#I get it now I’m nawing on them like a chew toy

[thechanglingchronicles]

I’m SHOCKED that no one else has said anything

but Shelby’s area unknown character is so her orgins character before she died.

We know that her orgins character was a bunny that Wilbur killed so he’d have a friend. Her new AU character is a bunny!

Her character is going to live in a pumpkin house

She was even like I got to remember my character likes pumpkins not carrots.

In her bun hole their is a pumpkin with the same carving as her orgins characters pumpkin.

I know there the same I don’t need Shelby to tell me they are, I know.

I think I need to go watch some orgins smp vids and vods to see if theirs more hints

Everything she says about bun Shub is causing brain rot

Why did she run from New Jersey??

I looked up the meaning of the teeth falling out dream incase it told me more about her character.

I’m obsessed I keep drawing them.

I love all the new people Shelby’s interacting with im obsessed with them and gravel, guqqie, and Acho it’s delightful

[some-kindofgnome]

Kinktober #11: A Little Restraint: Eijirou Kirishima

Kirishima buys you a new toy. Then he asks you to use it on him. 

Characters: Eijirou Kirishima x f!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ please!), bondage, aged up characters, oral sex (m and f-receiving), vaginal sex, dom!reader and soft sub!Kirishima, aftercare

Notes: I’m running out of title ideas. Did I say that yesterday? Doubly so today. But I haven’t posted anything with Kirishima since day one!! This dude is one of my favourite comfort characters, honestly. We stan a hero who drinks his respect-women-juice 💖 

Today’s prompt was “restraints,” and I honestly thought about Kirishima tying you up, but... this way sounded so much more fun. 

Kinktober Masterlist 

Sex with Kirishima never gets boring.

When you first started dating, you couldn’t keep your hands off one another. You were fucking at least twice a day; desperate to make up for all the time you hadn’t known one another. Now, six months later, you’re starting to think that desire might never fade.

Granted, real life has gotten in the way of your twice-daily boning sessions, but the want is still there. Proven every time you stumble in the door in a tangle of limbs. Every time you creep through the quiet morning, picking up the trail of clothes you left behind the night before.

Tonight, he’s handsier than usual. It’s giving you ideas.

“Got somethin’ for ya, babe,” he’d said to you one night, appearing in the living room with a shipping box in his hands. You’d made it pretty clear in the past that you didn’t need him to earn your favour with gifts, but he’d looked so excited to show this one to you- you couldn’t help your curiosity.

You’d flipped open the cardboard flaps, only to be faced with a pair of thick leather handcuffs in the bottom of the box.

“You planning on arresting me anytime soon?” You’d teased, though you remember the way your cheeks instantly heated, too. You weren’t stupid. Those were no standard-issue cuffs.

“Naw, I thought…” His cheeks were red, too, as he waved you off. But he’s brave and he trusts you, so he kept going. “I thought we could use ‘em in the bedroom.”

“On me? Sure, I-I’ve never really done that before, but…”

“No.” When you looked up at him again you caught a swell of intent in his gaze. “On me.”

Oh. Oh.  

Kiri’s usually the one to take control when the two of you get into bed. He likes setting the pace of things, worshipping you from head to toe. Taking his time. But, as it turned out, he’d been thinking about this for a while. He loves it when you get on top. And he has to exercise such control in his day-to-day life… he wants to give it up every once in a while, to somebody he trusts.

When he’d first put it like that, there was no way you could refuse. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t have some switch tendencies, anyway.

That’s why tonight, as he’s laying you down on the bed, you grab his wrists. Hard. He stops, looking down at you in a moment of flustered confusion.

“Why don’t we keep your hands off tonight?” You growl. You see the realization take over his expression, and he swoops down and catches your lips with a fleeting but very loving kiss.

“I love you,” he growls, tucking his face into your neck and kissing you there.

“Love you, too,” you mumble back, curling your fingers in the front of his shirt. You give his chest a little push, forcing him back. “Now undress.”

The blush is creeping decadently down the back of his neck as he steps away from the edge of the bed, tugging off his shirt and letting it flutter to the ground. Before it even touches the floorboards, he’s fumbling with his belt, tugging it open and shoving his pants to the ground. When he comes back to you in just a pair of crimson boxer-briefs, it’s with the promising swell of his growing erection tucked against one thigh.

He climbs onto the bed, falling onto his back. He looks up at you with the light of adoration in his gaze. Christ, you’re so lucky to have him.

You climb off the bed, stripping down as you cross to the dresser. The cuffs are tucked into the bottom drawer, and by the time you turn back with them stretched between your fingers, you’re clad only in your bra and thong.

From across the room you can hear the growl ripping from his chest. He props himself up on one elbow, watching you take your time as you come back to him.

“Damn,” he chuckles, reaching for you. You slap his hands away and take a step back.

“Are we gonna have a problem?” You hold the cuffs out in front of you. He swallows hard and lays back against the pillows.

“Wait… no,” you sigh. “Roll over. On your belly.”

You can tell he’s losing sight of where you’re taking this, but he rolls over anyway. He trusts you so fully it’s almost heartbreaking. You promise yourself not to misuse that.

As you kneel beside him, he turns to rest his cheek on the pillow. He continues to stare- you can feel his eyes flicking over your body, even as you reach over and carefully buckle one of his wrists into the cuff.

“Tight enough?” You ask, and he gives a low hum. A quick nod.

“Too tight?” He shakes his head, eyes falling shut. You smile. You love it when he gets soft like this. If only you’d known that he was trying to bring out that side of himself again.

You slowly draw his hand into the small of his back and swing a leg over his thighs, straddling them. He lets out a little grunt, his hips pushing into the mattress. You let him stay that way, figuring he’s only going to get himself more excited. You wrap your fingers around his other wrist and tug it to meet the other one.

“This okay?” You press.

“God, yes,” he grunts. The sound comes right from the barrel of his chest- you can feel it vibrate along his spine. This is going to be good.

You buckle his other wrist into the cuffs, running a finger between the padded leather and his skin. You prompt him with the same gentle questions as before, keeping him talking. Making sure he’s still with you.

“Okay,” you whisper, and you climb off of him. “Get up to your knees, now.”

He struggles a little to get his knees underneath his torso, but he’s all hard muscle and raw power and gets upright with little effort. The powerful muscles of his core work visibly as he sits up and you’re practically drooling by the time he comes to rest in front of you- legs spread, erection jutting down one leg of his undershorts, chest heaving ever so slightly.

“Fuck,” you catch yourself gasping as you watch his shoulders work to acknowledge the restraints. Biting your lip, you indulge, reaching in and palming the swell of his erection. He lets out a little grunt and shoots you a crooked grin.

“Somethin’ tells me I’m gonna regret this,” he purrs. You crawl between his thighs and kiss his lips, long and slow and sweet.

“Baby,” you growl, “you’re not gonna regret a thing.”

You make him eat you out first, spreading out on the pillows while he wiggles himself back onto his belly between your thighs. Normally his hands would be roaming all over your body while he tongues your pussy- he’d slide his fingers across your thighs, pinch your nipples, palm your breasts. You can see the disappointment lining his gaze as his arms strain, but he licks you diligently, and it’s not long before your thighs are clamping down around his face as you cum.

You wipe his mouth for him, making him sit up again. In the meantime, you rid him of his shorts, and as he settles onto the sheets his erection bobs between his legs, drooling a thin stream of fluid and framed by a trimmed patch of dark hair.

You lick your lips. You can’t help it. He’s delectable like this. A blank canvas, ready for you to play.

You stroke him first, painstakingly slow. Your fingers are curled loose around him, but every time he tries to thrust his hips into your grip, you squeeze tightly and stop dead. He’s whimpering your name by now, chewing hard on his lower lip as he peers up at you.

“Please,” he mumbles. “More.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” you coo. You slide onto your stomach between his thighs and don’t waste any time. You swallow him down.

He howls, throwing his head back as his thighs draw tight. His hips are trembling, and you can tell he’s trying his best not to thrust right to the back of your throat. Good, you think. He’s already learning.

You plant your hands on his thighs and start to suck. You keep the same painstakingly slow pace as before, planning to draw his pleasure out as slowly as possible, before letting him expel it all at once.

You can feel the tightness catch in his body when he finds a wave of pleasure. You let him ride it for a few more strokes but pull away sloppy and harsh before he can get too far. And he looks up at you with such betrayal in his eyes you seriously think about stopping.

“You with me?” You breathe, sliding your hands up and down his thighs. He’s flushed and broken for you, but he nods with a tightness squaring his jaw.

“Keep going,” he insists.

He’s been holding on long enough.

“Time for your reward,” you mumble. You lean in and pepper kisses down his collarbone. He rises his shoulder into your touch, but he doesn’t perk up just yet.

“C’mere,” you hum, sliding a hand to his shoulder blades. “On your knees again. Nice and tall. Just like that.”

You crawl around in front of him, dropping onto all fours. As soon as you spread your legs he’s gasping and pushing forward, wanting the wet, maddening heat you’re offering to him. You slide a hand between your legs and wrap it around his thick shaft, lining him up with your entrance.

“Slowly,” you urge, and he’s trembling but he complies, easing himself forward into you. You’re soaking and sloppy from before, still sensitive and tight as ha fist around his cock. He bottoms out diligently, slowly, and holds himself there.

“Please,” he gasps, voice breaking. You make him stay there for another few heartbeats. Then you smirk.

“Fuck me.”

He complies with renewed vigor, rearing back and slamming his hips into yours. His thrusts are erratic and sharp, but you meet him beat-for-beat, sliding your hips back as he pushes forward. Your ass slaps tantalizingly against his hips and you know he wants to touch it. Fuck, you should have done this sooner. You can picture him already, straining against those cuffs and aching to palm you.

The sharp cry of your name rouses you. His thrusts are getting shaky, and you realize he’s already getting ready to cum.

“Not… gonna last,” he whimpers. “Please, lemme…”

“It’s okay,” you whisper. “Cum for me, Kiri. I wanna feel all of you.”

His peak hits as if on command, and he lets out a feral shout as it rips through him. He fucks himself madly into your body, humping you through his desperate desire. He keeps pumping into you through the spurts of his orgasm, covering his cock and pulling drips of fluid from your body.

When it’s over you slump forward, panting and breathless, but he’s still drawn tight behind you.

“Kiri?” You hum, pushing yourself upright and sliding off his softening cock. He’s still got the desperate flush of desire covering his cheeks, and for a second, you’re worried.

“Let me…” he pleads, “let me touch you.”

“Jesus- here.” You race forward, reaching behind him and freeing him from the cuffs as fast as you can. You don’t even get the chance to drop them off the side of the bed before he flattens you to the bed. His hands glide all over your body, sliding down to your hips and over your breasts. He cards his fingers through your hair and pulls softly, making up for all the contact he couldn’t have before.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, but he’s already slipping a hand between your legs. He pushes one finger into your messy slit, drawing handfuls of cum out as he adds a second and curls his fingers.

He pulls a third orgasm from you before he’s finally satisfied, collapsing beside you and letting you wrap him up in your arms. You stay there for a long while, rubbing his back, letting him continue to slide his hands over all your bare skin.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you mumble after a long moment of silence. He frowns, lifting his head to meet your eyes.

“For what?”

“That was too much. I should’ve…” You don’t get to finish your sentence, because he’s silencing you with a kiss.

“That was the best sex I’ve ever had,” he chuckles against your lips. “Hands down. If you don’t do that to me again soon, I’m gonna be the one punishing you.”

He pulls a smile from you, and you pull him in a little tighter.

“I wouldn’t mind that so much.”

[ncityislove]

More

➳Genre: smut

➳Pairing: Stoner!Mark x Reader

➳Word Count: 4k+

You meet Mark at one of your parents’ boring dinner parties and when Mark shows you his stash of weed things get heated in more ways than one.

Requested? lol naw but y’all nasties wanted it anyways

Your heels echoed on the wooden floors of the over-sized dining room as you sauntered over to the open bar, ordering a shot of Hennessy. Your parents dragged you to yet another one of their friends' gathering to "make more connections" as they had put it. You were out of school on summer break but you wished you had taken up those extra classes because then you'd have an excuse not to be here.

The bartender placed your glass in front of you and you downed it in the blink of an eye, ordering another just as your mom approached you.

"Ah, there you are! Come along, dear, I want to introduce you to someone," she said, grabbing your wrist.

As if there was someone here you hadn't already introduced me to, you thought, rolling your eyes. Your mom lead you across the crowded room to a secluded area where your father was standing in his freshly ironed blue button down and matching tie, his jacket draped over his arm.

"Oh! Speaking of the devil--this is my daughter, y/n!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands together.

You forced a smile, avoiding eye contact with the small family standing before you.

"Oh, she's gorgeous! Isn't she gorgeous, honey?" asked a woman wearing too much makeup.

"She sure is. The apple doesn't fall too far from the tree!" the man next to her boomed and everyone burst into laughter.

"Stop it, Todd! I'm married!" your mom giggled. "And so are you!" Everyone laughed again and you tried not to gag. It was obvious your mom didn't want to be here just as much as you and it was shameful how badly you wanted to laugh. Your mom was never very good at pretending and it showed now more than ever.

"Hey, Mom? The maid said you wanted to see me," said a young looking man dressed in grey sweats and a t-shirt. His voice matched his face perfectly, soft yet deep at the same time.

Suddenly, the night had become much more interesting.

His parents seemed repulsed by his attire but you, on the other hand, thought it suited him very well. His joggers hung low on his hips and his baggy t-shirt was loose but not loose enough that you couldn't see his toned figure underneath. His hair was a mess but it surprisingly didn't make him look any less handsome. You couldn't help but imagine how soft the tufts of hair would feel between fingers as you tugged at the strands begging him for more.

"Mark, sweetheart, you couldn't have put something nice on before you came down?!" his mom shrieked.

"Oh, sorry," he apologized although he seemed like he didn't really mean it.

"It's alright, Beverly. My son, Doyoung, is the exact same way," your father chuckled.

You sighed, wishing it was your brother who was standing here instead of you but unfortunately he had a better excuse than you for not being able to make it. He was in Paris "studying" for his law degree for another year but you knew he was probably just messing around with some French girl in that big fancy penthouse your father bought him.

"Then you must understand how embarrassing this is," his father sighed. "Well, this is my son, Mark. He's in college right now but he came back home for an internship at the company! Isn't that right, son?"

Mark nodded, chewing his bottom lip, his eyes meeting yours briefly then flitting away, his ears turning red.

"Now that I think about it, you two are the same age!" said Beverly. "Isn't that wonderful?"

Mark looked up at you in surprise, his big amber eyes looking even larger as he gaped at you. You smiled at him, eyeing him from head to toe as you licked your lips. You didn't mean to be so obvious but you couldn't deny how cute he looked when he blushed.

"Oh that is!" your mom cheered. "Maybe they'll become good friends!"

"That would be great! It's too bad Mark's got so much work to do right now," said Tom.

"Yes, it truly is a shame," you agreed, everyone turning to look at you.

"R-really?" your mom stuttered, surprised at you for showing interest in the conversation for once. "I mean—it really is a shame."

Mark cleared his throat. "Well, I can take a break and stay a while...that is if you'd like me to," he trailed off, glancing at you.

"I'd like that," you said, grinning innocently as filthy thoughts ran through your mind.

This was exactly what you needed. A cute boy to toy with until you can go home and finally finish the last season of The Vampire Diaries. The show was cheesy and the characters got on your nerves but you wouldn't be able to sleep at night if you never finished it.

"Is that okay?" he asked his dad who looked hesitant.

"If it's only for a bit then what harm could it do?" he said waving his glass of wine in the air.

"I'll just go change then," Mark said stepping back.

"Marvelous!" his mother remarked, as she took a polite sip from her glass.

Your dad patted you on the shoulder, showing his gratitude towards your sudden act of kindness towards him but what he didn't know was you weren't doing this for him, it was for you. If your parents were going to force you to go to every boring party for the next three months you needed something to entertain yourself. Or rather someone.

Mark came down the elegant spiraled staircase in a crisp black button-down tucked into his slacks with a rather expensive-looking watch adorning his wrist. His hair looked tamed this time, slicked back in a way that resembled his father's. Although he looked absolutely drool-worthy all dressed up, you much preferred him messy-haired and wearing sweats.

You met him at the bottom of the steps, not even trying to hide the fact that you were checking him out.

"I never got your name," he said, offering his arm out to you.

"Y/n," you replied, linking your elbow to his. "Let's head to the bar, I need a drink."

Mark nodded, as he escorted you to the open bar at the end of the corridor.

"Two shots of vodka, please," you called out.

"Ah, none for me, sir. I don't drink," interjected Mark.

You raised your eyebrows at him. "I'm sorry?"

Mark smiled. "I'm not much of a drinker. I always regret it in the morning and it tastes awful."

You laughed at his explanation, finding it cute. Mark was different than all of the other kids you met through your parents. Most of them jumped at the opportunity to get wasted at these boring affairs and you were one of them.

