beer can in a brown bag

Items found in Ted’s stolen Volkswagen


The following is a list of items seized from the orange Volkswagen after Ted last arrest in Florida.

Clothing Items :

  • One pair of white athletic socks with blue bands.
  • One pair of navy blue socks.
  • One pair solid white athletic socks.
  • One pair of white athletic socks  with green stripes.
  • One pair white tennis shorts “Court Casuals” size 32, double black stripes.
  • One white tee-shirt “J.C. Penny Towncraft”, size 38-40.
  • One yellow knit pullover shirt  “Hanes”, size Large.
  • Two pair jockey shorts, “Classic Brief”, size 32.
  • One bath towel, one hand towel, one wash cloth, gold, “Burlington House”.
  • One beach towel, one bath towel, one face towel, brown, “Burlington House”.
  • Three pair boxer type shorts, “Hanes”, size 32, blue, green, and yellow.
  • Two pair gym shorts, one red, one blue.
  • One shirt. Shirt is burgundy with gold, green and red stripes, with debris and ripped at the shoulder.
  • One pair of black socks with grey and red bands.
  • One black and navy belt.
  • One pair of brown socks.
  • One pair white athletic socks with blue brand, price $2.35, “Super Sox” by SAI.
  • One pair blue terry-cloth stretch socks.
  • One pair white athletic socks with green toe stripe.
  • Two pair white socks.
  • One pair white athletic socks with green toe stripes and blue top bands.
  • One pair navy blue socks “Burlington Gold Cup”.
  • One pair black socks “Burlington Gold Cup”.
  • One pair brown socks “Burlington Gold Cup”.
  • One pair gray and charcoal socks with with red top bands.
  • One pair navy blue socks.
  • One pair of Levis Panatela sportwear jeans, size 32 x34.
  • One pair faded Levis blue jeans.
  • One pair racket ball gloves.
  • One Sears brand stopwatch.
  • One pair blue jockey shorts size 32.
  • One red nylon down filled vest.
  • One pair of work gloves.
  • One pair ski type gloves.
  • One blue with red and white trim jockey type bathing suit, size 32-34.
  • One multi-color plaid shirt “Norman”, size M.
  • One blue terrycloth bath robe.
  • One brown washcloth “Burlington House”.
  • One pair corduroy cut-off pants.
  • One dark blue shirt.
  • One sky-blue knit pullover shirt.
  • One faded navy « See Bee » shirt.
  • Six pair of jockey type shorts.
  • One blue cotton shirt and one red windbreaker.
  • One brown knot pullover shirt.

Manicure case  :

  • One Gillette disposable razor.
  • One can of Noxzema, shaving cream; one tube Revlon Shampoo, one Right Guard deodorant stick, one bottle Sea & Ski suntan oil, one bottle of Jovan musk oil after shave cologne, one small pair of scissors, one large and one small pair of fingernail clippers, one full pack of Dentyne chewing gum, one small tube of Crest toothpaste, one Gillette  Tract II razor, one packet of five razor blades refills, one Goodie plastic comb, one Pepsodent toothbrush, one metal nail file, one pair eyebrow tweezers, one hair brush, one soap dish with used bar of soap, and one metal mirror.

Various :

  • Part of a Pensacola journal newspaper, dated Tuesday February 14, 1978.
  • One “Velox” bicycle tube repair kit.
  • Three sealed cans of racket balls “Wilson” two balls per can; one racket ball can with one ball “Wilson”.
  • Two bottles of Vitamin C capsules.
  • One bottle of Solotron multi-vitamin and mineral supplement.
  • One bottle of Vitamin E complex supplement.
  • One Exxon Florida road map.
  • One map of Tallahassee and Leon County.
  • One Polaroid Land Camera Supershooter Plus with carrying case, camera literature, and flash cubes.
  • One Ken-Tech digital clock AM/FM radio.
  • One bottle of Sudden-Tan bronzing lotion “Coppertone”, appears new.
  • One box of tobacco “Rum Cake” from Smokers’ World.
  • Five books : “Navigation the Easy Way” by Carl D. Lane & John Montgomery, “This is Sailing” by Richard Creagh-Osborn, “Let’s Get Well” by Adelle Davis, “Modern Marine Maintenance” by John Duffett, “Piloting, Seamanship and Small Boat Handling” by Chapman.
  • One magazine, Cruising World, Sailboat Manual.
  • Thirteen Heineken beer coasters.
  • One « National » radio and cassette player.
  • One Panasonic AM/FM radio.
  • One Panasonic LTD portable black and white television.
  • One grocery bag containing five cans Chicken of the Sea tuna, one 16 oz., can of Oceanspray Cranberry sauce, six cans Underwood sardines and two cans of Spirt of Norway sardines.
  • Two pipes, one pipe accessory kit, one Colibri gas cigarette lighter, one leather tobacco pouch with tobacco.
  • White and brown wrapping paper.
  • One sheet of imprinted letters.
  • Four « Megaphone » magazines.
  • One blue nylon tote bag.
  • One blue and orange sleeping bag.
  • One paper bag and one champagne bottle.
  • One pair of white shorts, half piece of chewing gum and white wrapping paper that items are wrapped in.
  • One jack and one screwdriver.
  • One note, one piece of paper, one match box.
  • One Underwood Letters 33 manual typewriter with carrying case.
Imagine teasing Deadpool.

You look up at your apartment building and immediately see the loud mouth merc sitting at the top of the building, feet dangling over the edge.  Rolling your eyes, you head into the building and up the flight of stairs to your apartment carrying a brown take out bag. You walk inside and grab two beers from the frig, head straight out the window and up the fire escape.

Reaching the top of the stairs, you hop onto the roof and see Mr. Deadpool himself.

“Yo, Wade!” You call out as you come up behind him.

“Hey hot stuff. Fancy meeting you here.” You can hear the smile underneath his mask.

“Yeah, strange meeting you up here. Not like I don’t live in this building, dumb ass.”

Wade laughs, patting the spot next to him. Luckily, you were not afraid of heights, so you take a seat next to him on the wide ledge.

“I got beers and food,” you pass a beer to Wade.

“Tell me those are tacos in that bag.” He reaches for the bag, but you quickly move it out of his reach.

“I’m only giving you five this time, jerk.” You warn.

“Stop teasing, you’re giving me a major boner.”

You peer at his crotch, squinting, “Nothing major about that.”

“Ouch, you hurt me. But it’s true.”

You laugh and hand over the tacos to Wade.

“You are too good to me,” He lifts his mask just under his nose.

“You’re telling me, Wade.” You tease not paying much attention to the scarred skin that was showing. It didn’t really faze you much, but you hadn’t seen his whole face yet. Sipping from your beer, you devour a taco in two bites.

“Damn, you swallow fast!” Wade exclaims, stuffing a taco in his own mouth.

“Show me your face and I’ll show you my swallowing skills.” You nod to his mask.

The voices in Wade’s head yell at him to do it, because it had been awhile since anyone, but himself had touched his dick.

“Deal.” Is all he says as he pulls his mask off. You set the taco in your hand down and give Wade’s face a once over. His scarred skin didn’t really gain a reaction from you, instead you blink once and shrug.

“Eh, I’ve dated uglier dudes.”

Wade’s brown eyes actually softens as he set his mask down and takes a sip from his beer, smiling to himself.

“I showed you mine, now show me yours.” Wade smirks up from his beer.

“Okay.” You swing a leg to straddle the ledge and face Wade looking deep into his eyes. He wiggles in his spot turning to face you, waiting for you to make a move. So you open your mouth and move your head down toward his crotch. And when Wade becomes visibly excited, you reach down for the taco next to you, stuffing it whole in your mouth. Quickly you chew and swallow it, beaming with laughter.

Wade grins widely, “Oh, you fucken tease! I’m touching myself tonight!”

