i should come at you with a shovel

pretty dirty pick up lines.

’ you look a lot like my next girlfriend/boyfriend. ’
’ are you a drill sergeant? because you have my privates standing at attention. ’
’ do you mix concrete for a living? because you’re making me hard. ’
’ if you’re feeling down, i can feel you up. ’
’ i’m no weather man, but you can expect more than a few inches tonight. ’
’ i may not go down in history, but i’ll go down on you. ’
’ are you from the ghetto? cause i’m about to ghetto hold of dat ass. ’
’ you know what i like in a girl? my dick. ’
’ are you a doctor? cause you just cured my erectile dysfunction. ’
’ i lost my virginity. can i have yours? ’
’ hey, you wanna do a 68? you go down on me, and i’ll owe you one. ’
’ you can call me cake, cause i’ll go straight to your ass. ’
’ roses are red, violets are fine. if i be the 6, will you be the 9? ’
’ i’m like a firefighter, i find ‘em hot and leave ‘em wet! ’
’ i’m hung like a tic tac. wanna freshen your breath? ’
’ you smell like trash. may i take you out? ’
’ i wanna floss with your pubic hair. ’
’ let’s have a party and invite your pants to come on down. ’
’ you’re so hot, even my pants are falling for you! ’
’ are you spaghetti cause i want you to meat my balls. ’
’ we should play strip poker. you can strip, and I’ll poke you. ’
’ do you like adele? cause i can tell you wanna be rolling in the d. ’
’ do you have a shovel? cause i’m diggin’ that ass! ’
’ damn, are you my new boss, because you just gave me a raise. ’
’ remember my name, because you’ll be screaming it later! ’
’ are you an elevator? cause i wanna go down on you. ’
’ are you a shark? cause i’ve got some swimmers for you to swallow. ’
’ do you work for papa johns? cause you’re a fine pizza ass. ’
’ are you from china? cause i’m china get in your pants. ’
’ why don’t you surprise your roommate and not come home tonight? ’
’ baby there’s a party in my pants and you are invited! ’
’ i’m looking for treasure, can i look around your chest? ’
’ if i flip a coin, what are my chances of getting head? ’
’ would you like a hotdog to go with those buns? ’
’ this may seem corny, but you make me really horny. ’
’ how about you make me the climax of your story? ’
’ that’s a nice set of legs, what time do they open? ’
’ my name is skittles… wanna taste my rainbow? ’
’ you remind me of a crop, because i wanna plow you. ’

I’d briefly posted this as an addition to a fanartist’s post, as this little scene was inspired by that art. Being anxiety-prone, I panicked and deleted it.

The picture was of Stiles getting up in Derek’s face, obviously angry. I think I remember the words “self-sacrificial bullshit” being involved. I can’t find it at the moment.

Derek is still bleeding when Stiles stomps across the clearing to stand over him, one foot landing with a squelch in monster entrails, not that his other sneaker fared much better.

“Of all the reckless-”

“Stiles,” Derek interrupts, holding his hands up as he stands up to show he’s not hurt, everything’s fine.

Raising his voice, Stiles continues, “–moronic, needlessly fucking heroic things I have ever seen you do–” Derek can tell he’s just warming up, but he’s a little caught on the h-word; he doesn’t think Stiles has used it before, not for him. “That was-”

“Stiles, it’s okay,” he tries to head him off, but Stiles won’t be deterred.

“Derek, if you ever–”

“I’m okay,” Derek says.

Stiles twists his fist in Derek’s Henley, heedless of the way it rips under his fingertips, which, right, there was already a hole there from when the creature got him in the chest.

“Stiles, I’m-”

“No!” He points, practically touching Derek’s lips, hunches up further in Derek’s space. “You don’t get to interrupt me. Do you know how terrified I was? Do you have any idea how scared I was that this was it? He slit your throat, Derek! That was a lot of blood! Oh my god, so much blood.” Stiles’s voice cracks. He’s shaking violently, his knuckles knocking against Derek’s chest. “I’ve seen you come back from a lot, but I’m pretty sure even you can’t come back from decapitation.”

He isn’t wrong, but. Derek wraps his hand around Stiles’s fist, trying to steady him. “He was going to hurt you. I have a better chance of survival, Stiles, I-”

“You know what? I’ve had more than enough of your self-sacrificial bullshit, buddy!” Stiles interrupts, free hand waving around. “Enough for lifetimes. I don’t want you to throw yourself on a grenade for me, okay? In fact, I’m explicitly telling you not to.”

“Grenade?” Derek repeats, momentarily thrown.

“Grenade, giant slime monster, rodents of unusual size–”

“I don’t think those exist,” Derek says. There it is; a hint of a smile.

“It still freaks me out when you throw out pop culture references,” Stiles says, but he sags a little, loosens his fingers. There’s red marks from how tight he’d wound them in Derek’s shirt. “I don’t want you to die for me. I don’t want you to die at all. I mean, I know eventually, logically, even werewolves aren’t immortal, but.”

Derek feels warm. “Stiles.”

“Stop trying to distract me by saying my name.” Stiles shoves Derek back. He turns too fast and trips over the monster’s corpse. “Gah! Gross.”

“You should head home,” Derek says. He nudges the creature with his foot. Still dead; that’s a plus.

“You mean we,” Stiles says.

“I’ve got to cover this up,” Derek says.

Stiles wrinkles his nose. “I have a shovel in the Jeep. Come on, I’ll help you and we’ll go back to yours. My landlord put in security cameras and I can’t go back there covered in blood again. He’s going to report me.”

Derek nods. “Sounds good. Want to order a pizza when we get back?”

“Do I,” Stiles says, starting off toward the Jeep. “I’m starving.”

Out of Context D&D Quote Starters:


  • “I’ll kick a tree’s ass.”
  • “You should seduce the boat!”
  • “I killed a man today. In space. On a dragon. With a shovel.”
  • “Can I have flaming pistols?”
  • “No, you may not make a human centipede out of your army of 50 children.”
  • “Can I pay them money not to come near me?”
  • “I’m pretty sure fish don’t accept money.”
  • “I don’t know what we need to bleed on.”
  • “Let’s bleed on everything, just to be safe.”
  • “I’m going to go out on a limb and say we’re not going to solve this problem by bleeding on it.”
  • “Your ass is not a weapon you are proficient with.”
  • “That is the only dwarf ass I’m going to draw for you today.”
  • “Oh shit, I forgot the princess.”
  • “Did you just pull a gun out of your hair?”
  • “Who just carries spiders around in their pockets?!”
  • “He fought like he lived… Full of spears.”
  • “Ok, so there’s a lot of teeth in this water.”
  • “I’m not sure how to split a throne evenly. We all have a sitting schedule?”
  • “How many noses are going into this chicken?”
  • “We just turned a ritualistic orphan sacrifice chamber into a nightclub.”
  • “You started a cult!?”
  • “We need to give this guy a proper burial. After we loot his body. And take his teeth.”
  • “Yeah, he’s a ghost now. But I can punch ghosts, so it’s fine.”
  • “Have you ever seen a dragon choke on one hundred and thirty five orphans? Because you’re about to.”
  • “I can be responsible for my own severed leg, thank you.”
  • “Look, if I’m going to be a part of this Badger Cult, I expect career options!”
  • “I can’t believe you just pre-battle blazed it.”
  • “You lose the moral high ground after the second murder.”
  •  “I am literally dying for your sins right now! Do not fuck this up for me!”
  • “Summon the monkeys! They will be relevant!”
  • “What happens if you die in Hell?” “Double Hell.”
  • “Long term goal: we put your corpse on the airship.”
  • “Does it still count as ‘evil’ if I feel really bad about it?”
  • “Everyone is ambidextrous until proven otherwise.”
  • “You blew up the sun!”
  • “Hold my record player, I’m going in.”
  • “I have never tried to stab you in a combat situation!”
  • “Want to use my knife? It’s only been used for our own ritual blood-letting.”
  • “I’m not sure we can even beat a log right now. We must negotiate with it.”
Common Ground

Summary: As the dirt walls of his half-dug foxhole collapse in front of him, Officer Cadet Daniel Howell finds himself face-to-face with another soldier. To make matters worse, this one is wearing a German uniform.


In which Dan and Phil have a rather unorthodox meeting when their foxholes collide.

A/N: this fic (code name: craig) is an idea i’ve had for quite a while, maybe years, and here it is! finally… always good with some historical aus amiright?? i really really like it and i hope you will too (please i need love) also thanks to bethany for writing in the boob-hand-motion. i guess you’ll have to read it to laugh with us lmao

Genre: Historical (WWI), fluff, humour-ish.
Warnings: Mentions of blood, war themes.
Words: 2371

Keep reading

Random starters
  • “I just got fired.”
  • “We have two options here - run, or give up. Which will it be?”
  • “I see no problem in using every food we have as a pizza topping.”
  • “Green isn’t really your color …”
  • “Truth be told, I’d rather get stomped on by a herd of cows than meet your parents.”
  • “I don’t care how it’s been before, but there are people depending on you now, so you need to get your shit together!”
  • “Hey, our outfits match!”
  • “Wanna hear a joke?”
  • “I always knew I couldn’t trust you.”
  • “Can you come to my place at 9 p.m. dressed as a mailman? I’ll explain later. Oh - and bring a shovel!”
  • “Let me braid your hair.”
  • “I warned you, didn’t I? Said you should be careful. Why didn’t you listen?”
  • “I gotta say, I’m really jealous of your eyes. Like they’re so pretty it looks like you have make up on even when you don’t.”
  • “Any reason you have 12 sixpacks of Red Bull in your fridge?”
  • “I’ve never seen you dressed like that before. You look … really pretty.”
  • “We need to get out of here quickly! There are people after us!”
  • “Ever since I met you, I’ve been having very shitty luck.”
  • “How can you come here after everything you did to me?”
  • “You ruined me.”
  • “My offer still stands.”
  • “I can stop if I want, I just don’t want to.”
  • “So … what’s someone like you doing in a place like this?”
  • “I can fit like 16 strawberries in my mouth!”
  • “Why do you always do exactly the opposite of what you should?!”
  • “Can you please stop interrupting me with your puns? I have something important to tell you.”
  • “I think you’d look really good on my bed, or the sofa. Seriously, you’re exhausted, go take a nap.”
Dropped Once Important OUAT Plot Device Objects

I’m trying to remember them all, help me out here.