"I'll still take those two shots," you said.

The bartender nodded, setting two shot glasses in front of you and you threw your head back, finishing them in seconds. Mark watched you with amusement in his eyes as you gently placed the glasses back onto the counter.

"So if you don't drink," you began. "then what the hell do you to deal with...all of this?"

"All of this?" he questioned.

"You know...everything. These parties, the fancy suits and all that."

"I know what you meant," Mark chuckled. "I don't have to be intoxicated to have fun."

You squinted your eyes at him. "I'm not buying that."

Mark smirked, looking down then back at you, a mysterious glint in his eyes. "Yeah, I didn't think you would."

You propped a knee onto the bar stool, leaning closer to him, not caring that you were wearing a dress. "Then what do you do?"

Mark cocked his head to the side, a smile playing on his lips. "Why don't I show you?"

You blinked at the large hand being offered to you, curiosity getting the best of you as you placed your palm on top of his. Mark look satisfied as he laced his fingers between yours, leading you up the stairs to his room.

His house was big but not as big as yours. The hallway was spacious, decorated with art pieces that must've cost thousands. The band music faded more and more until the only sound left was the click-clack of your heels.

His room was just as impressive as the rest of the house. It was black and white themed with a modern renaissance inspired wallpaper with just as much art hanging on it as in the hall. His desk was the only part of the room that looked messy, papers and folders thrown everywhere, even some littering the floor around it. But the bed. The bed was what really made the room so beautiful. It was huge. The bedposts were made out of a beautiful oak wood and almost as high as the ceiling! The comforter was draped beautifully over the bed and with perfectly fluffed pillows placed on top.

"Nice room," you said, sitting on the chair by the bookshelf.

"Thanks," said Mark as he opened his closet door, disappearing for a few moments.

You got up, wandering around his room, pausing at the wall of trophies and medals next to the fireplace. Most of them were from years ago, but there were a few a golfing trophies with this year's date on them.

"Ready to have some fun?" Mark asked, startling you as he emerged from the closet.

"Sure, why not," you retorted, walking to his bed where he was sitting with a small wooden box in his lap.

"You're not gonna pull out a gun on me are you?" you asked, eyeing the box.

"Just sit down and watch," Mark said half-chuckling.

You plopped down next to him on the bed, peering over his shoulder as he opened the lid of the box, revealing something you hadn't been expecting at all.

"Weed?"

"Yep. Weed," he said pulling out a lighter from the bottom of the box.

"You don't look like the stoner kind," you said, scooting further back on the bed.

"I'll take that as a compliment," he said, lighting up a blunt.

You hummed, watching as he put the object to his lips, inhaling then blowing out a puff of white. Mark let out a content sigh before offering the blunt to you.

You took it from him, taking a hit then passing it back.

"Shouldn't you open a window or something?" You asked, already beginning to feel lighter.

"Nah, my parents already know." Mark took another hit, holding his breath for a beat before exhaling.

"My parents would lose their shit if they found out their precious daughter was up here smoking pot with you."

"I bet your parents probably smoke too," Mark mused.

You let out a surprised laugh. The idea of your parents getting high on marijuana out of all things was absolutely hilarious to you.

"Please, they won't even have more than three glasses of wine."

"That's what they want you to think," Mark sing-songed and you giggled.

Mark laid down next to you, giving you a lazy smile.

"What?" You asked, a cloud of smoke escaping your lips.

"You're just really pretty, that's all," he said, his voice sounding confident but the blush on his cheeks evident as he looked away.

"You're really pretty too, Mark," you said, trying not to smile as you took another hit from the blunt.

Mark crinkled his nose at you, snatching the brown object from your fingers. "You're totally high right now."

You looked shocked as you snatched it right back, your lips turned downwards. He was way off base—there was no way your tolerance was that low. And if it was? It was none of his business how much weed you could smoke, anyways.

"What? No way, I'm not high yet."

Mark shook his head, a teasing smile on his face. "If you say so."

You scoffed, shoving his shoulder. "I do say so."

"Oh yeah?" Mark stood up, towering over you with a smug grin, blowing out a white cloud of smoke at your face. "And I say, you're much better at handling your liquor than a measly blunt. I mean, you've only had like three hits? It's barely halfway done yet."

You wanted to smack that grin right off of his face right then and there. Nothing irked you more than a man who challenged you. What you say is law and if you say you're not high (although you may have been a teensy bit) then you weren't.

To other people, it might seem like you were over-reacting but who could blame you? You always got what you wanted, when you wanted, and how you wanted it. No limits. No one to tell you 'no' when you really needed to hear it the most.

"I don't like to be teased, Mark."

"Really? Because I think you look cute when you get all worked up."

You squinted your eyes at him. The poor boy. He didn't realize what he was in for. "Where was that shy, blushing boy I met earlier? I wanna talk to him."

Mark's eyebrows raised at your comment. "I don't know what you're talking about, love, but I'm all ears to listen to whatever you have to say."

You stared at him for a second, sitting completely still and Mark grew uneasy. "Um, was that too much? Sorry, if I got the wrong vibe but I just figured—"

"Kiss me," you said, your voice calm.

Mark's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "W-what?"

You tugged at the sleeve of his shirt, dragging his body down to level your faces. "Kiss me, Mark."

Mark looked at you with wild eyes, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. You brought your hands up to his face, cupping his cheeks, encouraging him as he slowly inched forward, finally, his lips meeting yours. It was awkward at first, your lips moving at different paces but you didn't mind. In fact, it was kind of...endearing.

His nose brushed yours as he deepened the kiss, your legs wrapping around him on their own as Mark emitted a soft groan. Your hands moved from his face down to the expensive belt on his pants, undoing it with haste.

Mark broke the kiss, startled by your urgent hands. "What are you doing?" he asked, his chest heaving as if he were trying to catch his breath.

"Is this not okay?" you asked, your fingers pausing at the latch of the belt.

"N-no—I mean yes! Yes!" Mark stuttered, his cheeks glowing red again.

The tingling that surged through your body at the sight of the flushing boy before you took you by surprise. Every time Mark blushed it made you want to do things to him. You craved to see those naive big brown eyes of his rolling to the back of his head from pleasure. You wanted to hear him pleading for you. Begging you to make him feel good after he couldn't take your teasing any longer.

Once you successfully removed his belt, you wrapped it around his wrists, careful not to irritate his skin.

"What's this?" Mark asked, looking uncertain.

You brought your lips back to his briefly for a chaste kiss. "Teaching you a lesson. The first thing to know about me is I don't do well with any kind of disagreements."

Mark looked down at his bound wrists before glancing back up at you. "Are you doing this because I was teasing you?" he asked, his tone too playful for your liking. "You know I'm right."

You grabbed a fistful of his shirt, pulling him down with you in the bed, your leg lifting over his body so that you were sitting right over his crotch, roughly braying your hips. Mark cursed under his breath.

You leaned over him, pressing your lips to the shell of his ear, "If you keep up this tough guy act of yours, this won't end well for you,"

Mark shuddered underneath you as your cool breath caressed his ears. You took the forgotten blunt, which was shrinking in size by the second, from the ashtray next to the bed, putting it up to his lips. Mark's eyes didn't waver from yours as he filled his lungs to its capacity, the butt of the blunt glowing a dangerous red. Your lips connected to his as he blew the smoke into your mouth. You released the white clouds from your mouth, making sure to blow it back into his face as he did earlier.

"You're gonna be good for me now, won't you, Mark?"

Mark nodded, his eyes wide.

"Why do you look so nervous," you giggled, your mind starting to feel hazy.

Mark's lips parted, his eyes adverting yours abashedly. "I just...I never did anything like this before."

You pulled his arms over his head so that you could lay on top of him without his hands sitting between your bodies awkwardly. "If you start to feel uncomfortable just say so and I'll stop. Although, I didn't think you'd turn out to be so vanilla."

"Hey! I'm not vanil—"

"That's enough, Mark," you cut him off by stuffing the blunt between his lips. "Good boys don't talk back.

Mark could only blink at you, unable to respond without the blunt falling out and burning a hole in his expensive sheets.

"Perfect," you said, unbuttoning his shirt, revealing the smooth skin underneath. You began your assault on his neck, nipping and sucking without caring if it left any marks behind. Mark groaned, extending his neck to you as your hand slipped under his half-undone shirt, your fingers dancing over the firm muscle. His body responded to your touch, his back lifting off of the mattress slightly, chasing your fleeting hands.

"Patience," you muttered as you sat up on the back of your legs. You unfastened the hatch of his slacks, pulling the loose clothing down to his ankles. Mark looked down at you, trying his best to take a hit from the blunt without dropping it. You chuckled, helping him take a drag from it before putting it out in the ashtray, discarding it for now. Mark whined, protesting your actions and you rolled your eyes covering his mouth with the palm of your hands.

"Didn't I tell you good boys don't talk?" You asked, your other hand reaching down to palm him through his boxers, his cock hardening immediately. Mark's eyes closed as he let out a soft grunt from underneath your hand, lighting a spark in your core.

You licked your lips, humming as you teased his member, squeezing him through the thin material. Mark let out a muffled noise you couldn't make out.

"What is it, baby?" you asked, removing your hand.

"Please..." he begged.

You cocked your head curiously at him. "Please...what? Tell me and I might give it to you,"

Mark's tongue peeked out to wet his bottom lip, his cheeks rosy. "Your mouth--your hands--anything. Please, I don't think I can wait, I need you."

You core reacted, clenching around nothing. "Is that what you really want?" you asked, your lips ghosting across his jaw. Mark said yes, trying his best to keep his composure. "I'm afraid I can't do that. Not yet, baby."

Mark huffed, his chest dejecting with a small pout in his lips as he struggled against his restraints. "Undo this so I can fuck you, goddamnit."

"Bad boy," You clicked your tongue as you hiked up the hem of your dress, bunching it at your hips. Mark ogled at the newly revealed skin, a look of longing imprinted on his face.

You peeled off your panties, balling them up and stuffing them inside his mouth, shivering as the cold air hit your slick core. Mark looked absolutely helpless as he grunted, staring at your exposed heat, his eyes dark as the night sky just outside of the window. Your hands returned back to his boxers, sliding underneath the waistband this time. His dick jumped in your hands as you teased the head, smearing his arousal as a lubricant. You gave him a squeeze for good measure and Mark jolted in response.

You bit your lip, pumping his dick slowly, deciding to torture him a little more. You knew what you were doing was unfair but he was just so fun to play with, you couldn't help yourself. Mark's fist clenched and unclenched as he tried to stop himself from bucking up into your hands, knowing you would take your hands away altogether.

"Does that feel good? Do you want me to go faster?"

Mark nodded his head vigorously and you complied, feeling a little guilty for teasing him too long. You pulled down his boxers, his cock springing free and hitting his stomach. Maybe you were super horny but it may just have been the prettiest sight you've ever seen in your entire life.

Your face hovered over his writhing member, your breath tickling his skin as a silver pool of liquid fell from your mouth into your hand. Mark's breathing picked up as you massaged your hand over his length in a single twisting motion. You watched intently as his expression morphed into one of pleasure, his eyebrows scrunching cutely.

Your tongue swiped over your teeth as an idea popped into your head.

"I wonder...should I untie you?"

Mark nodded again.

"I don't know..." you said, pretending to think about it.

Mark mumbled something unintelligible as he waved his restrained hands at you, whining.

"I don't think you deserve it. I'm afraid you might do something and then I'll have to punish you."

Mark huffed, giving you a pleading look as he wiggled his fingers at you.

"Okay, okay," you laughed, unbuckling the belt.

The first thing Mark did once his hands were free was reach under your dress and grab your ass. You gasped in shock, slapping his hands off of you.

"Did I give you permission to touch me?" you asked but received no response, as his mouth was still full of your underwear.

"I thought you would've taken that out first," you mused, pulling the lace from his mouth.

Mark licked his dry lips as you brought your face close to his.

"So tell me," you whispered. "Isn't this much better than those lame ass vanilla girls?"

His lips parted to respond but he couldn't find his voice to speak so he nodded instead.

"I bet they just laid down and made you do all the work, didn't they?" Your hands trailed down his stomach. "That's no fun, is it? Hmm?"

"No," Mark answered, his breath hitching in the back of his throat when your slick folds rubbed against his length.

You nipped your teeth at his collarbone receiving a hiss from Mark. "Unzip me," you commanded.

You could've sworn you heard him say 'thank you' as he yanked your zipper down your back, eagerly ripping it off of your body so that you were only left in your bra. You told him to unhook your bra next as you sank down on him, filling yourself up to the brim. Mark complied with fumbling fingers and after a few failed attempts he finally got off, his hands flying to your chest as soon as the garment was discarded.

You decided to let the action slide, the feeling of his hands on you better than you ever imagined. You raised up your hips only to slam yourself back down on him, a moan escaping your lips. You repeated the movement again and again until you built up a steady rhythm.

Mark pushed your back down so that you were face to face and encased your lips with his, his tongue sliding into your mouth for a heated kiss. He let out a broken moan, his mouth parting from yours briefly before kissing you again.

"Faster," Mark groaned, his lips swollen from kissing.

"Manners," You hissed, biting down harshly on his jaw.

"P-please?" He begged, his face flushing again. "Please, I'm so close."

You slammed hips down harder, ignoring the stinging in your thighs. Mark's moans mingled with yours as you pushed each other towards your climaxes.

"F-fuck," he husked, his hips meeting yours as he thrust up into you. Your hands clutched his shoulders, the skin turning white under your fingers. You squeezed your eyes shut at the overwhelming amount of pleasure washing over your body, your legs turning to jelly.

You called out his name as you came, Mark gripping your hips as he continued to fuck you through your high, chasing his own in the process. Mark rubbed his thumb on your clit in tight circles causing you to cry out as you threw you head into the crew of his neck, your fingernails raking down his chest. Mark cursed when you clenched around him, his hips snapping up into yours with vigor as he neared his climax. His skin smacked against the bottom of your ass, a loud slapping noise filling the room.

You came again, letting out a strangled moan of ecstasy pulling Mark over the edge with you as spurts of warm cum filled you up. The two of you stayed there for a few moments to catch your breath, basking in your post-orgasm state.

You were the first one to move, rolling off of him after carefully pulling out his softening member.

"I never told you, you could cum inside me," you complained.

Mark turned to you, pulling you into his arms with a chuckle. "I'm sorry, I should've asked."

"Do you always cum inside girls' without permission?"

"I've always used a condom so I never really needed it," he responded, lips resting on the back of your shoulder.

"Well, I'm glad to know there won't be any chances of me catching any STD's from you," you laughed.

Mark traced circles on your hip with the pad of his thumb. "Haha. Very funny. Shouldn't we get back to the party before our parents notice we're gone?"

You sat up, with a grunt. "Yeah, you're probably right." The two of you got cleaned up and dressed as quickly as possible which took longer than it normally would considering you both were as high as a kite and your legs kept giving out every five seconds.

"Can I get a kiss, before we go back?" Mark asked, grabbing onto your elbow.

You smirked, bringing his face to yours. "What's the magic word?"

Mark never failed to blush at your requests but nonetheless played along. "Please?"

You barely gave him time to finish before your lips crashed onto his, your fingers gripping at the strands of hair at the nape of his neck. His hands rested on your lower back, pushing you further into him.

When you pulled away, his lips chased after yours and you found yourself smiling at how adorable he was.

"Should I get more weed for next time?" he asked, his forehead pressed against yours.

"Next time?" You repeated.

"Oh, don't tell me there won't be a next time," he pouted, his hands sliding down to grip your ass.

"I'll think about it," was the last thing you said before pulling away to go downstairs, only for Mark to follow behind you on the back of your heels like a lost puppy.

[eclecticstarlightconnoisseur]

Edinburgh to Boston - Chapter 5 - The Hotel

Good Evening all, Here is Chapter 5.  We finally make it to Boston. Yay! Do you think things go smoothly now? NAW not for these two!

I hope you enjoy reading this. Any comments, thoughts or questions are always welcomed.

My deepest thanks again to @curlsgetdemgurls and @jmoonrise for being my betas.

I give you:

Edinburgh to Boston

Chapter 5

The Hotel

The jet was pelted with ice crystals and blinding snow. The ice made pinging and clunking sounds as it struck the fuselage of the jet. Claire looked out the window trying to see any recognizable landmark as they approached Boston. It was impossible to see anything through the window at this point because of the snow and ice. High winds were buffeting the jet around as if it was a toy in the hands of a malevolent child tossing it around whilst making screeching, whistling, and booming sounds akin to a plane crashing.

Claire thought that if she ever had a child, she would never allow the child to play with a plane after this experience.

Her nerves were on edge. Claire began to chew her bottom lip, a nervous habit she did whenever she was worried. The jet made a sudden lurch and precipitously dropped. One hand grasped onto the armrest tightly making her knuckles turn white whilst the other hand sought out James.

