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About Literature / Hobbyist Member Stephanie DreifussFemale/United States Groups :icontrollgaga: TrollGaga
 
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Without Speaking by creativemikey

I've never seen a deviation quite like this one before. Whenever I listen to this song, I kind of picture a dark and gloomy setting. I ...

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Tate stood by the bathroom door, hearing the sound of running water from the faucet of the bath stop. The following sounds were a faint mix of water being moved, scrubbing, and a gentle, but very lamenting weep. He couldn't blame her. Realizing his own death wasn't his happiest moment either. Yet, something else seemed a bit off. Why wasn't anyone around at all at the moment? Usually, at least a few other ghosts would appear during his alone time, which admittedly wouldn't be possible if he hadn't know how to make the other ghosts leave him alone. However, none were out now. Only this one, but she was far from native to the Murder House. How she had even become a spirit alike himself without being on their property was yet another mystery, but he didn't question it. However, this whole wacky adventure did seem to help him keep Violet off his mind...

Carrie emerged from the bathroom in one of Violet's robes. Now he recognized her. She looked much different than she did on the television, though it was easy to see it was the same girl. She seemed prettier in real life, even without all the make up for the senior photo. Her strawberry blonde hair was no longer wiry, her lips looked tender, she had beautiful blue eyes, and she had the cutest freckles covering certain areas of her face. He would have told her how pretty she was, but he couldn't take any chances, just in case Violet were to forgive him.

He invited her into his room and closed the door behind them. "You know," he said with a slight laugh, "I've had my share of high school murders too. I once shot up my school actually," he said in a tone that made it sound like he was talking about something he did the other day.

Carrie was still looking down at the floor the way she had been since she left the bathroom, but her eyes quickly darted up to him with sudden curiosity. "...Really?"

"Yeah," he confirmed, pulling up a chair while Carrie sat on the bed. "You see, something... well something happened that I'd rather not get into at the moment..." he grumbled, "it happened, and it just made me realize that this world... Well, there's really no other way to say it, Carrie. This world is bullshit." His voice took on somewhat of a more passionate tone. "I thought about how much suffering it is, and you know something? People don't need to live through that. That's why I felt like a savior when I pulled the trigger on 'em. 15 of 'em to be exact."

"...15? You shot that many students."

"Yeah. Why?"

"Well..." she shifted uncomfortably. "I... had a different experience... You see, I was covered in blood because of a sick prank. Someone must have made fake ballots so my prom date and I would win. They dumped blood—pig blood, I think—all over me..." She grimaced. "Do you know what it's like, uhh..."

"Tate. Tate Langdon."

"Right. Tate, do you know what it's like to be tortured by kids throughout your life, and then have those same kids take the happiest moment of your life and turn it into the worst? Well it feels horrible, and... and that's how I felt when they all started to laugh."

Tate looked rather appalled by what she was telling him. "They... They laughed... Are you telling me that they laughed at you because a you were doused in blood, because that is honestly really screwed up."

"They are screwed up!" she said, raising her voice a little, but then lowering it again. "Well, they were screwed up. I... I kinda lost it and started using telekinesis... I'm sure you know what that is." Just in case, she glanced at a phone. Flex. Music began to play at a low volume. Tate smiled in awe at this. "Yeah, well it wasn't so pretty that night. I trapped everyone in the gymnasium by shutting all of the doors. I sprayed people to death with a fire hose... I cut a teacher in half with a rafter... I electrocuted the principal... and that's when the fire started. I don't think most people survived that. I wouldn't know. I left the scene once the fire began to get out of control..."

Tate's mouth was agape again. He had heard of school shootings and killings worse than his own, but this... this was something that would never be forgotten. "How... How many people did you kill?"

She hesitated before speaking, although she still didn't know how she knew this. "...85. And 67 of them were people my age..."

"Whoa!" Tate was taken aback by this. This really was crazy, but it could still have been worse. In the end, it was just a matter of fewer people being able to suffer through the shit storm that was life, and it must have been rather satisfying for Carrie to receive that revenge. At least, at the time... She was probably pretty torn up by this now. "That is so- that... wow, Carrie, that must be..." he watched her for a few seconds, noticing she starting to cry. "What's wrong, Carrie?"

She hesitated for a few moments, but soon, she said the words in a quiet, aching voice. "I want my Momma back..."