- Murder Shovel (season 1)

- Magic Compass (season 2)

- Storybrooke Self-Destruct Gem (season 2)

- Zelena Power Pendant (season 3)

- Will Scarlet (season 4) 

- Rumple Death Countdown Rose (season 5)

- Magic Mushroom (season 5)

- Olympian Crystal Dildo (season 5)

- Magic Scissors (season 6)

Don’t Mess with Jim Bob

By mrs momona © 2017

Jim Bob Cleaver stood before the Judge, blond head bowed, looking at the floor, hoping that he was acting humble enough. His lawyer had told him not to smirk or even smile during his trial for receiving stolen goods, and to try to look and act like the fair-haired football hero that he had been when he was the big man on campus at the local high school. None of it had worked, not even the expensive new “preppy” clothes which his girlfriend had bought for him to wear to the trial. The jury had found him guilty, the judge had revoked his bail, and here he was, squeezed into a bright orange jumpsuit, hands cuffed together in front of him.

Jim Bob’s bright blue eyes remained staring at the floor as the Judge started speaking. “Jim Bob, our whole town has known you all your life. You were the high school football quarterback, homecoming king, and senior class president. You were truly destined for big things when you graduated from high school four years ago. You had the whole world in front of you. Instead of making something for yourself, you chose to drop out of college. Instead of working and supporting yourself, you chose to sponge off your girlfriend…”  Jim Bob struggled really hard to avoid smirking at this point. He thought to himself that the Judge might call it sponging, but he would just call it payment for services rendered. In return for keeping his girlfriend happy in bed, she supported him, and actually gave him everything he wanted—new car, fancy clothes, all the pot and beer and good food he wanted, all of it.

The Judge continued, “…you chose to sponge off your girlfriend, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted more, and formed a criminal ring to earn more money for yourself. Even though you didn’t steal any cars yourself, you hired others to do the dirty work while you took a cut off the top of the selling price of every stolen car which was resold. Because this is your first offense…”

Look serious, look serious, Jim Bob told himself. This is it. He stared at the floor and tried to focus on his bright orange jumpsuit as a way of avoiding showing any hint of the cockiness that had always been the main feature of his personality. Actually, Jim Bob’s view downwards was blocked by the round orange-clad bulge of his big fat belly and the two smaller round bulges in the tightly stretched orange cotton cloth which marked his fat bulging man boobs.

“…I hereby sentence you to one year in the State Prison, followed by five years probation.” The Judge stopped speaking. Jim Bob looked up at him, and said in a voice which he hoped sounded sincere, “Thank you, Your Honor.”

As Jim Bob was led out of the courtroom, he turned and glanced at three people sitting right behind the defense area. His girlfriend Polly was crying, tears running down the cheeks of her flawlessly made up face, auburn hair glistening in the bright courtroom lights. Her expensive silk dress showed off her 44-22-40 figure. She still looked like the high school cheerleader and only child of the wealthiest man in town she had been when she and Jim Bob become an item their sophomore year in high school.

Next to Polly sat Chester, Jim Bob’s first cousin.  Tears streamed down Chester’s round cheeks. He and Jim Bob were the same age, had been raised together, and thought of themselves as brothers. Although he now had the build of an offensive guard-gone-to-fat, he had been the receiver on the same football team Jim Bob had quarterbacked. Next to Chester sat Brittany, Chester’s girl friend since high school.

Polly mouthed to Jim Bob “I love you” as the guards led him into the back room.

No one else from Jim Bob’s family was there. He was an only child, and his father, one of the local preachers, and his mother had both passed away from lung cancer within two years after Jim Bob’s graduation from high school—they had always been heavy smokers.

In the Guard Room behind the courtroom, the guard motioned to Jim Bob to take a seat.  Jim Bob eased himself down. The orange jumpsuit was so tight that Jim Bob had to sit carefully for fear that a seam would fail. Wouldn’t do for the big shot of the local high school to suffer the embarrassment of bursting out of his clothes, even if it was only a jail uniform.

At that point, another guard came in, carrying a large McDonald’s bag. Jim Bob recognized Billy Jones, one of his high school football team mates who had been a tackle. They had been known each other in high school but hadn’t moved in the same crowd. After high school, Billy had gone into law enforcement and now he was proudly encased in a snug guard’s uniform. Their paths had parted aside from the “wassup’s” they exchanged when they ran into each other around town.

“Hey, man”, said Billy, “thought I’d bring you some lunch. You’ve got a long trip ahead of you this afternoon, big guy.”  He patted Jim Bob’s bulging belly as he said this. Like most of their classmates, he couldn’t get over how much Jim Bob had let himself go in the four years since high school graduation. “Thanks, dude,” replied Jim Bob, “breakfast at the jail this morning wasn’t much.” He opened the bag and took out the three double quarter pounders with cheese, supersize fries, 20 piece nuggets, 3 fried apple pies, and large strawberry shake.

“This may be your last good meal for a while, man”, said Billy .” I hear that at State Prison, all the inmates are on tight rations.” He couldn’t help but stare at Jim Bob as he said this. He thought to himself how Jim Bob had changed since their football days when at 5’9”, 160, he was one of the best quarterbacks in the state. Usually a polite guy, Billy was kind of surprised at himself when he heard himself asking Jim Bob, “say man, not to be nosy, but how much weight are you carrying now?”

Jim Bob laughed and drawled, “No problem, dude. When I was arrested , they weighed me in at 292. Think I must have dropped a few on that jail food since then, though.”

Billy thought to himself, 292! No wonder the other guards were talking about how they were having a hard time finding a jumpsuit to fit Jim Bob. Jim Bob’s big round belly and big bulging man boobs, his thick love handles,  his enormous protruding round butt, and his thick thighs stretched the thin cloth of the jumpsuit in all directions.

“Wow, friend. You really have picked up some pounds since football.” Billy thought this was a good topic for conversation to distract Jim Bob from his prison sentence. Jim Bob scarfed down his lunch as they waited for the van to take Jim Bob to prison. Jim Bob replied to his old teammate, talking while eagerly chewing mouthfuls of food.

“Well Billy, I guess I’m a sure enough fat boy now”, Jim Bob drawled, “…you know how it goes. After football was finished the weekend beer and pot parties started to put some pounds on me. At first, I thought Polly would mind it when I began to put on a pot belly and my ass started chubbing up, but dude, it’s like the fatter I get the more she likes it. Billy,  I mean, she LOVES it.”

The two 22-year-olds exchanged knowing glances, Jim Bob thinking back to how hot Polly was as she worshipped his expanding body, and Billy just thinking of how hot Polly always had been.

Jim Bob continued, “As far as Polly is concerned, dude, all I have to do is lounge around all day eating and relaxing while her daddy’s money just rolls in. So, I’ve been livin’ high on the hog! I just need to make sure ‘Little Mr. Jim Bob’ here is ready for action whenever she wants it.” He laughed as he reached beneath the watermelon sized bulge of his fat belly and grabbed his crotch for emphasis.

“Hey man, there’s nothing bad about getting fat. Most of the guys on our team have really porked up since we stopped playing football. I must have put on a good 50 lbs myself ever since I passed the physical to become a guard and could relax a little. And looks like your cousin Chester has been doing some good eating, too.” Billy laughed and patted his own belly.

Jim Bob drawled, “Yeah, ol’ Chester’s put on about a hundred or so. He tells me his girlfriend always bugs him about his weight, but dude, you should see him shovel the food in when he comes over for dinner. He’s a big ol` heifer. The only time he stops eating is when there’s no food left.”

By this time, Jim Bob had finished the McDonald’s lunch and wiped his greasy hands on the bag. “I really appreciate this, Billy,” said Jim Bob, and for once he actually was sincere. “Well, for old times’ sake, dude”, said Billy, who was never not sincere, “just want you to know that whatever happens, we’re still friends.” When Jim Bob heard this, he felt a little guilty for all the times he thought Billy was a hopeless square, certainly not one of the super cool in-group in their high school class.

The van soon arrived and with some effort Jim Bob hoisted his tightly-encased bulk into the back. He was on his way to prison for a year.

Jim Bob handled prison OK. Always a smooth talker and a manipulator, Jim Bob also knew when to take a low profile and keep his mouth shut. The big shock was his first day, at the orientation for new inmates. He was issued his prison uniform, this time a bright red jumpsuit worn over a white T-shirt. When he went to put it on, he found that the legs and rear end were very tight. He could only pull the front zipper up to a couple of inches below his deep bellybutton. The mass of his fat round belly and the wide roll of flab around his waist blocked any effort to hoist the zipper up higher.  When he said to the trustee inmate who distributed the uniforms that he needed a bigger size, the inmate laughed and told him not to worry, it would fit “soon enough”.

He next was taken to the infirmary, where another trustee weighed and measured him and the other new inmates while they waited for the doctor to check them out.  5’9” Jim Bob was weighed in at 290 lbs. “Boy, you’re a big one!” exclaimed the trustee, a large black dude named Rasheed who looked like nobody gave him any back talk. “But that fat’s gonna disappear soon.”

Jim Bob was curious. “Why?”

Jim Bob’s question was answered by the doctor, a grim-faced elderly man who was standing in the doorway. “You prisoners are not sent here to get fat, or in your case, fatter, on taxpayer’s money. All our prisoners are on strict portion control. 2050 calories a day, just what is needed to keep a sedentary young man healthy.  No seconds ever. It’s a matter of economics. If we let all you prisoners eat whatever you wanted, we’d have to cook three times what we do now, and we’d end up with a lot of fat boys like you, young man. And don’t even think of buying snacks. Those privileges are strictly limited.”

At that point, another inmate went into the physician’s examining room, the door closed, and Rasheed started to talk again. “Yeah, friend, even if you have the money to spend on snacks, they charge $5 for a Hershey bar at the prison store. So, that tight uniform you have on now will be loose on you mighty soon. You won’t believe it, but when I came here five years ago, I weighed 380. Now look at me…I’m lucky if I’m 235. Now, friend, do me a favor and walk over to that table and chair so I can take your blood pressure.”

