I too, have hopped onto the Humans are Space Orcs/ Humans are Weird/ Humans are from Space Australia and all Aliens Are Horrified train. So here’s my contribution
So I’ve seen a few posts on Human Music, but what about that one song, you know, that one song that is so profound that your soul can’t help but sing.
Like it comes on the radio while your driving with your alien buddy and you justturn that dial to 11? And you sing your heart out? And they’re just like??? Wat??? Why are you singing so loud??? Its just a song????
ITS NOT JUST A SONG ZORRI DONT EVER TELL ME IT S JUST A S O N G !!! wE’LL GROW OLD/ AND WE’LL NEVER BE ALONE/ AND NO MATTER WHERE WE ROAM/ WE’LL BE GLORIOUS*!~
OR you’re at your home on Earth/in you’re quarters and are just cleaning. And that song comes on and you just drop everything??? And start dancing? Like, who gives a flying fuck??? Because you just have to move and sing?? Because something gives you so much joy when you hear it your body literally can’t contain it???
To the rest of the universe we’re seen as these impossible creatures that are capable of so much. We’re from a fucking Death World for fucks sake. We have hundreds of weird costumes, we can lie with a straight face and we bare our teeth when we laugh, our pack-bond go everywhere. And we may not look it but we feel deeply. Anger, sorrow, joy. All of it.
So what if, what if this is another thing that aliens weren’t expecting and instead of being weird-ed out by it, they just,, ‘smile’
Summary: You and Dean do NOT get along. Until the night that you do.
Warning: smut, anger sex
Word Count: 3200
A/N: Hope y’all enjoy some Dean smut! XOXO
There are two things in the world you really hate: plaid and Dean Winchester.
There are plenty of things that you don’t like, that irritate and annoy you, that you’d rather not deal with. But those are the only two things you actively hate. A store with a window display of plaid clothing is enough to get your blood boiling these days. And Dean? Well, you make sure you never think of Dean. That just tailspins your world into a mess of violent anger for days before it wears off.
So the fact that you are currently wearing one of Dean Winchester’s plaid shirts, listening to him hum along with the radio as he drives you to his motel?
bitty: good country/town and highway driver. likes to drive big cars/trucks bc that’s how he learned and bc he feels safe in them. passive aggressive. speeds like a motherfucker. he got it from his mom. coach fears for his life whenever he drives with either of them. passive aggressive. if you tailgate him, he will slow down to 15 under the speed limit and watch your frustration in his rear view mirror and laugh.
holster: decent driver, but loud. blasts the radio and sings/screams along. hates driving if there’s no aux cord. yells and rants when people do things he doesn’t like. the worst person to be with in traffic bc all he does is bitch about the traffic. uses his horn a lot. get’s lost a lot.
ransom: defensive driver. always uses his blinker. hates when people don’t use their blinkers. never goes more than 10 over the speed limit bc getting pulled over makes him nervous. likes listening to podcasts/radio shows/the news while he drives. is somehow good at driving when there’s a lot going on in the car around him. not great at directions so he always ends up doing a lot of harsh fast turns bc o shit that’s my turn isn’t it 800 feet sure goes by quick
shitty: the fucking worst. speed limits are suggestions. stop signs don’t matter when there are no other cars around. yellow light means speed up. sits in the middle of the intersection for left turn yield on green. messes with the radio an unsafe amount. drives with the windows down no matter the weather. road rage but not like violent road rage, just a lot of yelling. his car smells like weed.
lardo: tries to be a defensive driver, but gets annoyed easily. is good at speeding, but only does it when she’s 100% sure she won’t get caught. always listens to music. likes long drives as long as she’s the one driving bc you can just check out for hours bc you’re focusing on driving and not the rest of the world. her car is a mcfucking mess, not trash, just a lot of random shit. has a blanket in there, a sweatshirt, a few pairs of sweatpants, random books, empty water bottles, like 5 pairs of sunglasses, a grocery store bag of lollipops, an empty cooler, a posterboard, etc
nursey: has never been behind the wheel of a car in his life and isn’t planning on changing that
dex: also good at driving when there is chaos in the car, likes driving with other people. listens to the radio or cds. good at small town driving and highway driving, but wouldn’t city drive if you paid him. would probs be alright at it tho bc he tends to be a more aggressive than defensive driver. doesn’t speed a ton. slows n goes stop signs. can drive anything, no matter the size or condition of the car. does u turns anywhere. no cars? it’s ok to make a u turn. also ok to make a k turn if you have to.
chowder: always lets people merge/make left hand turns. always yields to pedestrians. slows down for yellow lights. loves highway driving. can drive anywhere, but would prefer not to drive if it’s not the highway because people are assholes and the road is a scary place. gets angry when people do stupid things, mutters under his breath a lot.