Well that was unexpected. "Your... Momma? Carrie, what are you-" he suddenly remembered what he had seen on TV. Both she and her mother were dead when the firefighters found them. "Oh..." It must be a shame to love a mother you hold dear. He couldn't relate to either of those, unfortunately, but something didn't add up. "About that... the TV mentioned something about stab wounds in your bod-"

"I killed her," she said quickly and remorsefully. She whisked away a strand of hair that fell in front of her face. "I... I crucified her in our kitchen... I sent stuck her hands to the walls with knives and kept hurling more of them at her until she... until she died..." Carrie closed her eyes in bitter regret. When asked why, she answered, "she... she had a knife too. She stabbed my lower back and began to chase me around..." A tear rolled down her cheek, following a moment of silence.

"So... you're saying... Your own mother was trying to kill you... and yet you love her anyway?" Tate asked. She nodded. His brow furrowed a little. "Carrie, out of curiosity, did you have a good relationship with your mom?"

"Well, yes, of course!" she answered. "It's just... I needed to be disciplined. A lot. I didn't always listen to her. She used to drag me to my prayer closet so I could pray for forgiveness when that happened. Sometimes I'd refuse. I was such a bad child... Well, I still am. My existence is still sinful and God probably loves me even less now..."

Tate frowned noticeably. "Who told you that?"

"M-Momma..." The single tear was followed by a few more.

He breathed out quietly. "Carrie... stop crying." He got up and sat beside her on the bed, wiping her eyes. "Look, no one's existence is a sin, no matter what your mother told you. Sure, there are bad people out there, but you aren't one of them. To be honest, it sounds like your mom wasn't doing a very good job of being a mother. And believe me, I know what that's like."

She gazed into his eyes. "Really? But, how?"

He sighed. "My mom... Well, you know how mothers are supposed to be there for their children? My mother was never there for me. She wasn't exactly a great mother to any of my siblings either. There are a lot of terrible things you can do while raising a child, but neglecting them is definitely one of the worst." 

"That does sound terrible," Carrie said, nodding. Sure, her mother was abusive, but even through her fanaticism and insanity, Carrie couldn't say that the woman had neglected her. "What about your father?"

"Oh, he ran away a lot when I was a kid. Eventually, I never saw him again. He didn't exactly play a part in my life." Tate shrugged.

Carrie, however, was rather shocked. "R-Really?" A gleam flickered in her eyes. "So did my father! I was really young when it happened, so I barely even remember him. It's... It's terrible, isn't it?"

"Oh yes," Tate answered straightaway, nodding in agreement. "Yes, growing up without a father and very little attention from my mom was, indeed, horrid."

The two looked at each other and smiled, though the grins were rather different. Carrie's was very sheepish and almost clumsy if a smile could be described that way, while Tate's showed surprising comfort and maybe even sincerity. He had just met this girl and he already seemed to have more in common with her than he had with Violet throughout their time together. Of course, what she had mentioned about Margaret White did bother him quite a bit, but he was somewhat relieved to have been able to hold himself back and not tell Carrie that the woman was repulsive and didn't deserve to have a child. The woman probably didn't care about her. It seemed like no one gave a damn about her or her feelings. Well maybe he did. She deserved something better. His train of thoughts was interrupted when she asked him a question she was hoping she wouldn't, though.

"Well... I assume the likes of my death are pretty obvious now, but how did you die, Tate?"

Tate's gaze met the floor as his demeanor suddenly became dour. He took a few moments to respond. He felt he wouldn't, but somehow, he couldn't not tell this girl the truth. "The afternoon of the massacre," he began, "I was alone. I was in my room. No one came to my rescue. No one wanted to talk to me. No one even took a single step in my room... until the SWAT team showed up." He looked down at his chest, remembering one of the last things he felt while he was alive. "They all had their guns aimed at me, but I couldn't just let it end that way! If I was going to die, I wasn't going to let the world be the one to take me, so... I went for my gun." He snickered, but not in good humor. It was out awe, of disbelief, of disappointment in the world. "Let me tell you, Carrie, it's a good thing you died the way you did; before anyone could reach you. Not yet being an adult won't stop those fuckers from blasting twenty holes in your body." He heard a little gasp escape her lips. It was no wonder. Even he was somewhat surprised by what they had done.

"Tate, no... I... I shouldn't have asked. Now I can't get this mental image of you getting shot out of my head... just like Tommy's expression when the bucket fell..."