Jim Bob did as he was asked and Rasheed followed him.  Jim Bob noticed Rasheed checking him out with a look of amazement on his face. Rasheed then said to Jim Bob,  “Man, you are REALLY fat. You got the biggest ass I’ve ever seen—on a white boy, that is.” Jim Bob smiled, grabbed a thick roll of his soft bulging love handle, and turned on the charm. “Yeah, brother, it’s all due to my girlfriend. She likes me big and fat.”   Rasheed was nostalgic as he said,”Yeah, man, that’s how my lady was   too.” He then added, “Well, when you get out of here, there’s gonna be a lot less of you for her to love.”

Everything turned out to be as the doctor and Rasheed had told Jim Bob. Because of prison overcrowding, meal times were brief. The food was well prepared but there wasn’t much of it—just enough for one serving per inmate—never any seconds.  Because of the large number of inmates, chances for a prison job were almost zero. There was a weight room, but inmates had to take their turn—an hour a week max for each inmate. Jim Bob was in a low security area with other non-violent short-timers like himself. All the inmates there kept out of trouble so they could go home as quickly as possible. White, black, latino and Asian, in this part of the prison, they all had only one thought—getting released on schedule. Jim Bob turned on his charm and worked at getting along with everyone and minding his own business. So, Jim Bob spent most of his time watching TV, thinking of Polly, and waiting for visiting day every Sunday..

At first, Polly came every Sunday. She cried, but not enough to mess her makeup. She filled Jim Bob in on the news.  She was so lonely without having Jim Bob and “Little Mr. Jim Bob” around. She missed feeling Jim Bob’s weight on  her while he pumped her. By the way, Brittany, Chester’s girlfriend, had dumped him and moved to Biloxi. Polly felt sorry for Chester, he was devastated. Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. If Polly hadn’t been so hot and so rich,  Jim Bob would have gotten bored with her chatter years ago.

Jim Bob noticed over the next few weeks that Polly talked more about Chester. She felt so sorry for Chester since he had been dumped, and a nice guy like him too. At the same time, Jim Bob noticed the look of disappointment on Polly’s face as she noticed how he was losing weight. Rasheed, the big trustee who had talked with Jim Bob that first day, was right. After a month, Jim Bob had lost 20 lbs. on the jail rations and was steadily dropping weight.

It was about this time that Chester began to come to visit Jim Bob with Polly.  Only one visitor at a time was allowed, so Polly ended her conversation with Jim Bob early. She left the room and Chester came in. Jim Bob noticed right away that Chester was getting fatter. When Jim Bob said he was sorry to hear that Brittany had dumped him, Chester replied, “That bitch? I’m glad she’s gone. I got me a much better situation now.” He then stopped abruptly and changed the subject to talk sports, leaving Jim Bob with a vague feeling of uneasiness.

The next weekend, only Chester came to visit. As Jim Bob watched Chester walk into the room, he noticed that Chester seemed to have gotten even bigger and flabbier during the previous week. His tight white polo shirt had ridden up on his blubbery belly, revealing a three-inch-wide loaf of soft pink new belly fat ballooning over his pants as Chester walked forward toward Jim Bob, a big  smile on his face.

“Where’s Polly?” asked Jim Bob.

“Oh”, said Chester, “it’s her  time of the month.  She started to get cramps real bad when we were eating breakfast this morning. She said to tell you she’ll come by real soon.”
Eating breakfast this morning? Chester getting fatter? Jim Bob felt a wave of suspicion and anger as he abruptly asked, “Chester, are you fucking Polly?’

Chester turned white, and his jowls and chubby cheeks started to quiver. “Ah…ah…ah…, come on, Jim Bob. We’ve been like brothers ever since we were born. Would I do that to you?” Jim Bob’s anger was intense but still not quite strong enough to cause him to lose control. Anyway, he was separated from Chester by a Plexiglas partition. Jim Bob forced himself to stay calm by repeating to himself, “Don’t do anything to screw up your release date.” Soon, the visit with Chester was over

The next week, Jim Bob received a letter from Polly. She was sorry, but having him away was harder than she thought. Her needs were too great for an absentee boyfriend who wouldn’t be released for ten more months. Sorry, Jim Bob.

Another letter arrived for Jim Bob about a month later. Billy, his high school teammate who was now the jail guard back in his hometown, wrote out of the blue, saying that he and the guys on their old team felt bad for Jim Bob and the way he was being treated by Polly and Chester.  Chester had moved in with Polly and was parading around town bragging about what a good life he had now. The letter closed with “Just want you to know, Jim Bob,   that you have some friends back here in your home town and we look forward to getting together with you when you’re released.” That letter made Jim Bob feel a little better, but not much.

For the next ten months, Jim Bob was a model prisoner.  His only thought was to get out of prison on his release date and to head home. After getting the letter from Polly, Jim Bob moped around and lost his appetite. He went to meals because he had to but ate only enough to keep himself going until his release. He just didn’t have his old taste for food any longer.

The old pre-prison Jim Bob had grown to love food, the great feeling being nice and full gave him, and the big round belly and ballooning fat ass which were the result of all the excess calories. The new Jim Bob couldn’t care less. The results soon showed. Jim Bob steadily continued to lose weight. By the time Jim Bob was released, his jumpsuit had grown baggy on him.

Jim Bob’s release date arrived. He stopped by the infirmary for his release physical. He was measured at 5’9”, 170 lbs. Rasheed congratulated him on his release and added, “friend, I still remember how ya were that huge ass white boy who waddled in here a year ago. See, didn’t I tell ya that ya were going to drop some pounds here? Now you look like most of the other white boys around here—no butt at all on ya.”

Rasheed and Jim Bob both laughed, but then Jim Bob turned grim. “Say, man, you’d lose your appetite too if you found out your lady had dumped you and was screwing around with the guy who had been closer than a brother to you!”

Rasheed replied, “Shit, man, now THAT is disrespect!  But, man, get on with your life. The bitch ain’t worth nothin’ now. Find someone else. Don’t ya go getting caught at anything again and have to come back here. Good luck, man.” Jim Bob really was sincere when he shook Rashid’s hand and wished him good luck too. For sure I’m never gonna come back here, Jim Bob thought. As for finding someone else, he’d have to take things as they came along.

Jim Bob stayed with Billy the jail guard and his family for a week until he was able to get a furnished room in the home of an elderly widow lady. Jim Bob got a job at the local Burger King and after a month was appointed night manager. He made an effort to avoid going anywhere that he might run into Polly or his cousin Chester. The pain was still too great, and besides, he didn’t have the money to go to those fancy places now anyway.

A week later on a sunny Saturday afternoon, Jim Bob was with Billy, some of the other members of the old football team, and their families at a picnic at the local lake. The day was filled with fishing, swimming, touch football, card playing, talking, and eating—a most enjoyable country Saturday afternoon.

Jim Bob and Billy were talking when Billy suddenly stopped and pointed over to the parking lot. “Well, lookee who’s here.” Jim Bob recognized Polly’s Mecedes SUV and he grew quiet, his eyes narrowing. Polly stepped out of the driver’s seat, and after a few minutes, a large figure emerged from the passenger side. The man had his back turned to Jim Bob, but then as he turned and noticed  Jim Bob, he started to approach Jim Bob and Billy.  It was Chester, bare-chested and wearing only a huge pair of shorts, ready for a cooling dip in the lake.

Polly stood next to the SUV as Chester slowly waddled forward. Each massive thigh rubbing past the other caused Chester’s enormous hanging belly and sagging, basketball-size man boobs to shift and sway from side to side. While Billy and Jim Bob stared at this spectacle, Billy said softly, “Jim Bob, that’s one thing I didn’t tell you when you were at prison. From the day Chester moved in with Polly, he started piling on the pounds. I heard he has to weigh himself at the Feed and Grain Store now.”

Chester finally reached Jim Bob and Billy, and held out his hand, a broad smile dimpling his round face. “Jim Bob, it’s good to see ya. I jes` wanna let ya know that I hope we can be like brothers again. Let’s put everything in the past, man.”

Jim Bob ignored Chester’s outstretched hand, and Chester barely finished talking before Jim Bob, eyes narrowed into slits in his anger, bowed his head and suddenly rushed forward, punching at Chester, trying to knock him off his feet. 465 lb Chester didn’t move. Jim Bob’s 170 lb body didn’t even make him take a step backwards when Jim Bob slammed into him. Billy was able to pull Jim Bob away before his flailing fists caused any damage to Chester’s fat-padded body.

Chester backed up a few feet and flexed his fat-sheathed biceps, sending ripples on his huge drooping man boobs and the rest of the flab which draped his torso. “Look, small stuff,  I gave ya a chance. Don’t challenge me until ya put some meat on that sorry skinny body of yours and we can go at it man to man. That ain’t gonna happen, though, is it, little cousin? Looks the the big deal former fat boy has turned into a twink!.” At this, he turned his back on Jim Bob and Billy and started to waddle back to Polly, still standing by the SUV. His wide sagging ass wobbled and jiggled in the huge pair of shorts which covered Chester’s wide hips and bulky hindquarters. .By the time he reached the SUV, Polly had entered the driver’s side. Jim Bob glared in anger, Billy still holding him back, as Chester maneuvered himself into the passenger’s side. The SUV seemed to sink about a foot and settled under the impact of Chester’s bulk.

“You’ll get yours, Chester, I promise, you’ll get yours.” Billy was surprised at the depth of the anger in Jim Bob’s voice. “Nobody disrespects me like that and gets away with it.”

“C’mon now, buddy”, said Billy at this point. “Remember you’re on probation and one arrest will send you back to prison.”

Jim Bob suddenly put on his charming smile, the smile which had gotten him so many things all his life, and said to Billy, “yeah, you’re right. That fat shit ain’t worth it.” That’s what he said, while in his mind he began to think of a way to get his revenge.

Over the next eighteen months, Jim Bob kept up his new life. The townspeople were pleased to see how he changed after his stay in prison. He seemed more humble, somehow, and definitely harder working. He frequently worked overtime at Burger King and joined the local gym. He didn’t find any special lady in his life, but like many single guys his age, he had no problems picking up someone at a club or a beer joint on the weekends, so “Little Mr. Jim Bob” was reasonably happy. He avoided Polly and Chester at all costs. One sight of Polly’s Mercedes SUV, the only one in town, and Jim Bob headed the other way.