James was doing his best to keep an outward appearance of calm. Claire knew this was strictly for her benefit. However, Claire could see that faint line forming in the space right between his eyebrows. That wrinkle showed up whenever James concentrated or when a situation became too intense.  She had become familiar this line from their work together in the operating room. It forms every time they reached a critical point during heart surgery.

James realized  Claire was watching him, and had noticed his telltale sign of concern written all over  his face. He carefully schooled his features effectively hiding his worry.

"Dinna fash, Beauchamp, it will be alright." he said with a genuine smile as he grasped her hand tightly.

"I'm glad you think so," Claire snarked with a hint of doubt in her voice.

Shudder, shake, vibrate. It felt like the jet was coming apart at the seams.

"James!" Claire exclaimed; her eyes wide with fright.

James saw how frightened Claire was. He continued holding her hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand in small comforting circles. He continued engaging her with story after story trying to focus her attention on something other than the chaos that was happening around them.

"James?" Claire asked looking up into his face earnestly.

"What is it Beauchamp?"

"James," Claire whispered. "In case the plane does, well you know, I ah, I... I just wanted you to know that, that, I love you."  The last three words were barely audible. Her golden whisky eyes sparkled with love for him. Claire put her head on his shoulder and said no more.

James heard her soft admission of love. To him, it was loud. It was louder than the racket an entire herd of trumpeting stampeding elephants could make trampling over the earth destroying everything in their wake.

She loves me, she loves me! Weel, better late than never, he reckoned.  At least he finally knew after all this time.

"I love ye too, Claire." A broad smile graced his beautiful face.  He placed his head on top of hers contented.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your Captain. We are in descent to Logan. I have been told that the ground crew is working diligently to keep to the runway clear of ice, snow, and slush. Stay in your seats, keep your seat belts on and be ready for a bumpy ride. We will be landing shortly."

With her admission of love, the fear Claire felt disappeared leaving behind a feeling of tranquility. The feeling expanded when he confessed his own love for her. She knew everything would be alright, and if not, at least they were together like her parents were.

The landing gear engaged. The jet touched down with a bounce and a wobble. As predicted, the landing was very bumpy even on the longer runway necessary for this type of landing. At times, it almost felt like they were going to crash into the airport itself. Finally, the jet rolled to a halt. The passengers released a  collective sigh of relief as the nightmare was finally over.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have arrived at Logan Airport in Boston. We hope you enjoyed your flight. I need a stiff drink and a change of underwear. I am sure you all do too. Let’s all get cleaned up and I'll meet you in the bar. That is all."

The passengers all cheered for their Captain and agreed that a drink was definitely in order.

"Come on, Claire. Let's get out of here before we canna. We need to find a taxi, or we will be stuck in the airport all the night. We can have a drink when we get settled at the hotel," James said lifting his eyebrows at her. Claire nodded in agreement.

As they stood, each craned their necks looking for Harry and Maizie, concern for the elderly couple etched on their faces. Harry, now with his hat askew and Maizie with her hair jutting out much like a porcupine were otherwise none the worse for wear. Both James and Claire, in turn, surreptitiously waved good-bye to the older couple relieved that they appeared to be alright.

James and Claire collected their belongings as quickly as possible and deplaned without a moment's hesitation.

****************

A genial gentleman dressed in chauffeur attire was waiting at the arrival gate for them. He was carrying a portfolio of some type to which he was frequently referring.

He stepped forward asking in a polished Bostonian accent, "Dr. Beauchamp, Dr. Fraser?"

"Aye, we are Doctors Beauchamp and Fraser. Might I ask who ye are?"

"I am Padrick Donoghue, your chauffeur from the Georges X hotel. I was concerned that your flight might have been diverted due to the storm.  I am relieved that was not the case.  May I assist you with your luggage doctors? If you will follow me your car awaits."

James and Claire looked at each other.  This was not normal. Not at all. Georges X is a five-star  hotel known for its, ahem, discretion.  And very expensive.  Not the usual accommodations for physicians on a conference. Who made these reservations and was it really for them? But tonight, well tonight any port in a storm would do.

A luxury Lexus SUV was awaiting James and Claire.

Padrick entertained them with stories of Boston and what they could do with any spare time.

"Padrick, I am very familiar with the area.  I went to Harvard Medical School and did my residency here. Unfortunately, Dr. Fraser and I need to return to Scotland as soon as the conference is over. It is lovely to remember all the places I enjoyed going to whilst living here."

"Well, it's a home coming for you then Dr. Beauchamp."

"You could say so."

Claire’s mind drifted away from Padrick's idle chatter.  All she could think about was a hot bath and sleep. It had been a long, strange day.

*************

The drive to the hotel was a short distance from the airport and upon arrival Claire and James entered the grand lobby.  The lobby was tastefully done in contemporary furnishings of black, grey, camel, and white.  A welcoming fire was blazing in the lobby fireplace. A beautiful ornate glass elevator, the centerpiece of the lobby, would whisk guests away to their rooms.

"I'll check us in Beauchamp. Why don't ye make yerself comfortable while I take care of it?"

Claire walked over to examine the violet phalaenopsis orchids that decorated the lobby, when she suddenly heard James' voice raised in agitation. He was leaning over the desk, coming eye-to-eye with the clerk.  This was not good. Claire came over to see what was wrong. What she found was her normally good-natured partner turning a brilliant shade of red. He was speaking through clenched teeth with his eyes narrowed menacingly.

"Fraser, what's happened?" Claire queried.

James grabbed Claire by the upper arm and pulled her away from the desk.

"Beauchamp, there has been a mix-up. We are listed as doctors Beauchamp and Fraser, a husband and wife surgical team. There is only one room for us to share. And because of the storm, there isna another room available here or anywhere."

He was quite distressed at this. Truthfully, so was Claire. The prospect of sharing a room with James, while not an unpleasant idea, was not in her plans.  Right now all Claire wanted to do was get some sleep.

“Beauchamp, there is only one bed.  There are nay cots available.  There is nay couch in the room. This is different situation altogether and ye ken it. This is no’ going to work,” he replied angrily.

“Fraser, it will be alright.  We have shared the on-call room many nights while we were working. We can share a room tonight. Tomorrow we can see about making other arrangements.”

“Are ye daft woman?! What if one of your colleagues or friends from Boston sees ye here going into a room with a man that is no’ yer husband? What will they think?” James’ eyes narrowed to blue slits. He slowly turned his head, surveying the lobby for any possibility of a threat, real or imagined, to Claire’s virtue. Satisfied that no one was going to jump out and spray paint a scarlet letter A on Claire’s bosom, James returned his gaze to Claire.

James began to ruffle his fingers through his hair making it stand up on end, “Christ, Beauchamp, think of yer reputation woman! I’ll not have people thinking ye a wanton. I’ll nae risk it!” James was visibly distressed and hellbent on protecting Claire’s reputation and honor. He continued mumbling in Gàidhlig about tainting her reputation as a woman.

Claire gaped at him in shock.

“James,” she said very quietly through her teeth, “first of all, how would anyone know you are not my husband, hmm? Secondly, this is not the 18th century, for god’s sake; it’s the 21st century! No one will think anything of it. Besides, look,” she pointed to the desk where there was a sign that said, The Essence of Discretion. Perhaps the hotel was a trysting place for the rich and famous.

“I wouldn’t worry.”

“Aye, weel I dinna like it anyway. I’ll sleep down here, if ye dinna mind.”

“James,” Claire’s yellow tiger’s eyes narrowed glinting dangerously, “I am tired. In fact, I am exhausted. We had a horrible flight. We almost died. I want to take a bath, perhaps have a drink, and go to sleep, in that order. And I am not leaving you down here. Get your bag and get a move on. NOW.”

Claire turned on her heel, grabbed her suitcase, took the card key from the clerk, and marched toward the elevator.

“MOVE IT, Fraser,” she said without so much as a glance over her shoulder to see if he was following her.

James knew she was not to be trifled with. He had seen her in this type of mood before when a cardiac surgery fellow made a mistake whilst taking care of one of her patients.  Claire had swallowed the fellow whole, spit out his bones, and used them to pick her teeth. Claire could be formidable when necessary. She was a true force of nature like a hurricane or an earthquake. James loved her like that. This was not a meek and obedient woman. Claire was a true match for him; if she would let him get a word in edgewise.

He quickly grabbed his bag and followed behind her. He had another bit of bad news still to deliver.

While standing in the elevator, James cleared his throat and place his hands protectively over his bollocks.

“UMM, Beauchamp?”

“Yes, Fraser, what is it?” Claire asked tiredly.

“I have another thing to tell ye.”

“Yes?”

“Theycancelledtheconference.” James told her all in one breath. “The speakers couldna make it in from Texas because of the storm.”  He stood there waiting for the fallout.

Claire looked at him her lips twitching somewhere between exasperation and hysterics. Her eyes glazed over and she began to laugh hysterically.

“Could this trip get any worse?”

James was relieved that Claire was not going to have a melt down on the elevator.

“Weel, Beauchamp, let’s look at this way.  We could do with a bit a vacation, do ye no think? The clerk said that everything is all paid for. So maybe we should just try to enjoy it. Maybe ye could show me around Boston, hmm? My own personal tour guide” he said trying to wink at Claire. Instead, he looked like a large red sleepy owl blinking its eyes.

“We’ll see Fraser, we’ll see.”

[phantomphangphucker]

A Secret Dog With A Secret - Phic Phight

Prompt Creators: @purpleillusn @trainernick

Prompts: (1) Jack Fenton thought that all ghosts were evil, until he met a certain ghost dog. (2) Danny gets a dog - Danny decides he finally has time for a pet, but it has to be Cujo for reasons (he's a ghost dog)

Summary: Danny’s got a dog and Jack isn’t quite sure what to think yet

Warning: Implied ghost animal torture

“Uh Danny-boy? I’m pretty sure that dog is not normal”

“Hmm?”, Danny doesn’t even look up as he scratches at the green puppy ears. Besides, he knows full well what Cujo is; he just doesn’t care. Hell, if anything a ghost dog would fair better in this household than a regular one.

Jack himself is finding it hard to just tell his son that this dog is clearly either heavily contaminated or a flat out ghost. Jack bends down and tilts his head at the tiny green puppy sitting on the floor. The puppy bends his head back and promptly falls on his back, barking once with a goofy grin. “Ok, I’ll admit he’s cute. But son, his drool is glowing”, Jack watches a bit confused as Danny simply shrugs. Clearly not caring at all. Jack looks back down at the puppy and spots the collar, “Cujo eh? Named him already did you?”.

Danny laughs lightly, trying to not let his nerves show. After all, he’s doing this both for Cujo and to maybe make his family change some of their opinions. “Naw dad, he came with it. Already trained too, so he won’t pee on the carpet or anything”.

Jack can’t help but find that suspicious but decides that he’ll just have to trust his son, if he ever wants Danny to open up to his family ever again. It hurts seeing how closed off Danny’s become and maybe, just maybe, this will change that. Sighing but putting on a smile, “well I’m still testing his drool”.

Danny watches but lets his dad spoon some of the drool off the floor into a vial, Danny knows full well it’ll come back full ghost but hopefully, by the time the results come in, his dad will have warmed up enough to not care. “I wouldn’t expect any different dad. Got any balls?”

Jack chuckles as he tosses some out of the freezer, “one great thing about freezers, son. They kill practically all germs, even most ecto ones!”. Jack watches his son as he tosses the ball, not too far though, and Cujo runs off to get it; before he heads down to the lab.

Danny smiles at Cujo, “well here’s hoping he doesn’t see big boy Cujo for a while. Pretty easy to think you’re harmless like this”. Cujo jumps up and starts licking Danny, smearing green drool all over his face. “God, ew, stop that you fiend”, Danny’s laughter doesn’t discourage Cujo at all though.

Down in the lab, Jack sits and contemplates while watching the sample spin, “I will be amazed if that dog isn’t a ghost but he’s just a dog right? An evil dog but tiny, very tiny”. With a nod, Jack decides that he can easily handle something that is barely a sixth his sons size. Shaking his head as he heads back upstairs, muttering to himself, “of all the times for only half the Fenton family to be on vacation”.

Danny’s watching Cujo jump from one chair to the next, it’s clear to Jack that the dog is defying gravity slightly. But he does find it odd that the dog doesn’t seem to be floating around.

Grabbing some of his fudge and sitting down he becomes almost giddy as Cujo happy runs off with a piece, “Oh! He likes fudge! Well then he’s must be a Fenton!”. Danny has to restrain himself to keep himself from looking utterly stunned. Muttering into his hand while his dad throws another piece at Cujo, which Cujo is all too happy to eat, “seriously? You just accept a ghost? Because of fudge? Really? I, just. Wow”. Shaking his head he decides that he’ll have to eat a piece of fudge next time his dad’s after him and see how he reacts. To Phantom, eating fudge. Muttering into his hand again, “if all it takes is fudge, to get them to call a truce. I will die just a little more inside”.

Jack is perfectly content to sit outside and watch Cujo run around if it means getting to spend some genuine time with his son. No him running off to who knows where, no locking himself in his room or the bathroom for hours on end, and no staying over at his friends instead of home. Jack isn’t as much a fool as people like to think and he’s terrified that as soon as his son hits eighteen next month, he’ll walk out the front door and be gone for good. Danny, meanwhile, has been terrified for years that one day he’ll have to do just that. But he’s not thinking about that right now, as he watches Cujo futilely bark and jumps at a squirrel.

Catching Cujo’s glow starts to wiggle and knowing full well that’s his transformation queue, Danny whistles at him. Jack looks impressed as Cujo zips right over to Danny and barks. “Wow, son. You weren’t kidding, he really is trained and well too”. Snickering, Jack tells Cujo to roll over and run around. Cujo happily does so, earning the reward of eating the rest of Jack’s fudgesicle.

Danny’s feeling pretty good about all of this as he spots Cujo actually sleeping on Jack while he’s knitting. Danny leans over the couch, arms on the back of the couch, “well someone looks pretty comfy”. Jack chuckles and pats for his son to sit, exceptionally happy that he actually does.

Jack can’t help but look his son over, being reminded of his sons height as he sits, “you sure have grown a lot son, I’m glad to see at least one of you got my impressive height!”. Danny personally isn’t sure if he’s glad or not, he looks way too much like Dan. Though his height and muscular build is well earned, so there is some pride there, and he finds he can’t help a joke, “well I guess it was inevitable that one of us would!”.

Jack has no clue why that’s funny to his son but he’s happy to just see him laughing. He doesn’t do that as often as Jack would like, especially for once being so carefree and full of laughs.

Jack looks over his shoulder as he hears the beeping from the lab, signifying that the sample is done. Looking back to the little puppy, he doesn’t really want to move the little guy but at the same time. Danny runs a hand through his hair, “so you want me to take him?”, he really hopes his dad says no.

Thankfully to Danny, Jack shakes his head, “the results will be there later. It’s not like he’s going to cause issues sleeping, ghost or not”. Jack decides he made the right choice as soon as Danny smiles, it’s clear as day it’s a real one too. Not one of his far too many fakes.

Jack can’t help but laugh to himself when Danny actually falls asleep on the couch, “you really are always tired and I really don’t know why. But get a good rest son, even if that looks uncomfortable”. Jack laughs a bit more as he really takes in Danny’s position, one leg curled up on the couch with the other almost stiffly sticking out, chest turned in the opposite direction, and one arm laying right across his nose. Even so relaxed Jack can still easily make out his sons defined muscles, which he still has no clue how he got. “I wonder if I ate less fudge...naw not worth it”, Jack winces then, as Danny kicks him in his sleep. Rubbing his, definitely going to have a welt, hip, “jeez those muscles are clearly not for show. Impressive, though currently painful”. The movement also seems to have woken Cujo, who stretches out lazily.

Jack blinks down at the puppy, having not actually been around him more or less alone before. Cujo tilts his head making Jack shrug and go to scratch his chin. Cujo seems to be enjoying himself though it becomes pretty clear to Jack that he prefers Danny. Watching as Cujo starts bitting on his sons toes, “you are clearly a puppy, a trained puppy, but still a puppy”.

Danny wakes up after a couple of seconds and flicks Cujo into the air with his toes. Snickering a bit as Cujo lands on his chest, “my feet aren’t chew toys, buddy”.

“He disagrees I’d say!”, Danny moves his arm off his face at hearing his dad’s laugh. Jack pats Danny’s leg as he gets up. Danny asks, “going to check the results now I’m guessing?”.

“Of course Danny-boy! Pretty well already sure about the results though!”, Jack shakes his head as he walks into the lab and sees the sample results. Completely unfazed that it confirms Cujo’s a ghost, “something tells me this won’t even matter to Danny. But it does matter”. Jack mentally debates for a while before heading up, while he’s no fool he’s also not the best at thinking on the spot. So he decides what he’s going to say well before actually doing it, when it’s something he cares about. And at this point anything that gets his son to hang out with him for nearly a full day is something he cares about.