Lunch Room Sobriety Test

So in my freshman year, I was in lunch, sitting with a majority of my friends, who were, at that time, guys. One had a bottle of root beer, and his brown paper lunch bag. You can probably see where this is going. Another convinced him to put the bottle in the paper bag and drink from it as a joke.
We have a very popular counselor, he likes to joke a lot. He, of course, saw this, marched over, and demanded and explanation. He snatched the bottle/bag combo and sniffed it. He obviously knew that it wasn’t alcohol, but the kid was shaking from fear as we all were choking back laughs. He made him get up and go to the front of the lunch room, where he made an announcement and made the kid do an impromptu sobriety test.
He never brought root beer to school again ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Meatballs

PART 2

a/n: This is a quick idea I had and needed to get out of my system, there will be a second part so dont worry too much

@beautifulramblingbrains @frecklefaceb @feminamortem @anditcametopass @dauntlessmetalmom @pathybo @mimigemrose @ag-delights @abfoster1s @sparklemichele @murmelinchen @jojuarez26 @purple-puddin @audreyfulquard @sharknadoslut [if you wanna be on the list hmu]

Warnings: Just Boomer getting a little too handsy, basically he goes to a dinner party and flirts with Luce, a girl he probably shouldn’t be flirting with…

Digger “Captain Boomerang” Harkness X OFC // Suicide Squad

word count: 2,163

1. The Party

“Finally,” Anita sighed as Luce pushed through the screen door, her arms full with a bag of groceries.

“I bought all the spaghetti they had at the store,” Luce stated as she set the shopping bag on the table. She reached into the brown paper, pulling out a large can of Guinness and crossed to the living room, handing it off to her uncle who occupied the recliner in the corner, his old hound dog curled up at his feet. He was a bitter old man but the one thing that made him smile without fail, was a cold beer.

“You’re a God send,” he stated, cracking the seal and taking a drink.

“No problem, Manny,” Luce replied with a smile. Though she referred to the man as her uncle they were not technically related. “Guess who I ran into on the way back,” she began, returning to the kitchen to empty the rest of the shopping bag’s contents.

“Big Foot,” Her sister-in-law replied. It was obvious by Anita’s tone that she had no patience for Luce, preoccupied with slicing tomatoes.

“Remember last week, Eddie was talking about meeting that guy from Australia at the bar?” Luce leaned against the counter as she spoke, “I met them on my way home.”

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[Nurseydex] A Market for Lemons

Summary: Chris Chow knew all along. (Or, what to do when your friends are in love with each other: a two-year guide by Chowder.)

[Full Work on AO3]

Excerpt

At the start of spring semester, the freshmen of Samwell Men’s Hockey team were ordered to conduct a coordinated attack on the LAX bro house. Chris, Nursey, and Dex were assigned the actual break-in, while their luckier teammates did surveillance. When Dex asked if this was hazing, he was met with cryptic smiles and Lardo’s flat “This is the least of it, son.”

In the middle of a chilly winter afternoon, the three of them hid by an untrimmed bush in the LAX house backyard, among crushed beer cans and slimy-looking brown bags, until one member of the recon team texted to confirm the last LAX bro had exited the yard. They slid the kitchen window open slowly and dove in, Mission Impossible-style. Nursey located the mission object in the living room: the First Puck, a tough, scratched hockey puck said to have won the SMH’s first NCAA championship some thirty years back, but in the present decade was best suited to for breaking open clam shells or dashing open windshields. It sat in a cleared-out circle of empty vodka handles and red solo cups, atop an old cassette player like a crown upon its dais.

“All this effort for some old puck,” Dex said, as Nursey walked into the room. “I bet Shitty made all of it up.”

“Don’t be so cynical, Poindexter,” Nursey said, as he squatted down to inspect the thing. “Traditions like this are what makes a team a team.”

“I think it’s pretty cool,” Chris ventured.

“See? C thinks it’s chill,” Nursey said, tilting his head another way quizzically.

Dex grinned. “Chowder, you’re too impressed by everything Samwell-related.”

“That’s true too,” Nursey said, chuckling.

“Well, a lot of things about Samwell are cool!” Chris protested.

Dex laughed and looked ready to say more as Nursey reached for the puck. Then several things happened at once:

  1. Chris’s phone pinged with a text: lol oops sorry a lax bro is back are you guys still in there?
  2. The front door opened.
  3. Nursey plucked the puck off the table, and all around them, sirens wailed.

The LAX bro at the foyer, who had been texting on his phone, looked up.

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[The Kids Are Alright]

Prologue •

A/N: I couldn’t help myself, I got on board the Jackie x Hyde ship and can’t seem to get off it. I’ve had this idea sitting in my head for weeks - I am writing for a different fandom so I am definitely nervous to post >.< This story is a fix-it for Season 8 (WHICH SUCKED SO MUCH I’M STILL NOT OVER IT) and takes place towards the end of 1979 and into the 80s. There are a few events from Season 8 that are tied into the early chapters of the story. The prologue is set five months after the first chapter begins, but hopefully you’ll stick around to see how it all comes together in the end :) 

|| Masterlist || 

Originally posted by xoxoluyaxoxo

•••

January 1, 1980 - Point Place, Wisconsin - Foreman’s Basement - 10:50 A.M. 

Steven Hyde watched as his room slowly spun around him, the images of his Led Zeppelin and Grateful Dead posters blurred into one another creating an abstract picture. Stuck between this dreamy trance and reality, Steven felt his entire body ache showing him exactly what the celebration of the New Year did to his physical state. 

As he gradually sat upright, his throbbing head sent shooting pains down his back and stirred the nausea in his stomach. He rubbed his tired eyes with his hand, before patting down his messy sheets to look for his glasses. 

Where the hell did I put ‘em? 

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To Create

Author’s Note: I originally posted this three years ago on AO3, but seeing as how we got a tiny glimpse of Cophine and a baby, I figured I’d repost it here for those interested ;)




“So… boy or girl?”

From the second they’d walked in the door, Alison had been all over them, taking their bags and coats and hanging them in the closet. She damn near dragged the dreadlocked woman over to the couch in the living room as the blonde followed closely behind, trying her hardest to contain her laughter. Her smirk was met by a death glare from behind cat-eyed frames.

“We’re not really sure,” Cosima replies, trying to hide her discomfort as Alison buzzes around her, fluffing pillows and pulling the footrest closer so that short legs can reach it.

“We decided that we want to wait,” Delphine chimes in, taking a seat next to Cosima on the couch.

“Oh, that’s so exciting! I don’t know if I’d have the restraint. I’d want to know right away, so I could start decorating the nursery,” Alison replies. “How about you? Have you started buying things for the baby?”

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Who Said Being Nerdy Was a Bad Thing?

Kara watched excitedly through the peephole of the front door as the UPS delivery man walked up the driveway. Just as he raised his hand to knock, she flung open the door. “Hi, package for Kara Danvers? That’s me. Where do I sign?”

The middle aged man watched her for a second and then chuckled. “I’m going to take a wild guess and say that you ordered A Loss For Words.” He said with a bright smile.

“Yeah. Wait, how did you know?”

“My daughter had the same reaction when I brought her copy home.”

Kara grinned. “It is supposed to be like the new Fault in Our Stars.”

“So I’ve heard.” The man handed over the small package. “Have a nice day Ms. Danvers.” He said as he turned to walk back to his truck.

“You too. I hope your daughter likes the book.” Kara waited until he was halfway up the driveway before closing the door and sprinting up the stairs.

“Alex, it came!” She shouted as she opened the door to Alex’s bedroom.

Alex and Maggie looked up from the the blueprints that were laid out in front of them on Alex’s floor. “Good, I was worried that it wouldn’t get here before we left for St. Louis. Now you’ll have something to do at lunch while we are gone.”

Kara nodded enthusiastically and took another step into the room. “How’s it going in here?”

Maggie pushed herself up off of her stomach and into a sitting position. “It’s taking forever but I think that we have just about noted all of the final adjustments that we need to make on our robot when we get to the competition.”

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I take a very long walk.

