there-are-more-where-this-came-from

havsgast  asked:

since it's such a Concept™ I would love it if you wrote something about Connor being Hank's symbiote

“Connor, you’re so disgusting!” Hank growls as Connor brings a handful of blood to his bone white lips.

Connor glares at him and then suddenly retreats back into Hank’s chest, just in time for Chris to come through the door from the bathroom.

“What’d you say Hank?” Chris asks, coming to stand next to him.

“I said it’s disgusting.” Hank gestures to the corpse. He’s not wrong either. This one’s more gruesome than the others, seeing as it’s in a room full of dead pigeons. The victim was stabbed through the chest with something sharp while trying to escape into a hole in the ceiling, resulting in his limbs being twisted grotesquely from the fall. The walls are thin; he can hear the policemen in the hallway searching for more clues. No wonder the neighbours heard the commotion and called them in.

Would you rather I made you drink it instead? Connor’s voice comes from inside him, and Hank still resists the urge to shudder at it. Not that he dislikes Connor- not anymore, anyway. But it’s been a long time since anything’s been inside- well. That’s not something to think about when there’s someone who can literally hear your thoughts when you’re not being careful enough.

Like I said. Disgusting. In any case, can you stop contaminating the evidence? We really need a fuckin’ break on this one.

But I’m hungry, Connor points out. Almost a whine, but not quite. Connor’s still insistent that he and his race of symbiotes don’t feel emotion, but Hank’s starting to call bullshit. He eyes Chris for a second, who looks engrossed with the victim now, and then takes a step back.

“I’m gonna check out the bathroom,” he excuses himself, and Chris waves him off, distracted. As soon as he’s out of sight and out of earshot, he mutters, “One pigeon.”  

Hank can literally feel Connor’s elation as he stretches away from Hank again, his ghastly white ‘body’ descending on the dead pigeons like a terrible wave. It’s unfortunate- for Connor- that they’re already dead, but Connor’s learning to make do with what they have. Hank’ll get them cheeseburgers later to make up for it.

Why’d it have to be pigeons, anyway? Hank hates the fuckers, always has. To die surrounded by them, knowing he was going to die there, frantically scribbling his knowledge away in code for some unknown purpose… he feels a pang of sympathy for the victim, Rupert. It’s a terrible way to die. Not that Hank’s picky in that regard.

I won’t let that happen.

Connor’s tone is protective and resolute, and something moves in Hank’s chest at the sound that isn’t Connor himself. It’s so fucked that Connor, this wildly powerful being, has quite literally bonded to Hank of all people. He deserves someone more suited to his needs- someone who can buy him all the food he wants and has fantastic agility and the fighting skills he feels Connor itching to use when they’re in trouble. But he’s just Hank, and all he has are his emotional burdens that Connor is in no way capable of handling on top of his own.

Connor deserves better.

And then Hank slaps himself.

He blinks in alarm and stares down at his hand, and then at Connor, who stares him down, annoyed.

Cease that line of thinking, Hank. You’re wrong.

But- I-

I’m bonded to you. Of everyone in the DPD, I chose you. I. Want. You. Connor emphasises his words by slowly retracting so his face is almost touching Hank’s nose in its proximity. Connor sinks back into him- and that shouldn’t feel as good as it does- and then his vision swims like Connor’s meddling with it. Use your mind’s eye, lieutenant.

Hank does. And he sees- well, he sees what Connor wants him to. Their first meeting (terrible, which was completely Hank’s fault), introducing him to Sumo, fighting with Reed, getting cheeseburgers for the first time, warmth… there’s a glimpse, too, of a woman that Hank doesn’t recognise, but that flickers away so quickly Hank’s sure it was unintentional. Hank wonders who it is, but figures Connor will tell him with time. That they’re so close already is a testament to their bond. Which Connor isn’t ashamed of- which he’s proud of.

It’s you and me, Hank, Connor impresses.

And Hank can only nod back. You and me, he agrees.

No matter how long it takes, and how many absolutely fucking disgusting bodies they have to analyse (and eat, on Connor’s side of things)… they’ll solve this case. And they’ll do it together.

annabeth chase who:
  • hasn’t read a book for fun in years because aside from lack of motivation, the swimming letters and jumbled words makes it hard for her to enjoy it
  • suffers from short-term memory loss — she’ll walk into a room and forget why she went there, or she’ll go into a book to fact-check something and can’t recall why she’s even flipping through the pages a minute later. sometimes she can’t remember whether she ate breakfast or not.
  • constantly misplaces her things, which is a result of her being disorganized — like shoving an assignment into the wrong binder when she’s in a hurry or can’t be bothered, or taking her phone into the kitchen and somehow finding it in the food pantry 20 minutes later
  • can’t keep her room clean for more than a few days before it’s a mess again, cluttered with textbooks and sketchpads and clothing littering the floor and shoved into the corners
  • never fails to procrastinate on her assignments, no matter how small. you could give her a whole year and she would still wait till the last minute
  • has trouble staying focused and often loses her train of thought — she could be giving a meticulously thought out explanation on something she’s passionate about and just completely go blank
  • will stare at the pages of her stupid textbook with tears of frustration in her eyes, silently begging herself to just focus because this reading was supposed to have been done weeks ago, but no matter how hard she tries the text on the page won’t stop jumping around
  • goes days and days without brushing/washing her hair and wears the same clothes for a whole week
  • becomes anxious and irritable at small things like a ticking clock or the beeping sound the smoke detector makes when its battery needs to be changed
  • gets sudden bursts of inspiration to start a completely new project at the most inappropriate times, like during an important lecture or at 1 am when she should be writing an essay that’s due the next morning.
  • because of this she ends up with a lot of incomplete works-in-progress and half-assed assignments
  • absolutely despises school and gets anxiety thinking about going back to class come sunday night
  • pretends to embrace the fact that people think she is “scary” and “intimidating” but after years of hearing it becomes very insecure — she wishes she were the first person to come to peoples’ minds when they think of someone nice and friendly.
  • is constantly insecure and ashamed of herself because she’s supposed to be debunking that stupid ‘dumb blonde’ stereotype but wonders if she’s only encouraging it when she looks back at her slip-ups/flubs during conversations and small mistakes on tests and terrible first impressions she’s made and every single impulsive decision she made that went wrong and— what kind of Athena kid is she?
4

ok! some more scribbles for this dumb au

(these are technically redraws but i never posted the originals)

6

gravity falls + bill wurtz tweets: part 1 of ???

there is so much more where this came from, you have no idea

(clicking on images for easier reading is recommended)

Rogue One characters as things that have been said in my family

Cassian Andor: I really didn’t want any, but I didn’t know what else to do, so I made coffee. 

Jyn Erso: I want something very specific but I have no idea what it is.

Bodhi Rook: For half a moment, my brain OD’d on the joy of York peppermint patties, but then I crashed HARD. 

Chirrut Imwe: We must watch different televangelists.  

Baze Malbus: Sometimes I’m glad I’m not a mind reader specifically so I don’t have to read your mind. 

K-2SO: You know what, I don’t need your optimistic attitude. 

Orson Krennic: A life goal of mine is to be sitting around while someone pipes chocolate mousse into my mouth. 

Saw Gerrera: MURDER HIM. I’m sorry, that was extreme. Do it anyway.

General Draven: I only hear what I want to hear, which is only a problem if you don’t say what I want to hear.