#anyways. Bill would actually fucking slay with blue eyes

[fixinit-au]

Another fun potential chapter idea: BODY SWAP!

Because that fuckass rug still exists and I really wanna use it

Who's swapped with who;

Bill –> Ford's body

Ford -> Fiddleford's body

Fidds -> Bill's body (F in the chat)

[ask-the-creepypastas-randomstuff]

A Clowns Desire (Pennywise x Laughing Jack)

It was a warm summer evening.Silence filled  the little town called Derry.Not one single Child played outside,not one single Person was to be seen on the Streets or Pavements .You could drop a Needle and it would be heard through all Streets.

,,What an odd town." Muttered Jack as he was walking through the Streets.He was used to Silence and abandoned places, but this Town was neither abandoned nor really silent.He had been in many different towns and villages,people tend to be more trustworthy in small towns so he had a much easier game here as in large cities. But after 7 pm noone went out of the House, not even grown men, not even Dogs or Cats.

,,The Children play outside when it's daytime...they sing, laugh,dance.Just as normal Brats would do.But after dark their behaviour changes.Do they already know I'm here?" Jack wondered. His system had been quite successful until now.Go to a small town or Village,kill as many Children as possible in a span of 6-12 Months without the Police suspecting a Serialkiller and then move on to the next town to repeat the Cycle.Every 100-150 Years he would change the Continent.He figured out that he wouldn't be so easy to trace that way.Neither by a human nor by something Supernatural,even though he never encountered anything Supernatural other than Jeff,from whom he prefers to stay away.He remembered his way to the USA.During WW1 he managed to befriend a little girl from the upper class. They played together for a while.But ,,Lilly" wouldn't let him gain her trust so easily so it took him longer than usual to play his psychological game with her. Suddenly, after a few weeks of playing together she bursted into her room, crying.Jack calmed her down and she told him that she would move to America,according to her mother it wouldn't be safe anymore in Britain. He took the Chance and convinced her to sneak him in his Box onto the ship. 3 Months he lived with her in her new house in the area around Chicago. He normally killed his Victims after 3 weeks, but this was his way to say ,,Thank you" for the refuge and help he had gotten from Lilly. Since then he,THE Laughing Jack killed in the USA.

Jack chuckled at the thought of Lilly's begging and crying.But soon felt a familiar feeling in his guts. He just HAD to kill again,no time for games.The Urge became stronger and stronger over the past two weeks he had been here. He couldn't take it much longer.But it was of no use,he wasn't even able to get his hands on a Grown up,they were too careful.

As LJ walked down the streets of Derry he looked at the houses he passed.In many Houses wouldn't even burn light.Suddenly he stopped.To his right he could make out a house where the lights were still on.He approached it slowly.before stepping to the window he made himself invisible.He couldn't risk anyone noticing him,this house was his last hope of a nice slay for probably the next hole week.Carefully he listened in hopes of making out noises a potential child could make.

after a few seconds he widened his eyes and started to smile in pure delight.A Boy,probably around the age of 14 seemed to talk to someone on the phone, judging his attitude it was someone of his age range. His Handmovements were Wild and over the top,he practically screamed at the phone he was abusing that sat  on a small desk next to a blue Staircase.

,,No Bill! I'm not coming!"

The boy sounded angered.

,,It's of no use! We should enjoy the Summer vacations!"

Jack had to giggle. ,,Yeah.Yeah you should.The best way of doing so is Camping outside,where I can get you in a blink of an eye." he whispered to himself in a sinister tone.

,,No! ...NO! Not ,,Richie listen!" ,now YOU listen! I've had enough of you and i won't go into this house EVER again! This fucking Clown nearly ate us!"

The Clown? Jack stared in shock at the still screaming boy. He hadn't even killed one single Child! They couldn't possibly mean him.He didn't attack anything! There must be another Killer.LJ thought for a second that it could be Jeff,but they usually  both make sure to not hunt in the Area of the other.Jack gave his word,and so did Jeff.

,,This House is a death trap by itself, the floor nearly cracked and the High grass is a fucking Jungle !I WON'T GO!" and with that he hung up and went to the staircase only to go upstairs and slam a Door.

Jack felt himself filling up with rage.This can't be possible.This was his hunting Area and it would stay his! There can only be ONE! And it would be Jack.THE Laughing Jack!If he had to take his Urge out on the other Clown,then so be it!

