you're a selfish narcisstic, psycho freakin, boot lickin, nazi pimp and you can't handle me
my hair was getting too long so i shaved it all off today. only i was getting distracted by the cheesy christmas songs on tv and singing loudly (and out of tune) to them so i didn't do it all that well. i'll get someone to even it up when i can. but even so, i'm a skinhead again. yay. oh, and in the middle of doing it i had to answer the door for one of my christmas present deliveries and i was bare chested and had hair all over me so i looked like a werewolf.
by the way, i'm seeing and hearing about werewolves wherever i turn lately. i hope it's not a sign to come and i'm not going to have some ferocious canine rape dream. ::evil grin::
speaking of canine rape (and not because she's canine or she rapes but because she's the one that introduced me to the phrase) thank you so much lackofmendacity for the alcoholic vgift. it is going to be my mission in life to drink champagne with you for real :D
i also spent half an hour wrapping 3 presents today. i fucking HATE wrapping paper, it tears so easily and don't get me started on sellotape. i can't stand the stuff. bah, humbug.
that chipmunk sounding song has just come on. i used to hate it but now i find myself singing it all the time even though i don't know the words (story of my life.) does anyone else know it? the one by those girls and its called heartbroken? i'm heartroken without your love...
enough of the random. here's two christmas gift!fics and then i think i've only got one more to post (at least, i think so, but if you still haven't had one and you've given me a prompt already just remind me what it was please. except you lackofmendacity because yours is coming tomorrow) :)
Title: Eternally bound
Author: idontgiveafaux
Rating: PG
Pairing: Seamus/Dean
Prompt: No character deaths
Word Count: 659
Summary: Dean has a lot to put up with
Warnings: (at your discretion) Language and blow job talk.
Notes: Christmas gift!fic for teagues_veil x
Authors Notes: Wasn’t sure how to write the characters so just decided on a safer route of making it all cracked and stuff :| hope you enjoy anyway :)
“Listen Dean, she doesn’t want any character deaths.”
“Right. Who?”
“teagues_veil.”
“Yes. She doesn’t want any what?”
“Character deaths, you fucking idiot.”
“Okay. And what’s that now?”
“You know, character deaths. She doesn’t want either of us dying.”
“Right. I get it.”
“Are you sure?”
“…Yes. So what do we do to prevent it from happening?”
“Nothing! We just go about our every day lives like we always do.”
“Oh, okay!”
“Good. Now fix me some dinner.”
“And what would you like, oh sweet cherish of mine?” Dean asked irritably.
“Surprise me,” Seamus replied. “But I’m telling you from now that if I don’t like it I will chew every mouthful and spit it in your face.”
“I wouldn’t expect nothing less, my love,” said Dean.
“Cut the carrots into one centimetre chunks,” Seamus ordered.
“Why does it have to be one centimetre -”
“Because that’s the way I like them!” And Seamus was so insistent in his ways that he actually pulled out a ruler and measured each chunk and anything that was unsatisfactory (all but two) he threw in the bin. Conjuring up a fresh batch of carrots, he slammed them on the counter. “Try harder,” he sneered.
Dean closed his eyes and counted to ten under his breath before he continued to chop carefully and had Seamus not been alert and dropped his guard for one second he wouldn’t have been able to quickly intercept the thrusting lunge his boyfriend made, arm outstretched and knife pointing dangerously.
“What the fuck are you doing!? She doesn’t want any character deaths!”
“I’m sorry, my love. I had a twitch.”
“Twitch indeed. Get back to the dinner, you blundering buffoon.”
“Yes my sweetheart.”
“Here you go sweet lover of mine,” said Dean, dumping the plate unceremoniously on the table in front of Seamus.
“What the flying fuck is this steaming pile of shit?”
“Mashed potato and sausages.”
“What’s this green stuff drizzled on it?”
“…I don’t know what the green stuff is but I can tell you what it isn’t and that’s poison for you to hopefully swallow and it would serve you right for being such a cruel bastard.”
“Dean!” Seamus warned. “You know what I told you about character deaths.”
Dean lowered his head submissively. “I apologise, my golden lovely on a pedestal.”
“Oh Dean!” Seamus cooed from the bathroom. He didn’t particularly like cooing but it seemed like a lifetime since Dean had given him one of his special underwater-jacuzzi-bubble-blowing blow jobs and it only seemed fair that he at least tried to entice him into doing it. Brute force only worked for a little while.
“Yes, my darling?”
“I was just wondering if you’d give me one of your special underwater-jacuzzi-bubble-blowing blow jobs!”
“No problem,” said Dean, advancing towards the bath.