Or at least, he pretends to be. And he pretends to be a terrible singer all the time.
More often than not, if they are in the Impala, Dean is singing. Loudly. Off key. Messing up the words and making odd sounds in attempts to sing along with the guitar solos.
Sam finds it incredibly irritating, because it loses it’s charm about five songs into any road trip and Dean just won’t stop, dancing around and drumming on the steering wheel as he drives, growling out dirty lyrics at the top of his lungs.
“Can’t you make him stop?” Sam asks Cas finally. “Withhold sex or something?”
Dean snorts a laugh. “Cas wouldn’t give up a second with this sweet ass just so I’ll stop singing. And didn’t you say we weren’t ever going to mention me and Cas having sex again?”
“Yeah, well. I’d deal with a conversation about my brother and my best friend getting it on if it meant you’d shut up.”
Cas stays silent. He’s learned his lesson about getting in the middle of these types of arguments.
Besides, he doesn’t mind Dean’s terrible singing.
Because Cas has heard Dean’s real singing voice. It happens sometimes when they’re driving alone, late at night, when everything is still and quiet and it feels like the whole world exists solely inside the metal frame of that car. The radio will land on a cheesy soft rock station, and Dean doesn’t bother to change the station, because that would mean pulling his hand away from Cas’, and well, that’s just unacceptable.
So instead, Dean will roll his eyes and leaves the station where it is. And then Cas hears it. The low, quiet humming that slowly turns into actual words. Deep and sultry, and much more on key than it ever is when the sun is up.
There’s one song in particular Dean sings to him, a soft ballad about “turning your angel eyes my way”. Cas knows the general public probably thinks it’s saccharin and a little cliche, but he loves it. He wants to answer the questions Dean sings, to tell him exactly what he did to win Cas’ love. But he also doesn’t want his own voice to interrupt, so he never does. He just listens, lets Dean’s voice flow through him until he’s dizzy with it.
Dean and Sam continue to argue, but this is one fight Cas can’t help Sam win.
He wouldn’t mind if Dean sang every minute of the day.
@kaylareigns23 said: Can I get an imagine where the reader is dating Jeff and it’s the night of Jessica’s party and she’s in the car with him when he crashes and they both die or not (your choice) & like they’re on the other side together. Sorry for bothering lol I just really love your writing xoxo
Jeff X Reader
“Babe. The party is in need of sustenance. Lets go on a beer run.”
Your conversation with your friends trails off as you turn towards the sound of Jeff’s voice, raising an eyebrow at his glassy eyes and lazy smile. “What do you mean we? How much have you had to drink?”
He scoffs. “Two beers two hours ago.” Your gaze darts down to the red solo cup in his hand and he rolls his eyes with a laugh. “It’s Coke. Chill out.”
“Uh huh. Hand over the keys, Sparky. Unlike you, I haven’t had an ounce of alcohol. I’ll drive and you grab the beer since you’re the one with the ID.”
Veronica’s half sister has lived the big life with her rich father after a few things go south in her home she is sent to live with her mom’s side of the family. Y/N has been spoiled her whole life and has never struggled with anyone, this is all to change when she meets the Gallaghers.
the target one makes me laugh tho like. late night target run. magnus really wants vanilla coke and alec is standing under a red neon target sign smoking. magnus comes back out and steals a drag from it and his arm lifts enough for his jacket to show the gun under his armpit. “since it’s movie night, I splurged and got oreos.” he hands alec a starbucks cup with a vanilla latte. both of them kill 4 circle members on the way home.
YES PLEASE look you know i would write forever w/ u about domestic magnus and alec casually crushing circle members along the way like:
magnus and alec pulling up to a drive thru in a classic black muscle car. alec wants to know if magnus ordered extra fries. there’s a pounding in the trunk. one of valentine’s men is inside. magnus turns up the radio and they drive off.
alec is waiting alone at a bar. he checks his watch and eventually magnus shows up. there’s blood on his cheek. alec casually wipes it away with his thumb and kisses him. he asks, how many? and magnus replies, drinks or bodies?
magnus lounging on the kitchen counter with a cup of coffee. he looks sleepy as they chat about the weather while alec disassembles his sniper rifle.
they argue about whose turn it is to do the dishes. i had to clean the blood out of the car last night because of you so technically you owe me. magnus is too distracting, though. the dishes never get done.