-I find a dead robin in a black goo phase of decay. I dig a small hole on the spot and bury it.
-I find a sunbleached spine of a roadkill possum. I bag it.
-I find another possum, this one is a pancake. The bones have been run into dust, I take the one remaining canine.
-There are three vultures circling further ahead in a field, I follow them - there is nothing there. They move on and so do I.
-I find a bunch of Grizzlies snuff tin cans…I bag them because I am weak for bears.
-Lots of beer cans, I bag those too - gimme my 40 cents a pound~
-I find a water-filled ditch with a rotting armadillo in it. It is mostly clean…just gooey…I bag the head, as the other bones have been washed away.
-The vultures are back, they circle me curiously, likely drawn by the smell of the rotting armadillo. They move on ahead and disappear.
-I follow a trail of aluminum cans to a wooded area with a small creek, there is some sort of partial canine or feline skeleton in the creek bed, fully nature cleaned. It had brown fur, I bag the skeleton, I do not find the skull.
-Near by is  bunch of possum verts…I bag them too.
-Dead possum, Gross phase of rot where the fur falls out when you touch it. I leave it there. I will return for the bones later.
-*Ape noises as I spy nature cleaned squirrel skull under some leaves*
-There is a random trail in the middle of the woods that does not connect to the road or to a house….I wander into the woods to follow it, hoping it is a hunters dumping site. It leads to a leaf cluttered clearing that is void of any noise except the danger bark of a squirrel…I promptly leave.
-I stop at some strangers house for water….It smells and tastes like rasberries…10/10 water.
-The vultures have returned, they circle a field, one breaks off and lands in a tree in front of me. It leaps to a tree further into the woods, then back to me. I follow it curiously.
-Thorns! Thorns everywhere! I am beginning to suspect this vultures motive was to make me bleed to death so it could eat me….
-It leads me to a junk pile of concrete and car engine parts. Nearby is a freshly dead armadillo, there is a hole in its neck and it’s rear where the vultures ate from it….It seems to have been shot… There is a green long sleeve shirt right next to it.
The shirt says “Just Do it!”
The shirt fits me perfectly…

Secrets (Sam Winchester x Reader) One shot

Originally posted by sparkly-sam

Originally posted by outburstofabrokensoul

Summary: The reader is a controlled werewolf and Sam has a secret crush until the reader finds his hunting journal. Flufffffff

Word Count: 1,754

Warnings: None!

Notes: This is one of the fics for my giveaway! Be sure to read and like, and it will put you in the running for Supernatural prizes!

The pads of your feet hit the dirt like a hammer hitting a nail. The cold air filled your lungs and it only sent you spiraling further into the woods. Branches and leaves cracked beneath your feet, and the fur on your back stood up at attention. You were a werewolf, and had been one since you were twelve. Your father, a hunter, managed to protect you for years after your mother was killed by the one that bit you. But he was long since dead, and the only people that had your back now were the Winchester brothers. You had never attacked another human before, and you could control your other side, but you always had these wannabe or newbie hunters trying to kill you. Sam and Dean has spared you and vowed to never let anyone harm you after you saved them from another pack of werewolves. Tonight was a full moon. And every full moon for the last three years, the Winchester’s would take you to a section of woods where they could be nearby and let you stretch your primal legs. You caught the scent of a rabbit, and you went in to over drive. A clean leap over a log and you had the small animal in your jaws. You never killed them, just caught them to stay in shape. You let the little fella go, then let out a throaty howl, heading back for the brothers.

Sam watched her along the tree line. Dean was sitting on Baby’s hood, when he looked at his watch. “When do you think she’ll be done,” he said impatiently. Sam rolled his eyes. He seemed to be the only one other than (Y/n) needed to stretch. This was keeping her in tune and God help them if she didn’t. She was a large silver wolf that had a white patch behind her ear, just like in her human hair. Sam thought she was beautiful, as wolf and as a woman. But he would never tell her that, he was too afraid he would scare her off. He just wanted to, at the very least, know she was safe. Her human form was small in stature but curvy. Her wolf form was more intimidating than any werewolf they had the misfortune to run across. Dean stood up as he heard the howl in the woods. She made Dean uneasy, but he still loved her like a sister. “She’s just gave us fair warning,” said Sam moving slowly and watching the tree line, “Watch the trees.” Dean was on guard. She helped train the boys, her sneaking ability was like nothing they had ever seen. Sam turned quickly at the slightest crack of brush. She was watching them.

Slowly, you kept your eyes on Sam. Low and slow, you arched your back slightly. A tiny growl slipped through and you mentally cursed yourself. Without hesitation you jumped on him, pinning him to the ground. Mid air, you changed back and landed on him with a thump. “More human than the human,” you giggle, “Soft little human.” Sam laughed in between gasps for air, “Whatever Clifford. You good, ready to go? Dean and I got called for a case.” You nodded. It was dark enough, no one could see your exposed body and Sam’s hands were resting on your lower back. One of the only set backs, no clothing. Sam always blushed when you went back to human form, it was cute. Dean threw you a blanket and you stood, “yeah. I have to clean the bunker and take a shower anyway.” You piled into Baby and Dean shut your door, “You want me to roll the window down so you can hold your head out?” Dean chuckled as he walked to the driver side. “Next time I’m going to pummeled you instead bitch.” Sam laughed and Dean winked, “You can try.”

You put down a brown paper sack in front of both guys as they headed for the door with their duffle bag. “Road snack tailored to your needs gentlemen,” you threw Sam’s Stanford hoodie on as sat down in a war room chair. You kicked your feet up and took a swig of your beer. Dean opened his bag, “Yessss. Meat snacks and half a container of pie.” You winked at him and tipped your bottle, “Beer in the back of Baby. Be careful.” He kissed your forehead, “Call us if you need us.” Sam came over to the table and grabbed your bare big toe playfully, then opened his bag. A multivitamin water, granola, banana, and some assorted sweets. Then you always wrote small quotes on a piece of paper for Sam. Always positive. “Thanks,” he said with a warm smile. You both sat looking at each other for a moment until Dean cleared his throat and you looked away sheepishly. “Well um,” Sam said scratching the back of his neck, “If you need me, us, call. And remember, if they come for you, run. Same procedure as always.” You stood and kissed Sam’s cheek. “I got this,” you say, “Be safe.” You wish you could have said more, but at the risk of being shot down, you headed for the laundry room. Sam shook his head at his statement, “Same procedure as always. What an idiot.”

You began to put laundry away. Thinking back to before the boys left, your thoughts drifted to Sam’s big puppy dog eyes and sweet smile. You had tried to fight it for so long, but you were in love with him. But he had a horrible history with women and plus, you were part monster. It made your heart ache but what could you do. You turned on your record player and began to listen to T.Rex’s “Metal Guru” as you headed to Sam’s room to put his shirts away. You opened the door and his scent filled your nose and grabbed your senses. Damn your wolf nose. He made your knees weak and your heart pound just by his scent.  Over by his dresser, he had forgotten his hunter’s journal. He hardly ever left it behind. Setting the laundry basket down, you grabbed the journal and brought it over to the bed. You laid down on the bed and opened the journal. At most, you figured you’d learn a few things and worst, you’d learn Sam or Dean’s relationship history. There were pictures, drawings, everything. Sam had detailed his journal just like John’s which they permitted you to read one night when you asked about him. You flipped through the pages, when you saw a drawing. You knew a werewolf bite when you saw one. You began to read and you couldn’t believe what you saw. It was dated back quite some time ago.

“We hunted with (Y/n) tonight for the fifth time and this time, we permitted her to use her werewolf form. It was fascinating and completely terrifying at the same time. She snapped the vampire’s neck with one sharp bite. She is like a steel grey shadow. Even though werewolf (Y/n) is sometimes intimidating, I cant help be drawn to her. I wouldn’t ever wish upon her what happened to Jess or Ruby. But, this pain in my chest gets worse every night I see a man smile at her at the bar.
I could never tell her. And even if I did, there is no way someone as unique and beautiful as (Y/n) would want me. I watch her run as a werewolf, fast and deadly, then I see her at home. A crazy, sweet human. Can you believe I accidentally walked in on her dancing in her underwear one night to one of Dean’s old records? Her human form is…it makes my heart stutter. We need her, I need her. And I will not fail in protecting her.”