Cujo’s chewing on a little pink bear toy as Jack comes back up. Flashing the clearly positive results at Danny before sitting down. Jack isn’t really surprised that Danny isn’t surprised at all, as he watches his son shrug. “You already knew before you brought him home didn’t you?”.

“Yeah, he's actually been in my room for a few days now. Healing”, Danny still really wants to give those asshole GIW a piece of his mind after the shit they did.

Jack sighs, partly because he had no clue and because he doesn’t like the way his son said healed, “I’m guessing you want to keep him at this point then. And healing from what? Is he a new ghost or something?”. Jack can’t help but wonder if maybe new ghosts could be influenced to be good, he knows his sons heart is practically made of gold so  in theory...

Danny decides for honesty, because really Cujo’s been his from the start even if he always denied it, “yeah, I’d like him to officially be mine. He practically adopted me years ago and he was new back then. His ectoplasm was all messed up, he was practically a puddle when I found him. Or more so he found me”.

Jack can tell there’s some anger in his sons' words and it’s officially clear to him that his son is attached to this particular ghost. Looking at Cujo happily gnawing on Danny’s fingers he can’t help but see why. The little guys not so bad, and dare he think it, not remotely evil. “Well you clearly care son and he’s hardly been even a little bad so I guess it’s ok. How’d he adopt you though?”

Danny laughs animatedly remembering how ridiculous those few days had been, “he just walked up to me in a parking lot and dragged me off to help him find his chew toy. After that he’d just show up to play, sometimes I think he thinks I’m a chew toy”.

Jack notes that Danny’s glare at Cujo, who’s chewing on his arm, looks more amused than annoyed, “he must have blunt teeth for that not to hurt. That’s an incredibly odd thing for a ghost to just do. But he is a dog and that’s very dog”. Jack knows there’s more to the story but he knows there’s no point in pushing it. His son will only tell him what he wants to, no matter how much Jack pushes him. Even if he did push, he knows all he’d get is lies and Danny would walk away from the conversation.

“Dogs gonna do what a dog’s gonna do I guess”, Danny tactfully avoids the pain question because it absolutely does hurt but he doesn’t even notice it because, compared to everything else, it was so minimal. Danny looks towards his dad, sometimes he still finds it weird that he actually has to look down a little instead of up at him, “so you’re going to be cool with ghost doggy here? Like, you’re really ok with this?”.

Jack looks at Cujo and thinks on his words, officially deciding that at the very least animal ghosts weren’t pure evil, “yes, son. It’s weird but you’ve got a good head on your shoulders and you’re a Fenton! Every Fenton hs a good ghost sense about them”, Jack has no clue why this makes Danny burst out laughing and laughing hard.

Once Danny’s calmed a little, “true there. Cujo is a good boy, hmm, yes you are”. Jack watches as Danny scratches at Cujo’s chin who promptly licks his face. “Just no invisible poop, ok?”.

Now it’s Jack’s turn to laugh, “now there’s an issue I didn’t even think of! There’s a story there!”. Danny nods and grimaces, “stepping in it”. Making Jack laugh more, eventually, Danny joins him in doing so.

Danny stops laughing groans a little at spotting Cujo’s rapidly wagging tail as he jumps down and bites Danny’s ankle. “This is what I mean boy, by you thinking I’m a toy”, thinking quick Danny extends his intangibility to Cujo knowing damn well the pup might not do it himself, as Cujo drags him off the couch and starts running around. Dragging Danny behind him and startling Jack.

“Er, son is this ok?”

“Yup! When I said he dragged me off I meant that literally!”

Jack can’t help but laugh into his hand even if this clear show of strength, there’s no way his son is light, is a bit concerning.

Danny eventually pops his head, with now messy hair, over the top of the couch. “He’s got a fair bit of energy now and I’m fine”, Jack can’t help but snort as Cujo teleports right above Danny’s head and lays in Danny’s hair.

“I think that’s obvious son. But at least his antics are only freaky not harmful”.

Danny decides it’s probably best to bite the bullet at this point, it’s probably not best to spring Cujo’s-also-a-ten-foot-monster-dog out of nowhere. Plus his dad clearly can tolerate the dragging Danny around craziness. “Uh yeah about that, Cujo’s size is very deceptive. Deceptive both literally and figuratively. Let’s go outside and he’ll run around some. Burn off some energy”. Danny can tell his dad’s a bit confused but nods anyway.

Cujo instantly starts bolting around the yard as father and son sit on the steps. Danny chuckles as Cujo, once again, notices the squirrel, “that poor squirrel. He’s really going to wish he picked any other yard to live in”.

“All that yapping might just make him leave!”

“Well once Cujo actually starts barking he just might”, shuffling a bit, “anyways you see how his glow is stronger and wiggling?”. Jack tilts his head and realises that his son is right, “huh? What’s he doing?”

Danny shrugs, “easier to just watch though try not to be too startled”. Jack’s a bit concerned now and then very concerned when the tiny puppy is suddenly a big angry looking tower of green fur. Both of them watch as the squirrel bolts out of the tree and flees.

Danny, picking up that Cujo will definitely chase it and that’s definitely not a good idea to let him do, “Cujo stay”. Cujo stops in his tracks and turns his massive head back to Danny, rolling his tongue out in the process. Danny can’t help but smile and rolls his eyes. Flicking his fingers, he lets Cujo know it’s cool to run over to him. Which Cujo promptly does, licking Danny from toe to head.

Jack’s still a bit in shock as Danny grabs Cujo’s collar and yanks himself up, throwing an arm over Cujo neck and hanging off the side of his big ass dog. “Same dog just, uh, bigger”

Danny watch’s, hiding his nerves, as Jack slowly gets up. Jack holds out his hand and watches as the massive dog licks him and wags his tail, “I’m really glad you didn’t introduce me to him like this, but he really is the same dog”. Jack shakes his head but smiles as he takes in exactly how Danny is just hanging off the side of Cujo, “if he’s letting you do that, then he’s got to be ok”.

Danny smiles warmly and turns his head to Cujo, “down down”. Heeding the command Cujo promptly shrinks down.

“Oh wow! You even have that trained! You could ride him into a fight like a horse!”

Danny can’t help but laugh, since he’s literally done that before, “yeah I probably could”.

Jack throws caution to the wind and rubs Cujo’s head a bunch as he hops into Danny’s lap. Judging by the way Cujo’s purple tongue hangs out, everyone’s gonna be just fine.

End.

[winchester-ofthe-lord]

Classic Winchester Adventures - Chapter 3

Square Filled: Cassette Collection

Rating: gen

Warnings: Dean’s interesting eating habits, all da feels?

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: What do unicorn-clouds, the Smurfs and a giant ball pit have in common?

read on ao3     read from the beginning

A/N:  hiya guys, this is chapter 3 of the Classic Winchester Adventures, filling the bingo square "Cassette Collection" of @spnclassicbingo 's challenge. I had an absolute blast writing this chapter, I laughed, I cried, I puked in my mouth a little. I hope you like it, please let me know what you think and stay tuned for the next chapters :)

The clattering of crockery and cutlery mixes with the cheerful, nevertheless serene voices in the well-patronized diner. It's just after eight in the morning and Dean gives a tired yawn. He tries to cover it with his palm though, before shoving a bite of his blueberry pancake into his mouth, moaning contentedly around the fork, his eyes closed.

“Should I give you two a little privacy?” Sam takes a sip of his coffee and grins over the rim of his steaming cup. He places it next to his plate with avocado toast with egg, of which he takes a generous bite.

“You’re just jealous because your food looks like someone already ate and then threw it back up again,” Dean scoffs and moans once again around a mouthful of his delicious pancake. He waves the fork around, pointing vaguely at the remains of his dish and, mouth still full and split into a wide smile, says “This tastes friggin’ awesome, man.”

Sam heaves a slightly frustrated sigh and looks at the amused grin on his brother’s face, swallows politely before he answers, “Y’know Dean, if you gave it a try you’d realize it actually tastes pretty good.” The taller man eyes the unappetizing mess of squished blueberries in batter, drowning in syrup on Deans plate and adds, “And well… my food is, in contrast to your…’awesome’ pancake, at least healthy.”

“Uh-huh,” the older brother huffs disapprovingly and shoves the next, maybe a little too big forkful into his mouth, smearing syrup all over his right cheek in the process. A drop of sticky golden liquid sugar slowly travels down his jaw, pauses at his chin for a brief moment and leaves Dean’s face. It splashes onto the front of his flannel where it creates a dark stain, syrup slowly seeping into the fabric, diameter growing by the minute.

Sam observes his brother in awe - his pleased grin, stuffed round cheeks, the way he’s chewing contentedly on his pancake while humming in enjoyment, happy crinkles around his closed eyes, completely oblivious to the mess on his face and shirt… it’s official, he’s an actual squirrel.

The younger brother snorts a laugh through his nose and shakes his head before he turns his eyes back to the laptop screen next to his plate, and takes another bite of his avocado toast.

“Hey Dean,” Sam clears his throat and swipes toast crumbs off his mouth with a napkin, “Before we’re driving to that ‘Haunted Motel’... y’know, it’s still more than two weeks until the thirteenth, so technically we’d have time for another case.” He glances up to his brother who just finished the last remnants of his pancake, now washing it down with a gulp of his, most likely cold, coffee. His brows knit into a deprecating frown as he puts his empty cup back on the table.

“Uh… yeah, sure,” Dean scrubs a hand over his face, a little surprised at his fingers sticking to his cheek. He holds his syrupy hand in front of his face, apparently contemplating whether he should wipe the gluey sugar on a napkin or rather lick it from his fingers. When he sees Sam’s judgingly raised eyebrows, he decides on the former, cleaning both his hand and his face thoroughly. “So-” he puts down the napkin and devotes all his attention back to Sam- “the case?”

“Right...” Sam thrusts his plate aside and pulls the laptop in front of him instead, eyes quickly skimming the screen. “So, there’s been a few articles in the local newspaper. Relating… weird stuff.”

“Weird stuff? Uh… can you be a little more precise, maybe?”

The taller man purses his lips into a tight smile when the waitress appears at their table to refill their empty mugs, and throws a muttered ‘thank-you’ at her retreating back.

He turns to face Dean again and starts, “So get this. There are reports about things like… the sky being green and the grass blue on one day. Or clouds in the most ridiculous shapes. There was a witness who mentioned a-” He reads the next part right from the screen, quoting the witness word for word- “a ‘unicorn-cloud bouncing across the sky’.”

Dean snorts into his coffee, shoots his brother an amused, curious grin, “A what now?”

“‘Unicorn-cloud’” Sam repeats, suppressing a smile. “Another day all the cars in that town were replaced by toy cars, few weeks later the school looked like a castle in a fairy tale and some houses were turned into some really interesting shapes.” He turns the laptop screen towards Dean to show him tiny pictures of the colorful, bulbous houses and receives an irritated frown.

“One day the lake was covered in foam, like a giant bubble bath. Then another day there was the-” This time not even Sam has the self-restraint to stifle his laugh- “smurf gang and apparently they were running around the town and told everyone they’re trying to escape a giant cat called Azrael and his owner Gargamel.

“Another day, about a month later, every time somebody clapped their hands it became dark as night, and when they clapped again it was day again.” Sam pauses to take a swig of his coffee, his tongue poking out between his teeth afterwards as he chuckles slightly.

“Welp, sure does sound like our kind of weird,” Dean says and snatches the laptop from Sam to read through the articles himself. Maybe his brother’s just messing with him again.

Still cradling the cup in his hands, Sam adds, “Thing is, these... incidents don’t follow a particular pattern, there’s no recognizable structure. They seem to happen arbitrarily. Completely at random intervals.”

“How come we only hear about that stuff now?” the older Winchester wants to know, looking up from the screen and absentmindedly taking a sip of his coffee.

“Well, nobody’s been hurt yet. So far it’s only been pretty innocuous and-” Sam points at the picture of a panicky, tiny blue gnome with a white hat on the laptop and snickers- “to be honest, rather funny things. Also, these, let’s call them phenomena last, as far as I got it right, only one day each.”

Dean flips the laptop shut and empties his coffee in one go. He fishes a few dollar bills out of his wallet and jams them between the empty cup and the tabletop as he pushes himself up, “Well, let's just be on the safe side then. What’d you say where this town was?”

Two days later, Sam and Dean are standing in front of a big, although sort of inconspicuous house. There’s a huge wooden sign in the front yard, colorful and elegantly curved letters saying ‘Nancy’s Home for Children’.

They walk past the sign, gravel crunching under their feet, as Dean straightens the cuff on his dress shirt sleeve that’s peeking out of his FBI jacket.

They’d spent the time since their arrival investigating the previous phenomena, questioning witnesses and even talked to the mayor, until they found out that all incidents are somehow related to one single place - the town’s foster home.

“As it’s most probably a witch... you got your ring?” Sam asks when they reach the door, already holding up his fist to knock.

Dean raises his right hand and wiggles his fingers, showing off the silvery shining iron ring he put on for this very purpose, “Yep.” What is it with monsters and their aversion for iron anyway? He nods towards the sign in the yard as his brother knocks on the door, “So, you think this is some kind of Mary Poppins or Nanny McPhee thing?”

“I don’t know, Dean. That’s why we’re here and we’ll just ask politely,” Sam deadpans and clothes his face in his typical fake courtesy FBI agent smile, before he turns back to the door, waiting for it to open.

“Oh God, no. Please no clowns!!!” Sam shakes his head frantically and waves his hands around in a defensive gesture. Desperately seeking help he looks at Nancy and shakes his head once more for emphasis, sheer panic in his eyes.

Nancy, the foster mother and part-time witch as they found out about an hour ago, reaches out with a soothing hand and places it on Sam’s arm, “No clowns, don’t worry.” She smiles fondly at the man on her couch and glances over to his brother, one of her eyebrows raised in question.

“Naw dammit, why not, Nancy?” one of the two kids in the room complains loudly as he throws both his arms exaggeratedly into the air and sinks down onto his seat with a sulky sigh, before he crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“Hey,” the brunette woman cautions with a raised finger, “I said no swearing, Tim, you know that.” She pats his knee and strokes his cheek with her index finger in a quick motion, “Because you already made your wish, and I think Sam here-” Nancy cocks her head towards the taller Winchester who still looks a little frightened- “doesn’t seem too happy about clowns. You said you wanted both of them to be here tomorrow, so we gotta accept his request and leave the clowns out.”

Dean clears his throat to drag the boy’s attention and leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees while he starts talking, “Y’know Tim, Sammy here ain’t a big fan of clowns, but I’m sure we’re gonna have fun even without ‘em, okay?” He puts on a wide grin and winks at the now also smiling boy in front of him.

“Ugh, fine,” Tim says, gets up and points at Sam. “But you’re coming tomorrow, aren’t you?!” he adds in a demanding tone, causing the younger Winchester to nod in response and smile as well. Tim leaves the living room in a haste, now that he’s got what he wanted, and drags the other kid, Ella as she told them earlier, along with him.

“Sorry, he can be a little difficult sometimes.” Nancy turns back to face Sam and Dean again, her beaming blue eyes focussing on the latter as the corners of her mouth curl upwards.

“No problem, really,” Dean reassures her and licks over his bottom lip, mirroring her flirting smirk.

They realized that Nancy was the witch as soon as they entered her house and she reacted to Dean’s iron ring when they shook hands. That’s why they immediately dropped their FBI fassade and did some straight talking instead.

That’s why they also realized that Nancy was by no means one of the evil, obnoxious representatives of her kind, but actually quite the opposite. That she’s nothing but friendly and warm-hearted, loving and caring towards her foster children.

Nancy explained how she’d always had magical abilities, that her family had taught her how to use them, but that they wanted her to harm other people, to do black magic. She, however, didn’t want to hurt anyone, so she left her coven and started a new family, in a new town - with her foster kids. She wanted to be good.

Despite his usual reluctance regarding witches, Dean couldn’t help but sympathize with her. The beautiful long brown hair, the errand strands that fall into her pretty face whenever she cocks her head in that adorable way, her radiant, bright blue eyes, her athletic figure and her mesmerizing smile might have played a crucial role in his decision making process. A fact he’d never admit to his brother though.

Nancy only ever uses her witchcraft for the sole purpose of birthday presents, she explained further. Whenever it’s one of her fosterling’s birthdays, the kid can make one wish for this special day, on condition that it serves other people in equal measure.

Which might be the reason why the whole town’s been affected more often than not.

“Nancy, I’m afraid you gotta stop this,” Sam told her earnestly when she finished talking. “Someday someone might get hurt. Or other hunters will find you, and I’m not sure if they are as reasonable and-” he stopped to glare at his brother who was currently balancing a tiny basketball on his forehead, while three overly excited children applauded at his remarkable trick and laughed hysterically- “mature as we are...”

In the end, they agree that Nancy could keep using her magic, but should restrict it to a small area around the foster home and shield it from the rest of the town, so as not to drag even more attention to the untypical spectacles.