When not working at the Burger King, Jim Bob took his meals at any of the cafes and small restaurants in town which served good “down home style” southern cooking. The waitresses who served Jim Bob soon began to give him bigger portions as he turned on the charm, smiled his perfect smile, and left bigger tips, too, Managing a Burger King meant lots of free food and people began to notice that Jim Bob was rapidly putting on weight again. Only natural, too…it was expected that 24 year old guys like Jim Bob would be putting on some pounds. It was the way things were for all country boys, not just the ex-football jocks. The more the waitresses noticed the roll developing around Jim Bob’s middle and the way the rest of his handsome body was quickly porking up, the bigger his portions became.

Jim Bob’s landlady did her share to aid Jim Bob’s growth. He was so nice to her (he really was, this was the truly sincere side of Jim Bob that showed itself on occasion), doing yard work and  fixing things around the rooming house, always stopping to chat and pass the time of day when he saw her sitting by herself.  His landlady began to prepare special treats for her handsome young tenant. Jim Bob, on returning from the late shift at Burger King, would see a note on the door of his room in his landlady’s handwriting telling him to check the ice box for a special treat she had made for him. It became a nightly ritual—pans of rich corn pone, mixing bowls full of banana pudding, pecan pies—Jim Bob would take a glass of cold milk or sweet tea, and enjoy his treat even though he had just come from closing the Burger King where he had finished off all the leftovers.

Jim Bob’s lifting at the gym meant that a lot of his new weight was solid muscle, but Jim Bob was also proud when he noticed how his fat pot belly and big fat jutting butt were redeveloping., not to mention how thick his quads, glutes, hips, chest, arms and shoulders were getting.

As Jim Bob rapidly grew bigger, some of his lifting buddies at the gym started kidding him about the “fat-over-muscle look” or “big bellied power lifter look” he was getting, and some of the customers at his Burger King took to joking with Jim Bob about how he was becoming a “walking advertisement” for that great Burger King food.

Jim Bob always laughed, and hoped he sounded sincere when he always drawled in reply, “yep, just enjoyin’ the ‘good life’, I guess” while he patted his fat round belly. The waitresses who looked forward to his good-natured kidding with them when he came in for his meals, and his landlady who now was kept busy letting out his clothes and repairing split seams and popped buttons so that Jim Bob could delay spending money on bigger sizes for a little while, all were happy to see him seeming to enjoy life and eat well. After all, he had paid his debt to society, right?

Inside, though, Jim Bob was still  seething with anger at Chester. But, Jim Bob never let his inner feelings show and turned on the charm whenever and to whomever he needed to.

Jim Bob had the charm turned on full blast the day he showed up at the office of a diet doctor in Nashville. It had been a  long drive from his home town. Jim Bob gave the receptionist all the information needed from new patients. He told her he was going to have to pay cash—didn’t have any medical insurance—and signed in as “John Smith”. In a few minutes, he was shown into the doctor’s office. The doctor checked him out—pulse and blood pressure normal—and than asked him to strip down to his boxer shorts and got him on the scale. It read 325 lbs. The doctor took note of the bright red stretchmarks which covered his new patient’s wide love handles, fat belly, and big round man boobs, how “John Smith”’s pot belly  and love handles erupted over the top of his boxers, and how the thin white cloth of the boxers was pulled skin tight across his wide hips and enormous round fat butt cheeks, making the fly gap wide open so “Little Mr. Jim Bob” was visible, nestled in curly blond pubic hair.

“John Smith” went back to the seat next to the doctor’s desk, his flab jiggling and quivering as he walked, and started talking. “You see, doctor, I’ve got to do something about my weight. I’ve put on over a hundred  twenty-five pounds in the past year and a half and it seems like I just can’t stop eating. My boss has told me that if I don’t start to lose some weight, I’m going to be fired from my job.” “John Smith” just oozed that old Jim Bob sincerity.

The doctor replied, “Well, Mr. Smith, I see what you mean.  We have a lot of young male patients who started out in good shape, like you, and just have ballooned up.  I can see you have a lot of muscle, but your stretchmarks indicate how much fat you’ve put on recently.”

“John Smith” replied, “Yeah, doctor, I’m hungry all the time. I just can’t stick to a diet. I’m desperate, doctor!.” His voice had just the right note of pleading in it.

“Mr. Smith, let’s try some appetite suppressants for now. I’ll give you a prescription for the newest drug on the market. I’ll call in a prescription for a month’s supply to the pharmacy right downstairs.  You should notice a decrease in your appetite right away which should make it easier for you to stick to the diet my receptionist will give you on your way out. Just be careful—these pills are very powerful  stimulants. If you notice any signs of your heart racing, or if you feel faint, call me immediately. But, even though you are much too fat for a young man your age and height, you are basically in great shape and should tolerate the medication well.”

As Jim Bob left, he picked up the diet sheet  scheduled an appointment for a month away, paid his bill in cash, went downstairs to the pharmacy and paid cash for “John Smith”’s  prescription.

Jim Bob had a shit-kickin’ grin on his face as he headed out onto the interstate for the long drive back home from Nashville. He made a stop at a McDonald’s for a nice big lunch, tossing the diet sheet and next-appointment card the diet doctor in Nashville had given him into the trash as he left McDonald’s. On the drive back, he ate the fries and finished off the box of chicken nuggets and half a dozen fried apple pies he had bought as a snack. Still feeling a little hungry, he made a stop at a Stuckey’s and bought a pecan log. Back in his car, he tore into the sweet treat,  rubbed his big belly, savored the taste of the pecan log, and smiled as he thought how well the day had gone.

What luck that the diet doctor had actually prescribed for Jim Bob the very medication he had learned about on the internet. Boy, Jim Bob, reflected, the old “Jim Bob charm” is still there! To think that the doctor would actually fall for that crap and think that Jim Bob would ever want to be a skinny twink! What a jerk the doctor was! Didn’t he realize that there were plenty of good ol’ country boys like Jim Bob who took pride in their big appetites and  the weight which padded their frames with every extra calorie?

When Jim Bob got home, the prescription bottle with the thirty capsules went into the bottom bureau drawer, under some socks, waiting for Jim Bob to need them.

Two more months went by and Jim Bob continued his daily routine—working, lifting, socializing with his buddies and acquaintances around town, and eating big. He put on another twelve   pounds, more fat than muscle, but Jim Bob was pleased.

He was real happy the day his landlady gave him back the latest pair of pants he had asked her to let out for him. Giving him the pants, she drawled, “Land sakes, Jim Bob, I swear you’re fallin’ away to a ton! You’re gonna havta buy size 52 pants in a little while—I can’t let these out any further. But ya carry the weight well, son! And I must say it does my heart good to see the way ya enjoy your food.!” Much to her surprise and pleasure, Jim Bob, that shit-kickin’ grin on his face, gave her a peck on the cheek. Jim Bob grinned because he had come to truly care about the kind old lady, and he also knew that he was at last ready to deal with Chester.

Jim Bob kept his ears open around town when he stopped to talk with any of his old friends. While in the past he automatically tuned out whenever Chester’s name came up, now he discretely listened carefully to what was being said about his cousin and now mortal enemy.

Billy the jail guard and Jim Bob’s other buddies did talk about Chester a lot. They couldn’t help but talk about their classmate who was now living a life of ease, supported by Polly’s money. There was speculation about what it was Polly saw in Chester, especially now that he was so enormously fat. One of the guys who worked at the Feed and Grain Store reported that Chester had last weighed in at 587 lbs, quite a change from the 5’10”, 165 lb wide receiver he had been in high school. Jim Bob’s buddies all had put on some weight  themselves—shit, it was normal, wasn’t it?—but ol’ Chester had really taken it to an extreme. Stories spread around town about the stupendous appetite Chester had developed, and it seemed like every week there was a new story about how much  Chester had eaten—three dozen biscuits with gravy, a dozen helpings of cheese grits. One glance at Chester as he waddled breathlessly from the SUV to whatever food place Polly had driven them to confirmed the stories.

One day, Jim Bob heard that Chester and Polly would often go on a Saturday night to a road house over in the next county where there was good country music and great food. Some Saturdays Chester would go alone if Polly had taken a quick trip to Atlanta or New Orleans for a weekend of shopping. Jim Bob quietly arranged his schedule at work so he always had Saturday nights off.

A month later, on a dark, moonless Saturday evening, Jim Bob was sitting in his car in the road house parking lot, close to where the familiar Mercedes SUV was parked. He was wearing dark clothes. The door to the road house opened and a large shadow emerged and started moving slowly toward the parking lot. This had to be Chester, thought Jim Bob, as he quietly got out of his car and slipped behind the SUV.

As Chester stood next to the driver’s side door, panting from the exertion of waddling out to the SUV, fumbling to reach into the pocket of his skin tight pants for the car keys, he was thinking of the great meal he had just devoured—three double orders of fettuccine Alfredo, a loaf of butter-soaked garlic bread, and five desserts, washed down with an entire bottle of red wine.

He was feeling some discomfort in his chest. Maybe this was what they call heartburn? Too bad the cashier at the restaurant didn’t have any antacids or anything when he paid his bill. Maybe he shouldn’t have had that last piece of apple pie topped with cheddar cheese and a double scoop of ice cream—but it looked so-o-o good! He thought how proud and happy Polly would have been to see how much he was able to eat tonight. She just loved it when Chester pushed himself to eat huge, and she always showed her love in the bedroom as soon as they got home.

Still thinking of Polly, Chester was massaging his immense sagging belly and trying to force a belch when a shape rushed at him from out of the darkness and hit him like a ton of bricks. 337 lb Jim Bob hit Chester low, knocking him off balance. The next thing Chester knew, he was flat on his back with a hand clamped tightly over his mouth, feeling a heavy weight sitting on his massive stomach. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he recognized that the weight was Jim Bob.