Jack turned around and walked in a quick pace to an down the Street.He was pretty sure he knew what house was meant.This old abandoned mansion thing ,the Fence around it was broken and the windows were nailed shut.But that wouldn't stop him.

Good 10 Minutes later he arrived at the door of the building.He took his black greasy claw and pushed very carefully against the door,trying to be as quite as possible.With a loud creak the door opened and revealed an old Entrance hall,covered in rotten leaves and random old stuff in the corners of it.Jack entered the building slowly and shut the door behind him.He could hear soft high pitched squeaks, probably Rats. He moved his Head from left to right,scanning the hall.Suddenly he made out a staircase.His eyes glued to the it he approached the staircase.Resting one hand on the handrail he stared up.his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness he saw nothing up there,at least nothing alive.

,,WE ALL FLOAT DOWN HERE!"

,,THE FUCK?!" Jack jumps around to the direction the voice came from.It sounded like a child,a boy.But much more malicious.He didn't shit his Pants,but it caught him off guard for a second.He admitted that.He felt himself becoming furious over that.He straightened himself and walked self-assured to the direction where the sound came from.He walked across the hall into a small room,at the end of it he saw some kind of old Fountain.

,,Jack!Come down!We want to play with you!"

this time it was a group of kids,chanting the same sentence in the same tone.

,,Oh you little shits,believe me i can't WAIT to play with Every.Single.One.Of you." The Instincts drove him mad,the voices were so near,he could almost feel their bloody spinal column in his Claws.

Suddenly he felt an ominous presence.He instantly turned around and there he stood.His opponent. He had Ginger hair and a weird hairline going only to the middle of his huge Skalp,a dirty greyish-white clownsuit from the 17th Century with matching boots.Instead of buttons he had Orange Pompons on the ,,shirt" and one on each of his boots.His face was pale white just like Jack's but he had two red lines on each side of his face one inch over his eye starting and going down over his cheek all the way to each side of the lipcorners. His eyes were Yellowish orange and completely sinister.To top everything he had a red Nose.Jack was more the ,,Modern version" of this guy.He was entirely black and white with pale silver eyes surrounded in almost light absorbing black. His raven black hair was messy and went all the way down to his shoulders,while his opponents hair seemed to go in unnatural ways up to form a funny intended hairstyle. Jacks clothes looked more like the goth version of workers clothes from the 18th century,only his striped cone nose,his clownish makeup and  his black vintage collar  suggest him being one.

,,You're not Bill..."The ginger clown exclaimed,almost sad.

,,No.I am Jack.Laughing Jack.The one and only." Jack  answered very prideful.

,,I am Pennywise,the d-dancing Clown!" The orange haired Clown said,he shook his head like he had a tick what made the little bells on Pennywise's costume ring.Jack only noticed them now.,,Anyways,this is my hunting area, so leave.NOW.Before you did your last dance Pennywise."LJ didn't even try to talk this out,he actually wanted this to escalate.He haven't had a good fight in a while,and Jeff wasn't around so Pennywise had to be enough for now.,,Your area?I didn't see your Name on it?" Pennywise made sure it sounded rude and provoking.He know that Jack isn't human. ,,Oh look we've got a funny Motherfucker over here!Listen Fuckface,this is my area and i wont say it again.LEAVE!"

,,You like Balloons Jack?"

,,...What?"

Suddenly a Red Balloon levitated right to Jack ,with him just staring confused at it.It stopped Inches infront of his face and suddenly exploded. Pennywise stood  Inches  Infront of him,staring at him with a sinister smile.Jack reacted instantly and Punched Pennywise directly into his face.It was a one hit kill,Pennywise literally flew through the hole room and clashed against the Wall.Black Dots danced infront of his eyes and it took him a second to gain full control back.It was only then that he looked at his feed and realized he hadn't changed his Form. Pennywise couldn't understand it. Usually he would morph into the most feared thing of the Individual and scare it shitless. Pennywise himself couldn't scare him,that hit proved enough. It was only then he realized it...

Fear isn't  something that could be harvested from Jack.

Pennywise couldn't believe it.There HAD to be something! He jumped up and lunged at Jack, he doged the attack elegant and hit Pennywise with his claws right across the face. Pennywise hollered and stumbled back.Jack followed him.Pennywise fell to the Ground.Three big red  marks  started to form right across his face.