They also agree, at the children’s urgent entreaty, that the Winchesters will stay and celebrate Paul’s birthday with the whole foster family the next day - much to Dean’s delight.

Nobody wants to tell Dean or Sam what Tim had actually wished for. “It’s a surprise,” the boy declares proudly, showing off his toothy grin. Well… at this very moment it isn’t that toothy, as two of his front teeth are missing, but still he seems exceedingly happy. At least it gives him an adorable lisp.

The brothers say goodbye to the lively gang and drive back to their motel, both equally full of anticipation and perhaps even a little fear at the same time.

It’s almost ten am the next day as the Impala pulls up in front of ‘Nancy’s Home for Children’ and comes to a stop. Dean turns the ignition, he and his brother open their respective doors at the same time. Both their faces lighten up when they already hear children screaming and laughing in excitement, even though they’re still on the other side of the road.

Once again they walk past the big sign and knock on the door. When nobody opens after several minutes of waiting, they decide to round the building to get to the backyard where all the happy noises seem to come from.

“C’mon Sam, Nancy promised not to get any clowns, I think you’re safe,” Dean says with a chuckle when Sam hesitates for a second in front of the garden gate.

As soon as they reach the back porch they’re greeted by three kids almost running right into them, followed by Nancy’s warning voice about someone named Tyler being responsible that nobody gets hurt.

“Kids,” she mutters under her breath, shaking her head, giggling to herself. “Oh hey, Sam, Dean, glad you could make it!” Nancy offers them a warm smile and gives both men a brief once over, “What, no fake FBI suits today?”

Before either of the brothers can answer, they get interrupted by a loud announcement of Tim who sprints past them, taking a speedy run-up, “CANNONBALL!” and jumps into the giant ball pit that replaced the creek that usually passes through the backyard. Small plastic balls in all colors of the rainbow explode into the air as his small body gets devoured by the colorful hole in the floor. He bursts through the surface with a high-pitched, excited shriek and climbs out of the pit, running straight towards the grown ups on the porch.

“Hey there, Tim.” Sam says and emits a dull ‘hmmpf’ when the little boy crashes into him, throwing both his arms around the taller Winchester’s waist in pure delight. Sam ruffles a large hand through the boy’s auburn hair, coaxing a joyful laughter from him.

“Did you see my super duper cannonball?” All three adults nod excessively in affirmation, wide smiles on every of their faces.

Tim turns to Dean and hugs him as well, although not as racily as he did with Sam, now that he’s not running anymore.

“Happy Birthday, Tim,” Dean congratulates and scoops the squeaking boy up into his arms, “How old are you now?”

The kid holds up both hands, showing six fingers to the two men. “I’m six!” Tim states, lisp strong on the first and last letter of the word, and he thrashes around in Dean’s arms, struggling to get down on the floor again.

The second his feet meet the floor, he grabs Sam’s hand and drags him through the back door and into the house, “I gotta show you-” The rest of the sentence gets swallowed as the door falls closed, causing both Dean and Nancy to chuckle slightly.

“So, a giant bouce house, huh?” Dean asks, peaking through one of the windows to watch several kids jumping around the living room. He huffs a laugh when he sees Sam being pulled into their middle, surrounded by two toddlers, Tim, one kid around the age of ten and two teenagers who shoot him an apologetic grin.

“Yeah, he wished for the whole house to be turned into a bouncer castle. The ball pit creek was just a little addition I thought might be fun for the kids too,” Nancy says and walks over to a small table with cake and muffins, “Want one?”

Dean gladly takes one of the chocolate covered pastries with sprinkles on top and takes a generous bite, “Nothing like muffins for breakfast,” he mumbles with a contented smile.

He stands next to Nancy who has a worried frown on her face as she looks towards the far end of the back porch. A little girl, the one they met the day before Dean thinks, is sitting on the floorboards, hugging her own knees, while absentmindedly gazing across the yard.

“What’s up with her?” Dean asks Nancy in a calm voice, so the little girl won’t hear him.

“Ella’s only been with us two weeks… She lost her parents in a car accident, and I can’t really get through to her.” Nancy bites down on her bottom lip, her concern about the little girl obviously written in her blue eyes.

Dean swallows the last bite of his muffin and crumples the paper in his hand. “Would it be okay if I tried talking to her?”

“Uhm,” she gives him a irritated look in response. She must see the sincerity and gentleness in his eyes though, because after a few moments of consideration she says, “Yeah, sure. I’m gonna be inside and make sure the mob lets your brother live.”

Dean crosses the porch. “Ella right? Okay if I sit with you?” She nods, the movement only barely noticeable, and the man takes a seat right next to her, letting his eyes roam the beautiful garden.

“How old are you, Ella?” he wants to know. Not the best conversation starter, but it does the job.

“Five.” The little girl turns her head towards Dean and adds, “And a half.”

“Five and a half, wow, so you’re basically almost a grown up, right?” He nudges against her arm, causing a shy giggle into her knees.

“Wanna tell me why you’re not playing with the others?” he asks her with a fond smile.

Ella stops giggling and hugs her knees even more tightly. Several seconds pass until she mumbles, “It’s my mommy’s birthday, too.”

Oh great. Well done, Winchester. Making a small girl even more miserable than she already is.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t know that,” he tries to appease, “You miss your parents, huh?” He puts an arm around her shoulders when she, once again, nods into her knees. “Y’know, I lost my mom too.” He doesn’t even know why he’s telling her this, but it seemed like the right thing to say.

She lifts her head and looks at him, teary-eyes, blinking her long lashes repeatedly, “Really?”

“Yeah, I was four,” he says, rubbing soothing circles into her shoulder, “My brother Sammy was only six months old, so he doesn’t really remember her. But I do. And I miss her every single day.”

Ella leans against him, relaxes into his tender embrace, not even looking up. “Every day?” Her voice barely more than a whisper.

“Every day,” Dean repeats. “You never forget your parents. And it’ll always hurt to think about them. But, the thing is, I’ve always had my brother, y’know. He’s my family. And even though your mom and dad can’t be here with you right now, you got a family too. You’ve got Nancy, and Tim, and Tyler, and Jessie... and all the others whose names I can’t remember.”

He can feel Ella’s chuckle against his ribs and goes on, “But Ella, that doesn’t mean you don’t love your parents anymore. Or that you have to forget them. It just means that there are people who care about you, who are there for you when you need them.”

Dean pushes himself off the porch and stretches a hand out for the slightly confused looking little girl, “C’mon, I wanna show you something.”

Dean opens the passenger door for Ella to climb into the car, and then rounds the Impala to get behind her wheel. He quickly rummages through his cassette collection, decides for a Led Zeppelin tape and puts it into the deck.

For a few minutes they just sit and listen to quiet classic rock, until Dean starts talking again. “This was my parent’s car. For my brother and me this is home,” he says. “Whenever I miss them, or I think I might forget them, I just sit in here and remember the time when we were still all together. It’s not the same, I know, but… it’s our home.”

He turns his head towards Ella on the passenger seat, “Do you have something that belonged to your parents?”

Ella nods and fishes a silver necklace out of her shirt collar with careful fingers, “This was my mommy’s.” She holds the little round pendant out for Dean, before her eyes get stuck on the tape deck, a small grin ghosting over her lips, “And my Daddy had a cassette collection like you. I’ve got it under my bed in my room.”

Dean darts her a wide smile in response, “See? They’re always here. Whenever you listen to your dad’s music, he’s right there with you. And-” he points at her necklace- “so is your mom.”

He fumbles for his wallet, flips it open and pulls out the picture of his mom, along with a small piece of paper. It’s slightly crinkled and a little rough and even torn on some places around the edges. “Here.” Dean offers Ella the photo, “This is my mom.”

She takes it, mirrors the smile Mary has on the picture, and runs her fingers gently over the photo, “She’s very pretty.”

“Yeah, she was,” Dean answers. He unfolds the small piece of paper and grins.

“What’s that?” Ella wants to know and leans across the front seat.

“Sammy, my brother, gave this to me when we were teenagers. He said he’d seen the quote and had to think of me, so he wrote it down. I always have it with me. It’s from a guy called Cicero, he said: ‘The life of the dead is placed on the memories of the living. The love you gave in life keeps people alive beyond their time. Anyone who was given love will always live on in another's heart’.”

Dean chuckles at the puzzled expression on Ella’s face, “It means that, as long as we keep thinking of the people we lost, they’re never completely dead.” He points a finger at her chest, “Because they still live inside our hearts.”

They spend the rest of the day jumping around in the bounce house and drowning in the ball pit, eating tons of amazing birthday cake, playing tag and flirting with Nancy - the latter only on the part of Dean.

When they’re about to leave the foster home after dinner - pizza for everyone - Ella tugs on Dean’s flannel sleeve.

Nancy’s smile is even wider than usual as she’s beaming at Dean with a knowing expression. He crouches down to Ella and she hands him a cassette, shyly glancing down at the floor. He takes it from her and reads the heading: ‘Bruce Springsteen - ‘84’.

“That one of your dad’s?” Dean asks her with a broad grin.

Ella’s gaze is still focused on the floor as she hums her response, “Mhm.” She slowly looks up at him and gives him a smile that makes his chest ache, “I want you to have it… so you don’t forget me.”

“Oh geez, thank you, sweetheart.” He pulls her into his arms and hugs her tightly, whispering in her ear, “Your Dad had a great taste in music, y’know.”

“Thank you for talking to her,” Nancy says to Dean when they’re out on the street, standing next to the Impala, “She seems… I don’t know, lighter somehow. I think you actually helped her a lot, so, thank you.” The brunette woman stands up on her tiptoes and cranes her head to place a soft kiss on Dean’s cheek.

The Impala heads off, Sam holding the Springsteen cassette in his hands, “Seems like someone’s got a new girlfriend,” and wiggles his eyebrows to tease his brother.

Dean snatches the cassette from Sam’s hands and glares at him in feigned offendedness. “You’re just jealous because she likes me better than you. And because I got a present and a peck on the cheek and you didn’t.” He briefly contemplates whether he should stick out his tongue at his younger brother, but then decides against it. He’s a mature, grown up man after all.

“Well, yeah. I mean, while you were flirting with the ladies, I almost threw up, because the kids made me eat like five pieces of cake and then wanted me to jump all around the house.” Sam chuckles to himself, however, which means he’s not really as pissed as he pretends to be.

A few minutes pass in companionable silence until the younger brother speaks up again, “Y’know, I get why she’s doing this. Nancy, I mean. Did you see how happy the kids were? It’s absolutely worth the risk.”

Dean simply nods in response, eyes focused on the street, as they’re headed towards the next motel for the night.

read the next chapter

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[fictitiousmagines]

I Fuckin' Mean It.  (Carl Fluff)

Imagine: Babysitting Liam a year after Carl broke your heart the year before.. It’s hard enough to avoid him, as your neighbor. It’s only for a few hours right?

Note: I’m new to this!

Y/N was nestled on her porch swing, Her knees with drawn inwards as she swayed. It was uncharacteristically cool for the middle of summer. She was hellbent on enjoying every bit of it. She was halfway through The Great Gatsby, with no real plans for today.

“Fuck!” Fiona growled from across the street. She hastily snapped her phone shut before running a tense hand through her tangle of curls.

Y/N was no stranger to the notorious Gallagher clan. She had a fling with Carl shortly after she arrived to the neighborhood. It was short lived, as most young relationships tended to go.

Underneath it all, Carl was sweet. He’s the type of person that required a second look. They’d sneak out and sit in the van. His face would be inches from hers as they talked.He’d lazily throw an arm around her thick waist to yank her closer. She’d squeal at his sudden display of strength. “You’re fucking beautiful,” he’d growl in her ear. He liked all the things she tended to hate about herself. Carl made her feel like she could glow from the inside out.

But Carl was equal amounts of light and dark. When he was thrown in Juvie, she assumed they’d pass the year with notes and visits. Her young heart was overflowing with nothing but hope. Reality hit hard with his one and only letter to her. A wrinkled scrap of paper hastily shoved in an envelope.

“Don’t write. Don’t visit.”

Needless to say, Y/N was crushed. Carl wasn’t the boy that brought a hot blush to her cheeks anymore. He was another South Side boy consumed with greed and the need to prove himself.

It wasn’t easy to avoid him, when he got out early. She remained on good terms with his family. Whenever he came into proximity, she was out of there, like a shot. Especially with Dom right on her hip. Still, as she turned to go his eyes followed her anyways. It made her skin crawl. The last think Y/N wanted, was pity from Carl Gallagher.

Fiona’s voice roke her out of her daze. “Hey! Y/N!” She said jobbing over. “You busy?” She asked, nearly breathless.

“Naw,” Y/N said snapping her book shut.

“Uh, Ian really flaked out on me. He was SUPPOSED to watch Liam. He’s not answering his phone. I really gotta get to work. My boss is gonna have my ass if I’m late. You mind watching him? I’ll give ya ten bucks. Someone should be back soon. 2-3 hours. Max!” Fiona’s voice was filled with desperation.

Y/N chewed on her lip and nodded. She wanted to say no. She really did. Despite lingering embarrassment, she knew missing work was rarely an option when you’re poor.

Fiona groaned with relief and grabbed Y/N’s hand, tugging her forward. She rattled off the do’s and don’ts of babysitting Liam as the made their way across the street. Rules, she was vaguely familiar with. THe door slammed behind them as YN’s eyes fell on Liam. “Y/N!” He yelled before clinging himself to her legs. “Hi Buddy,” she grinned before picking him up for a hug. “You’ve gotten so big!”

Fiona glanced up before fishing a ten out of her purse and pressing it into Y/N’s palm. “You be good okay?” She kissed Liam’s cheek with an audible smack. He giggled and held Y/N closer.

“Stuff for spaghetti is in the fridge if he get’s hungry,” said as she slung her purse over her shoulder. “Thank you!” The door’s slam rang out through the oddly quiet house.

“What now?” Y/N said before ticking Liam’s hip. “Trucks!” He cried matter o’ factually. She set him square on his feet and nodded. “Alright than! Trucks it is.” He scurried around the living-room floor, collecting Hotwheels in his tiny hands.It’s been awhile, but not much had changed. Still cluttered. Still homey.

“Here!” He said thrusting a fist full of cards towards her. She sank down to the floor and followed Liam’s lead. The thing about playing cards is, explosions are a must. Or at least that’s what he had spent the last hour teaching her.  “Oh no!” She gasped. She feigned screeching sounds before pushing her car towards his. “Boom,” he giggled before running his car into hers. She sighed dramatically. “Ya got me again!” He gave her car an extra bump for good measure.

“Ya hungry bud?”

“Mhmm,” he mumbled absentmindedly.

She padded into the kitchen, poking around. She pulled a big pot out of the cupboard and filled it with water. She quickly chopped up peppers and onions before throwing it all in with the sizzling hamburger. Between the hum of the kitchen and the occasional noise from the living-room, she grew content.

“Hmm,” she mumbled as she sprinkled salt and pepper into the frying mixture.

Liam crept into the kitchen with a small pail of Legos. He He quickly got to work snapping the toy bricks together. “Oooh! Cool!” she said glancing at his newest creation. She snapped the jar of sauce open and poured it into the . She almost didn’t hear the door slam. Almost.

“Ian?”

“Nope. Wrong Gallagher,” a familiar voice called out.

Fuck.

“Please be Lip. Please be Lip,” she mouthed silently. Her muscles instantly tightened as tension racked her entire body. She gave the sauce another stir before putting it on simmer.

“Uh, hey? What’re you doing here?”

Y/N tapped the spoon on the edge of the pan, shaking off the dripping sauce. “Um,” she stammered as she turned around. “Fiona had to go to work. Ian didn’t show up. So she asked me to watch him.”

They stood in silence awkwardly observing each other. Gone were the cornrows and baggy clothes. He was taller than last year. Arms had the promise of muscle from under his work shirt. He stared at her from under furrowed brows. She’d changed from the year before. He had a flash to the pudgy girl he’d sneak into the van to see. How good it felt to hold her. Kiss her. Naturally, he glanced at her chest. Shifting downwards he could make out the curve of her hips from underneath that sundress. Her curves, her curves, her curves. Even the thought of them caused  a lump in his throat. A mixture of guilt and lust.

“So…The spaghetti’s nearly done,” she said with a slight tremble. That’s somethign carle secretly liked. Her vulnerability. Not many South Side kids got away with that.

He nodded and sat next to Liam, feigning interest in his Legos.  He kept stealing glances at Y/N. The tension was thick in the air, but Liam was oblivious as he happily played.

“Need any help?”

“Naw,” she shook her head before pouring the noodles into the strainer.

“Smells good. I didn’t know you could cook,” he mumbled into dead air.

She chuckled and shook the strainer. Droplets of steaming water feel freely. “Yeah. Well, I’m a lady of many talents,” Y/N joked shyly.

“Look,” Liam said as he raised a mangled clump of Legos up.