Chester was gasping for breath and motioned that he wanted to speak. Jim Bob took his hand off Chester’s mouth, but at the same time reached into his pocket and pulled out a gun which he held to Chester’s temple. It was too dark for Chester to realize the gun was only a toy.  Chester managed to gasp, “Jim Bob, cousin, what are ya doin’? Remember, we’ve always been closer than brothers.”

Jim Bob replied quietly, “With a brother like you, I don’t need any enemies. Now you’re going to get what you deserve for disrespecting me.”

Still holding the toy gun to Chester’s head, Jim Bob reached into his jacket pocket and took out a plastic bottle of Coca Cola and the pill bottle.  Deftly uncapping the cola bottle, Jim Bob opened the pill bottle, poured the capsules into his hand, and put them up to Chester’s mouth. “Okay, ‘brother’, open wide and swallow”. Chester, still breathing heavily and actually gasping for breath—the most exercise he had gotten during the past three years was lifting his food-laden fork to his mouth as often as possible and then lying on his back in bed every night while Polly rode him—swallowed the capsules and then took a gulp of the cola from the bottle Jim Bob shoved up against his fat lips.

Jim Bob’s final words to Chester were, “Now, Chester, into the car and relax. Just sit there for a few minutes and everything will be just fine.” Jim Bob hoped his mock sincerity was believable to the huge man struggling to his feet next to him, still gasping heavily from the combined effects of his heavy meal, the bottle of wine, and the shock at what had just happened.

Chester managed to open the car door and back his bulk into the driver’s seat of the SUV, making the vehicle settle under his tonnage.  He sat there, still trying to catch his breath and grasp what had just take place. Was it a dream or what? If only Polly was there! She’d take him to get something to eat and everything would be jes’ fine again! Chester felt his heart racing as he grew drowsy. That was it! Maybe he jes’ needed a little nap! That would make things better! He closed his eyes….

Jim Bob waited a few minutes, checked around the SUV to make sure he hadn’t left anything behind, went back to his car, got inside, and sat there quietly for about ten minutes more. He was happy that his luck was holding. No one had left the road house during the time he had confronted Chester.

Five minutes more passed and Jim Bob started his car and drove out of the parking lot. Not a sound came from the huge man sitting in the SUV.

On his way home, Jim Bob stopped at a Denny’s and ordered a complete fried chicken  meal, with a side of a 6-egg ham omelet, a double order of hotcakes, and a double order of cheese grits.  After he finished eating, he went to the men’s room and noted with pleasure how the bulk of his big belly, huge round buttocks,  and wide meaty hips practically filled the stall. After relieving himself, he took the empty pill bottle from his jacket pocket, and peeled off the label, which got flushed down the toilet. The now-unlabeled pill bottle went into the trash. Jim Bob belched contentedly as he got into his car and headed home. The toy gun soon went back into the toy chest of his landlady’s young great-grandson..

Two days later, Jim Bob scanned the local newspaper and noticed a story at the bottom of page one. “Local Football Hero Found Dead”. He read further, “Chester Cleaver, 26, was found dead early yesterday morning in his SUV parked at the parking lot of a well-known roadhouse on Route 28. Cause of death is suspected to be a massive heart attack.  According to waitresses at the roadhouse, Mr. Cleaver had eaten a huge meal there, as was his habit. He seemed in good spirits as he left the establishment about 10 p.m., although he mentioned to the cashier that he had some discomfort in his chest area. The waitresses and cashier reported that he was breathing heavily as he left the roadhouse. Local sports fans will remember Mr. Cleaver as the star wide receiver on our local high school team seven years ago  The police report lists Mr. Cleaver’s death as cardiac arrest brought about by his weight, reported to be 587 lbs, and the enormous meal he had just consumed. No autopsy is planned.”

Chester’s funeral was held two weeks later. Jim Bob was there and sure seemed sad. For appearances sake, he even managed to squeeze into his good suit—his landlady had to let out his dress pants as far as possible in the waist and rear so he could shoehorn his big round ass into them while his belly ballooned over the waistband–and he wore a dark tie. At the grave yard, Jim Bob stood with his head bowed as the prayers were being said. He was staring down at the big round bulge his pot belly made in his tight white dress shirt (his suit jacket was so tight he couldn’t button it, leaving the round mass of his fat pot belly proudly on display)  and forcing himself not to betray any sign of the broad smile he felt inside. The old Jim Bob phony sincerity was there in full force.

As the prayers continued and Jim Bob stood with his head bowed and eyes closed, he noticed the familiar fragrance of an expensive perfume. Head still bowed, he opened his eyes and noticed an expensive black silk dress on the female figure which had appeared next to him.  A gloved hand reached over, and unseen by the other mourners, gave Jim Bob’s big soft fat butt cheek a hard squeeze. Polly!

Jim Bob heard Polly softly whisper, “I don’t know what it was that caused me to dump you, Jim Bob. All I know is that I’ve missed you for a long time, sugar. Why don’t we meet back at my place this evening?”

Jim Bob said nothing. He struggled even harder to control the smile  he felt inside as he continued to pretend to pray. His stomach rumbled with hunger while “little Mr. Jim Bob” stiffened to attention. Jim Bob was already thinking of his future…..

Scott’s Stepsister-Isaac Lahey-Part 2

School Days

Part 1-Moving and Meeting

Teen Wolf Imagine:#89


Word Count: 1,780

Warnings: None that I can think of?

A/n: Finally a part 2! 

Originally posted by silly-australian-little-men


Coming Soon

Last Imagine

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Beyond the Horizon

Originally posted by lematworks

(Request: a fic with y/n as Newt’s neighbor in London and he likes her and one day she’s shoveling snow and he’s like oh hell no that’s not for a lady and it’s really cute and fluffy, like the have hot chocolate after or something xxxxxx)

(A/N: This sounded so ridiculously cute, I got super excited to write this, I really hope you like it. I wasn’t sure if I should’ve kept it going or not- so I cut it off.  I’m sorry I took forever to write this, I’ve been very sick and we somehow keep having people over at my house which isn’t helping. Thank you anon for the lovely request! sorry it kind of sucks xx)

You couldn’t help but sigh in desperation as direct sunlight hit your eyes, causing you to squint and whine. It can’t be morning already, you thought as you cracked your eyes open. You had recently moved to London from Texas due to an amazing study abroad internship you received a few months prior.

Moving to London had probably been the hardest thing you had ever done in your life, especially when it came to the time differnce. Currently, you were running on four hours of sleep and you were not ready for human contact of any type.

 It was currently seven forty-five in the morning and you had class at nine, very slowly you inched out of bed and glared out the window- only to see white. “You’re kidding!” you cried, immediately running outside.

You didn’t care that you were shaking as you excitedly scooped up a small amount of snow in your hand and watched it melt before your eyes, causing you to squeal excitedly. 

Coming from Texas, you saw your fair amount of snow, but it was certainly nothing like this, what you were currently witnessing before your eyes was a Winter Wonderland. (pun intended.)

It wasn’t until you looked up and saw your driveway, that made you groan. There was possibly no way you could ever leave in your car with all that snow in the way, so, with a heavy heart, you walked back inside, only to come back with a shovel several minutes later.

As you started shoveling, you couldn’t help but thank your lucky stars that there was at least another hour until your next class started, because there was at least a half hours work ahead of you.

You had been shoveling for maybe ten minutes, when you felt someone tap your shoulder, causing you to jump slightly.

“I-I’m sorry!” Said a panicked voice and when you looked up you were met with flushed pink cheeks and honey colored eyes. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Letting out a small laugh you placed your shovel in front of you and held out your hand, “that’s alright,” you replied, “I get frightened real easy I guess, I’m (y/n).”

“Newt Scamander,” replied the boy with a smile, “I live next door, it’s nice to meet you.”

When you moved in, you couldn’t remember if the house next to you was occupied or not, but looking at it now from the corner of your eye, you guessed there was someone there- plus it also helped that there was a person telling you he lived there.

“Likewise, I just moved in so I don’t really anybody.” you answered back, not exactly sure where to take the conversation next, luckily Newt knew exactly what to say, because not a moment passed before he said.

“I d-don’t mean to be a bother, but I noticed that you were shoveling snow and I was wondering if you needed help.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“N-not that you’re not capable yourself because you are- but I- i just figured a lady shouldn’t- be troubling herself when I can just- please let me do it.”

As Newt continued to ramble on you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, “how about,” you started saying, “I stay here with you while you shovel, and then I can give you a warm cup of hot cocoa- because it’s- yknow, cold outside.”

Nodding, Newt grinned, “that sounds lovely.” He said, “why don’t you go get it started and I’ll shovel while we wait.”

Agreeing to Newts plan you found yourself again inside your house and quickly fired up some hot chocolate. You couldn’t help but think to yourself as you heated up some milk that your neighbor was quite the looker, it also didn’t help that he was very kind. A bit goofy, but kind nonetheless.

As your turned the stove on, you figured a few minutes outside wouldn’t completely burn your home down, so you rapidly put on your scarf again and headed outside- only to see Newt leaning against the shovel sheepishly, a slight grin on his face.

You stared at your empty driveway in shock. “S-sorry how long was I in there?” You asked jokingly, to which Newt shook his head, ears red, “not very long.” He replied.

“Then how did you finish so quick?”

“Magic.” He said simply, causing you to giggle, “okay,” you mocked, “well- obviously I wasn’t shoveling right. Honestly that was at least another twenty minutes of work I’m shocked you finished so quick.”

“Maybe I look stronger than you thought.” Newt replied quickly, his eyes barely meeting yours.

You couldn’t help but feel your own cheeks burn scarlet as you glued your eyes to the ground, “the cocoa should be ready in a couple,” you said, “would you like to come in?”

“That sounds lovely.”

A/N: I’ve had an idea for a drabble/sketch where Tentoo is sick and Rose takes care of him for a while, so here goes. It’s all fluff and crack – enjoy!
Title: S’Good.
Pairing: Tentoo x Rose
(There is an OC involved, but purely for the purposes of presenting the Doctor and Rose’s relationship as seen by a stranger).

The plaque on the van’s door reads Rose Tyler and she climbs the three steps, reasoning with herself that Rose certainly wouldn’t mind if she waited inside. Certainly.

The inside is warm and pleasantly stuffed. It smells of tea.