“HOLD IT!” Seamus cried, slipping on the floor of the jacuzzi in his haste to stand and swallowing a mouthful of water for good measure. “What the hell are you holding!?”
“A toaster.”
“Why the fuck are you holding a toaster? No character deaths! Don’t you know that electricity and water equals bad trouble?”
“Yes. I just hate -”
“Well get your act together then!” Seamus interjected. “Put down the toaster and give me one of your special underwater-jacuzzi-bubble-blowing blow jobs!”
“Yes my studmuffin,” said Dean and then his eyes glinted wildly. “But just let me remind you, I have very sharp teeth!”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Seamus snapped. “She doesn’t want any character deaths so you will not use that filthy mouth of yours for whining, complaining, arguing, pleading or ANYTHING except pleasuring me with one of your special underwater-jacuzzi-bubble-blowing blow jobs.”
“Yes, the love of my life,” replied Dean wearily. “But if I may offer my humble opinion, if I was teagues_veil I’d want to kill you myself right about now.”
“Just shut the fuck up and get your head underwater.”
“Yes, my eternally bound.”
Title: Making Memories
Author: idontgiveafaux
Rating: PG
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Prompt: A gift to treasure
Word Count: 1084
Summary: Harry and Draco create new traditions
Warnings: (at your discretion) Mild language
Notes: Christmas gift!fic for sassy_cissa x
Harry picked up the warm jug and topped his and Draco’s glasses up with a generous amount of mulled wine, either not noticing or not caring that he spilt a fair amount over the table in the process.
“Here you go,” he said cheerfully, handing a glass to Draco and then clinked his glass against Draco’s with such over-excited boisterousness, it caused Draco to spill some of the liquid down his black shirt. Harry was lucky that his Christmas spirit had rubbed off on him because Draco bit back his grievance and instead enjoyed the company of his getting-drunker-by-the-minute boyfriend and the first Christmas Eve they were spending together.
“So tell me,” Harry pleaded, setting his glass down on the table.
“No.”
“Why not? I told you what I bought you.”
“Because you have no willpower not to.”
“I’m just kind like that!”
“Unfortunately for you, I’m not.”
Harry laughed hysterically at this and leant his head on Draco’s chest affectionately. “Please.”
“No! And I’m not going to change my mind either.”
“Fine… Can I ask you something?”
“As long as it’s not about your present.”
“It’s not.”
“Then what?”
“…Why is your shirt so wet?”
“Harry! Harry, wake up!”
“Mm?”
“Harry, it’s Christmas! Come on, get up!”
“Mm.”
“Harry Potter, get your arse out of bed this instant!”
“Tired.”
“You’re not tired, you’re hungover!”
“Hungover.”
“Well hungover or not, you’re getting up. I’m too excited to go back to sleep!”
“In a minute.”
“Not in a minute, now!” And Draco pulled the quilt cover from the bed in one sweeping motion, making Harry curl up into a ball tightly.
“S’Freezing you bastard,” Harry mumbled, shivering, before he sat up and winced when he felt a rush of blood to the head and picked up his glasses from the bedside counter.
“Insult me later, don’t you want to know what I got you?”
This perked Harry’s interest up a little. Putting on his glasses and shuffling his feet into slippers, he summoned his dressing gown over and wrapped it tightly around him. Then he followed Draco from the bedroom and down the stairs slowly, silently cursing his boyfriend for bounding down the stairs two at a time and landing on each one with a loud thump. He made his way down delicately and into the living room he had so lovingly decorated a fortnight before, only now the lights on the tree were too bright and Draco shrieking and screaming at the top of his lungs in excitement having already started the opening of his presents wasn’t helping matters. Harry made a pact to himself right there and then that he was not getting drunk next Christmas Eve. It was too much of a shame to put so much effort into the big day and then feel grouchy and bitter towards Draco when he enjoyed it.
“Aren’t you going to wait for me?” asked Harry, settling down next to Draco (who, he was too weak to protest over, was sitting in Harry’s designated present-opening area that he had made sure Draco understood was his space and agreed to several times last week.)
“In a word: no,” Draco quipped with a grin and reached for the present he knew Harry wanted to open the most. “Merry Christmas.”
“Thanks,” Harry whispered softly. Draco had been so adamant in keeping this a secret he didn’t want to rush the moment of opening it so he just held the flat, square, red-and-gold-wrapped present in his lap, staring at it for a while until Draco gave him a nudge.
“Open it.”
He didn’t need telling twice and carefully began to unwrap the paper.