Prompt: Captain Swan adopt a child! Thank you! xx :D
I finally did it! I hope it’s everything you wanted it to be! Thank you for being so patient while I struggled with words ahhh (also this is completely unedited so mistakes are all mine)
It’s David’s idea to allow high schoolers to come learn what it’s like at Storybrooke Sheriff’s Department.
At first, there aren’t many serious candidates that come for an afternoon after classes are through.
Most of the kids that stop in mostly just want to hear stories from Killian and Emma about various villains they’ve had to face off against. Killian’s more than eager to comply, often weaving incredible tales that are just a little over dramatized.
It takes three weeks of the occasional interested teenager for them to get one that actually is interested in becoming a police officer.
Cold morning grass, plucking fruit from damp branches, herbal teas in vintage cups, the first Christmas song on the radio, driving in the rain, heavy pillows, matches.
Pilled wool blankets, broken cinnamon sticks, hot cider steam that seeps into your cheeks, decaying branches that wake in a coat of crystal frost, stargazing in the frigid air.
Oatmeal cookies, tea light candles, thrifted sweaters, early sunsets, mismatched mugs, leaves in the pool, board games, a full moon.
A fluffy loaf of bread, lacing your boots, a vintage thermos, gloomy lights, smoking chimneys, Pinterest recipes, flooding gutters, live music.
A burning log that falls and sends sparks into the sky as it impacts with the dirt, your first bite into a crisp apple, gingersnaps, mini pumpkins, breakfast waffles, rumbling thunder.
Wrapping up in an oversized flannel, the first snow, stray cats in the night, hot chocolate, fallen trees, county fairs.
Collecting pinecones, warm breasted birds that procrastinate their departure, dark red leaves, classic fall movies, burning incense.
Picking an apple from a mound of colors, melting butter on a fresh baked muffin, wool socks, extra blankets on your bed, storm sirens.
Cinnamon sprinkled in the top of your latte foam, shiny copper mugs, boot imprints in the mud, caramel sauce, rain that only dries by the fireside, hot flakey biscuits that burn the roof of your mouth.
Wind blowing through tall dying grasses, peanut butter cookies, the sound of migrating geese, farmers markets, harvest festivals, a breeze that blows out your candle.
Fog that mutes your perception, wood carved trinkets, warm donuts, hearty stews, spinning vinyl, coat buttons, dusty bookshelves, lampposts.
Vintage ovens cooking autumnal pies, whipped cream on the tip of your nose, dogs wearing sweaters, scones, leaf piles, misty rivers.
A/N: ahhh I’m so sorry for how late this is. I was sick and then all these weird work schedules were taking up my time. But I wanted to get this out to you all before the weekend so here it is! Thank you all so much for the patience and your interest in this story~ I’m planning for maybe two more parts so please continue to look forward to it. Also I’m so sorry for mistakes and if this seemed rushed, especially the more emotional part, like I suck at mushy talk haha
Characters: Single Father Wonho, Reader, Female OC
It was a rare day off and you had promised to watch Mari after
school while Wonho worked. The two of you were at the zoo enjoying a rare dare
of sun. You let Mari do the leading, but as the afternoon wore on you were
starting to regret it. You were still young but had nowhere near the same
energy levels as the young girl.
As you were eating a snack you noticed her energy slowly
dwindling and you knew it was time to head home. Gathering your things, you
took her hand and started to lead her towards the exit.
“Y/N…” Mari trailed off. “I really like being with you.”
“I really like being with you too.”
“Please don’t leave.”
You stop and look down at her. “Mari, why would I leave?”
“I don’t know. But I don’t want you to.”
With a soft sigh you continue to walk. “Listen to me, I won’t
ever leave you. Besides who else am I going to buy sugar cereal for?”
Mari giggles and you know you’ve done the right thing in
lightening the mood.
The drive towards Wonho’s place was quiet. You played Mari’s
favorite radio station at a low level but when you didn’t hear much noise coming
from her, you looked back at her and found her asleep. Turning off the radio,
you continued the drive in silence. As you drove around the corner, you felt
your car slow on its own. Frowning you look at the meters on the dashboard
start to drop. You press your hazard lights and carefully pull over before
shutting off the vehicle. Quickly, you peek behind you and find Mari still
peacefully napping in the back. You quietly climb out of the car and walk to
the hood. Propping it up you study the multiple parts and pipes and end up
staring blankly at the engine.
It’s funny. I used to daydream about being old enough to go on dates, and drive around with friends in their cars. I had this image of myself holding hands with a really cute guy, listening to the radio… driving along some pretty road, up north maybe… when the trees started to change colors. It was never about going anywhere, really. Just having some sort of freedom, I guess. Now that we’re old enough, where the hell do we go? (It Follows, 2014)