Anya shrugs off her heavy coat and looks around curiously. Incidentally, the van lives up to her assumptions regarding how Rose Tyler’s living space would look. The walls are covered in corkboards, calendars and photos of various sorts, painted pink, and there are quite a few rather mismatched pieces of furniture crammed into this small amount of space. There’s even a tiny and strikingly old-fashioned telly sitting on top of some cupboard, and she catches a glimpse of Twin Peaks opening credits before it strikes her that she isn’t alone.

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The Ghost of Christmas’ Past

Pairing: Adrienette
Tags: Car accident, cats, tragedy, wheelchairs
Summary: Adrien kind of regrets the choices he’s made in his life.

So this is my ladybug secret santa gift for @gr33k-god. The prompt was fluffy, dark, funny, or cool so I guess I went with dark? ^^;;

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[ biohazard ]

{ one does not simply make another jealous }

AU: Yakuza, Arranged Marriage
Pairing: Aomine x Reader
Genre: Slight angst
Words: 3068 words
A/N: Oh man, oh man, I had way too much fun with this. I went way overboard. But I really like how this one turned out so I hope you guys will too. Throwing it over to fluffy-knb-scenarios because you know you love me. Since I can’t write anything for the babe’s birthday, this will be his gift :)

If you see arranged marriages in romance novels, they always make it out to be so rough but then so sweet afterwards. The heroine who at first refuses to marry the hero falls madly in love with him, deliriously happy that she finally has her prince charming. The hero, who was once a cold man, feels his heart bloom with joy at the sight of his darling wife.

But real life wasn’t as perfect as those authors make it out to be.

Sure, you were in an arranged marriage. You had expected something more glamorous rather than have your husband hang around some back alley at one in the morning, but sometimes you just don’t have a choice. Sure, your husband was incredibly good looking. He had tanned skin, midnight blue hair and the sexiest of eyes. He could turn anyone putty in his hands with just his looks alone. But those eyes never seemed to come to you.

Aomine’s clan wouldn’t be considered powerful but it was quite influential. Aomine’s strength was enough to convince them of how potent they could be if they wanted to. Not to mention, he could charm the pants off anyone.

You floated around the room by Aomine’s side, greeting guests and girls who were once Aomine’s potential suitors. They gave you the stink eye and a nice hand squeeze whenever they came around. Aomine smiled and greeted everyone pleasantly, though not forgetting to give them a nice grip of warning whenever someone who he deemed his competition came around.

“Dai,” you sighed. “I’m getting kind of tired.”

His glance darted in between the crowd and you as if he was contemplating whether to stick with you or to continue on with the party. “Do you want to go take a nap? I can handle things here for a while.”

You smiled gratefully and nodded. “That’ll be nice. Thanks.” You pecked him on the cheek before moving away back to your room. Thankfully enough, the gathering was held at Aomine’s place so all you had to do was walk a few rooms away and you could finally rest.

Thing was, it was difficult to rest when a million thoughts were running through your mind per second. Worries upon worries piled in your head. Sometimes you wondered why Aomine even agreed to this marriage. You weren’t anything special and, sure, your parents were part of a decent yakuza but they weren’t the strongest. Sighing, you stared up the ceiling and wished to fall asleep as soon as possible.

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a day in december: snowfall pt.2

on ao3
pt 1

ahahahahaha im going to be busting my ass to catch up holy crap

anyway i know i said this wouldn’t be a chapter thing but the idea of these days not being completely independent of each other made me like. suuuper uncomfortable so i’m not going to do that. and then the idea of not having 31 fics made me uncomfortable so technically i’ll be posting one for yesterday as well as this. but i’m already behind so—inspiration better hit me like lightning this weekend.

@itsnotyou-itsmimi​ on tumblr asked for adrien being in the snow for the first time in x amount of time and somehow i got to this fic i was just too slow to write it all in one day. i kind of completely failed on this prompt but i tried my best and also don’t own any cats/have seen any cats in the snow/know what i’m doing so if you ever give me another prompt mimi i promise i’ll try and do better <3 <3


Nathalie stops Adrien on the stairs. “Where are you going?”

Adrien tenses and gives her a nervous smile. “To school?”

She raises a single eyebrow, the rest of her face blank. “This early?”

“Um, yeah? Nino said it’s a thing him and Marinette do after the first snow.” They both glance to the window. The snow is falling lightly now, simply being more picturesque than actually accumulating much on the roads. “If…that’s okay?”

“It’s not,” she says sharply.

Adrien winces. He knew this was a possibility, he just ignored it. He does have a backup plan that involves him sneaking out his window in a very Chat Noir way. Just minus the enhanced agility and ability to fall long distances without getting injured. He’s lept from his climbing wall to the couch plenty of times, he’ll be fine.

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Imagine Homura lives in an area where the weather rarely changes, and when her long-distance girlfriend Madoka complains online about how much it’s snowing she jokingly tells her to send some in the mail. Weeks later to Homura’s surprise a package arrives. 

She’s a bit hesitant to open it at first, suspecting Madoka might be a bit literal-minded and that she might be about to open an empty soggy box. Instead what she finds inside are dozens of handcrafted paper snowflakes, each one a little different from the next. In the center is a picture of Madoka inside in winter clothes shoveling some of the fake snowflakes with a plastic shovel with an exaggerated annoyed look on her face.

This was the best I could do, but I promise the real thing isn’t as enchanting as the movies make it look anyway. If you want to see it for yourself, you should come down here sometime soon~ 

Love, Madoka.” 

anonymous asked:

I can't help but wonder if you only show the idiotic people who get 'mad at things that aren't straight or cis' because you know that the people who have made a good argument about the way you represent people have valid points and you don't want to let that be known. Things like 'over representation' and 'tokenism'. Example: Each and every single one of the seven fallen children are non-binary. Do you not see how that is somewhat odd? How would children no older than 14 come to such ideals?

I have yet to see a single person make a “good argument” against my artistic choices. The very idea that some random person on the internet should be able to tell me how to run my own comic is laughable, so any argument, no matter how carefully worded, is laughable too. And yes, I often ignore them because I don’t always feel like slogging through the filth that occasionally gets shoveled into my askbox. But today I suppose I’ll take a look at what you have to say. I hope you appreciate the sacrifices I make for you people.

Giving credit where credit is due, you actually did manage to give examples of things you dislike about my comics. That’s something that very few people who gripe at me have managed to do.

…Yes, there are a lot of nonbinary queer folk in this comic. But I don’t see how this makes them tokens. Tokenism is when a character exists solely to fill a certain diversity quota in an otherwise bland whitebread cishet cast. It’s when you throw in a gay person or a black person just so people can’t call your cast racist. …There was no quota I was trying to fulfill when I made decisions regarding the cast. I looked at each and every one of the characters and asked myself “What makes sense for this character?” And when you do that with a completely open heart and mind, you’d be surprised how many of them end up being things that aren’t straight, cis, and white.

As for the fallen children… When I brought up how unlikely it was for them all to be nonbinary and said “Weird huh!” I was being facetious. The implication I was making was that I have an actual story-reason for them being nonbinary. It’s not one that I’m going to tell you though, so in the meantime I’m afraid you’ll have to just be in the dark about it. Honestly. Would you really be whining about this if it had been some other trait? What if I’d made all the fallen children have bob-haircuts and brown hair? You’d think it was weird but you wouldn’t be whining at me about it like this.


Hook Man - Part 2

Word Count: 2663

Pairing: Eventual Dean x Reader

Warnings: Blood, death, language

Tagging: @letsgetoutalive @aprofoundbondwithdean @pb-5minutefanfiction @spnfanficpond @desiringspnimagines @blacktithe7

“Y/N slow down!” Sam yelled, running behind you. 

“You honestly think the cops are speeding away like that for some random little murder? Hook Man had to strike again, hurry up!” You yelled. Dean and Sam finally made it to the car and took off, following all the cop cars. 

You followed the cops to a sorority building and drove past it, trying to park out of the way. As you drove by you saw an ambulance with Lori on the inside, wrapped in a blanket. “Told you.” You mocked Sam. 

“Shut it.” Sam said. Dean parked about a street over and you started walking toward the back of the sorority house. “Why would the Hook Man come here? This is a long way from 9 Mile Road.” Sam wondered out loud. 

“Maybe he’s not haunting the scene of his crime. Maybe it’s something else.” Dean said. 

“Like a person, maybe?” you asked. 

“Yeah, maybe.” Dean replied. Two sorority girls came out of the side entrance and you quickly grabbed the boys and hid behind a bush. Luckily they didn’t see you and kept walking.

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[dream catcher, pt.3]

PT. 1 | PT. 2 | PT. 3 | PT. 4 | PT. 5 | PT. 6

words: 4.1k 

genre: hmm tbh its a bit of a mystery, there will deff be some fluff and angst, and im thinking about adding some light smut along the way..

synopsis: a dream catcher; someone who captures their dreams by placing a memory inside an object that fits the setting. they are able to revisit their dreams by touching said object before they go to sleep, and can bring others into their dream by having them touch the same object as well.

the guidelines seem confusing to you when you accidentally stumble into your friends dream and meet an oddly charming yet sweet individual named joshua. while the experience leaves you feeling a bit shaken, you can’t deny the fact you want to see him again, and again… and again.

Maury’s jaw fell slack when she noticed you lifelessly stalk into the kitchen, your hair all smothered to one side of your head while your eyes were quite puffy from just awakening. She mustered a giggle and continued to drag the egg yolk around the frying pan, obviously your first night of being a dream catcher didn’t go too smoothly. You collapsed at the table and let your arms hang limply by your sides, the hard surface of your forehead soon slamming against the stained wood. Dragging yourself around a desert rippling with heat proved to be an exhausting experience, and you were feeling the fictional ache in your bones seep into your real ones.

After turning off the burner, Maury brought you breakfast, the heavenly warmth of your food radiating from the plate. When you didn’t lift your head, Maury leaned forwards and knocked next to you on the table, a fork full of fluffy scrambled eggs hanging from her mouth.

“Someone had a rough night.” She said in sympathy, though when you finally met the soft glow of her eyes, she was impishly grinning at you. Your hollow glare didn’t cease even when you began shovelling down your breakfast, the venom in your stare causing Maury to roll her eyes in retaliation.