“For goodness sakes, there’s no need to be so delicate in these matters!” Draco said scornfully and to prove his point, he grabbed another present from under the tree and unwrapped it with almost bloodthirsty ferocity. “Oh Harry, I think they’re lovely!” He exclaimed, standing up and holding the dress robes against him.
“I’d hope so seeing as you picked them out!” Harry replied and then let the paper drop to the floor and ran his fingers lightly over the plain, white book.
“It’s a photo album,” Draco explained, reaching for another present.
“It’s wonderful -” Harry turned to the first page and couldn’t stop a slight frown from etching over his features. “- But there’s nothing in it.”
“Not yet. But I thought we could take a photo each Christmas. Make it a new tradition or something.”
“And this photo was taken the day you gave Dad this photo album?” Tallulah asked Draco, looking up at him in childlike wonder.
Draco nodded, looking over her head and smiling at Harry affectionately. “Yes.”
Tallulah turned to Harry who nodded confirmatively. “And this one,” he said, turning a couple of pages, “was your first Christmas. And this one,” he said, turning a page back, “was Philip and Paul’s first Christmas.”
Philip, or it could have been Paul - Harry couldn’t tell the teenage twins apart when he was forced to wake at the crack of dawn, snorted derisively as he stacked his presents up into piles, purposely well away from his brothers. “That story was lame.”
“No it wasn’t, Philip!” Tallulah retorted.
“Yeah it was,” Paul piped up. “Double lame.”
“Don’t call your dad’s story lame!” Draco interjected.
“But it was -”
“- a load of old crap!”
“Mind your language!” Draco said sternly, snatching a glance at Tallulah and then looking meaningfully to the twins.
“Crap isn’t swearing, Father!” said Paul dismissively.
“And if it is then maybe you should talk to Dad about using it to describe the referees decision in the Quidditch -”
“I think that’s quite enough,” Harry said hastily, standing up and picking up Tallulah from the sofa, twirling her around and making her shriek in delight. “You liked our story, didn’t you Lulah?”
“Yes! It was cool!”
Harry didn’t get the chance to reply to her as the twins practically fell about laughing.
“Cool?”
“You two!?”
“I’ll have you know your old parents were pretty cool back in their heyday!” Draco insisted, but it fell on deaf ears as the twins were now laughing so hard they were rolling on the floor.
“Well we were,” Harry insisted.
“Are,” Draco said pointedly.
“Yes, are,” agreed Harry. “We are cool!”
Teenage derisiveness was one thing, but when little Tallulah piped up with, “Maybe cool meant something different back then to what it does now?” Harry and Draco were forced to admit defeat.
by the way, i'm seeing and hearing about werewolves wherever i turn lately. i hope it's not a sign to come and i'm not going to have some ferocious canine rape dream. ::evil grin::
speaking of canine rape (and not because she's canine or she rapes but because she's the one that introduced me to the phrase) thank you so much lackofmendacity for the alcoholic vgift. it is going to be my mission in life to drink champagne with you for real :D
i also spent half an hour wrapping 3 presents today. i fucking HATE wrapping paper, it tears so easily and don't get me started on sellotape. i can't stand the stuff. bah, humbug.
that chipmunk sounding song has just come on. i used to hate it but now i find myself singing it all the time even though i don't know the words (story of my life.) does anyone else know it? the one by those girls and its called heartbroken? i'm heartroken without your love...
enough of the random. here's two christmas gift!fics and then i think i've only got one more to post (at least, i think so, but if you still haven't had one and you've given me a prompt already just remind me what it was please. except you lackofmendacity because yours is coming tomorrow) :)
Title: Eternally bound
Author: idontgiveafaux
Rating: PG
Pairing: Seamus/Dean
Prompt: No character deaths
Word Count: 659
Summary: Dean has a lot to put up with
Warnings: (at your discretion) Language and blow job talk.
Notes: Christmas gift!fic for teagues_veil x
Authors Notes: Wasn’t sure how to write the characters so just decided on a safer route of making it all cracked and stuff :| hope you enjoy anyway :)
“Listen Dean, she doesn’t want any character deaths.”
“Right. Who?”
“teagues_veil.”
“Yes. She doesn’t want any what?”
“Character deaths, you fucking idiot.”
“Okay. And what’s that now?”
“You know, character deaths. She doesn’t want either of us dying.”
“Right. I get it.”
“Are you sure?”
“…Yes. So what do we do to prevent it from happening?”
“Nothing! We just go about our every day lives like we always do.”
“Oh, okay!”
“Good. Now fix me some dinner.”
“And what would you like, oh sweet cherish of mine?” Dean asked irritably.