,,You did your last Dance Gingerfuck!" With madness glooming out of his eyes,LJ bend over him and lifted his right arm with the Claws almost dangling in the air,ready to strike.Penny took the chance and kicked Jacked with all of his force between the legs.Eyes widened Jack sunk down,moaning.Pennywise jumped up and immediately went on Jack's throat.

,,WHY WON'T YOU FEAR ME?!"

,,WHY WONT YOU FEAR ME?!""

,,AM I NOT REAL ENOUGH FOR YOU?!"

Pennywise screamed into LJ's face while chocking him. Jack tried to get rid of him,but it was of no use.He kept staring at him.Suddenly Pennywise smelled something.He stopped and went close to Jack's face,sniffing him.He smelled like something,but it was no fear.It smelled as good as fear,but it wasn't the same.Pennywise noticed that Jack wasn't trying to push him off in any way.He just stared at him,slowly taking a reddish tint to his face. Pennywise stared back at him in cofusion.It was only then he noticed something.Or rather he noticed that he was sitting on something.Pennywise slided a few inches  back  and looked down.There was a bulge in Jacks pants.Pennywise looked back at Jack whoms face turned tomato red.suddenly Pennywise realized what that smell was.He smelled it a few times now and he knew what that bulge meant.He had seen several Parents from his Victims ,,getting rid" of that bulge in a certain way,the smell went trough the hole house.

What was he supposed to do? he couldn't feed from that feeling. But he had seen that Humans had  a strange liking to it.Maybe it is...fun to get rid of this? Should he try it? Would Jack allow it?It was the very least  he could do after throwing him around the house like a Ragdoll.

Slowly he went back on the bulge,bending his face down to Jack's who just stared at him.

,,Care to explain?" He asked Jack mockingly?

Pennywise could see the hesistation in LJ's face.Just before he could say anything Jack slammed his lips onto Pennywise's ones.Penny was shocked at first but let it happen.Slowly they moved their lip passionately in synchro.Jack set himself up so that Pennywise was sitting on his lap which didn't bother Pennywise.Not in the slightest.

LJ pressed Pennywise onto him and asked with his tounge for entrance,which Pennywise gladly gave.They both fought for dominance for a while.Jack won.The kiss felt like an eternity.Jack lifted Pennywise up and carried him Bridal style to the Mattress that layed next to the Fountain. He layed him down on it and bend over him,almost ripping the clothes off while kissing Pennywise's neck,searching for the sweet spot.After a loud moaning from him Jack knew he had found it,Sucking and biting it while ripping the Pants off.Pennywise lay on the mattress,only in his underpants.He decided it was time for him to gain dominance,so he grabbed Jack by the shoulders and threw him onto the mattress.He stripped LJ's clothes off and and went back to his mouth,their tounges dancing together for awhile.Suddenly Jack touched his chest,caressing it.He slowly went down to his abdomen and down to his underpants,sliding one hand in and fondling the shaft from Pennywise.He broke the Kiss.Pennywise smiled and striped down his under pants.

,,How do we want to do this?" Jack asked Pennywise.

,,Turn around." he ordered. Pennywise had realized that LJ was completely submissive in bed but could surely turn the complete opposite if he wanted to.Jack obeyed.

Pennywise went on his knees and looked at the ass of Jack.

,,Like the sight?" Jack asked? ,,I love it." he answered.Both realized the irony and chanted suddenly together ,,I'm lovin' it!"

Pennywise spit onto his finger and humidified the entrance.Then he placed himself infront of him and slowly entered him.Jack gasped and gripped  the mattress tightly.Pennwise startet to move slowly,Jack started to moan.The room was filled of the sound of skin clapping together. A wave of pleasure started to hit both of them.

After a while Pennywise started to quicken his pace ,gripping onto Jacks hair with one hand and Jacking him off with the other.At this point Jack became a mess.They both started moaning very loudy,Pennywise got rougher and rougher.The hole house was filled with Their sounds.After a while Jack started to feel knot strenghen inside of him.

,,I-I'm gonna cum!" Jack yelled. Pennywise went deeper and faster to really pleasure him.

,,Oh Fuck yes"

Jack started to roll his eyes into the back of his head,moaning really loud.Pennywise kept jacking him off at the same time,Jack finally came right into Pennywises hand.