“Speaking of talent!” She gasped. “Liam, you’re so good at building things,” she said warmly as she enfolded him into a quick hug. Carle missed the warmth in Y/N’s voice. The way she’d coo and purr in his ear, making him feel like the only man on the earth. “Fuck,” he thought bitterly. “I’m so fucking stupid.” He tried so harm to be what Dominique needed. Somehow he always came up short.

“Here ya go, Bud,” she said brushing his toys aside. She placed a bowl of pasta in front of Liam.

“Well,” she said straightening up. “I’ll leave you to it. Food’s ready if you’re hungry.”

“You’re going?”

“Mhmm.”

She wiped her hands on a spare dish rag before tossing it onto the counter. “Well, she did say until one of you showed up.”

“You don’t have to go, Y/N. C’mon. Stay. Eat with us. Right Liam? You want her to stay, don’t you?”

Liam nodded, a mouth full of noodles.

She shook her head sadly before making a break for the door. Unfortunately, Carl was fast.

“Y/N,” he said as he caught her in the wrist by the living room. “C’mon. Stay. Please,” he begged.

She twisted her wrist out of his grip and turned her head away. “Why?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’ve missed you.”

She snorted indignantly. “You’ve looked okay to me,” she said sitting on the arm of the couch.

“I fucked up. I know that. You know that. Okay? I’ve just-I’ve missed you,” he growled as he hastily sank down into the arm chair.

“If fucked up means writing that pussy letter. I’d say yeah, you did.”

“I was facing a year. I-I thought it’d be easier,” he said quietly.

Her lip quivered slightly before she blinked away the tears threatening to fall. She focused her attention to fidgeting with the hem of her dress.

“I’m glad it was easy for you, Carl. I figured it was a typical Gallagher move. Ya know? Pushing away anyone that could care. Really care. But-But you couldn’t even give me the time of day when you got out,” she said coldy.

“It’s not like you’ve been around Y/N. “GOD!” He groaned. “Anytime I get near you, you’re fuckin’ outta there.”

“Well, you got your wish Carl. You can’t have it both ways,” She hissed. “Expect me to come up to you and Dom? ‘Excuse me, can I talk to your boyfriend for a sec?’“ She mocked spitefully.

He’d never seen her mad before. Truth be told, he couldn’t decide whether her wanted to yell at her, or kiss her. Underneath layers of sweetness, she was fiery.

“Want did you want me to say? ‘Hey, I know you don’t want me but I’m in lo-’” She stopped short, realizing what threatened to spill out of her mouth.

Carl shoved himself out of the chair and slowly walked towards her. He stopped and positioned himself right in front of her. “Finish the sentence,” he urged as he stared down at her. His fingers lightly brushed above her knees, sending electricity throughout her body. She shook her head and sighed. “This is stupid,” she laughed. “Because if you think for one minute that-”

She was cut off by the familiar sensation of Carl’s lips against her own. He lifted her legs, urging them around his waist as he leaned down to deepen the kiss. Y/N melted completely into the sensation, grabbing a fist full of his wavy locks. She gasped as he pressed a firm kiss to her neck. She instinctively tightened her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. He gently nipped at her favorite spot. Right below her ear. The place only he knew about.

“Mmm, wait,” she purred. “Liam,” she said motioning to the kitchen.

“I thought about you the whole time, ya know.”

Her hands crept around his neck, as she looked up at him contently.

“In juvie, he continued. “Wondering if you were okay. I missed you. Now, I could give you a million bullshit excuses. But I just… I fucked up. And all I can say is, I’m sorry.”

She chewed on the corner of her lip as he considered his apology. He tilted her chin up as he went in for a kiss.

“Hey,” he whispered against her lips. “I mean it okay? Fuckin’ stupid to let you go.” He placed a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. He traveled to her neck as he planted smaller ones along the way. Y/N’s breath hitched she felt his hot breath in her ear. “I ain’t even making that mistake again. I love you.”

[funkymeihem-fiction]

Meihem Movie Night (They Watch Mad Max)

“Movie night! Movie night! Oi, Roadie! Where the hell are the clean sheets! I know you said we had some!” Junkrat called, his voice muffled from where he was buried halfway inside a half-broken wardrobe. Both arms moved rapidly in an almost digging motion, throwing out bomb casings, spare traps, scrap metal bits, and other garbage into a growing pile on the floor behind him. A few moments later, and he emerged holding an armful of white cloth that was streaked with black and gray. “You said you were gonna clean them! These ain’t clean!”

The gargantuan junker didn’t look up from his book on the other side of the room, sitting on his special-made bench that was still starting to sag in the middle from the sheer weight of him. He had discarded his usual armor, and wore nothing but a pair of Pachimari! Say Hello! print pajama pants and some slippers that might have been white at some point in distant history. “They don’t stay clean if you put dirty things on top of them.”

“She can’t sleep on these!” Junkrat snapped, unfurling them and inspecting the grease and soot as though it suddenly bothered him, even as his own fingers left dirty prints on what remained of the white cloth. “I’ll go get some clean ones, love. They think I can’t get into that supply closet down the hall, but I know h-”

Mei held up both hands quickly. “It’s fine, honestly. I brought a clean blanket just in case, I can sleep on top of it.” She held up one of her many cozy flannel comforters, this one a dark blue print that she knew would be the easiest one to clean after withstanding a night in bed with Junkrat. Even after showering, the man just attracted grime to the point where she honestly thought of studying him as a scientific anomaly. Her own sheets had testified to that many times over now. “This will be just fine.”

“Sleepin’ on top of it? What if you get cold?” Junkrat looked unsure, scratching at the back of his singed scalp.

“Well…You’ll keep me warm, won’t you?”

A pleased flush warmed his cheeks, his grin widening. “Yeah! Yeah I will!”

“It’s not the first time I’ve slept over here, Jamie, you don’t need to make a fuss every single time. We can always go back to my room again, and I’d hate to put you out or anything, Mr. Roadhog.” She glanced over to the larger junker, who merely turned another page in his book.

“Mm. It’s fine.”

“Naw, you ain’t putting him out. Or me. Just thought I’d really remember the damn sheets this time…Well, if it don’t bother you, just sleep on your blanket and I promise I will keep every little bit of you nice and toasty.” He licked his chops rather lecherously, and she half lidded her eyes at him as he continued. “From your cute lil’ button nose, all the way down to your adorable little toes, and then maybe back up to your-”

“Jamison!” She elbowed him hard in the side before he could finish the thought. “Tài dà shēng le! I’m going to get changed. Jamie, you get the movie queued up. Mr. Roadhog, would you keep him away from the food until we’re all ready?”

Junkrat was already starting to creep towards the table, where two large bags of Chinese take-out (with the closest things she could find to her native cuisine) were steaming merrily away into the air. Roadhog nodded, and then launched out one enormous hand, two fingers that were as thick as Mei’s wrist suddenly pinching onto the top of Junkrat’s ear and pulling him away as the younger junker complained loudly, single foot scraping for hold. “Owowow! I was just going to get a whiff, mates, swear it!”

“Well last time we had to order more because all Roadhog and I had to eat was soy sauce, after you ‘whiffed’ it all with your mouth!” Mei called back, shutting the bathroom door behind her.

She was fairly certain she heard him call something crude about the other ways he was going to use his mouth, but she merely rolled her eyes, navigating the disaster zone that was the junkers’ shared bathroom. It looked like someone, probably Roadhog or one of the cleaning bots, had at least made an effort to do some repairs and tidying up, but there was still a fine layer of soot on every surface, cracked tiles on the floor and walls, Junkrat’s signature smiley face drawn in soap on the mirror, and a hastily patched ceiling where he had been caught making an escape tunnel above the toilet ‘just in case’. Still, even all this was an upgrade compared to the first time she had ventured in here…She shuddered a bit, trying not to think of it as she changed into her pajamas and plucked out her snowflake pin, hair tumbling down around her shoulders. She heard the sounds of a scuffle outside, but after hearing a thump and a few indignant squawks, she was fairly certain who had won.

By the time she padded back out to the main room, the movie was paused on the title screen, and Roadhog was sitting on the ground with his book, his enormous weight pinning the scrawny flailing form of his employer under him. It was amazing that Junkrat hadn’t been completely crushed, but he was still putting up a rather vicious fight, swinging both fists uselessly against Hog’s legs. “Oi! Get off, you giant pig of a drongo! Mei! Mei, darl, gimme a hand here! Do you see what I got to deal with every day?”

Mei shuffled past him, polar bear slippers passing inches away from his seeking arms as she went to the table, counting over dishes and setting up drinks. Satisfied, she nodded to Roadhog a moment later. “All right, it’s still all here. Come and get it. I ordered your favorite, Mr. Roadhog! Baozi dumplings!” She held up one of the bags, bulging from the amount of food meant all for him.

Roadhog huffed inside his mask, groaning as he shifted his immense weight up off the floor, abandoning the rather flattened young man under him still half pressed into the linoleum. He settled down onto a half-broken armchair a moment later, which creaked ominously under him. “Mmm. Thanks.”

Mei nodded, busily setting up the other bag of food and popping the tops off of several bottles of Chinese beers, taking a seat on the sagging couch and leaving Junkrat to peel himself off the floor and stagger towards her. “Jamie, there you are!” she called cheerfully. “I ordered you some char siu barbecue and chow mein…and for me, vegetarian luóhàn zhāi and zongzi!” she said, ignoring the face he was making at the pile of vegetables and greenery that made up her own dish.

“Still not too late to share a proper tucker with me, love,” he said, wrinkling his nose before turning more eagerly on the piles of pork and noodles in his own take-out box. “Come on, come on! There’s a reason they always try to make tofu taste like somethin’ else, ya know. Crispy pork belly, now, that’s a meal. Can’t believe I was missin’ out on all these China dishes before, you lot can make even the arse-ends of the animal taste good! Uh..uh, xièxiè. Hǎochī? Means uh, tasty, right?”

“Hǎochī! That was very good! And also, no thank you, I’ll leave the meat to you two,” she beamed, even though his accent mangled the syllables. She sat watching as Roadhog set out stack upon stack of trays of bao buns, holding two tiny-looking chopsticks between his giant fingertips and lifting the edge of his mask, delicately starting to nibble with his scarred lips, above the mangled flesh of his stubbled chin. She looked away quickly after. It would be rude to stare, and even after all this time, Roadhog was still not keen on anyone seeing his true face.

Maybe one day…

“Oi, Mei. Got a treat for us tonight! It’s a Mad Max!” Junkrat joined her on the couch and covetously pulled his food into his lap, hunching over it like a vulture as he sipped his beer. Roadhog grumbled slightly around a mouthful of dumpling, and Junkrat shot him a glare before continuing. “We haven’t watched it that many times, Roadie. And it’s a real good one.”

“Is it a new one?”

“Nah, one of the ones in the middle. It’s called Fury Road!” His eyes went dreamy. “One of the best ones. It’s got everything a man could want. Or, uh, a lady. It’s got everything anyone could want, I mean. Explosions, cars, fire, red storms, sexy ladies, more explosions, a guitar what shoots fire, cars, explosions, war boys, heroics, a guy who’s not all there in the head just like me but he’s still mostly good kinda, explosions…”

Mei looked confused, chewing on a mouthful of sauce and broccoli and speaking around it. She could afford to be at least a little more rude around the junkers without them minding…or usually even noticing. “Mmf? Izzat shequel to Thunder Dome?”

“Nah, nah, it’s like, I dunno, it’s all Mad Max but it’s not the same guy and it’s the same place but things are different.”

“What?”

“You’ll see! You’re gonna love it!” He crowed, and slammed the play button with one calloused thumb.

Roadhog started in on his fourth tray of dumplings, and Mei leaned up against Junkrat’s side as they ate, the screen going dark as a guttural voice began to narrate an all-too-familiar tale to their rapt junker audience.

“My name is Max. My world is fire…And blood…”

***

The credits rolled.

Roadhog was sitting in his comfy chair with his hands folded over his enormous belly, snoring softly inside his mask from where he had fallen asleep halfway through, abandoned empty trays scattered around his feet. Mei wondered to herself how he slept through a movie that was basically one action-packed and explosion-filled car chase, but she figured that he and Junkrat must have watched it a hundred times over, and he had probably lived and slept through worse.

Mei lay wrapped in her blanket, head resting on Junkrat’s thigh, atop the striped boxers she’d insisted he start wearing at night. His flesh hand toyed idly with her hair, combing his fingers through the length of it as he asked aloud, “Well? What did ya think? Great movie, ain’t it!”

“I liked it. And I can definitely see why you like it. You know, it’s pretty impressive considering how old it is.”

“Right? It’s sort of like if the whole world ended, not just Oz. So, whaddaya think, I’m just like Max, ain’t I?” He fumbled with a lock of her hair, idly trying to figure out how to braid it. “Just like him.”

She kept her head still, though her eyes rolled up behind her glasses to try and see him, the edges of his features blurred without her lenses. “You’re not Max.”

“Oi!”

“You know who’s Max? 76. The brooding soldier sort with the haunted past, and he mostly speaks in stern grunts?”

“…You know what, Snowflake, I’ll give you that one.”

“You’re more like Nux,” she said, sitting up. “…It was Nux, right? The nice war boy?”

“Yeah! Arright, Nux is a good sort. Still think I’m like Max, though. Ya know, I used to joke around and call Roadie, Imporkan Joe. But he said he found it ‘distasteful’, whatever that means. What about you, you wanna be my ferocious truck-revvin’ Furiosa?”

Mei smiled a little, starting to clear away the bottles and plates of bones and food scraps. “Oh, I’m not really the Furiosa sort.”

“You can be a wife, then.”

“So I’m one of the wives? Doesn’t that mean I belong to Imporkan Joe? Did the wives have names? I can’t remember.”

“Of course they did! And you don’t belong to him, you can belong with me, that’s like the whole point.” He wrapped both arms around her waist, abruptly pulling her back into his lap and bringing his sharp teeth to nibble at her neck. “You can be Toast, she’s the smart one. Or Capable, she’s the brave one, and she’s in love with me. I mean, Nux.”

“They have very strange names. Although I guess the junkers do too. How did you even choose Junkrat?”

“Didn’t choose it per se, just sort of happens. You’d get a name too, eventually. Like…Mei the Mag, Mistress She-Panda, Frigi-vicious, or IceTits…”

“Those are horrible!”

“Don’t put me on the damn spot then, darl! I’m just sayin’, names happen. Take it from your favorite rat.” He soothed her with several kisses to the top of her head, even as she squirmed in protest. “Aw come on, we don’t have to decide on a name now, you can still be my sexy battle wife on the Fury Road…Kinda liking this idea more and more, actually. Say it with me, Mei. Sexy battle wife.”

“Y-you spout the most outlandish things, I swear,” she murmured, looking away to hide the redness of her cheeks. “Although…”

He brightened, smushing his cheek against hers. “Although?”

“This might be the beer talking but I have a really silly idea and…Just go to your bedroom and I’ll see you in a minute?”

Junkrat’s eyes widened, and he was so eager he almost threw her right off his lap in his excitement, half tumbling off the couch as his peg creaked in protest. “Bedroom! Right, yeah! Do I uh, do I need to get anything ready, or…?”

“No, no, just…go in there and close your eyes, and I’ll be in before this idea has the chance to sound even sillier than it is,” she said, waving him off.

The junker scrambled into his cramped sleeping quarters, a tiny side room from their main living area, with little more than his bed and an overflowing dresser full of his personal hoard. Hopping up onto the squeaking mattress, he waited. He heard the bathroom door open and shut again, over the sound of Hog’s snoring, and clamped both hands over his face when he heard a soft knock at his door. “All right, love! I’m not even peekin’, not even a little! Come on in!”

He heard it creak open and shut behind her, before her voice piped up sheepishly, “Okay. Honestly, I just thought it might be fun, but now it seems a little…Well, you can look now.”

He pried apart two fingers, one eye peeking through. Mei stood looking a bit embarrassed, wearing nothing more than the dirty off-white sheets from before, wrapped around her in a poor attempt to emulate the wispy gowns and cloth strips from the wives of the movie. It had ended up as more of a crude toga of sorts, and she had to keep one arm wrapped around her chest where the cloth kept falling away, and she laughed as she hiked the skirt back up around her hips.

“I was just playing around,” she said, “Honestly, I don’t see how anyone could fight while wearing stuff li-”

Junkrat’s arms were suddenly around her, and she found herself being dragged down onto the bed, dirty sheets and all. His dilated pupils stared up at her, rimmed with vivid yellow as he started to wrestle her down onto the mattress as she fought to keep her wraps in place, his toothy jaws already starting to kiss and bite hungrily at her exposed skin. “Nope!” he said, throwing one leg up to pin her hips into place, her ragged sheet-toga pulled up along with it. “Nope, you come in here dressed like one of my favorite things, you’re committed! Movie gets my blood pumpin’ already, and now you’re my sexy battle wife!”

She tried to stifle a laugh, and it came out as a rather nasal little squeal as his fingertips tickles her bare ribs. “Jamison, āi yā! It was just a joke!”