“Surprise me,” Seamus replied. “But I’m telling you from now that if I don’t like it I will chew every mouthful and spit it in your face.”
“I wouldn’t expect nothing less, my love,” said Dean.
“Cut the carrots into one centimetre chunks,” Seamus ordered.
“Why does it have to be one centimetre -”
“Because that’s the way I like them!” And Seamus was so insistent in his ways that he actually pulled out a ruler and measured each chunk and anything that was unsatisfactory (all but two) he threw in the bin. Conjuring up a fresh batch of carrots, he slammed them on the counter. “Try harder,” he sneered.
Dean closed his eyes and counted to ten under his breath before he continued to chop carefully and had Seamus not been alert and dropped his guard for one second he wouldn’t have been able to quickly intercept the thrusting lunge his boyfriend made, arm outstretched and knife pointing dangerously.
“What the fuck are you doing!? She doesn’t want any character deaths!”
“I’m sorry, my love. I had a twitch.”
“Twitch indeed. Get back to the dinner, you blundering buffoon.”
“Yes my sweetheart.”
“Here you go sweet lover of mine,” said Dean, dumping the plate unceremoniously on the table in front of Seamus.
“What the flying fuck is this steaming pile of shit?”
“Mashed potato and sausages.”
“What’s this green stuff drizzled on it?”
“…I don’t know what the green stuff is but I can tell you what it isn’t and that’s poison for you to hopefully swallow and it would serve you right for being such a cruel bastard.”
“Dean!” Seamus warned. “You know what I told you about character deaths.”
Dean lowered his head submissively. “I apologise, my golden lovely on a pedestal.”
“Oh Dean!” Seamus cooed from the bathroom. He didn’t particularly like cooing but it seemed like a lifetime since Dean had given him one of his special underwater-jacuzzi-bubble-blowing blow jobs and it only seemed fair that he at least tried to entice him into doing it. Brute force only worked for a little while.
“Yes, my darling?”
“I was just wondering if you’d give me one of your special underwater-jacuzzi-bubble-blowing blow jobs!”
“No problem,” said Dean, advancing towards the bath.
“HOLD IT!” Seamus cried, slipping on the floor of the jacuzzi in his haste to stand and swallowing a mouthful of water for good measure. “What the hell are you holding!?”
“A toaster.”
“Why the fuck are you holding a toaster? No character deaths! Don’t you know that electricity and water equals bad trouble?”
“Yes. I just hate -”
“Well get your act together then!” Seamus interjected. “Put down the toaster and give me one of your special underwater-jacuzzi-bubble-blowing blow jobs!”
“Yes my studmuffin,” said Dean and then his eyes glinted wildly. “But just let me remind you, I have very sharp teeth!”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Seamus snapped. “She doesn’t want any character deaths so you will not use that filthy mouth of yours for whining, complaining, arguing, pleading or ANYTHING except pleasuring me with one of your special underwater-jacuzzi-bubble-blowing blow jobs.”
“Yes, the love of my life,” replied Dean wearily. “But if I may offer my humble opinion, if I was teagues_veil I’d want to kill you myself right about now.”
“Just shut the fuck up and get your head underwater.”
“Yes, my eternally bound.”
Title: Making Memories
Author: idontgiveafaux
Rating: PG
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Prompt: A gift to treasure
Word Count: 1084
Summary: Harry and Draco create new traditions
Warnings: (at your discretion) Mild language
Notes: Christmas gift!fic for sassy_cissa x
Harry picked up the warm jug and topped his and Draco’s glasses up with a generous amount of mulled wine, either not noticing or not caring that he spilt a fair amount over the table in the process.
“Here you go,” he said cheerfully, handing a glass to Draco and then clinked his glass against Draco’s with such over-excited boisterousness, it caused Draco to spill some of the liquid down his black shirt. Harry was lucky that his Christmas spirit had rubbed off on him because Draco bit back his grievance and instead enjoyed the company of his getting-drunker-by-the-minute boyfriend and the first Christmas Eve they were spending together.
“So tell me,” Harry pleaded, setting his glass down on the table.
“No.”
“Why not? I told you what I bought you.”
“Because you have no willpower not to.”
“I’m just kind like that!”
“Unfortunately for you, I’m not.”
Harry laughed hysterically at this and leant his head on Draco’s chest affectionately. “Please.”
“No! And I’m not going to change my mind either.”
“Fine… Can I ask you something?”
“As long as it’s not about your present.”
“It’s not.”
“Then what?”
“…Why is your shirt so wet?”
“Harry! Harry, wake up!”
“Mm?”
“Harry, it’s Christmas! Come on, get up!”
