1 - 20 of 59 Works by scribblscrabbl
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Hanseok, kneeling before him with a death grip around his toy gun, perfectly lucid and utterly deranged, had dragged him halfway back to the bowels of Hell in the time it takes to pull a trigger.
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The way Sunjae insists it went down is: Inhyuk is a sly, obstinate little shit who could wear down a brick wall and besides, Sunjae didn’t want to be lonely anymore. The way Inhyuk will tell it later is: unmyeong is a tide that never ceases.
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It would be an oversimplification to call this destiny.
Or: Gon pulls his head out of his ass and discovers he’s been running in the wrong direction.
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Maybe he’s resurrecting someone he used to be, the Ri Jeong Hyeok he buried at the same time they lowered his brother into the ground.
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Yoon Seri has never, ever been domestic.
She’s never put on an apron. She’s never done a load of laundry or folded fitted sheets. She’s never been embarrassed by the contents of her fridge and she’s never lined up shoes on a shoe rack bought more for aesthetics than functionality.
She’s never wanted to be domestic until Ri Jeong Hyeok.
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Once Tina steps onto the bus, what's left is early morning quiet; the shack passing for a bus terminal that's seen better days; Sam with his hands stiff in his pockets; and fourteen-year-old Dean, trying to be composed about the whole thing while his eyes tell Sam that inside, he's having the mother of all freak outs.
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Sam would recognize those eyes anywhere, that mouth, spreading into a smile that draws out laugh lines, making Sam sharply, achingly aware of just how long it's been.
A story in which people change but love remains the same.
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Five times Sam messes with Dean's head, and one time Dean accepts it was for his own damn good.
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Dean's still a ghost and Sam decides he's done playing by the rules.
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of unknown origins by scribblscrabbl
Fandoms: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
17 Jun 2016
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She’s been smiling since she sat down, a little coy because it’s the show they’re putting on – and a little earnest, because after four years of mutually imposed estrangement they still feel inexorable.
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He’s considering the inside of his fridge, its sad contents suggestive of both his long hours at the office and his relationship status, when the doorbell rings. He doesn’t look through the peephole first, another one of those risks he takes that Illya would label a character flaw, and swings the door open.
For a minute, he just stares.
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your truth contains multitudes by scribblscrabbl
Fandoms: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
21 Apr 2016
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“Can I guess? I’ll hazard a guess,” he says when they’re making their way through the Arabian desert towards Riyadh, figuring it’s as opportune a time as any, what with the scenery being swaths of sand against the backdrop of – wait for it – more sand, and Illya’s remarkable aptitude for sitting in silence. “You wanted to be a ballet dancer.”
Or: Napoleon imagines the lives Illya could've led.
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Five times they wrestle and one time they dance.
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For a decade she’s had a Fitz-shaped instinct, and now, when she needs it most, she feels it malfunctioning, lying in a heap of scrap metal at her feet.
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The White House deals with a tragedy, Eames gets a visitor from across the pond, and Yusuf caps off a legislative victory with a show.
Series
- Part 2 of Post Hoc Ergo Propter Hoc
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“My next-door neighbor is clearing the snow from his drive with a flamethrower,” Yusuf tells him.
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A collection of holiday ficlets.
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He's not sure how this part works. He thinks that even if he had an instruction manual he’d fuck it up.
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Arthur needs to learn the tango. Eames gets creative.
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Beyond the shore it’s flat as far as the eye can see. The sky doesn’t so much slope as it stretches without waiting for the ground to catch up. It’s a living canvas, blank, terrifying, freeing.
Eames laughs and Mal – Mal flings her arms out wide in rapture and begins to paint.
It wasn't Dom who went down to Limbo with Mal. It was Eames.