“Okay, I guess I should have told you the first few dreams are usually a kick in the ass.” She said while pouring herself a glass of orange juice. You almost choked on the hunk of bagel you were chewing, your hand coming to massage your neck as you gruesomely swallowed the lump sitting in your throat.

“You knew my dream would be shit and you didn’t think that would be useful information to tell me?” You whined while gulping down a swig of water. Maury delayed her response by taking an unusually long sip of orange juice, the glass half empty when she placed it back on her coaster. She thought it would be humorous to have you experience your first dream without too much information learned prior, especially since she shared a similar adventure.

“Okay, I admit, I admit.” Maury chuckled, her eyes continuously flickering away from you. “You admit what?” You said back, your voice creeping lower. “I should have said something about your first few dreams being kinda hectic.”

You leaned back in your chair and poked your fork into the light yellow mountain of eggs, all the while biting into the right side of your cheek.

“Yeah, it was kinda hectic when I woke up in the middle of a desert on some train tracks and almost got completely trampled by a goddamn train.” The words dripped from your mouth like syrup as you leaned forwards over the table, your fingers harshly pressing into the grain of the wood. Maury could only stifle a breathy chuckle at the displeasure painted across your face, a heavy feeling sitting in the pit of her stomach. She felt regret over not telling you about the chaos of your first dream, especially since it almost involved you turning as flat as a pancake. A deep sigh fell past her lips and for the first time since breakfast started, she fully met your gaze.

“Okay, you’re right. I’m really sorry that I didn’t warn you, especially when I wish that someone would have warned me.” After hearing the tenderness to her voice and seeing the glint of regret in her eyes, you fell back into your chair and let your lips pull into a timid grin.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m just being bitter because of all the sand I tripped over.” Maury giggled and the atmosphere quickly turned brighter, literally brighter, because a golden ray of sunshine splashed through the tall window pane behind you, the puffy blue birds soon commencing in their melodic chirping. You turned around from admiring the scenery outside the glass and dove into the food left on your plate, a low growl still gurgling from the pit of your empty stomach.

“So what was your first dream catcher experience, apart from meeting Joshua.” You mumbled around the last bite of your bagel. Maury suddenly drew in a large breath through her clenched teeth and raised her eyebrows, a laugh spilling from her lips before any actual words.

“I woke up in a tigers cage.”

You didn’t really feel like that needed any further explanation. Quickly you changed the subject, even though your couldn’t hide the shock mixed with amusement nipping at your features. “So, how was Joshua-, I mean how was playing with Joshua?” You stumbled, an undeniable embarrassment marking the flesh of your cheeks. Maury payed no mind to your giddiness and instead finished off her breakfast, a glimpse of her teeth flashing as she smiled. The subject of Joshua always made her flush with happiness, and you couldn’t help but wonder if Maury was crushing on him.

“Everything went as planned. Just a nice, relaxed session like always.” You nodded at her and forged a grin, watching as she took away your plates to rinse in the sink. “We both picked up the song really well, it was fun.”

Your eyes bored into her back, the sound of running water filling your ears and reminding you to take your glass to wash. “That’s cool.” You said while standing next to her, a weight forming in your chest. There was one question you really wanted to ask, but you felt out of place mentioning it, especially if Maury really did having feelings for Joshua. Just the thought of asking it made you grind your teeth, you only met the boy once and already you were wondering silly little heart fluttering things. You couldn’t tear your pupils away from the bubblegum pink blush on her cheeks, or the way her eyes shimmered like glitter under the sunlight. However it was just as equally chipping away at you for not asking it, so swallowing the lump in your throat you stuttered out your question.

“D-Did he ask about me?” You were cringing as the words left your lips, and you couldn’t miss the way Maury quickly pressed her lips together. She shut off the water and grabbed hold of the green dish soap, the pleasant smell of green apples tinging the air. You tugged at the bottom of your sweater when she didn’t reply, her eyes focused on squeezing a bubbly sponge.

“He did actually.” Maury suddenly said, her head angling towards you so you could see her smile. It felt like a bath bomb went off in your stomach and tingled its stream of colour throughout your every limb, your teeth sinking into the flesh of your lower lip to suppress the wide smile that threatened to show. The fabric caught between your fingers only bunched up tighter when you harshly gripped it, the sporadic fizziness inside you slowly beginning to simmer. Joshua had asked about you, and that made you feel less bitter towards being stranded in a desert. Maury continued to place the dishes in the drying rack, so you grabbed a towel to help clear the clutter for the other dishes soon to come. As you rubbed the cloth around the plate, you perked up when Maury spoke once more.

“He was curious about how you took in being a dream catcher, and if you were still mad at him for not answering your questions.” The chuckle that rose from your throat made Maury quickly spare a glance towards you, the blush that tinted her cheeks long gone. Your backside dug into the edge of the counter as you dried the last glass, sunshine still spilling in through the windows and creating a liquid sheen in your eyes. You seemed to be fading off into your own little world, because you hardly recognized Maury’s voice as she told you the cup in your hands had seen enough drying.

You looked down at the sparkling glass between your dish cloth and grinned sheepishly. “Oh, right… So are you gonna meet up again tonight?” Maury disappeared into the living room after resting the rubber gloves back underneath the sink, her voice bouncing off the walls. “Not until Thursday! I’m going scuba diving tonight.”

“Good luck!” You shouted back while prancing up the staircase, your light footsteps hardly cracking against the wood. The experience you fell into last night was definitely not one you wanted to have again, and again, for however many nights the chaotic dreams unfolded until the more cheery ones took place. Your mattress creaked when you flopped onto it, your cheek mushed against the plush fabric of your pillow as a sneaky little plan formulated inside your brain. Maybe tonight you would pay Joshua another visit, just to fully clarify that you were indeed not still mad and that you were ready to embrace the blissfulness of capturing your own dreams.

It was 11:00 when Maury finally heaved herself up from your bedroom floor and gave you a hug, “I’m going to bed now, goodnight Y/N.” She hummed. You patted her shoulder and wished her likewise, making sure to crack a joke about the scuba diving adventure she was soon to embark on. You didn’t burst into action as soon as she crawled underneath her covers, you would have to wait about an hour or so until Maury was completely submerged in her fictional world, until she was not even capable of hearing a sound.

The time passed fairly quickly as you were browsing on your phone throughout the hour, your body now resembling a wooden board from how stiff you’d grown. After stretching all the little cracks and pops out of your bones, you slithered like a snake towards the bottom level of the house and towards the hall that led to Maury’s bedroom. There was nothing but crisp blackness surrounding you, the sheen of moonlight no longer reaching this far down the hall. Before entering your best friends room, you inhaled a deep breath through your lungs and tried to steady the frantic beat of your heart. You hadn’t really done anything this sneaky before, and the thought of getting caught kept your pulse thundering at an uneasy pace. Your fingers curled around the cool brass of the door handle and little by little you twisted it until there was a gap large enough for you to soundlessly slip through.

The darkness that swallowed every inch of the room made it impossible for you to see, and your dumb self grimaced for forgetting the device you’d been holding for the past hour. But not all hope was lost, a soft glow flitted in the corner, and after many slow and long steps you were at Maury’s bedside table. You bit roughly into your lip as you disconnected her phone from the charger, flinching at the little noise it decided to make at the loss of connection. It took you about 3 minutes to find the little tray of necklaces Maury kept, and if you had to take a guess, the necklace would be the one with a tiny silver dragonfly on it. You held the jewelry between your palm and lightly squeezed it for 30 seconds or so, the glow of the phone eventually dying away until you were standing in a coat of blackness.

Suddenly a creaky noise split through the air, a lump forming in your throat as pure panic jolted into your bones. Maury seemed to shift positions on her bed, though she never woke up. The minute you carefully lowered her phone back to the bedside table you were gone, but of course you had to bang your toe on the frame of the doorway before you left. Scuba diving must have been pretty enticing because Maury didn’t move a muscle as you painfully dragged yourself down the hallway.

When you reached the comfort of your own room, you released a long sigh of satisfaction, your eyelids fluttering shut for a few seconds at the thought of what you just did.

Just for tonight, you told yourself, tonight you see Joshua and then that’s it.

Falling asleep was a painstakingly long process, but when you fell into the gaping abyss of the dream world, you knew you were in for a solid night. Like the time when you first awoke in Maury’s dream, moonlight pooled in from behind the thin curtains, it’s watery sheen bathing over the wooden floor. You shot awake in bed, a large smile plastered on your face as your limbs itched with excitement. Should you have been this eager to see Joshua’s silky pink hair and perfectly carved features again? Probably not, but maybe it was the fact that this was suppose to be a secret, it was something you needed to do without Maury knowing. You didn’t hesitate to whip off the blankets that covered your lap and wander to the main floor, your ears fully expecting to hear the alluring melody of guitar chords.

When you heard nothing but the ticking of a clock that only stayed on 12am, and the shallow noise of your own breathing did you nervously lick your lips. It was quite a possibility that Joshua never returned to this house unless he was playing guitar with Maury, and that made you feel like a complete fool. Sure enough the living room was lacking the warmth of his presence and the kitchen was empty as well. Just to make sure you weren’t crazy you checked Maury’s bedroom and breathed a sigh of relief to see that the sheets were bare. You glumly scratched your forehead at your misfortune. Of course this would happen to you, you never thought things through.

I’m going back to bed.

You were only a few stairs up the staircase when you froze in your tracks, the noise of something fiddling with the door handle causing your heart to hammer. Casting a wary look over your shoulder, you almost lost your grip on the wooden railing at seeing a nicely dressed Joshua slip through into view, his guitar case slung over his shoulder. After being so expectant of Joshua’s presence, you weren’t sure what to feel when he glanced up at you, his soft brown eyes sending pleasant shivers to prick at your flesh.

“Joshua? Where were you, I was thinking you were off in another dream.” You mumbled while remaining on the last stair from the floor. The electric nerves that bubbled in your stomach had you keeping a distance between each other, you didn’t want him to see how easily you grew flustered under his actions, though he seemed to already have a good idea.

