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gettin' funky now!
I actually got a full night of sleep! I'm so proud of myself! In honor of this momentous occasion, I am extending Spam Friday into Spam Weekend, because I can. So, you know what that means? That means I'm takin' requests. Any song you want that you think I might have, any CD, or even just a random smattering of moosic - whatever you want. Also, I'll throw in a drabble if you're so inclined. Gimme a lyric, a word or two, a pairing, anything at all, and I'll work a tiny drabblet out for ya.
ps, the mandroid and broyay shirts are buyable on base price if anyone really wanted them. woo.
ps, the mandroid and broyay shirts are buyable on base price if anyone really wanted them. woo.
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How bout the pairing Sam/Impala?
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His fingers slip-slide over the slick black of her, reverent, and she purrs for him like a cat stretching out on sun warmed wood. Hey, girl, he whispers, bending to touch the rim of her front wheel. Her metal's cold from the New England air, but it heats under his careful, stroking thumbs, responding to him just how he remembers she used to before he left. Missed you.
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Warm, dark chocolate covers most of Jared's huge hand as it hovers in the air. It drips on Jensen's naked chest and then slides down his body in brown, sticky streaks. Every time a drop hits his skin, he squirms a little on the bed, cursing under his breath.
Jared just smiles at him, touches his hand to Jensen's chest, leaving a sugary handprint there that covers nearly all of Jensen's upper chest. Pride glows in Jared's eyes and he whispers, almost inaudibly, "Mine" as he bends down to lick away the mess he's created. Just for good measure he smears some more chocolate over Jensen's nipple and then licks it off by flicking the tip of his tongue over it for far longer than is strictly necessary to clean it off.
Jensen groans low in his throat and then tugs Jared away by his hair, flips him over roughly and straddles his hips. "My turn" he says, voice husky and raw, as he reaches for the whipped cream on the nightstand. Jared's hands slide up his sides and he smears the chocolate over Jensen's hipbones with the pad of his thumbs, while Jensen dips his hand into the bowl.
They should really do that grocery shopping thing together more often Jared thinks lazily, while goosebumps spring up all over his body as Jensen spreads the cold, frothy cream over his body, tongue peeking out between his teeth in deep concentration. Jared feels warm and happy inside and he nudges Jensen's bare thigh to get his attention. Green eyes focus on his, intense and smoldering hot. Jensen drops the bowl with the whipped cream on the bed carelessly, leans down, grinding their naked cocks together and kisses Jared sloppy and wet. They pay no attention to the chocolate and the whipped cream that smear together to form a brown-white mess between their chests.
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Jared/Jensen. Fashion show.
Heh. Don't ask.
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Jensen leans over, practically in Jared's lap, to catch a last glimpse of the model as she stalks back down the catwalk and disappears behind the curtain. His elbow connects clumsily with Jared's stomach, and that's it. We're leaving, Jared hisses, annoyed, grabbing Jensen's stupid elbow and tugging him out of his seat towards the exit.
They don't make it past the second set of doors.
Jensen shoves and twists, forcing Jared's back against the wall, and then falls to his knees right there, pulling Jared's pants down to his ankles, swallowing Jared's cock until his nose touches the soft skin of Jared's belly.
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Can I have some Camera Obscura? Please?
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Keep it Clean (http://www.sendspace.com/file/sguy37)
I Don't Do Crowds (http://www.sendspace.com/file/5zz5re)
Books Written for Girls (http://www.sendspace.com/file/vl81m4)
Eighties Fan (http://www.sendspace.com/file/5n53sg)
If Looks Could Kill (http://www.sendspace.com/file/k47pnk)
Suspended From Class (http://www.sendspace.com/file/da6vr0)
Lloyd I'm Ready to be Heartbroken (http://www.sendspace.com/file/55anqd)
Let's Get out of This Country (http://www.sendspace.com/file/nlve38)
Come Back Margaret (http://www.sendspace.com/file/cqggrp)
Country Mile (http://www.sendspace.com/file/fvg54r)
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Would you happen to have the song that was playing at the end of this week's Grey's Anatomy (which I don't watch, but I watched because of JDM, and I am totally crying now)? I believe it's by a band called Unkle Bob... It's cool if you don't have it, or have any idea what I'm talking about... I just thought it was a pretty song.
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I NEEDS A JDM ICON.
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YES YOU DO NEED ONE. GET ONE. RIGHT NOW!
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GLEE.
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Sandy drives up to a prison to see this convict, Joe Zukowski. JDM! IN! PRISON! He's so GRUFF! With his prison beard! And a really bad haircut! He's Sandy's old romantic rival! OMG! Glee! SO MUCH GLEE!
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Also...I'm offically done lurking. I promise. *gives you a cookie*
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The Fratellis -
-Cigarello (http://www.sendspace.com/file/1xrlc3)
-Flathead (http://www.sendspace.com/file/z0x076)
-Henrietta (http://www.sendspace.com/file/xfklf0)
-Stacie Anne (http://www.sendspace.com/file/hj55et)
And a little extra, because I'm currently obsessed with it and it is SO FREAKING CATCHY: The Shins - Australia (http://www.sendspace.com/file/0s071a)
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Something cracky... AH! Dean & Sam interview with Vimes to join the Watch :)))
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Sam fidgets with the hem of his ordinary shirt, discomfited by the way the man sitting across from them is calmly ignoring them in favor of his paperwork. Sam's not used to being ignored, and he can tell Dean's feeling the same - he hasn't stopped scraping at the grime on his chair arm since they sat down. It's like staring down a bulldozer, waiting for the inevitable moment when the man inside turns the key and the monster roars to life.