(Part one)

[bnrobertson1]

Chin Up, Algorithms

Greta Van Fleet is known for three things: (1) Shamelessly sounding like Led Zeppelin, (2) Getting critically shat on for shamelessly sounding like LZ and (3) being the cause of people attacking the music press for, you know, just not getting it, man.* I haven’t had the privilege or desire to meet the band of Detroit teenagers, but I don’t like the thought of these up-and-comers, who so clearly have the world by the tail, being down about the cruel nature of living in the public eye. So, I decided to encourage them the only way I know how: by giving them Pump Up Speech they’ve essentially begged me for **.

*Sample quote: “It’s like an awesome new version of Led Zeppelin and refreshing for people who (like myself) are overloaded with electro-pop and generic rap that is dominating the airwaves and Spotify streams.”

** in my mind

[SETTING: BACKSTAGE @ University of Phoenix Stadium. Although the stadium walls shake with blandly enthusiastic anticipation, the band is depressed after some especially rough reviews. The label has flown me in to get them in a better headspace before they go “shred” with Imagine Dragons in front 100,000 people in the desert. They await my arrival in their green room.]

BONGO DRUMMER (I’m guessing his name is Derrrbb) [flustered]: Well, the label said they’d…

SMASH. Before anyone even realizes the door has been kicked open, Derrrbb’s head gets hit with an unidentified object and caves in like whatever politician you don’t like being questioned by whatever politician you do like.  

All are silent. There is a vacuum in the air that all present notice and appreciate, a calm before the storm heavy with some serious truth debris.

I stand motionlessly, a cricket bat (name: BAM BAM) dangles in my hand like a windchime. Finally, I animate. The next five minutes consist of me smashing any and everything that needs smashing. Vanity mirrors. SMASH. Two Man Harps. SMASH. Curling irons. SMASH SMASH SMASH. To add to the effect, my face is bleached with flour meant to resemble narcotics. Red dye, surprisingly sweet, is also on my face for even further dramatic effect, although it is mixing with the flour, making a fairly delicious combination that is difficult not to lick. I then remember I left all that fake drug crap back in my van, so we’re on the real deal, baby. My eyes start twitching as my pupils dilate. Fucking Great Van Fleet. I was saving all that for Frasier night at mom’s house. Oh well, might as well get this over with. Taking a slightly manic British affectation, I speak.

“Listen. Up. You. FUCKS!!!”

I find the closest “Eastern” instrument and spend close to half an hour tirelessly destroying it with BAM BAM into pieces so infinitesimal that it would be nearly impossible to prove that it ever actually existed. An Imagine Dragons’, let’s say, oboist(?) cries in the background, I tirelessly smash the Sitar out of its misery. Noticing I’m distracted with obliterating instruments, Greta Van Fleet’s lead singer slowly starts to gain some courage, finally speaking “Hey man! Th….”

“SHUTTTTTT ITTTTT,” I politely interrupt, picking up the lead singer, let’s call him Gene, by his VERY COOL  “Indian” apparel, discus throwing him into the sun. I finally take a deep breath. Then another. Then I seethe for fifteen minutes before speaking.

“Perhaps, I should start from scratch. I’m here because your record label paid me enough a volcano-choking amount of dough to fly here and give you boys a pick-me-up because you’ve been down in the dumps with all this negative pWess. You know, a little pep pep. Maybe a pat on the noggin, a drink at me teet. And yep, boys, it’s been brutal. Look what it says here [picking up a stray computer]: ‘derivative,’ [I throw the computer at the regular drummer like a throwing star, it sticking in his head, killing him instantly] “vampiric,” [I just punch some dude for having a pube stache], “totally passionless” [I consider how many pounds of pasta a crazy busy Olive Garden goes through the day].

I continue. “And so what? Did you really get into rock n’ roll to impress critics. CRITICS!?! Some 45-year old cumrag making in a year what you do you do in a day selling your ‘Indigenous Peoples’ Greta Van Fleet Start Pack?’ Do you think for one segment of a second that one of those keyboard warriors wouldn’t change places with you? They’d floss with the bones of their young just to have one person applaud them out loud, much less a 100,000 at one time.

Full name: Indigenous Peoples’ Greta Van Fleet Start Pack* with individually numbered Bansuri

So what do they do? They talk shit on the internet like the true desperados they are. Real John fucking Waynes, this lot. ‘Oh, they’re just some product made by record industry focus group testing?’ Oh really? Well guess what else is- EVERYTHING. But there’s hope: all the stuff you get in return does not know the difference. Let me assure you, gentlemen, breasts and narcotics…” [and this point I disappear for 45 minutes. I return very, very excited to continue our chat].

