Finally got to finish planting my long-planned terrarium. This was a pleasantly low budget affair. I snatched the jar and the little tree for a couple quid at a market, and the different mosses from a trip to the forest. I had my eyes on some ferns too but quickly ran out of space. That jar is tiny, about 10cm in diameter. That little golf cart? 5 millimetres.
The Shack’s made from some leftover polymer clay. Sculpting and painting it took about two days. (A fair amount of which was spent worrying that I’d melt everything when baking them in the oven.)
Amidst all the turmoil they have been through and witnessed while trying to keep Kara safe and sane, Winn and Cat find in each other an unusual but enduring friendship. A series of scenes showing the progression of this friendship.
A big thanks to @reginalovesemma for the edits! And for coming along with me for this little Brotp.
He was playing Minecraft and fighting back tears when the heavy-bottomed tumbler thumped on his desktop and the shapely figure of his boss planted itself against the front, next to his chair. It was exactly where Kara had stood, just minutes before, and told him she didn’t want things to change between them. She’d broken his heart with tears in her eyes and while he tried so hard not to be angry, it had proven an impossible feat.
He knew he wasn’t supposed to be mad. He knew he was supposed to be supportive and accept the friendship being offered. He knew, ultimately, her happiness was the most important thing, but the evil thought that kept running through his mind was… what about my happiness?
He followed the line of Cat’s hip where it leaned against his desk and met her eyes before his own could get too caught up lingering in places that could get him fired… or killed. For a split second his fear overwhelmed his sadness and he stuttered. “H-Hi, Miss Grant. Did you need something? Something techy?” He rolled his eyes internally at his idiocy and picked up a Superman stress ball to give his hands something to do.
Of the big 3 home computers to be celebrating their 40th anniversaries at VCF East XII, Tom Hornberger put together quite possibly the single most authentic recreation of a home deployment you could imagine. I would dare call this a shrine to Tandy Radio Shack’s TRS-80 Model I, as you would have encountered one in 1977.
Seen here is a TRS-80 Model I in a specially built desk with an inset for the main unit/keyboard, a second inset for the expansion unit and monitor, and a little shelf underneath for the bank of 5¼ floppy drives. Tom brought along an authentic tape deck, Radio Shack pocket amplifier, and even a tiny era-appropriate desk lamp! Documentation, a printer, and software galore shows he was a hardcore TRS-80 user when this was new and commonplace in the home, and Tandy was king of microcomputer sales (if only for a few years).
I learned more about the TRS-80 talking to Tom than I have in all my years in this hobby.
language, small hints of depression (not reader), cheating thoughts and almost cheating kind of…?, implied smut.
A/N: Sorry for
the delay of this. Between working extra hours at work and preparing for
surgery, I’ve been overwhelmed. But, here it is. Prepare for some cheesiness. I
don’t know how I feel about this chapter, but whatever. Oh, and the
pics in the collage aren’t mine.
Sure, having the additional company was a nice change of
scenery… for about two hours. But, four days of having two Deans, two Sams, one
very confused Castiel, and one very distracting… not Castiel was enough to make anyone crazy.
You hoped with all of your might that the boy’s counterparts
weren’t too much like the real thing, but you had no such luck. Dean and Jensen
both loved cars, spending a lot of time in the bunker’s garage. Sam and Jared
were both nerds to an extent, so they geeked out on various things. Sure, they
kept each other occupied, but you felt like you were running a grown man
daycare. Castiel was slightly overwhelmed by the new company, making frequent
trips to help his fellow brethren in Heaven when he could.
Pairing: Bray Wyatt, Luke
Harper, Erick Rowan/Reader
Rating: Holy shit M.
I offer no apologies. This got so out of hand I’m pretty sure it’s already enjoying next
year’s Halloween candy. Your something spooky, for the season! Contains
hints of uh…magical!Bray Wyatt. And worship. Tagging @tox-moxley, enjoy!
“How is this even safe?” Trini asked, holding a diya, a little clay lamp, in her hand. It was going to be an idyllically crisp October evening, perfect for celebrating Diwali in the Hart family’s backyard. Kim’s parents were bringing supplies out of the house (snacks, matches, lighters) while Kim and Trini set up the tiny little lamps.
“We’re putting them in the pool, Trini,” Kim explained for the third time. “Nothing unsafe about it.”
“All I’m saying is my mom would freak if she found out I came over to your house to play with fire.”