“Mm.”
“Harry Potter, get your arse out of bed this instant!”
“Tired.”
“You’re not tired, you’re hungover!”
“Hungover.”
“Well hungover or not, you’re getting up. I’m too excited to go back to sleep!”
“In a minute.”
“Not in a minute, now!” And Draco pulled the quilt cover from the bed in one sweeping motion, making Harry curl up into a ball tightly.
“S’Freezing you bastard,” Harry mumbled, shivering, before he sat up and winced when he felt a rush of blood to the head and picked up his glasses from the bedside counter.
“Insult me later, don’t you want to know what I got you?”
This perked Harry’s interest up a little. Putting on his glasses and shuffling his feet into slippers, he summoned his dressing gown over and wrapped it tightly around him. Then he followed Draco from the bedroom and down the stairs slowly, silently cursing his boyfriend for bounding down the stairs two at a time and landing on each one with a loud thump. He made his way down delicately and into the living room he had so lovingly decorated a fortnight before, only now the lights on the tree were too bright and Draco shrieking and screaming at the top of his lungs in excitement having already started the opening of his presents wasn’t helping matters. Harry made a pact to himself right there and then that he was not getting drunk next Christmas Eve. It was too much of a shame to put so much effort into the big day and then feel grouchy and bitter towards Draco when he enjoyed it.
“Aren’t you going to wait for me?” asked Harry, settling down next to Draco (who, he was too weak to protest over, was sitting in Harry’s designated present-opening area that he had made sure Draco understood was his space and agreed to several times last week.)
“In a word: no,” Draco quipped with a grin and reached for the present he knew Harry wanted to open the most. “Merry Christmas.”
“Thanks,” Harry whispered softly. Draco had been so adamant in keeping this a secret he didn’t want to rush the moment of opening it so he just held the flat, square, red-and-gold-wrapped present in his lap, staring at it for a while until Draco gave him a nudge.
“Open it.”
He didn’t need telling twice and carefully began to unwrap the paper.
“For goodness sakes, there’s no need to be so delicate in these matters!” Draco said scornfully and to prove his point, he grabbed another present from under the tree and unwrapped it with almost bloodthirsty ferocity. “Oh Harry, I think they’re lovely!” He exclaimed, standing up and holding the dress robes against him.
“I’d hope so seeing as you picked them out!” Harry replied and then let the paper drop to the floor and ran his fingers lightly over the plain, white book.
“It’s a photo album,” Draco explained, reaching for another present.
“It’s wonderful -” Harry turned to the first page and couldn’t stop a slight frown from etching over his features. “- But there’s nothing in it.”
“Not yet. But I thought we could take a photo each Christmas. Make it a new tradition or something.”
“And this photo was taken the day you gave Dad this photo album?” Tallulah asked Draco, looking up at him in childlike wonder.
Draco nodded, looking over her head and smiling at Harry affectionately. “Yes.”
Tallulah turned to Harry who nodded confirmatively. “And this one,” he said, turning a couple of pages, “was your first Christmas. And this one,” he said, turning a page back, “was Philip and Paul’s first Christmas.”
Philip, or it could have been Paul - Harry couldn’t tell the teenage twins apart when he was forced to wake at the crack of dawn, snorted derisively as he stacked his presents up into piles, purposely well away from his brothers. “That story was lame.”
“No it wasn’t, Philip!” Tallulah retorted.
“Yeah it was,” Paul piped up. “Double lame.”
“Don’t call your dad’s story lame!” Draco interjected.
“But it was -”
“- a load of old crap!”
“Mind your language!” Draco said sternly, snatching a glance at Tallulah and then looking meaningfully to the twins.
“Crap isn’t swearing, Father!” said Paul dismissively.
“And if it is then maybe you should talk to Dad about using it to describe the referees decision in the Quidditch -”
“I think that’s quite enough,” Harry said hastily, standing up and picking up Tallulah from the sofa, twirling her around and making her shriek in delight. “You liked our story, didn’t you Lulah?”
“Yes! It was cool!”
Harry didn’t get the chance to reply to her as the twins practically fell about laughing.
“Cool?”
“You two!?”
“I’ll have you know your old parents were pretty cool back in their heyday!” Draco insisted, but it fell on deaf ears as the twins were now laughing so hard they were rolling on the floor.
“Well we were,” Harry insisted.
“Are,” Draco said pointedly.
“Yes, are,” agreed Harry. “We are cool!”
Teenage derisiveness was one thing, but when little Tallulah piped up with, “Maybe cool meant something different back then to what it does now?” Harry and Draco were forced to admit defeat.