Sam opened the bunker door three days later and all was quiet. “Hello,” he yelled as Dean came in behind him, “Wonder were (Y/n) is?” Dean shook his head, “Probably still sleeping from a long night of sexual escapades.” Sam’s stomach churned at the thought of someone touching her. “Calm down,” Dean said seeing his brother’s concerned look, “She is probably in her room with her headphones on or something.” Dean went straight for his room because he had his fill of the day and booze was on his mind. Sam walked down the hallway and opened his door. His heart almost burst seeing (Y/n) asleep in his bed. It wasn’t the first time she had slept in his bed, but she was laying curled up with one smooth leg hanging out of the blankets. She was in dangerously short black shorts and another one of his shirts. He opened the door slowly and set his duffle on the floor. (Y/n) shifted and began to mumble. Sam sat down on the side of the bed, moving her hair from her face. “Dean it’s not that simple,” she mumbled. Sam frowned, she was dreaming about his brother. “Sam cant love me,” she whimpered, “I’m a monster.” He was in shock. How could she….he then saw his journal had been moved. Smiling he slowly laid down next to her, foreheads touching, “I’ve always loved you.” She shifted slightly and her eyes fluttered open, “How was it?” (Y/n)’s voice was sultry and sleepy. Sam grinned, “Um. Good. We got the demon.” She cracked a grin. “Good job,” she said yawning, “Ill go to my bed. Night Sam.” As she rose to get up, Sam put his hand on her arm, “Stay. Please.” (Y/n) cocked an eyebrow, “Are you sure?” He nodded. “Yeah,” he said settling in the bed, “Please. I, I just wanted to tell you…” She grabbed his face and kissed him deeply. He pulled her closer and they finally came up for air. “That,” she said slowly, “Was way better than I imagined.” Sam’s eyes widened, “So you…” She sat up slightly, her hair falling around her face, “Sam. Even monsters can love.” Sam sat up straight. “(Y/n),” he said smiling, “You’ve never been a monster to me. What happened to you, you’ve controlled it. You’ve over come so much. I had a problem with demon blood. I was a monster too. I’ve just always saw you as, well, beautiful. Inside and out.” She grinned, “Well then Sam Winchester.” (Y/n) winked at him and drug him back under the covers, “Let me show you what kind of monster I really am.” Sam grabbed her and brought her closer, “I love you (Y/n).” She pressed her forehead to his, “I love you too Sam.”

You Belong To Me

Summary: Crowley x Reader - The reader has to act like bait on a case and ends up running into Crowley, months after having run out on him after a one night stand

Triggers: Possessiveness I guess?? 

Word Count: 4381

Y/N = Your name  Y/H/C = Your hair colour

—-

“So… That’s why I’d say our best hope is for you to play the bait on this one (Y/N),” Dean said, finishing his explanation of the case he’d thrown your way the moment you entered their motel room that morning. Which was, you noted, much bigger than yours. The lady at the check-in counter had been playing favourites when she assigned you your rooms. “Basically, you play both the stick and the carrot, he’s the ass and we’re the final destination,” he summed up, Eyeing you warily over the cup of coffee Sam had just placed in his hand, his tense shoulders seemed to be anticipating the verbal onslaught he was sure you’d give him.

“That makes sense,” You said without batting an eyelid. Most girls would’ve probably refused to take on the role you were asked to play in the hunt, but you were a soldier, you knew that the way with the least possible casualties was the best route to take. Plus, Dean’s plan was pretty much foolproof as long as the asshole fell for the bait. You would engage your target and try to get him to follow you back to the motel room where the guys would be waiting with some TLC of their own. You knew, after weeks of tailing the greasy bastard, that he was more or less quiet in between kills. And he loved women. So as Dean’s eyes widened from your readiness to take on the dangerous role of the bait in his plan you crossed your arms over your torso.

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Excerpts From Unfinished Novels #11: Winter Blossoms

Genre: fantasy/supernatural, slice-of-life, romance

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2,717

Summary: University is a place where young adults come to learn and grow. For Posey, it’s also a chance for her to learn to truly master her powers, as well as a chance to meet other children of deities.


Excerpt is from the first third of the novel

Posey stepped into the bar, steeling herself against the nerves that were threatening to overwhelm her. This was so much more nerve-wracking than when she’d started her lessons with Professor Morris; zie was better than her, a master of zir powers, so she had been fine with zir judging and criticising her abilities because that’s what it was going to take for her to get better. The members of the society though, they were her peers, also learning and growing into their powers. What if she lost control in front of them? What if she filled the bar with trees? What if they laughed at her?

Someone jostled her shoulder and Posey came to with a start, realising that she was stood frozen in the middle of the bar. She took a few steps forward and suddenly hesitated, biting her lip as she weighed up the pros and cons of joining the society verses just turning away and heading home. In the end it was her curiosity about the other members that propelled her forwards and she trudged to the room at the back of the bar, her heartbeat speeding up with every step. She hesitated once more once as she reached the door, standing there for a moment, her hand on the door knob.

Last chance to turn back.

Posey took a deep breath, turned the knob, and opened the door.

She was greeted by the sight of a small, cosy room filled with an assortment of couches and worn, comfortable-looking armchairs, all surrounding a large coffee table. A pool table stood off to one side, and a fire blazed merrily in its place opposite the door. As Posey opened the door the occupants of the room all turned to look at her. There were seven in total; a man and woman, both with dark olive skin were standing by the pool table, cues in hand, and the other five were sitting on the couches and chairs, drinks in hand. Posey swallowed hard and took a step into the room, plastering what she hoped was a friendly smile on her face as she sent them all a small wave.

“I told you there’d be one more coming,” the woman at the pool table said to the rest of the room, and then walked towards Posey, hand extended. “Hi, I’m Megan. My dad’s a shapeshifting god who rules his own fifth dimension world.”

Posey gaped at her frank introduction before she quickly took hold of the other woman’s hand, shaking it as she stammered out, “H-hi, I’m Posey. Uh, my mother’s a nature goddess? Wait, that’s not a question; she is a nature goddess.”

“Wow that’s so cool,” the man at the pool table said wistfully. “Your powers must be amazing.”

“Not really,” Posey grimaced. “Trees tend to make unexpected appearances whenever I’m anxious…or whenever I sneeze,” she muttered, embarrassed.

“Ha, that’s nothing!” one of the people from the people from the couch scoffed. “At least you don’t set trees on fire when you get angry.”

“Fire?” Posey asked, frowning, turning to look at the person.

They had pale skin and long black hair, and they regarded Posey coolly with narrowed blue eyes as they spoke. “Yeah, fire. I’m Addison; my mother’s a goddess of fire and lightening. They/them pronouns please. And I’m queer,” they added as an afterthought.

“Nice to meet you,” Posey replied with a smile. “I’m gay by the way, and female.”

“Me too,” Megan said, then added quickly, “the female part, not the gay. I’m demisexual and homoromantic.”

“I’m Craig,” the man said, laying his cue on the pool table. “Male and pansexual. My dad’s a god of war, and I’m a pacifist.”

“Wow, I bet he loves that.”

“At least your dad sort of accepts who you are – to an extent,” Megan said to Craig who shot her a look. “My dad still deadnames me and sends beasts for me to slay in an attempt to get me to perform a ‘slaughter of glory’ so I can join him in his knock-off Valhalla or whatever.”

Posey stared at them wide-eyed, feeling uncomfortable and unsure of what to say.

“Jesus lads, would you give the poor girl a chance to grab a drink and sit down before you dump your parental issues on her,” a man on the couch said with a laugh in a thick Irish accent.

He had dark brown skin, brown eyes, he’d grown his hair out into a beautiful afro, and he flashed her a gorgeously cheeky smile. If she wasn’t so unbelievably gay Posey knew she’d fall instantly in love with him.

“Come over here and sit down,” he said, waving her over. “What are you drinking?”

“Whatever’s on offer,” Posey replied with a grin as she took a seat on a chair across from him.

“Beer it is then.” He pulled a can out of a bag by his feet and handed it over to him. “I’m Jack by the way; I’m a black, Irish, transman, and I’m the token straight of the group. Also my mother is a goddess of the underworld.”

“Nice to meet you Jack.” Posey saluted him with her opened can and then took a swig, relishing the taste of cold beer as she swallowed.

“Are you sure you’re completely gay?”

“Definitely; the one and only time I tried to sleep with a guy I had an anxiety attack and nearly destroyed my bedroom,” Posey told him with a rueful grin.

“Wow,” a woman beside Jack said, eyes wide and slightly amused. “That must have been pretty intense. I’m Rachel by the way,” she said, sticking a hand out. “Female, bisexual, my father is a god of the ocean, and I’m terrified of water thanks to him.”