A short fic based off this post from ask-tinycas. I hope you enjoy.
Castiel sits crossed-legged on the pillow, watching the hunter next to him sleep soundly. He must have been tired, for Dean had hardly moved in his sleep. In fact, he had not moved since the last words of his conversation with Castiel had drifted off into gentle snores. As much as Dean still chastises him for it, Castiel loves to watch him sleep and be at peace.
we’ll all float on alright // clay jensen x gender neutral reader
request: Hello! Can you do a platonic clay x reader were they are best friends and the reader puts slow music and starts dancing with clay to make him feel a bit better from the tapes? Tysm darling!
warnings: mentions of suicide, some angst ??, very VERY mild cursing (like two words)
word count: 1403
a/n: aaaah i’m so happy to be writing my first request!! and i’m so excited that my first imagine reached over 100 notes– that means a lot of people have read it and liked it and that makes me very happy. feel free to request more imagines or head cannons! (p.s. i just realized that the request said a slow song, but “float on” by modest mouse has never failed to cheer me up so i thought it was fitting. sorry!)
you walked into your english class and frowned when you saw that the desk next to yours was empty again. a little over a month ago, one of your classmates, hannah baker, had committed suicide, sending shockwaves through liberty high school. your best friend clay had been taking her death very hard; he had become much more quiet and you hadn’t seen much of him since about a week after her death, though you weren’t sure what had changed during that first week.
as the bell rang, you decided to pay clay a visit after school to see if you could cheer him up.
you took a deep breath, shifting your backpack to rest more comfortably on your shoulders, before reaching out to ring the doorbell. you were greeted by clay’s mother, who immediately pulled you into a hug.
“(y/n), i’m so glad you’re here,” she said, pulling back to hold you at arm’s length.
“hi, mrs. jensen. is clay here?” you asked, though you already knew the answer.
“yes, he’s just up in his room,” the weary
mother sighed, giving your shoulders one last squeeze before letting
go. “you can head on up if you’d like.”
“thanks.” you turned to walk up the stairs.
you reached the door to clay’s room and knocked gently.
“mom, i’m fine,” called a tired voice. you cracked open the
“i know i tend to worry about you, but i never
thought i mothered you that much,”
“sorry, (y/n).” clay rolled his eyes and you
entered his room, closing the door. the blinds were closed and the only light
in the room came from the tiny lamp on the desk. you set your backpack on the floor
next to a pile of laundry and crossed the room to sit on the bed next to him.
“so i know this is a dumb question, but… how
are you doing?” you inquired.
there was silence, and then a sniff came from
beside you. you turned to see tears streaming down clay’s face.
“hey, hey, hey,” you whispered, pulling clay
into your chest. “it’s okay, clay. it’s okay.”
“no, it’s not!” he exclaimed, standing up and
startling you with his sudden volume. “(y/n)…”
“clay, what’s going on?”
“i killed hannah baker,” he mumbled, so quiet
you couldn’t hear him.
“i killed hannah baker!” he cried, crouching
to the floor with his head in his hands.
“(y/n), you don’t understand!”
“then help me understand. i want to help,” you
pleaded. he picked his head up to peer up at you, still sitting on his bed. he
drew in a big breath.
“hannah… she left
tapes,” he admitted. “she left tapes describing thirteen people that
contributed to her suicide… and one of them was about me.”
“oh, clay,” you murmured, joining him on the floor. “i know how much you loved her. there’s no way you’re the reason she’s gone.”
“i was so afraid to love her that i left her alone… maybe if i’d been there for her… if i’d stayed with her…” he trailed off, but you knew what he was thinking. he was placing all of the blame on himself, and it broke your heart to see him this upset.
“hey,” you said. “i could have been there for her, too. anyone in this damn school could have been there for her, and maybe just one of us sticking by her would have changed the entire story. but you can’t put all the blame on yourself, clay. in the end, it was her choice, not yours or mine or anyone else’s. you have to remember that.”
clay nodded, leaning his head on your shoulder. the two of you sat quietly in the dark for a few minutes, until you got an idea and stood up.
“c’mon.” you held your hands out, helping him onto his feet. “i know what’s going to make you feel better.”
you ignored his questioning stare as you dug your phone out of your bag, opening your music. you scrolled until you found the song you wanted, pressing play.
you began to jump around as the first beats to you and clay’s favorite pick-me-up song, “float on” by modest mouse, came from your phone speakers.
“(y/n)…” clay began to protest.