“No jokin’ now, love. This is serious as the grave,” he said, even as his maniac grin spread across his face. “Brace your tits for impact. Now I’m gonna take you for a real ride on the Fury Road!”

***

Roadhog awoke, yet again, to the muffled sound of squeaking springs and moaning behind the door. Grumbling at the inconvenience, he shuffled a slippered foot amongst the discarded boxes to see if perhaps he’d left a dumpling behind.

He hadn’t.

Rubbing at his masked face wearily as he heard Junkrat crowing again about what a lovely day it was, in the middle of the damn night, he groped blindly for the remote. With a few clicks, the movie skipped back to the menu and restarted itself, as the narration started about fire and blood once more. He turned the volume up as the soothing sounds of explosions and bloodshed returned, drowning out the noises he knew were still happening in the next room.

Folding his hands back across his belly, he bowed his masked head and fell back asleep.

[screamingatmyfandom]

Expensive Headphones: Dog Day

Story Prompts: Expensive Headphones: Dog Day It was finally time. Rich couldn't believe it! He was finally getting a dog! Michael had been a bit hesitant at first, their apartment being a bit on the small side. It was cozy, though, just enough for the two of them - soon to be three. All Rich really had to do to get him to agree was stare sadly at him and say "But Michael, I've alwayth wanted a dog! Pweathe??" and emphasize his lisp, which he knew Michael found adorable (much to Rich's dismay). So here they were at the nearest animal shelter to adopt a pet. "Dude, calm down!" Michael grabbed Rich by his hood before he broke through the doors. Honestly, he would just get one of those children's backpack-leashes if he wasn't sure that Rich would either assume he was making another crack at his height ("It was just a joke, bro!") or rip through it with his enthusiasm. "You're gonna freak the animals out if you just burst in there." "OH!" At Michael's deadpan look, he quieted. "Oh. Ok. I can-I can do that." Michael smirked and pressed a kiss to Rich's fluffy hair. "I got duck tape in the car just in case." "It'th duct tape, you headphones-wearing idiot!" Michael pretended to be hurt. "Hey! I'll have you that these are my pride and joy!" He broke into a smile and Rich snickered. "Alright, let's go in already!" They entered the animal shelter. The smell of soap, antiseptic, dog food and fur wafted over them, along with squeaks, growls, barks, and skwaks . "Hello, my name is Carla. Welcome to the Paterson Animal Rescue. How can I help you today?" Michael spoke to the older woman at the front desk. "Hi. Me and my boyfriend would like to adopt a dog today." He looked her in the eye; they'd been refused service a few times for being in a relationship, despite it being the 21st century. Michael, having been openly gay for a while, was used to it and could brush it off. Rich however, had less experience and was more emotional than he let on. Carla's eyes warmed and she met his gaze evenly. "I remember starting this place with my fiancé. She's in the back with the cats. How long have you been together?" Michael blinked in surprise. "Three years." She grinned. "First pet?" She asked, looking at Rich who was tapping on the cage of two guinea pigs. Michael smiled softly. "Yeah." He was so in love with him. "Hey Rich, you ready?" Rich bounded over. "You bet I am!!!" "Right this way, please." She led them to the dog kennels. "Good luck!" Rich darted around, going from dog to dog. "Look at them, Michael! I wanna adopt all of 'em!!" "Rich, we agreed on one. Our apartment isn't big enough for two dogs and us." "Aww." Rich and Michael walked around. They had decided to get an older dog so they wouldn't have to potty-train it. They played with a few dogs in pens, but Rich just wasn't feeling a connection. "Hey." It was the desk lady, Carla? Yeah. "We're closing in an hour." "Thanks." Rich began to worry. What if he never found the right dog? He started pacing back and forth, muttering under his breath when he heard a playful growl from a cage nearby. He stopped and went over. Inside the crate was a small, sort of furry pit bull with gray and blue splotches covering its white fur. When it saw him looking at it, the dog jumped off the larger dog it was pinning and strode over to the mesh separating the cage from the room. It glared at Rich confidently. "Hey, Michael! Check this guy out!" Michael came over, hoping that Rich had finally chosen a pet. He walked up to see a dog snapping at Rich's fingers, which he'd stuck through the wire. He rushed forwards and pulled Rich backwards, which caused the dog to start barking and lunging at the front of the cage. Rich looked up at Michael with a big grin. "I want this guy!" Michael stared at the snarling dog, then at Rich. "Dude, that thing looks like it would rather use you as a chew toy. What if it bit one of the neighbors?" "Naw, he wouldn't do that! He'th just a big thofty; aren't ya boy?" The dog stopped freaking out when he heard Rich talking, and Michael sighed in resignation. Rich looked so excited, talking to the canine. He knew they'd be taking it home today whether he liked it or not. He walked back to Carla, who was chatting with another woman. "Oh, hello! Bec, this is one of the two boys I was telling you about." They shook hands. Then to Michael. "Have you found a pet yet?" "Actually, yeah." "Let's go then." They walked back to where Rich was now laughing and playing tug of war with a corgi. Hey Rich, you ready to pick out a pet and go home?" Aw, f**k yeah!" The two women there chuckled. "Which one do you want?" Rich went over and pointed at the surly dog "Oh. You want...that one?" "Yup!" Bec took over from Carla. Well, this guy doesn't have a name currently. We rescued him off the streets, and we know that he's a pit bull-Australian Shepherd mix around 2 years old. He's not gonna get much bigger, and he needs to be socialized." Michael couldn't hold back a snort at the similarities between boy and dog. Both were shorter than average and had bad tempers, and both needed to work on social skills. Rich watched, nearly vibrating, as they opened the cage door to let the dog onto the floor. It backed up, watching the humans around suspiciously. Rich and Michael stepped forwards, Michael a bit more hesitantly than Rich. "Hi! I'm Rich and that'th Michael! We're gonna be taking you home!" Rich stuck out a hand for the dog to smell, which it did. It then snuffled his face, getting a better scent of the small human. "Ugh, he snorted all over me! Michael, isn't he awethome?!?!" Michael shook his head with a smile and kept his hands safely in his pockets. While Rich picked out a collar and leash, Michael paid and filled out the paperwork up front. There was just one thing missing. "Hey Rich, what're we gonna name him?" He called back "Oh yeah, I almotht forgot! Lemme see....how bout Ragnarok?" A snarl-bark. "No? Ok then...what about Whizzer?" A happier bark-yelp. Michael couldn't hold back his laughter at the name. Trust Rich to name a dog belonging to a bi and gay couple after a gay musical character. Carla and Bec smiled at the two and finished the paperwork. "Alright, you and...Whizzer should be good to go. Thanks for stopping by." No problem." Michael walked to Rich and they pulled out of the parking lot, Whizzer in the back seat. "OMG I CAN'T BELIEVE WE GOT A DOG!!!" Michael loved watching Rich get so excited. Almost as much as kissing him. Speaking of that... "Hey Rich." "Yeah, man?" Rich turned to look at Michael, who cupped his hand around Rich's head, pulling him forwards. Rich smiled and sighed in happiness against Michael lips. A wet nose suddenly wedged in between them, and both of them flew apart, Rich dying of laughter and Michael disgustedly wiping off his mouth. "Aww, Whizzer wanted a kiss too! Were you feeling left out?" Honestly, it was worth getting mouth to mouth from a dog to see Rich cooing and being adorable. Yeah. Whizzer would fit in perfectly with their family.

[thediabeteschronicles]

the meaning of life

oh life, where art thou. funny im back after a few years. like im drunk texting an ex but probably more healthy than actually being drunk and actually texting an ex. I’m one and a half months away from 4 years without a drink of alcohol (unless you count that time i accidentally coughed while gurgling mouthwash that was terrible). pretty safe to say that by now im firmly set in my decision to never drink again. in fact its been so long that ive started to understand things about myself that i didnt realize before, things that may have drove me to drinking the way that i did. you cant really say this to alcoholics because they think that theyre like everyone else but theres nothing wrong with drinking on its own. some people are great at it responsible, moderation, plan ahead and all of that stuff and then you have the “atleast im not puking in the gutter” crowd wich is very much where i was, puking in the gutter that is. im a very introverted person, it takes way more to unlock me than it should take a normal person. drinking seemingly did away with that. cool new friends who liked me, something to do every weekend, people to be with, i had absolutely no idea what i was doing, and in fact i still dont. its probably pretty safe to say that i completely replaced drinking with Magic The Gathering. who saw that coming lol. in my haze of insecurity and low self esteem lately ive sort of looked at that as a bad thing, like i could be doing more for myself like something more productive with my time. but ive started to appreciate what it means to actually be involved in that game. without realizing it it gives me somewhere to be, people to be around, and a healthy hobby to focus my mental energies on, even if im not the best of best im kind of... not there to win all the time as much as im there just to have somewhere to be. i have a little 5 year old nephew. im so glad he has never or will never see me drunk and out of it. a kid is funny. many people have many opinions on the subject. on the surface they can seem like way more than anyone could ever want to deal with. but there are things i cant explain. i cant explain that feeling when you look at a little guy chewing food for instance... i took him to costco the other day with his gramma, my mom, and i waited in line for a membership and i looked over and hes just sitting there chunching his pizza down with his little head just turning everywhere just looking at everything and all i can think is what is his little brain doing right now how does he process this what does he think.  or when hes watching something on tv and starts laughing uncontrolably something happens to me that fascination of his sense of humor his molding into a little person that thinks things are funny, oh my god he talks hecka good now. he asks the tough questions like if santa brought me gifts why where they wrapped in gift wrap that i see in your room LOL, i felt like when i get pulled over and the cop finds weed and asks if ive smoked in the last 24 hours im like um ,noooooooooo.... little guy is also a very large part of where my mental energies go, even though i mentioned magic first lol. being a 90′s kid so very still connected to what childhood was in those times for me, im driven to sort of give him something similar. im at the helm sort of, of making his little universe the coolest it can be. i get to be the uncle that gives him that extra peice of candy or lets him stay up past his bedtime till he passes out or buys him the cool toys he sees on commercials. the sense of responsibility to provide for him is a very good energy to have in my life. even though he isnt all the way mine he is like one or two steps down from being mine lol. you can say what you will about kids, maybe you dont want to have them but i do see now what those parents say when they say that people without kids dont understand, they dont understand that the shitty parts of having to deal with kids are no less shitty but theres is a greater force at work there, something that fills a void. something greater than you is happening at that moment, someone is fully and completely dependent on you to make sure they dont die. this force has helped me. like fuck my self diagnosed depression fuck the way i feel i cant do anything for anybody, i could never have him look at me and say hey can we do this and have me be like naw man im all bummed out im just gonna lay down. things havent been all the way peachy but to cover everything that happened since the last time i blogged would take 12 other blogs the size of this one. that being said i got an offer to move to wyoming and actually almost took it until i told my BFF about it and he quickly got me a job lol. i am so lucky to have that friend and im so klucky to have this job now. literally the convo went hey man shits rough probly move to wyoming friend can get me a job there and hes like what you need a job heres one lol. im not religious or anything but my grampa told me, Mijito a job is a gift from god. but ive evolved past my rabbid preachy atheism (in person) to realize that in his day religion was a powerful force and the economic situation he had in his life was probably very different to mine but what he meant was yo grandson a good job is a very good thing. in his day jobs were laborous and demanding, i sit at a desk answer phones and type on a computer and do math problems... lucky doesent begin to describe it. the road is still bumpy like it is paved with stone. ive seen the third world in the flesh ive smelled it ive felt it ive heard it ive tasted it ive touched it. ive had to read reports of cartel shootings lootings and burnings where my mom is from. ive driven from here to mexico along the way you see the poverty you see the despair you see the gap, but you also see the hospitality you also see people driven to do anything for a little change, kids selling candy on the street trying to clean your windshields trying to hustle anything up. kids my nephews age younger even. we have one shot, and the roll of the dice put me where so many would wish to be in life. compassion and understanding must be the attitude held in life. we must strive to appreaciate what we have because its all we have and we are all in this together. to quote pops from Luke Cage’s tv show, always forward, forward always.

[forbidden-creepypasta]

NoLove Archive

I’m making this post only because  I want to have NoLove’s stories saved somewhere after Terrortortellini’s demise. Without a further ado, behold the work of the greatest creepypasta writer ever. All credit to NoLove, of course.

Me and Angie had been best friends for as long as I can remember. That all changed one day. Everyone always thought we were lovers, but it really wasn't the case. I guess it only added fuel to the fire when we decided to go travelling to Africa together for four months. She'd spent some time there when she was young, and I wanted to see more of the world, so it made sense. The first three months went great. We spent every day helping the local kids. The other English guys over there loved us both. The kids thought we were great, Angie especially. First morning into the fourth month, I woke up to the most horrifying sight I'd ever seen. Dead kids, broken bones, blood everywhere. Trampled to death. 'Angie, I don't believe this.' I said. 'HAROOOOOOOMPPPPHHHH,' said Angie.

 As you dedicated a forum to me, I thought I would pay you back by giving you the other stories that you missed. It includes the rare 'return of Angie' story. It's up to Vaughn what is done with them...I guess they might be deleted, or added to the Classics...but I hope you enjoy. Don't Lie The last two humans on Earth sat eating by a faintly flickering fire, its crackles and their chewing the only things breaking the silence. The man gave his young son a smile. 'It's Friday today Danny! You know what that means...' The boy nodded. 'Chocolate day.' The man patted his son on the head, and went to fetch the last remaining chocolate bar. 'Danny!' 'Yes Dad?' 'Did you eat that chocolate? It's gone!' The father stormed into view of his son, who looked terrified. 'N-no! I swear!' 'You had better not be lying to me!' 'I'm not!' 'I'm serious, Danny! It's just us! Bad things will happen if we can't trust each other!' 'I promise!' The man looked at his son, and believed him. 'OK...OK, I'm sorry, Dan. Look, I'm going to look for some more supplies. I'll be back in an hour or so.' The young boy nodded. As his father left, he uncomfortably shifted around, and removed a chocolate wrapper from his pocket, and scrambled around to bury it in the ground. Panic over. Then, Danny heard the most terrifying sound he had ever heard. 'I thought your father told you not to tell lies?' BananaCorn Goes To Jail They led the no-good tryhard towards his cell. 'Please!' he whimpered. 'Give me one more chance!' The jury looked at him with pity. But it was for the best. The guard led Bananacorn down a staircase, his face stony; a direct contrast with Bananacorn's sweating features. Finally, they reached the cell. 'We don't have no specific cells for tryhards here, so you'll be sharing with a murderer,' said the guard. 'W-what?!'  'Meet your new cellmate!' Bananacorn stared at the other occupant in the cell with a look of absolute horror. 'HAROOOOOOMPH!' said Angie. The Stupidest Town In The World Year 2014. The idiots were slobbering around as usual, playing with each other beautifully, some people would think it was adorable; others thought it was just plain retarded. 'Sarah, Sarah, let's play with this toy!' said the man happily. 'No, no!' said Sarah. 'That toy is dangerous!!' 'No it's not! Look, watch!' 'No! Let me do it!' Sarah laughed. She grabbed it from him, and pressed the button with a grin on her face. In Moscow, 5000 miles away, the first bomb fell. The Man In Red...aka The Devil Here is a riddle which may creep you out a bit. The Man in Red ate his dinner...with a fork. The Man in Red killed a man. The Man in Red made a deal with a bad human. The Man in Red is a fallen angel. The Man in Red is God's enemy. The Man in Red is inside each and every one of us. Can you guess who I'm referring to? The Disco Of Death 'Woooo!' screamed Rosie. She was having fun, this had been the most fun disco she had been to in a long time. 'Wahhhh!' shouted Henry. He was also having fun. The DJ looked down at Rosie and Henry having fun and dancing with jealousy. He had a girlfriend once. He shrugged his shoulders, and lined up the next song. 'OK everyone, let's get dancing for this one! And it's time to get close with your nearest and dearest, this is a slow one! Let's dim the lights...' The lights went so dim that Rosie and Henry could hardly see each other. The slow music kept playing, and the room went darker and darker. 'Wahhhh!' Rosie and Henry never had fun again. The music continued to play, as the DJ slinked out of the venue without a trace. The bloody knife in his hand glistened in the moonlight. The Party Near An Electric Chair This is based on a dream I had. I am well aware that the story makes no sense, but I wanted to share it with you guys in it's purest format. I couldnt remember the name of the main guy in the dream so I made one up. Everyone had turned up to Hoffham MacRedpoor's 19th birthday. Jimmy was there, Sally was late, but that didn't matter, Julie and Gerald had both arrived on time. 'Thanks for all coming. As you know, my Dad works for the prisons and he got me something pretty cool for my birthday!' said Hoffham to his friends. 'What is it?' asked Julie. 'An electric chair!' 'Wow!' said Jimmy. Hoffham got all of his friends to sit on the chair. 'Here, I'll take a picture of you all!' said Hoffham. They all smiled. For the last time. Hoffham dropped the camera, and quickly pulled a lever, electrocuting his friends. They died instantly. 'That'll teach you guys to bully me at school.' There was a knock at the door. It was Sally. He let her in, but she had an odd look on her face. 'What's wrong Sally?' Hoffham asked. 'This is for killing my friends,' she said, and she shot him dead. Sally clambered into the chair alongside her friends, and pulled the lever. The Slug Who Lost His Mind The slug squished along the ground, slowly, pointlessly. He eyed the snail across the street jealously. If only he'd had a shell like that to protect him, when the demons had came a-knocking. Unfortunately, he didn't have a shell. And now he was haunted day by day. The ghost of his stupid slug mother, too dumb to get a job in the slime industry. His dead slug dad, killed by some kid with salt. But the most haunting image was the one of his own corpse. It seemed oddly unsluglike. Meanwhile in reality, the child's fever was not getting any better. He would not wake up as his concerned parents looked on. His mother wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, forming a glistening trail, not unlike that of one of a slug. In The Name Of The Father The man closed his eyes as the pain became more intense. It would be OK, he told himself.  The pain intensified. It felt like someone had placed needles in a furnace and pushed them into his arms and hands. It would all be OK, he knew the truth. Finally, he gave in. They checked his body. 'Yes, he's dead.' 'OK, good work everyone. Who do we have next from the mental institute?' The men went back to checking their lists, for the next person who would hang from the giant cross behind them. The Ghost Who Came To Life The ghost floated along, floating along happily. He floated even more happily, until suddenly, he felt very sad. 'I used to be alive.' Suddenly, a genie appeared. 'I will give you one wish, ghost.' 'Only one?' he replied. 'Don't genies usually grant three wishes?' 'Yes, but you are dead. You only get one.' 'OK, fine.' The ghost thought long and hard for a second. 'I want to come back to life, and be immortal.' 'Your wish is my command.' The genie brought the ghost back to life, and then disappeared. The ghost was now human again. In a coffin underground. Trapped. The Dead Rapper Yo, Yo, yo, yo. Naw, I ain't alive.  But I'm still rappin' Take a seat And I'll you what's happenin' Guy comes up, Pulls a gun Aimed it at my head It wasn't fun Yo, Yo, yo, yo. Some called me A rapping masta Now I'm writin' Creepypasta From beyond the grave While you are at a rave Guess what? The twist is coming at you like an attack I'm still alive- and my name's 2pac.