Posey’s eyes flickered over Rachel’s light brown face, taking in her dark blue eyes, multitude of freckles, curly brown hair and full lips that were twisted into a wry smile, and felt her heart flutter in response. She was gorgeous.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Wow, you guys are all really honest,” Posey said, frowning at the people around them.

Jack laughed and said, “We all know everything about each other, and this group is basically an excuse to get pissed and bitch about our parents so it’s easiest if we get newcomers up to speed fast. If you’d turned up on time you would have gotten the full and probably more sensible introduction with Oliver here.” He gestured to the person sitting on the chair next to Posey.

Oliver turned to her, tilted a glass of red wine in her direction, smiled and said, “Hi; Oliver, genderfluid, born in Japan though I grew up here in Ireland, and I’m asexual. Today’s a he/him day by the way.”

He grinned, his dark brown eyes sparkling mirthfully, and Posey grinned in reply.

“What about your parent?” Posey asked. “What’s your issue with them?”

“My dad’s fine.” Oliver shrugged. “The problem is that he’s one of these enlightened gods, you know, all about being an ethereal being of light, and it’s not like I don’t want to be one, but I’m like, God I’m so attached to my material possessions.”

“He’s a shopaholic,” the last member of the group, a woman, who was sitting on the couch beside Jack, explained. “Can’t achieve enlightenment when you can’t stop buying boots.”

“They’re just so pretty!” Oliver whined, throwing his feet up to show off the multi-textured purple boots on his feet.

“Oh my god are those Irregular Choice?” Posey all but screeched as she reached out to stroke them reverently.

“Yes! Finally someone with good taste in shoes!” Oliver cried out happily, wiggling his feet excitedly.

“Please don’t get him started,” the woman groaned. “We’ve already had to listen to a twenty-minute ode to those boots.”

“Sorry.” Oliver grinned and put his feet down, while he and Posey shared a rueful look. “This is Harriet by the way,” he added, gesturing to the woman, who saluted Posey with her own glass of red wine. She was nearly as pale as Addison, with bright green eyes and fiery red hair styled in a sleek pixie cut.

“Hi,” Harriet said. “My father’s a god of love and I’m aromantic and bisexual. Needless to say he and I don’t meet all that often.”

“Why does he have such a problem with it?” Posey asked with a frown. “It’s not your fault you are who you are.”

Harriet laughed and said, “It’s not like that. We talk a lot on the phone and through email. He just can’t be around me; he’s specifically a god of romantic love and being around aromantics messes with his aura or something like that. I don’t really understand it, only that whenever we’ve met he’s always ended up getting the biggest migraine. He’s sweet though, always visits me on my birthday even though he knows what will happen.”

Posey smiled and nodded, then took a sip of her beer. Megan and Craig had drifted over to the couches and were curled up on a love seat together.

“So Posey, how are you enjoying university life so far?” Rachel asked, her gaze focused solely on Posey.

Posey swallowed thickly as the other woman’s eyes met hers and she felt her face heating up as she replied, “It’s good. I’m studying physics and maths which are great, and I’ve started my lessons with Professor Morris which are really interesting.”

“Oh you’ve got Morris?” Craig asked with a strange grin. “How are you finding zir?”

“Zie’s amazing; so patient and good at explaining everything,” Posey gushed. “I’ve made so much progress with zir. I haven’t had a tree sprout up around me in weeks.”

Craig snorted derisively and Posey frowned and was about to ask him what was going on when Addison said, “Don’t be surprised if you hit a block and end up losing control in a few months.”

“Wow Addison, way to be a buzzkill,” Jack said, rolling his eyes.

“What? It happened to all of us; I’m making sure she’s prepared for when it happens to her,” Addison protested.

“Maybe it won’t happen to me?”

“Trust me; it will happen,” Addison told her flatly.

“Addison’s being dramatic,” Megan said. “Yes we all hit a block after a few months, but none of us ‘lost control.’”

“You smashed a hole in a wall – a brick wall,” Addison pointed out. “And you,” they said, pointing at Jack, “summoned a guard dog from your mother’s underworld and couldn’t get rid of it for nearly a month. We couldn’t see it, but we could smell it,” they told Posey, their nose wrinkling in disgust. “It stank; we had to ban him from the meetings until he got rid of it.”

“Okay okay, we all hit a block after a few months,” Rachel said. “Some of it wasn’t that bad. I made it rain wherever I went, which is totally normal for Ireland so there was no issue, and Craig had to intervene in some minor scuffles that broke out around him. It’s not always that bad.”

Posey took a shaky breath and attempted to smile. “So maybe I’ll just have saplings rather than fully-grown oaks springing up around me,” she said, her voice trembling just slightly.

“How about we stop talking about powers and losing control and focus instead on showing Posey and Jack that this is actually a fun society to join so they’ll come back next week?” Harriet said loudly and firmly.

“Here here,” Oliver said in agreement, raising his glass.

Posey flashed Harriet a grateful smile while the rest of the group mumbled and made noises of agreement.

The conversation turned to other, more mundane topics; complaining about lectures and assignments, gossip about other students, and the latest films and music released. The drinks and conversation flowed freely, and Posey found herself growing loose-limbed and relaxed, happy to have found such a group of people who could relate to what she was going through. As the night progressed the group broke into smaller pairs and groups of threes, and Posey found herself sandwiched between Oliver and Rachel on a loveseat; Rachel practically on her lap, an arm around her shoulder so they could all fit on the seat. Posey felt a hot rush of arousal run through her belly every time Rachel leaned down to speak into her ear; it intensified when her hand started idly playing with her dreadlocks.

“Is this okay?” Rachel murmured in her ear as she gently tugged on one of her dreadlocks. “I’m sorry, I should have asked before I started playing with your hair.”

“No it’s fine,” Posey replied breathily, and then somehow managed to gather her wits as she smirked and added, “As long as it’s not coming from an ‘I’ve never touched a black person’s hair before, and this might be my only chance’ place.”

Rachel laughed and leaned in so her lips were right by Posey’s ear and her chest was pressed firmly against Posey’s arm. “Definitely not. This is coming from a ‘you’re beautiful and I’m attempting to flirt with you in the hopes that I can take you home tonight’ place.”

Posey sucked in a surprised breath, nearly chocking, and she felt a flush start in her face and travel down her neck and chest.

Rachel laughed softly, not moving away. “I hope that’s okay. You didn’t say you were in a relationship so I’d hopefully assumed…”

“You assumed correctly,” Posey said softly, turning her head so she and Rachel were staring into each other’s eyes. “I’ve never had anyone be so straightforward like this before.”

“I don’t see the point in beating around the bush,” Rachel said with a slight shrug.

She took a sip of her wine and Posey stared, fascinated, at how her throat moved when she swallowed. Rachel licked her lips and Posey chocked back a whimper at the sight.

“Would you like to come home with me?” Rachel asked softly, her eyes boring into Posey’s.

“Yes please,” Posey whispered.

Rachel put her glass on the table, then turned back to her. She slowly leaned in and kissed her softly on the corner of her mouth, Posey actually whimpering at the soft press of lips against her own. Before she could turn her head and kiss the other woman properly, Rachel had pulled away and stood up. Posey looked up at her in confusion, and her eyes widened in understanding as Rachel held a hand out to her. Posey took her hand with a shy grin and stood up. She placed her can on the table, and then grabbed her coat as Rachel pulled her own on.

“Goodnight guys,” Rachel called out as she and Posey left the room hand in hand.

There were several cat-calls and whistles, and while Posey felt embarrassment swirling in her belly, it was completely overridden by lust and the excitement of the promise of what was to come. The two women walked through the pub and as soon as they had exited the building Rachel pulled Posey to her, sliding a hand around the back of her neck as she kissed her fiercely. Posey moaned softly and wrapped her arms around Rachel’s waist, pulling the other woman tight against her as they fell into a passionate embrace, her head swimming from desire.

Eventually Rachel pulled back and leaned her forehead against Posey’s, her breaths coming in shaky pants.

“I’ve wanted to do that ever since you walked into the room,” she said huskily and Posey whimpered and pulled her in for another kiss, revelling in the feeling of their lips sliding together.

