(no subject)

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

Dean hates Lawrence.

For one thing, he'd sworn never to come back here. And sure, they kinda broke that vow when Sammy's visions started showing, but that was a job. That was different.

This -- pacing around the verandah while Sammy snores in a chair, waiting for anything to happen, waiting for Sam to wake up and convince Dean he's had enough sleep for them to leave --

-- waiting for the hellhounds to find him --

-- this is gonna drive him absolutely bugfuck nuts.

But Sam said stay, and Dean came too close to losing him to do anything but that.

He kicks at the gate, irritably, and glares down the street.

(no subject)

[trickswithsticks]

Leah can be and is incredibly systematic when it's necessary for her to be. Necessity long ago ingrained a habit of being super tidy when her home, and the flat she's squatting in right now speaks for that. Take the living room, for instance: everything of no use to her has been moved and stored in the second bedroom, and the dining table has been set out carefully as her work station, every tool with its own place. Her finished radio sits separately on the coffee table, near a nice long sofa that Leah sleeps on as many days as not, when she isn't out exploring.

It is, by her time, about 5am local time when she sits down and turns her dial to the scalpel-marked frequencies for first the Doctor, then Oracle. She even tries a few random frequencies.

"Anyone out there?"

(no subject)

[per-ardua-surgo.livejournal.com]

There is a Scott outside today, who isn't wearing his biking leathers (the bike is stored away safely where it can be gotten to at a moment's notice, under a tarp), and who is, in fact, forcing himself through a silent routine that he'd neglected even before landing here.

It's a strange mix of Tae Kwon Do, Judo, Karate and simple Tai Chi stretches, guaranteed to loosen up his muscles and keep him aware of everything that goes on around him.

For now, the farm community is his new 'family'. Scott, you see, is a sentinel type (without the tall, murderous, metal connotations), and needs people to look after. It keeps him sane.

(no subject)

[ninjasinspace.livejournal.com]

Perhaps you have wondered where River is.

The answer is: she's outside, seated against a tree with a pad of paper and a box of coloured pencils she scavanged from an undisclosed location. Every now and then, she glances at the house as if confirming a detail in her mind, then returns to her drawing.

(You might think, from this, that she is drawing the house.

She isn't.

It's a purple people-eater.)

She's open to interruption.

(no subject)

[machina-grim.livejournal.com]

There's a muffled beeping coming from above the subway shelter in New York. Muffled because Tomas hurriedly wrapped his coat around the radio emitting the sound when it started. It wouldn't do to attract triffids.

His motorbike is hooked up to some large device, the screen of which is currently showing a map of New York and the surrounding area, with a bright red dot on the outskirts.

Botherable.