“I don’t usually come here unless it’s with Maury, but I knew it wasn’t her who touched the necklace. It was you.” His cursed velvet smooth voice had a deep scarlet washing over your cheeks, his plump lips smirking at you from his position near the entryway. You never imagined yourself getting so flustered over a guy like this, but here you were, already fumbling in your place.

“Yeah, yeah, about that. She said you asked about me?” Your voice only grew quieter as it bounced off the walls, shyness covering your face like a blanket. Joshua didn’t say anything, he only shifted the large case off his shoulders and unzipped the black fabric, the glossy and stained spruce surface of his guitar reflecting the light. He then wandered into the living room while delicately strumming a few chords, and like a lost puppy, you followed him. Joshua took his usual spot on the couch and propped his guitar onto his lap, his fingers still picking at the strings to create a soothing melody. You awkwardly stood on the other of the coffee table and watched him, every single one his actions so graceful and gentle. It was hard to keep your eyes focused on Joshua’s guitar, especially when his cotton pink hair was now swiftly styled to show his forehead, his long sleeved button up exposing the milky skin above his collarbones. And why did his black jeans have to have rips on them, your glazed eyes didn’t know where to focus.

The trance you spiralled into shattered like glass when Joshua suddenly patted the cushion next to him, his voice as smooth as honey, “Y/N, come here.” You felt nailed to the spot at his words, the closest you’d gotten to Joshua was when you reached for his shoulder, but that didn’t go as planned. Swallowing thickly, you edged around the coffee table and sunk into the couch cushions, your whole body sizzling with white heat at the proximity to the boy. Taking in a deep breath was a mistake, the aroma of his cologne tickled your nose and had your nipping onto your lower lip. As expected, he was like a crisp breath of a shimmering ocean, your fingers harshly squeezing the flesh of your thighs to stop yourself from melting back against the couch.

“I did ask about you,” he said while running his fingers along the chords, “Maury filled me in and I can’t say I was surprised.” You glanced at him, “What did she say?”

Joshua didn’t answer right away, he continued to softly prick at his guitars chords while letting his warm gaze flicker over your features, your body shifting under the heat you felt from his stare. Why did he always feel the need to do that? You had no idea. He angled his head away from you, and very discreetly you released the breath you trapped in your lungs.

“She said you understood a lot better than the first time she explained dream catching, and that you were excited to try it out.” You kept your lips sealed as Joshua looked around the room, his fingers never shying away from the strings on his guitar.

“She also said,” you flinched when he struck a rather loud array of chords, his eyes clicking with yours, “that you think I’m charming.” If someone compared your eyes to two movie disks, that was how large they would be after hearing the words drip from Joshua’s mouth. You broke away from his gaze and looked at the imprints that your fingernails left on the flesh of your thighs, of course Maury told him I said that, I bet that makes him think he’s got even more power over me, you grumbled inside your head, well he doesn’t, he has no power.

However you couldn’t convince yourself that was true, Joshua had quite an impact over you, so much that a blind man could see it. When you had no reply, one of his pure chuckles rang through the air, his melody continuing.

“So what if I think you’re charming, Maury thinks you’re sweet. Did she ever tell you that?” You quipped while standing up from the couch, Joshua’s brown eyes following your every movement. When being put on the spot, you never reacted well, and as you felt the backs of your knees dig into the coffee table you knew you’d proved even more that Joshua had an impact over you. The boy strummed his instrument once before placing it behind the arm of the couch, his elbows coming to rest on his knees.

“Maury thinks a lot of things, Y/N.” You crinkled your nose.

“What’s that suppose to mean?” Joshua didn’t respond, he only set his chin on top of his palm and stared up at you, the glossy twinkle in his eyes giving him the most innocent look, though you were starting to develop a sense that Joshua wasn’t that innocent at all. You set a hand on your hip and glared at him, his inability at answering questions he brought you to ask in the first place setting a blaze in your chest.

“Oh my god just answer the question.” You snapped, the words flowing from your mouth like a river. Joshua suddenly looped his fingers around your wrist and pulled you down to sit beside him, a tiny squeal escaping through your parted lips. Unlike moments ago when there was an obvious gap between you, that gap had now vanished as your thighs were pressed against each other, his grip on your wrist turning tender at the thought of potentially hurting you. Blood was pumping through your veins at an inhuman pace, the only thought clouding your mind being how close you were to Joshua.

“If you want to know, then you only have to keep seeing me,” his voice had dropped so low, the warmth that usually settled in Joshua’s eyes now flickering to something you couldn’t read. You said what you shouldn’t have said, and there was an undeniable bite that came along with it.

“I can’t see you unless I touch Maury’s necklace.” You whispered, your foreheads so close they were almost touching. Another moment passed that you got the chance to study the depth of Joshua’s eyes and the smoothness to his skin, how plump and pink his lips were and how his voice sent shudders tingling down your spine. He seemed to be doing the same to you, and it took every ounce of your willpower to not pounce on him. You hated the disappointment that sunk like a rock in your stomach when Joshua pulled away and fished around in his pocket, the sight of his milky thighs calling out to you past the rips in his jeans.

“Here,” Joshua said, a guitar pick in his palm, “if you want to see me, then use this.” You felt hesitant about taking the pick from Joshua, especially if it meant going behind Maury’s back. If she did have feelings for the boy you were with now, then it would be incredibly low for you to see him while she was unaware.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you squeezed your thighs together, “I don’t think I can, I- I just think that it’s wrong to go against Maury like this.”

Joshua’s face momentarily scrunched up, his free hand balling into a fist to rest under his chin. “Why? You think it’s wrong because she likes me?” You cast a hollow look towards the pink haired boy, “You know that Maury likes you?”

“She already told me.” Joshua mumbled like it was something you should already know. When you placed your hands at your sides, you forgot how close you were to him and accidentally gripped his thigh, words stuttering off your tongue like a broken record.

“And from the way you act, I think you like me too.” Now you were choking on your own spit, and in no time flat you scrambled away from Joshua, a crackling fire forcing your fingers to shake and your knees to wobble. You crossed your arms over your chest and wasted very little time in defending yourself, though he only gained amusement from your act.

“That’s a little self absorbed of you to assume that, you know you have one girl who likes you and suddenly you think everyone likes you. I’m not going behind Maury’s back, and you shouldn’t either.” Joshua only mustered a sigh and stood from the couch, his fingers carding through the silk strands of pink on his head. You weren’t expecting him to approach you so boldly, your feet automatically shifting backwards the closer he got. His warm fingers latched onto your wrist, his hold being so gentle and soft that your words only got stuck in your throat. Joshua’s lips were next to your ear as you stared over his shoulder and along his smooth collarbones, your heart hammering inside your chest.

“Think what you want, but I’m still giving you this.” You refused to even breath when Joshua delicately unfolded your fingers and placed the guitar pick in your palm, “You won’t call it ‘going behind her back’ soon enough.”

Joshua pulled away from your ear to take in your presence one last time, his thumb running along your wrist as his glossy brown orbs traced over every feature of your face. You couldn’t look into his eyes, not when you were only proving his earlier statement by blushing a dark scarlet, your fingers shaking like a brittle leaf.

“I’m going, see you later, Y/N.” His touch still lingered on your wrist when he moved away from you, the sudden heat that was radiating from his body now replaced with a cool breeze that had you feeling bitter. You stood stark as Joshua packed away his guitar and left quietly, the door clicking shut the only reminder that you were now alone. The guitar pick was still lodged between your fingers, the eerily silenced world around you causing you to hold the little chip tighter in your grasp.

You couldn’t deny the fact you wanted to see Joshua again, but then there was Maury. Helpless confusion was swallowing you whole, it was making your head spin and your heart race. No matter what else you tried to cloud your mind with, you felt like you were about to be the centre of a possible storm.

A/N: i got a lot of asks about maury being kinda fishy and tbh im laughing cause do i have shit planned boi;) ALSO ONE OF U ASKED IF THERE WOULD BE A FIST FIGHT BETWEEN Y/N AND MAURY IM CACKLINGG

Imagine waking up in The Shire and meeting Bilbo who instantly falls in love with you and protects you from his neighbours doubts about you

For middleearth2asgard :)


The sweet smell of pine trees lingering in the warm spring air was the first thing that hit you when you woke up. The second thing that hit you was the realisation that you had no idea where you were.

You were lying on soft green grass but knew not how you came to be there. Endless fields and tall towering trees were scattered about you, and…were those doors in the sides of those hills?

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I have been Adam Gontier best friend for over 20 years now I have went through the good shit and bad of life. I went to high school with him , actually started the band that a few years later would become Three Days Grace with him. So you could say I know the history behind this band . When this all broke out I decided to sit back and not say anything, see how it was handled. But after seeing fans sites changing band pictures and the awful way his so called band mates seem to just move forward with out a second thought. Man, you would think if your singer/songwriter/friend and travel companion of over 10 years was “sick” wouldn’t you be just a bit more worried about the guy? Maybe take a little time off? Ya, sure some people would be upset, and I am sure there are some contract issues but this was fucking quick. Now I hope most of Adam’s fans will be a smart enough to see that TDG is nothing more then a money train now and these guys are going to ride it until they suck you all dry, just like the fucking vampires they are. My suggestion to the three days fans out there, shed a tear get a shovel and start covering the grave cause the band is dead with out their heart and primary songwriter. Now with that being said there is a good thing to come from this. I believe that TDG and their 10 year run in the publics eye didn’t even scratch a surface of the potential of what Adam can do, and you should be all excited to see what comes from all of this and I am not talking about the shrapnel left behind that you all purchased tickets to this year! I am talking about the artist that you all fell in love with so many years ago, the reason why you are all TDG fans! Believe in music and art, not mass production people.
—  Thomas R C Gardner
In response to the latest Three Days Grace news:
Inuvember: KagKik

A/N: It’s almost 2k words! 

Summary: When Kagome’s friends get kidnapped by Naraku, she decides to ask for Kikyo’s help to get them back. 

“You have to work harder.”

Kagome groaned low in her throat and notched another arrow up to the slant of her cheek. She held her breath, and then let the weapon fly.

It missed the mark. Again.

Kikyo didn’t look away, staring at Kagome’s shame with a distasteful glare.

“You’re not trying hard enough.”

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