“Please tell me you live near here,” Posey murmured in between kisses.

“I’m just a five minute walk away.”

“Brilliant,” Posey breathed and then kissed her again, nipping at her lower lip before sliding her tongue into the other woman’s mouth.

Rachel eventually pulled away with a laugh and said, “As much as I’m enjoying this, I have much less public-friendly things in mind that I want to do to you.”

Posey let out a moan of desire, her head filling with all sorts of ideas of what they could do together. Rachel stepped back, took Posey’s hand and pulled, and Posey eagerly followed.


I hope you’ve enjoyed reading excerpt #11 from the Unfinished Novels; if you have please like and reblog, and if you have any comments or questions I would love to hear from you!

Slán!

C.x

Take my Life Joji x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol Addiction, near death, mentions of vomiting, triggers of self loathe and suicidal thoughts, angst but ends with fluff, this shit is dark. I didn’t add many elements of love into this I wanted to refrain from romanticizing this.. if this will negatively affect you don’t read it.

“my idea was like little imagine short fic thing where the reader has been hiding an alcohol addiction and one night it goes too far and joji finds y/n passed out in a messy heap on the floor and looks after her but when she wakes up he confronts her and make it super angsty but end in fluff ahh”

This was a private request as the requester has asked to stay anonymous and messaged me the idea privately and so I added a few elements to this to make it more seemless, hope you enjoy and if you suffer with any of the things mentioned, seek help. A friend of mine suffered with an alcohol dependent addiction to deal with emotions, so I take these things seriously. Thank you

Gif: @byedubbbz

Inspiration: Lund// Broken

Can’t tell him, can’t tell anyone. Not gonna mention a word, I can handle this. It’s good for me it helps me cope. As much as I am able to anyway. God was I wrong. I threw some empty bottles of Jack and Absolut into the trash bag and heaved it into the chute down the block. My hood of my black jacket lay low against my damp forehead, strings of hair slick against it. My eyes drooped, pulsing red and accessorised with purple sacks; reminding me of my nightly mistakes. I never did really see it as a problem, for a long time I saw it as an escape, distraction if you will and I never really saw anything wrong with what I did…guess I was just deluded.

Will you end my pain?
Will you take my life?
Will you bleed me out?

It never really did hurt me, sure there were some issues with it; the migraines, the partially failing liver, my skin paling, occasional puking blood but as a self loather you don’t see that, you don’t notice how bad an addiction can leave you; you see right through it. Many positives in my life never drove me, never motivated me to get help, especially since I didn’t tell anyone. Ian, Max, Chad or…or Joji. Sure, they knew about my suffering with depression and aspects of self hate but never put two and two together; the empty glass bottles and liquor stained couch and how I had locks on majority of my flat’s drawers.

Will you hang me out to dry?
Will you take my soul in the midnight rain?
While I’m falling apart
While I’m going…

Like tonight, here I am in a bar, with the boys, unaffected by the substances that were supposed to intoxicate me just gave me an insanely painful stomach pain. Wincing, I placed my hand under my hoodie and gently pushed my palm against my skin, attempting to soothe the pain. Joji noticed this and cocked a brow, about to offer help but I backed away and stumbled to the bathroom.

Blood, spurts of blood and a harsh brown liquid falling from my lips. Groaning, I pulled the flask from my bag and chugged the lot. It numbed my miserable state, it calmed the storm of unusual thoughts that haunted my every move. Wiping stray tears from my face, I wiped my lips and threw my trusty flask into my bag, joining the boys. Chad came back with a tray of beers and a couple rounds of shots. Cautiously, I slid in the booth next to Joji and he placed his hand onto my shaking leg.

Insane
Can you break my bones?
Will you tear my skin?
Can you taste my lust?
Can you feel my sin?

“Yo babe are you okay?” He said into my ear, the splitting noise of music boomed around so normal voices would not suffice, I faked a grin and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Mee? Am, I am fannntastic!” I giggled, pressing a kiss to his nose and grabbing some glasses and chugging them down with no breaks and I grinned, stomach churning and I internally burned- emotionally and physically. The thing with hating yourself is, you never know when it will end so you just assume that it doesn’t and for this you punish yourself for being the way you are and it fucking kills you to know that this is what life is. Life is pain and suffering and hate and undeserved love and deserved hatred and accepting yourself as a fucking burden.

See I’m a waste of life
I should just kill myself
Yeah, I could slit my wrists
But it really wouldn’t help

After chugging down liquor for majority of the night, I snuck home and persuaded the guys I could make it down the block to my apartment. Stumbling into my door, I slammed into my glass table and puked over the couch, stinging lactic acid burning my throat.

Sobbing, my emotions crashed all at once like a nuclear explosion, my hands shook and unlocked my stash of bottles. Lids flew across the room, I poured vodka into a glass and swallowed it through clenched teeth, my body rejected it poorly and some dribbled down between my lips, carrying drips of blood.  Wailing, I threw my backpack against the wall and I fell back against the kitchen wall, facing the front door.

Wouldn’t fix my issues
Or change your mind
Cause I broke your heart
And you buried mine
Now I’m 6 feet deep and I can’t breathe
I got dirt in my eyes
And blood on my sleeves

My skin was warmed and I felt fingers creep under my back and lift me in the air, close against their chest. As comforting as it felt to be warmed as an awaking, I felt my stomach churn and flip upside down. Puke poured out of my mouth and hit the floor, my skull felt as if a drill was penetrating it ever so slowly. Slow, murky cries escaped my lips in drawn breaths.

“What the fuck were you thinking? You were near death!”

Joji, oh fuck no not Joji.

“You think I wanted to feel like this…f-feel like this is my only option here, eh Joj?” I croaked, slowly lifting myself up off of the couch. My scarred arms were shown, faint white bumps in lines filled my wrist to upper arm, blotches of purple scabs on my hands from cigarette burns and my mouth slick in vodka and puke. It was painful to see, his eyes search my body in panic and his shaking hands clenching onto his phone.

“You’re-you’re”

“An alcoholic, yes. A fucking mess of a human also. Why’d you come here Joji?”

“Your neighbour called me, she was worried you were hurt so I came.”

“Wish you didn’t.”

Will you end my pain?
Will you take my life?
Will you bleed me out?
Will you hang me out to dry?
Will you take my soul in the midnight rain?
While I’m falling apart
While I’m going…

“Well I’m fucking glad I did. I’m glad I managed to find you here at least alive. You think this doesn’t hurt me, to see you a fucking ruin on the tile floor, hands bleeding and clenching onto a bottle of vodka as if your life fucking depends on it. You need help, you deserve help; hell, you deserve so much more than this. This life is unhealthy, it’s not good whatsoever and all you’re gonna do is drink yourself to death doing this!” He cried, voice crackling as his tears patterned his reddened cheeks.

“Maybe that’s what I want.” I groaned, wiping my cheek and slumping down to the floor, loosely holding my legs to my chest.

Will you end my pain?
Will you take my life?
Will you bleed me out?
Will you hang me out to dry?

“No, it’s not what you want. It’s what you think you want, what you think you deserve. You think you deserve this because of what happened to-”

“Don’t you fucking dare mention her name!”

“Then what do you want me to fucking do?! Trample on egg shells trying to avoid why this is happening, it won’t change if you don’t talk about it and admit that that’s why! You can’t…punish yourself for something you couldn’t control.” He spoke more quietly, dipping down to my level. Glancing into his eyes, I felt tears well and he wrapped his arms around my front, picking me up and pulling my legs to wrap around his waist, carrying me into my room with a bottle of water clasped.

Will you take my soul in the midnight rain?
While I’m falling apart
While I’m going…
Insane

Sat holding me close on his lap, his hands were trembling against my sickly skin. My skin was prodding, slight bumps of bone revealed my slow and small appetite. Heartbroken wasn’t the word, devastated was an understatement.

“Jo I don’t wanna be here anymore.”

“Shh, we’ll-we’ll find something just like we always do, okay? We always work it out and we’ll get you some help and we’ll clean the place and rid of your alcohol and and find you a hobby or something.” His hands swirled in the bath he had ran, gently placing me into it with caution. He poured the warm water from a jug down my back and through my messy strands. Closing my eyes, I cried silently with my knees to my chest, allowing him to wash my body from dirt and sweat, removing the grease from my hair.