 My first pasta...be kind :3: I've been lying here for a few days now. She broke up with me, and I can't move. We'd been arguing for a while. My paranoia had always been a problem, and when I saw her getting out of a guy's car the other day, it all blew up. She was screaming, saying I was suffocating her by being so needy, I wasn't the person she thought I was; all of the usual things. But it seemed different this time. She seemed like she hated me. It turned out it was just an old schoolfriend of hers that she was meeting to talk about old times, but my accusations were the final straw for her. She packed a few of her things, called her sister to tell her she was coming over, and left without another word. The next few days were a bit of a blur. I'm lying here, wondering whether I'll ever be able to go and get that drink of water that I so desperately want. Wondering whether she'll come back and dig me up.

 You may have heard the old theory about 'an infinite number of monkeys with an infinite number of typewriters could type the complete works of Shakespeare'. Well, here's the part you probably haven't heard. Someone actually tried to do this.  Danish scientist Lars Hansen took this theory very seriously- as luck would have it, his job was Monkey Cloner at the University of Copenhagen. He had spent the last few days just cloning monkeys non-stop, knowing that Monkey Infinity would soon be arriving. 'This one, it's this one!' he yelled excitedly to his assistant Noah. 'Oh my God,' said Noah, his beautiful eyes widening. There it was, in front of them, monkey number infinity. Then the monkeys became self-aware, and realised there were more of them than the humans. They decided that they would each kill one human, travelling around the globe, led by Monkey Infinity. Monkey Infinity gestured towards Monkey #289994 and #9011.  'Kill,' Monkey Infinity said. And then Lars (human #289994) and Noah (human #9011) were both dead. Monkey Infinity laughed with satisfaction, knowing that he would never have to kill anyone himself, as there was no Human Infinity. So just remember...there's a monkey out there, with your number on it.

 Red. The colour of blood; flowing around your body day after day. Until that final day. White. The light blinds you for a few seconds as you wake up, tied to an old chair. You hear the faintest laugh, and then footsteps. Black.

 The kid was retarded; there was no getting past that. Dribble running down his face- gross. His tongue lolled around his face at weird angles. His beautiful green eyes ravaged by years of self-doubt. Lo! Realisation. He just became self-aware. And he's left the room now. Creeping...creeping towards those who made fun of him in the past. Creeping closer...and closer...and closer. He licks the door before he enters. The bully lay there, blissfully unaware. And he stayed unaware forever more, as the hammer crushed his skull within a milisecond. The retarded child left without a word.

 After getting poor reviews for my first pasta, I've taken my time over this one, making sure that hints are dropped throughout for the twist ending etc. Hope this one is more satisfactory. It had been a long few months. I was made redundant at the end of Easter, and was finally starting to get interviews again. But this one...this one was different. My suspicions were first aroused by the name-tag on the guy who was interviewing me. 'A. Lien' At first I just thought it was a Chinese guy, but no, he was white. Then they started asking me whether I would be prepared to 'relocate'. When I said 'what, to a different country?' they just laughed. But it didn't sound like a human laugh. It sounded alien. But anyway, I got the job. They didn't tell me where or when I'd be starting. One night I was whisked away in the back of a van. Call me paranoid, but I could have sworn that the van didn't just travel along the road- it travelled upwards. Almost like some kind of spacecraft. So I started work. The weird thing was, I don't remember anything about the work I was doing. It was almost like my mind was being wiped after every day, but some kind of technology not known to Earth. The truth hit me one day, when I asked my employers 'Where on Earth am I?', emphasising the word 'Earth'. They just laughed. But it didn't sound like a human laugh.

 If God became President, he would win every war. If God became President, no-one would worry any more. If God became President, the devil would be his vice-president. What if the vice-president (the devil) convinced the President (God) to kill himself? Then the Devil would be President. Imagine if the Devil made God II his Vice President?  Imagine if God II managed to get the Devil to change his ways and resign, then God II would become President. God II appoints the Devil II as his vice-president. The cycle continues. Eventually- it all ends.

 Los Angeles, 1975. I wasn't alive then, and I ain't never been to Los Angeles. But this is what I imagine it was like. The rain was incessant; the tighter I tried to pull my coat around me, the more seemed to get through. The flashing neon was a welcome distraction from the pain currently rippling through my body. They had all come to see me off- the guy who got buried alive, the guy who got abducted by aliens, angie the elephant, the goddamn emo, the dead rapper, the unhappy car, the thinker, the ugly wizard; all these legendary characters had turned out to see their creator's final stand. And they were all smiling. Not smiles of satisfaction, but warm smiles. Comforting smiles. Angie the elephant brushed her trunk gently over his body. He returned their smiles weakly, and felt his eyes begging to be closed. Nothing. The final twist is that his death was from natural causes. RIP NoLove.

 The Devil wagged his tail. The Devil barked loudly. The Devil growled beautifully. The Devil chased a cat. Suddenly, the dog became self-aware and realised he was the Devil. And the cat that he was chasing was God. The world imploded. In future when you see a dog, try not to get creeped out.

 The rabbit lay beautifully in the grass with a smile on his face. Then it stopped smiling. And started to eat its own skin. Crunch. Skin ripped off. Squelch. Skin ripped off. Only it wasn't a rabbit, it was your insane brother who just turned up at your house after 38 years. And he wasn't eating his skin... He was eating yours.

 'Hey! Hey you, you goddamn punk!' The goddamn punk turned around. 'What do you want from me?' 'All your cash, phone, everything. Turn out your pockets.' The goddamn punk sighed. Would these muggers never learn? He reached into his pockets, and pulled out a gun. 'Woah! Hey...woah, man. Jesus Christ.' The mugger stepped back in shock at the sight of the weapon. 'I'm not a goddamn punk. I'm a goddamn emo.' The goddamn punk shot himself in the head. The mugger tenatively kicked his body over, and stole his money, phone, and after a second's thought, took the gun.

 The God turned to the other God. 'I am the true God,' he said. 'No,' replied the second God. 'I am the true God.' The two fought, kicking each other beautifully, and scratching each other's God faces, and pulling each other's God beards. They fought, and fought, and fought. Then, a third figure entered the fray. It was The Devil. 'I AM THE TRUE GOD,' he whispered gently. The other two Gods were too tired to put up a fight. With one stab of his fork, The Devil killed both Gods. 'There can only be one God,' breathed The Devil, 'Of nothingness.' Then the world ended.

 I think I'll do it again today. I think I'll make that train crash. I think I'll make that plane crash. I think I'll make that bus crash. I think I'll make that car crash. I am God, after all. I think.

  The Hungarian Orangutan made his bed in the morning.

His French wife messed it up while he went to work.

The Hungarian Orangutan put his dinner in the oven.

His French wife burnt it on purpose.

The Hungarian Orangutan went to bed to try to sleep.

His French wife played loud music to keep him awake.

They were certainly a couple who had opposite views on things.

The French wife wanted to live...

*

Meanwhile in France, the police knocked on the door of a mother and father to deliver some very bad news.

'What is it, officers?'

'Your daughter has been murdered by an orangutan.'

'Oh no.' they said.

The officers left. They took off their disguises to reveal that they were in fact the Hungarian Orangutan and the French wife. They kissed on the lips. 

And then there was light.

Death. Death, death, death. Life. The wizard's eye opened slowly, as he tried to take in his surroundings, which were fuzzily beginning to move into focus. 'I thought you weren't going to make it,' smirked the figure across the room. 'You thought wrong,' said the wizard. The figure opposite stepped closer. His face was pale white, and he had beautiful blue eyes. He was a marked contrast to the wizard on the ground. The wizard's face was ashen, his features were shrunken, and he had a twisted scar across his entire face. 'For all your ugliness, your powers as a wizard are second to none.' 'And for all of your nice features, you still haven't managed to become a wizard.' The figure seemed to drink these words in, like an athlete gulping down water after a particularly tough race. 'Oh, haven't I?' The figure sank to his knees, twisting his arms around, whispering manic incantations, and sparks began to fly around him. The wizard looked on in shock, and then pain began to course through his body. Death. The figure laughed with pleasure. Then, the smallest trace of a scar began to form across his face.

 He walked through the bar, shaking each man by the hand. He walked down the road, shaking each woman and child by the hand. He entered the old people's home, shaking each old person by the hand. He entered the children's hospital, shaking each child by the hand. He goes home at the end of the day; smiling, satisfied with his day's work. They'll all see him again one day. And they'll remember when they shook this hand.

 Left turn. Right turn. Full speed ahead. He drank too much tonight, there's no way he's totally in control of me. That fifth beer pushed him over the edge. Not drunk enough to be all over the place, but he's not in control. Maybe if he was happier, he wouldn't drink so much. Left turn. He glanced at his phone, and saw the time. Better get home quickly, she'll be wondering where he is. Right turn. He didn't see the child step out in front of him. Full speed ahead. I guess they'll sell me to someone else whilst he's in prison. I hope I don't make them unhappy too.

 He strained...every muscle in his body seemed like it was fighting its own world war. Reach. Reach. Relax. He fell back again, unable to achieve his goal. What would it take for him to get there?! One last push. Reach. Strain. Reach! Yes! He did it. He reached out, and pressed. The submit button that is. The twist is that the main character was me, making his 100th post.

 The creepypasta became self-aware. The creepypasta got on the bus. The creepypasta got a job. The creepypasta found a wife. The creepypasta had creepypasta kids. The creepypasta got old. The creepypasta died. It always ends the same.

BananaCorn wrote:You do realise that this entire NoLove escapade started because he couldn't take criticism for his serious stories, so he posts stupid shit to make us rage.

This is the third and final part of the 'Los Angeles Trilogy' by NoLove. I hope you've enjoyed it. I will be back with some new material very soon. I also hope to go to Los Angeles someday. Los Angeles, 1977. They say that birth is followed by life, which is followed by death. But the question on NoLove's lips was: 'what follows resurrection?' The answer came to him in a flash. More death. NoLove loaded up his gun, and began firing randomly. Truly, randomly. The first shot hit a building. The second shot hit a cow. It survived. The third shot hit himself, full in the face. He died. And then the sequence from Part Two happened all over again, and he was back to life. 'Looks like I'm gonna be around forever,' said NoLove, in arguably one of the most incredible twists of all-time.

 The Devil sat happily in a chair. He sat in silence, and then he sat some more. Then he decided to sell his own soul...to himself. 'How much do you want for your soul?' he asked himself. 'One thousand dollars,' he replied.  Out of nowhere came one thousand dollars. The devil had sold his soul to himself. THIRTY EIGHT YEARS LATER The mentally ill child sat happily in a chair. He sat in silence, and then he sat some more. Then he decided to sell his tricycle to a kid he knew. 'How much do you want for your tricycle?' the kid asked him. 'One thousand dollars,' the mentally ill child replied.  Out of nowhere came one thousand dollars.  The mentally ill child took the money, and thought to himself. 'I'm sure I remember this happening before.' The new child on the tricycle had a red glint in his eye, as he pedaled away.

 Now this is the story about how My soul got flip-flopped, passed around Now I'd like to take a minute Just sit in my chair I'll tell you how he became the prince of WHAT FRESH HELL? In west Gehenna born and raised On the ninth circle is where I spent most of my days In chilly ice, that's right, it was all cool And chewin' up traitors, 'cuz that's the rules When a man without love  Who was up to no good Started making pasta 'bout my demon-hood There was one sick kid who sold his ride And from then on, well, its a downhill slide He whistled for a kid and when he came near The trike was fresh and had dice in the mirror If anything I can say this trike was funny But he thought 'Aw, what the heck' - 'Yo homes, gimme money!' He pulled out some bills, about 7 or 8 And he yelled to the seller, 'Yo homes, meet your maker!' I sobbed for my realm He was finally there To sit on my throne, with me in utter despair

  Spin.

Spin, spin, spin.

Stop.

The man stopped spinning the toy globe for a second. Then...

Spin, spin spin.

If he stopped spinning, you wouldn't be reading this thread anymore.

[rantingaboutillusions]

yknow, i thought my only household enemy was going to be my father....but now my brother is out to get me? He legit punched and attacked me? Wow. That’s stupendous, hilarious, amazing. And i was just getting into a better mood and felt as if we were getting attatched to him! Hell!!!! i even planned to take him with me when i leave this stupid house. File an injunction, file something so that he goes to me instead of my shitty father. But!!!!! NOPE!!!! PLAN WILL BE DEMOLSHED!! jessus the origin wasn’t even that worthy of starting to throw punches :/ Im acting really chill about this, sure a few tears in my eyes but my body is so stupidly weak it’s pathetic,,,,anyways. It’s been a tense few weeks, my father has been pissed at me and i’ve been trying (and failing) to placate him. Today it was my lil bro’s turn to wash the dishes, and i needed to do mine but i went off to do my homework (Which i was actually doing believe it or not!!) and my brother came and told me to do my dishes. I told him that i’ll do it later. a few minutes later he asked me again, and i told him that “I’ll do it when i can brit” I meant to say bitch but i decided against it. Lil bro didn’t let it slide, so he asked me what i was going to say. I responded with “You know what i was going to say” and he started clucking like a decapitated pigeon and starting listing off his grievances. Of course, i did that “and walk away-ay-ay” approach and started blasting my music to ignore him. he went fucking BALLISTICS!!!!!!!!!! he went over to my side and YANKED off my headphones (it felt like a punch honestly) and i yelled “what the fuck” like any sane person would do. and i “kicked” him (it was pathetic honestly what was i thinking lmaoooo) and we started decking each other lmao. older bro tried to spereate us but honestly he was more in my brother’s side of things, which is fucking stupid but oh well. No sympathy for the devil amirite? honestly, my memory is so stupid that i remember jack shit. But i swear to go it wasn’t my fault AT ALL. Ive told them a bunch of times that it’s MY FUCKING PLATE and it will be MY FUCKING PROBLEM if my father comes and beats my ass. but ha h. comes and attacks me instead....what am i a chew toy? God i’m excited for that one day where I become so powerful that my whole family will be begging for MY HELP. naw bitch. Burn in hell, i’ll buy you a ticket there. Jheeze, and to think that i’ve wanted to grow up to be someone like Peter Parker, a kid who will always see the good in others, no matter how many transgressions. sadly, he is fictionaly, and that’s just a naive thing to think or even strive for. I think i’ll be Tony Stark, with his facade of confidence and arrogance to hide his heart of gold. It’s safer that way, and honestly? My cynical optimist personality has always been present....it’s easy to follow into those footsteps.....and i wont be hurt that badly anymore. I also gotta work out more lmao