“jensen, don’t try to act like you can get through this song without singing along, or at least cracking a smile,” you cut him off, grabbing his hand to twirl around the room. he opened his mouth to argue, but the sound of you singing the first verse of the song drowned out whatever he was going to say.
“i backed my car into a cop car the other day!
well, he just drove off, sometimes life’s okay…”
by the time the chorus came around, clay had given in, joining you in bouncing around the room to the beat of the song that had gotten the both of you through all of the bad grades, assholes, and rejections of high school.
the end of the song found you two yelling the words of the chorus one last time, headbanging and trying not to lose your balance. the last few notes played and for the first time in a month, a smile was spread across your best friend’s face. you grinned back at him as he crossed the room, enveloping you in a hug.
“thank you for coming, (y/n),” clay mumbled against your hair. “you always seem to know exactly what i need.”
“any time, clay,” you assured him, squeezing him a little tighter. “i know you’d do the same for me.”
one time me and my flatmate were putting away dishes and a plate slipped from my hand, rolled the length of the counter, and promptly fell out the window where it crashed 6 floors down
and another time we hadn’t heard from this girl in like 4 months and thought she might have died in her room so we spent a night wasting 34 hair pins trying to break into her room to find out and then told security and she opened the door to check and surprise surprise nobody was deadthen once i walked into the kitchen and found a group of people huddled around a tiny lamp on the floor and warming their hands on it when the lights worked completely fine and chanting something
i was running to get the bus and after a minute, realized i left a shoe behind, had to run back and get my shoe, held it in my hand and ran with one foot barefoot to get the bus like some crazy idiot
one of my friends woke up after a drunk night on the other side of town with a broken finger. another drunk friend on halloween got mugged and didnt realize he was already mugged until a cab driver told him to be careful about muggers
around 1 am this guy rang my doorbell wearing nothing but tighty-whiteys that was stuffed with paper to look bigger and lumpier and made macho poses (and also got inappropriate and tried to kiss me but thats a different story)
another friend came back from a drunk night out, cut her thumb on some weird shit, decided she wanted toast and woke up to realize that the way she made toast was putting her purse in the microwave with $200 in it and now its just ash.
me and my friend sat in McD until 3 am, not high/drunk or anything and talked about universe and existential stuff and paradoxes and things people only say when theyre high while a myriad of drunk people just flickered in and out
his favorite fruits are green apples, the crunchy, super sour kind. he doesn’t like to share. Neil tries to steal one and he only gets one bite in before his face scrunches up. revenge is, apparently, sour.
he gets a tiny lamp from Renee for his birthday that he can clip onto his history books for bedtime reading
Kevin is pale af and if he doesn’t use sunscreen, his nose burns and peels. it’s ridiculous
also he has freckles on his nicely shaped shoulders, i don’t make the rules
the ring finger on his left hand has a bump from the way he holds a pen. it felt weird to watch it disappear when he couldn’t use his hand. it hurts a little when he starts writing again
he has a pronounced cupid’s bow and a full lower lip (also he licks his lips when he’s nervous. they’re very pink)
Kevin needs three separate alarms to get up for morning practice, and one of those is Andrew throwing a pillow at his head
his eyebrows are dark and menacing enough to scare most baby Foxes into submission. they don’t work on any of the original Foxes, but he still tries
Nicky tries to get him into flavoured vodka to spice up his life, but Kevin refuses on grounds of useless additives and sugar
he loves to listen to classical music while working out in the gym
he cracks his fucking knuckles and it annoys everyone
also perhaps he decides he wants more tattoos and he gets something to represent his irish heritage. like a celtic knot on his hip
his meal plans include lots of chicken (because proteins) but what this boy is really lusting after is some sticky ribs
Kevin isn’t really sure what to do for Father’s Day, so he just brings take-out and a six pack to Wymack’s apartment where they, unsurprisingly, watch some Exy and trash talk the game
he sleeps like a starfish, limbs spread all over the bed. if someone sleeps next to him, there’s a chance they will be elbowed in the face. also, he snores a little
there is nothing sexier than Kevin in low slung black sweatpants and a green crop top. Allison wolf whistles at him and Nicky pretends to faint
sometime in the future, he goes on a trip to France with Jean and Jeremy and they go to Versailles and other castles in the Loire Valley and he’s really fucking happy, okay. Kevin and Jean bicker and curse in rapid-fire French and Jeremy stares, charmed and a little aroused