“We’ll get somewhere soon, just rest for now. We’ll make it somehow, baby, I promise.”

Don’t you miss me when I’m gone
Cause you’re the fucking reason that I’m not around
Don’t you miss me when I’m, miss me when I’m gone
Cause you’re the fucking reason that I’m not around
Fucking reason that I’m not around
Bitch you’re the fucking reason that I’m not around

sailorstkwrning replied to your post: What Shall We Call Ourselves?

hockey rpf, Unlovely Crocuses

“Hi,” Claude says into the phone, and Tyler reaches out across the bed and legit hits him right the face. On purpose.

“Ahaha,” Tyler giggles, collapsing back onto the pillows.

“What the fuck, bitch?” Claude yells at him. “Who let you in here?” Claude kicks him in the leg, hard, so hard he kind of falls over backwards into the covers himself.

Somebody let a lot of people in here, he thinks, tilting his head upside down, and here is —

“It’s our fucking room, man,” Tyler laughs. “What are you doing?”

“I’m on the phone,” Claude explains, because maybe tiny baby hockey muffins like Segway are too young to remember how you can call people on your phone. It’s all, like, Snapchat now.

“It’s all Snapchat and shit now,” Claude says into the phone. “Kids nowadays,” he adds, trying it on for size.

“Did you call me to complain about being old?” Danny asks. “Because you’re barking up the wrong tree, buddy.”

“No,” Claude says. Danny sounds great. “Hey, we won,” Claude tells him. “You sound great.” Something hits Claude on the foot.

“I heard,” Danny says. “I mean, I heard you won. I sound pretty much the same as always.”

“Yeah,” Claude says.

“Caelan texted to say you had your dick out on the internet,” Danny continues, “but I’m just going to not look and pretend it’s not true.”

“Oh shit,” Claude says. “I don’t think I did.”

“That’s not very reassuring,” Danny tells him. It’s weirdly soothing anyway.

“Don’t let him show you,” Claude says seriously. If he made an ass of himself on the internet Danny doesn’t need to see. That’s the deal.

“I’ve seen your dick, Clo,” Danny says, replete with amusement, and Claude stretches his legs out on the bed and thinks about falling asleep.

Danny calls him at eight a.m. Prague time, which is an America time that Claude is not physically capable of computing right now.

“Holy god,” he whispers into the phone. How is Tyler sleeping through this incredible noise? Who is that on the couch? “What time is it there?” he asks.

“You realize you called me at ten thirty last night bombed out of your mind just to pass out on me and maybe choke on your own puke?” Danny says. He does not sound nearly as worried as he should be about that eventuality.

“Hnh,” Claude replies. “Maybe?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Danny says fondly. “Also, your dick is all over the internet. When are you going home?”

“Now,” Claude says miserably. He sits up and his stomach makes a run for it via his spleen, and oh, hurrgh, no no no — “Ugh, later,” he amends, lying back down as carefully as he can.

Later is apparently Thursday night, when Claude walks into his well-furnished, poorly-habitated penthouse carrying a suitcase full of underwear and four hockey bags and finds fifteen years of someone else’s good decisions sitting at his kitchen table eating cereal.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Claude says. “How long have you been here?”

“Remember when you used to not say fuck around us?” Carson asks, setting his wet spoon on the counter.

“Yeah, you were ten,” Claude retorts. “Put that in the fucking sink. Where’s your brother?”

“Which one?” Carson replies, so laconically snide that Claude is almost proud.

Almost; it’s nearly midnight and he’s tired and maybe still hungover? Signs point to yes. His stomach hates him forever now.

“The one who lives in this fucking city,” Claude says. His bags take up the entire foyer. He does not want to unpack.

“Okay, enough with the fucking, come on,” Carson says.

“You’re fifteen,” Claude says, finally giving in to a smile. “You’re not allowed to say ‘enough with the fucking’, we’re gonna think something’s wrong with you.” Carson looks good, healthy and fit and relaxed in Claude’s house. He hasn’t seen him since Easter when Sylvie had a minor lapse in judgment and let the boys stay over and eat too much candy and pizza and lose at the retro pack of video games Claude had found at a Value Village downtown.

Good times, Claude thinks. He forgets he misses them, sometimes, with hockey the way it is. It’s easy to forget that there’s anything more important; it’s easy to lose track of a time when hockey wasn’t the first thing he thought of when he woke up.

When he sees them again, though, he remembers.

“Does this go in the bedroom?” Carson asks, hoisting a bag like it’s nothing, and Claude stops standing around feeling things and picks up his shit like an adult.

“Hey, Carson,” Claude says. Carson is almost his height now, his head not so far under the doorjamb as he leads Claude into the guest room. He must tower over his dad.

“Yeah?” Carson says, not turning around. 

“What are you doing here? If it’s to tell me my dick’s all over the internet, you got scooped. You can go home.”

“I know about your dick,” Carson says, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t ever say that again,” Claude tells him.

The stand there staring at the bags, still life with idiots, until Claude thinks he should maybe try again.

“Carse?” he tries. “Are things okay at school?”

“I just wanted to talk to you,” Carson says evasively.

“Uh huh,” Claude says. “And your brother’s not at the Greyhound station right now or something, right?”

“You’re such a good dad,” Carson says, palpably sarcastic, and, oh, ouch. Claude remembers a time when that wasn’t a — “He’s at home with mom. They know I’m here. Everything’s fine.”

“Everything’s not fine,” Claude says. 

“Yeah?” Carson says.

“Did you come over here just to sulk?” Claude says. “I was gonna pass out and then go pick up the dogs from the boarding place in the morning, but you can stick around and be mad if you want.” Carson makes a humph of distaste and turns his dark, dark brown eyes on Claude, fond but annoyed.

Carson looks a lot like his mother, but when he looks at Claude like that, when his mouth turns in just such a way —

“I think Dad’s gonna retire,” Carson says.

“Oh,” Claude says. They should leave this room: his hockey bags fucking reek. He could use about six glasses of water, a sandwich, and a beer. He could also use a sixteen-hour nap, but it doesn’t look like he’s getting that anytime soon.

“I don’t know if I,” Carson starts. “It’s — it’s good, right?”

“Okay. Tell me why it’s good?” Claude asks. Fuck it, he’s leaving. “Come on, let me get a snack.”

Carson follows him at a distance, his feet trudging slower than on their way in; he is audibly distressed. Claude hopes he didn’t just fuck up one of his scant opportunities at teenaged-boy honesty and forthrightness, but shit, he’s thirsty.

“It’s good because he’ll be back here,” Carson says when Claude has the ice out and is smacking the tray on the counter. “Right?”

“Yes,” Claude says. “That is a good thing. You miss him, don’t front.”

“Of course I fucking miss him,” Carson snaps. “He’s my dad.”

Teenagers are cryptic fucking miasmas of emotional disruption, Claude has learned. They are the only people who make Claude look chill besides, evidently, Tyler Seguin, and Claude has learned to roll with it.

“Hey now,” he says mildly. “No more fucking. Them’s the rules.”

“Yeah, about that,” Carson says, way too goddamned smoothly, “is it going to be weird having you and Dad living in the same city again?” and Claude snorts his mouthful of icewater out his nose.

“What the fuck,” Claude gasps.

“Whoa, are you okay?” Carson asks.

“I’m fine,” Claude says, mopping his face off with the dishtowel. “Jesus Christ, who raised you?”

Carson opens his mouth like a flash, and Claude shakes his head.

“It’s going to be fine,” Claude says firmly. “Okay? We’re still friends,” he adds.

Carson sighs. He looks so odd in this place, leaning on Claude’s counter in jeans and a T-shirt, nearly as old as the baby rookies who stumble into the Flyers’ locker rooms on a yearly basis. When did Claude get this old?

Did Claude get old? Should he have grown up more by now?

He has an IIHF gold medal in the bottom of his suitcase and a fifteen-year-old hockey-playing delinquent in his kitchen, and he still doesn’t know if he made the right choice, back when he had the chance.

“Still friends,” Carson says, “or still friends?” 