“YEEEEEAAAAAHHHHHHH. Where was I?!?! Buildings! No. Oh Greta Van Fleet. So yeah like I was saying, your record label didn’t think they were signing the new Lou Reed or the new Daft Punk or fuck even the new Seven Mary fucking Three when they got you to sign on the dotted line. They just have enough data to know people like Led Zeppelin’s sound and to know that you fill that bill quite nicely. Sure, those Steve McQueen-esque critics may call you “derivative” as they take a break from their marathon love-making, but guess what- so is everybody who has ever used the word ‘the.’ Plus, derivative or not, none of you are in your sixties going on about Satanism and asking for stupid amounts of money, so the powers picked you. Plus you didn’t seem to have any pre-existing medical conditions.  But don’t fool yourself: each and every one of you cash registers are just glorified human-shaped SONOS machines. Play these songs, get your paycheck, and then exhaust all of your senses- especially which ever one tells you to ever speak. I LOVE THE LIGHTS!

Anyway, boys, think about this: Your songs have been played billions of times. BILLIONS. Add that all up and that’s more time than the entirety of Mr. “I have a Graduate Degree Yet Make Less than $35,000” Journalist McFuckFace has been on this planet, or any other. Don’t let him sting you with limp-dicked insults, boys. You have won. Look at this [picks up $10,000 guitar]. And this [picks up a huge pile of vaporizers with both hands]. ALL THE VAPES IN THE WORLD! AND THIS! [I open the treasure chest full of jewels that is in the room for some reason. I take a few of the jewels out and starts rubbing them all over my body for, let’s say, 20 minutes.]

[I continue.] Critics get to be “smart,” you get to be “rich and famous,” which is another way of saying you get to be anything you want, except smart, which is overrated. Just ask the chess master who lives in the park next to my 9,600 sq. penthouse suite. He asks for the cheese on the wax paper of my morning bagel I’m usually far too hungover to eat. That’s the type who “know about music.” When you’re thinking about what type of ice sculpture Wedding 9 should have, he’ll be teaching a Community College Class about the “Evils of Capitalism,” and mates, he’ll know that truth as soundly as you won’t remember one fucking fact about him.  

My point, my little gold mines, [I take the bassist’s face in my hands] my beautiful little gold mines [that’s not the bassist. I don’t care]  is that none of this shit matters. We’re just here for a blip, so make it a boom. Who cares if “the right people” respect you? Or if that cute girl with the thick-brimmed glasses who keeps uncracked Pynchon nearby admires your mind? I’ve got bad news for you all: none of you are Thom Yorke. I also have great news: NONE OF YOU ARE THOM YORKE. You’re not doomed to spend your days thinking about the feelings of a vacuum cleaner replacement part or some shit. Embrace your inner hedonism- that is the true spirit of LZ. Not some stolen blues riffs and shark fucking (google it). Let your creativity run wild with how you put things in and out of your bodies. AND BECOME A GOD FOR IT.  

So sorry, people will not be studying your album notes decades from now looking for clues into your genius or how the structure of some ballad is meant to mirror some fucking world ill. And that shouldn’t bother you one bit- worrying about how the future will consider you is for academics and people who think because their current life blows that it will somehow be championed in the future because they didn’t have the gall to do anything in the present. If they’re lucky they’ll get a paper towel made in their honor. If we’re lucky, that paper towel will be produced using child-labor and earth-destroying products. Nothing wipes the shit grin off their “sophisticated” faces quite like hypercriticism, and buddy, we’ll assure you there’ll be plenty of that.  

So people are calling you just a rip-off of Led Zeppelin? Congrats, you’ve hit the gold mine. Now all that’s left to do is shine. Oh, you’re welcome. Now fuck off.”

As I start to leave, one of the band member’s asks a question about “authenticity” and whether I wondered whether aping the musicians who aped other musicians “problematic.” My brain- whose resting speed is somewhere in between a figuring out how to fly and a full blown aneurysm- weaponizes, liquifying all remaining members who are in the room. I take the liquid and make ceremonial “Energy Pendants,” where I put a drop or two in a vaguely “spiritual” rock (I call them ‘crystals’), selling them for $3,500 a piece. I become a millionaire and marry Kate Upton on the moon. Oh, and because I’m so well liked and wealthy, the actual Led Zeppelin plays the reception. They play a 14- minute version of “Kashmir.” It slays.  

THE END