just left it at "we need you" and everything would've been fine. No need for the "I need you." But no. Because they added it, they made Sam personally care. They made it just as emotionally charged as Dean and Cas' scene. They didn't have to do that. The only explanation I have is the writers knew what the hell they were doing. Once again, nothing is as subtle as you think on this show.

[ssaturnseclipse]

do you ever just randomly remember the end of season 2 or 3 of Hannibal and start sobbing uncontrollably? bc i do