Jesus, that’s some fucking audacity, Claude thinks, but he can’t say he’s not sleeping in the bed he made. It’s so hard to tell what difference he really made, in the short time he was there. It’s hard to say he made an impact; it’s hard to think he shouldn’t have made more of one.

He made the choices he made. Even Danny’s kids stayed in Philly, Claude thinks, but it never makes it feel any better.

“We still talk to each other,” Claude says. “I called him on Sunday.”

“Yeah,” Carson says, sour with disappointment and hurt, and fuck, yeah, fine; Claude knows perfectly well what the right choice was, but it’s too late to go back now.

some thoughts about Jason and Thanksgiving

Basically,

Jason doesn’t think about it. It’s not even on his radar. His ideal Thanksgiving weekend involves taking care of some business or sleeping in his blissfully quiet apartment.  That’s what he fully plans on doing. Why would he want to show his face around the manor. And even if he did, which he doesn’t, why would they want him around anyway? 

The week leading up to Thanksgiving, various bat-children keep ending up perched on his window ledge like the annoying birds that they are. At first it scared the shit out of him but by Wednesday he is used to it. 

“Jay! Come home for Thanksgiving this weekend..Alfred is gonna make your favourite!”

Jason hears this again and again like a goddamn mantra.

“Is that what Bruce told you to say?” he snaps. He suspects that their invitation is a ploy and they’re all gonna trap him in some big stupid intervention and then throw him into Arkham if he doesn’t agree to their 12-step program. So at first he waves them off. He closes the blinds and pretends he can’t hear them or he just plain leaves.

But then later that evening, he looks in his fridge that has exactly 1 can of beer and a bag of soggy brown lettuce and he finds himself thinking about how much he could use a good meal, a proper one.

He kind of hates himself for being so easily won over by the prospect of food, but that’s how he ends rolling up to the manor on his bike that weekend, just like he promised he wouldn’t.

He tells himself that he’s only staying for the meal and thats it.

That’s not how it goes of course, because nothing in his life ever goes as it’s supposed to.

Jason actually ends up enjoying himself.

The house is loud and vibrant and filled with he smell of good cooking. Damian got a new Wii system [and a new huge dog who takes a liking to Jason immediately]  and they all play together. Jason gets his ass handed to him by Steph and Tim and  all he can do in retaliation is call them little nerds.

Dick is there with Barbara and Jason can’t tell if they’re together or not and he doesn’t ask,  but they seem happy enough.

Barbara can’t keep the smile off her lips when she talks to Jason,  as if she can’t believe the person in front of her is the same skinny little twerp who she remembered tagging along after Dick all those years ago.

Eventually Tim and Jason team up against  Dick, who was busy taking selfies and snapchats, and they utterly destroy him at Mario Kart. Damian stands in front of the tv and whines for the controller even though he had been playing for the past 5 hours.

While his brothers are laughing and play-fighting on the couch,  Jason slips away to  to the kitchen and gets to talk to Alfred, who hugs him is actually genuinely fucking happy to see him. Alfred lets him have some turkey and stuffing on the down-low, so long as he promises not to tell the others .

And Bruce,

Jason runs into Bruce in the hallway.

At first he can’t even meet  his eye.  Jason’s gaze drops and he stares at the marble floor but instead of getting all distant, Bruce puts his hand on Jason’s shoulder and squeezes and thanks him for coming. Jason looks up and manages a weak smile.

Bruce keeps the conversation light and amiable. He isn’t being a complete insufferable asshole for once. He asks how Jason is doing and he sounds like he actually wants to know. He doesn’t  talk about many people Jason has killed or what sketchy-ass shit he’s been involved with at the moment and the biggest thing that Jason notices is that for once, Bruce doesn’t look at him like he’s looking at the ghost of a good thing.

And maybe Jason appreciates that.

The meal is amazing, just like he remembered it would be. and despite his earlier plans to book it as soon as he was finished, Jason ends up helping himself to seconds..and thirds.  And dessert,  because why the hell not.

By the time he realizes he stuffed himself,  it’s too late, and now he wants nothing more than to lie down and nap.

He’s definitely not complaining though. It feels nice to be full and lazy. It wasn’t a luxury he had very often as a kid and the feeling is a welcome addition to a life that was sadly devoid of these sorts of comforts, even still.

Jason retires to the old bedroom that he hasn’t set foot in in years. He flops onto the bed with a limp and sleepy, and for the first time in a very long while, he sleeps peacefully.

Jason wakes up stupidly early that morning, while it’s still dark out. He actually feels rested for once, which, given his sleeping patterns, is kind of a miracle.  He indulges in a shower, because the showers at the manor are ridiculously freakin nice and he knows this is the last time in a while that he’s gonna have access to it.  He shoves his stuff in his duffel before silently sneaking out the room and down the huge staircase. he’s about to head out the door when he decides to pop by the kitchen to steal some snacks for the road.

Jason walks into the kitchen and there on the counter is a neatly packed box of leftovers, and a note.

Jason pauses. He picks up the note and reads it. It’s from Alfred. Alfred tells Jason how much he  appreciated him being there and that he hopes he takes care of himself, and that he will always have a home here.

Jason stares at it, heart thudding in his chest. He slips it into his jacket pocket and takes the packed leftovers.

And before his feelings get the better of him, before he has time to say goodbye or time to regret, Jason leaves.

He doesn’t look back.  He can’t.

Drunken Celebration

Paring: John/Paul

Rating: R

Set in: 1958

Summary: John waits for Paul after school to celebrate Paul’s birthday together in a nearby, abandoned shed-like thing with some booze.

Disclaimer: This is fictional and I do not make money from this. The Beatles aren’t mine.

Summer was on its way and it was already nice and warm in Liverpool. The sun was shining brightly and ruthlessly through the windows into the already hot classrooms. And it wasn’t even midday yet. It was nearly lunch-time and Paul had never felt more relieved to leave the classroom then when the teacher finally said they could go. He jumped up from his seat, collected his stuff, threw it in his bag and quickly stumbled out of the classroom. He had to hurry up. John would be waiting for him.

Keep reading

[This is a bit of a higher-spoon recipe, but shepherd’s pie is a great casserole-type dish to prepare when you have a few spoons to spare, since once it’s done you can just pop it in the fridge and eat it for leftovers all week long!]

Brown ground beef (or other protein) in a large saucepan. Add salt, pepper, and wine or beer (optional), and add a bag of frozen mixed vegetables. Cook through, then add ~1 tablespoon [15 mL] flour or starch to thicken. 

As your filling cooks, prepare mashed potatoes. You can use anything from whole potatoes to powdered reconstituted potatoes, depending on your needs or spoons. 

Dump the filling into an oven-safe container, then spread potatoes on top. Brown under the broiler for ~15 minutes, or until potatoes are crispy on top!

For easier cleanup, use a stovetop-to-oven saucepan such as a Le Creuset enameled pot to cook your filling. Then, you can just spread the potatoes over the cooked filling directly in the pot and pop it into the oven without making another dish dirty.

Ultimate Cheeseburger with onion rings
Tomato ketchup, American mustard, Red Leicester cheese, blue cheese, cheddar cheese, maple glazed bacon, beef patty.

Bread: choose your preferred roll, I like plain white. Crusty on the outside but soft in the middle. Mmm. Make sure you toast it.

Onion rings: mix Cajun seasoning, pepper, garlic powder, flour in a freezer bag. Put in onion rings and shake to coat. Then, make a mix of the same flour mixture, but add beer (I use Becks but you can use whatever). Thicker batter gives better onion rings. Then put them in a deep fryer until golden brown. Tip: make them earlier and only half fry them. This way you can cook way more at once without them sticking together.

Meat: paprika, garlic powder, pepper, salt. Mix with mince meat (I used beef). 125g = 1 patty. Flatten out into patties that are slightly larger than the rolls. Put them on baking paper, stack them, put a plate on top, and refrigerate for at least an hour. Then put them in a frypan with some oil and cook them most of the way through. When they’re nearly done, put some cheese on top, cover with a lid or Pyrex bowl, and let the cheese melt.

http://psionic-architect.tumblr.com/post/127450958825/ultimate-cheeseburger-with-onion-rings-tomato