"So, you're human," the captain says, startling Sam so much he jumps. "That's a point in your favor."
Dean goes to open his mouth, that slight smirk curving the corner of his mouth. Sam steps on his foot, hard, and ignores the furious glare he gets in return. "Yes, sir," he says.
Before he can get out another word, though, there's a huge crash from outside the captain's door, and a hulking mass of rock and moss lumbers through. The captain doesn't seem surprised in the least and Sam has to wonder.
"What can I do for you, Detritus?" he asks. The - what Sam can only assume it to be, he's never actually seen one before - troll seems to think about it for a minute, scratching its head with a sound like gravel crunching.
When it actually speaks, it sounds more like an avalanche. "Oh," it rumbles slowly. "Someone tried ta come in through the roof 'gain."
The captain chews some of his coffee while he considers this bit of information. Sam shares a wide-eyed look with Dean, making a motion with his finger that means What the fuck. Dean shrugs, at a loss.
"Bring him in, Sergeant. He's probably here to kill me," the captain says, as though this happens every day. The troll salutes, almost knocking himself unconscious with the force of it, and lumbers back out of the room, presumably to grab the man unfortunate enough to have stumbled into this madhouse.
The captain rises behind his desk. He seems much bigger than he actually is, all wiry muscle and scruff. Just as he's about to open his mouth, the door opens again without a knock, and a man - Sam shamefully notes he's quite good looking - with carrot-red hair comes in, tugging along another man, dressed all in black.
"Sorry, sir, he was resisting arrest," the redheaded man says solemnly. It's then that Sam notices the egg forming on the second man's forehead; he's sort of impressed at how earnest the first man looks.
"That's fine, sit him down," the captain says. "I'll deal with him when I'm done here." The redheaded man smiles disarmingly and salutes, before heading back the same way he came. Sam can't help the way his head turns to watch him go.
Dean elbows him indiscreetly in the side, smirking, and then the captain clears his throat, getting their attention. He gives them a slightly off-kilter grin and spreads his hands out in front of him.
"Welcome to the Watch, men."
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"You're a dog," Sam says when he wakes up to a cold, wet nose pressing insistently against his cheek. Dean yips at him, an annoyed duh, and paws at Sam's nose. One of Dean's claws scrapes a little too close to Sam's eye for comfort, and he shoots up in bed, holding Dean's tiny body away from him in both hands.
After he gets his bearings, he assesses the situation, taking note of Dean's floppy doggy ears and irritated doggy eyes. He's tinier than Sam would have ever thought Dog!Dean would be, fitting easily between his hands and weighing almost nothing - not that Sam's thought about Dog!Dean.
"Why are you a dog?" he asks, because he's not sure his brain works this early in the morning. Dean bites his thumb ruthlessly.
If Sam had thought dealing with a tiny Dean would make things any easier, he was obviously wrong. During the course of the day, Dean manages to wreck four of Sam's shirts, piddle in his favorite pair of sneakers when Sam doesn't get the bathroom door open quickly enough, and bloody up Sam's right foot - apparently it twitches, and that's just too interesting for a puppy to pass on.
Eventually, Sam just locks Dean in the closet, ignoring the horrible knot that settles in his stomach and the voice in his head that's screaming about animal cruelty. Without Dean distracting him, he manages to figure out the curse in less than an hour, and by then, the pitiful whining coming from the closet has dropped off.
Blissful silence, Sam thinks, a little warily. Silence never lasts long when it comes to Dean. Maybe he's fallen asleep.
Admittedly, the thought of tiny puppy Dean all curled up around himself and puffing out tiny puppy snores is enough to have Sam cautiously heading for the closet and edging open the door.
What he finds isn't exactly what he had in mind, though. Dean's sitting in the middle of the closet, completely still except for the slight tremors racking through him. He looks terrified and stubborn, eyes wide, back straight.
Sam feels like a complete heel.
"C'mere," he murmurs, reaching in and scooping Dean up into his arms, no matter what kind of protests Dean may make about that later. With Dean pressed against his chest, he can feel how bad it is - Dean's little heart is going fast enough Sam has a hard time separating the beats.
He steers them over to one of the beds, sitting down against the headboard with his legs out in front of him. Dean's still tense and motionless in his arms, not even struggling against Sam when he starts to stroke down the line of Dean's doggy back, or when Sam's thumbs rub behind his floppy ears.
"I'm sorry," Sam says softly, gently smoothing back the fur on each of Dean's cheeks, and then between his eyes. Dean huffs out a breath and relaxes in increments, nosing at Sam's palm.
"You're not a dog," Sam says, pleased, when he wakes up the next morning to a wet, full mouth pressed against his neck. And then his shoulder and then his chest.
Dean's chuckle skates over his skin, prickling goose bumps in its wake. "No," he says, flicking his tongue out over Sam's nipple until Sam moans and shakes, "that would be weird."
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Anything you want in return? i can... upload music. I am so not creative in the slightest :P
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Shhh, Dean whispers, skimming his fingers over the dips and plains of Sam's stomach, letting his nails scrape light and teasing when he curves around the sharp rise hip. His mouth follows - dry lips pressing dry kisses, the skin split from too much nervous chewing - until the rasping stubble on his chin brushes against the head of Sam's cock. Don't say it.
Sam trembles and bites his tongue to keep quiet. He won't say it; he won't say he's in love.
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and i really really need to get a paypal account so i can buy all these delicious shirts and posters and other intarwebz stuff.
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now i feel unworthy to touch your intarwebz space *worships*
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*smoosh* <3
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