Tate's spectral heart suddenly began to sink. She didn't mention a boyfriend before... "Who's Tommy," he asked in a low tone of voice.

"Who was Tommy," Carrie somberly corrected. "Tommy was the boy who took me to prom. He was so nice and so sweet, and he was the only person I ever knew who said I was beautiful." She was slowly starting to weep again. "You see, the bucket that dumped the blood on me was hanging from a rafter, but the string broke and it fell. It... It hit Tommy in the head. It looked like he only lost consciousness, but..." she looked up at Tate, tears now streaming steadily down her cheeks, "but I know he didn't survive that fire! I think... I think I loved him, and he loved me back, but now... he's dead! And no ones going to love me now!"

Carrie fell forwards, sobbing mournfully on Tate's shoulder, but her snivels didn't last long. He allowed himself to wrap his arms around her, but he picked her head off his shoulder so she could look directly at his face. He spoke his next statement with complete wholeheartedness.

"I do."

Carrie sniffled again, but she felt a sudden warmth from the inside. "W-What?"

Tate repeated himself. "I love you, Carrie." And he did. If moving on was the rational choice, then he didn't want his heart to be empty while doing so. He hadn't known the girl for very long at all, but someone so alike himself was hard to not bond with instantly. He wouldn't be exaggerating if he said he cared about her already. Carrie only looked at him in disbelief. In an effort to show his sincerity, he sealed his claim by leaning in closer.

Their lips met. The passion was so real that it was almost alien to Carrie. Not even Tommy had kissed her like this. This young man truly felt for her, and it made her want to cry even more, though it would be out of elation. However, tears weren't going to get her anywhere. Returning the favor would, however. She held her hands up, one caressing Tate's cheek while the other stroked the golden hair at the back of his head. She couldn't deny how extraordinary it felt, but something knew was happening that hadn't happened once when she was alive.

For the first time in her life, Carrie had discovered true love.
Idle Teens - Carrie/AHS Crossover: Chapter 2
Well, I've uploaded chapter 2, so I guess maybe there is hope after all! This has honestly been a pleasure to write, although I hope I have accurately captured the personalities of those adorable little murderers~ This isn't the end, however. A third chapter should be coming soon, so be prepared! Hope everyone has liked it so far!

Carrie White belongs to Stephen King/Brian De Palma

Tate Langdon belongs to Ryan Murphy and Brad Falchuk

I also forgot to mention that the title of this fanfiction is a homage to the song "Teen Idle" by Marina and The Diamonds, and will be further explored in the third chapter.
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I will admit that I didn't expect to come back and find out that my Llama badge was updated, so I love everyone who has helped with that~ Thanks, people! ♡ 
"...Momma?" As if waking from a dream, she found herself standing outside, watching as the house burned down. She had forgotten what had happened for a few moments, but one look at her dress, which was back on her body, and it all came back to her at the speed of a raging freight train. There may have been an entire bucket of blood on her skin and dress, but all of it would never compare to the amount of blood that was on her hands. How many people were at that prom? At least 90. Okay, and how many didn't make it out of the high school gymnasium alive? Well, 67 of then died on the spot... but then there was another 18 who were inside when she left... 85 people. 85 people had been sprayed with an emergency hose, electrocuted by wires, or burned to ashes. A majority of them were the same age as her. They were dead now. It was her doing. She had been pushed way over the edge and had lost control. Even those who cared about her, like the lovely Miss Collins, were on their way to the morgue when, not much time before, they were having a night that could only be experienced in dreams. But that wasn't the worst of it, oh no...

The thousands of lit candles she had walked home to were haunting her mind. It was almost like her mother had known... as if each candle was lit for each person who had fallen. Her Momma was one of those people now; crucified by knives in the archway of the kitchen, like a martyr. And even with all of the horrible things Momma had done, she still loved the woman. She was still the one who cared for the girl and, in the end, the woman's daughter loved her unconditionally. Now, however, that daughter was watching as her house collapsed in to the ground, her mother's body inside. Her own body was in there as well, but she didn't realize that. She didn't even remember taking a bath. All she knew was that she wanted her Momma back, but that couldn't happen. After all, surely the survivors of the prom night knew that it was her. Who knew what would happen if she was caught? She had to leave this town. She decided she would sneak onto the back of a few trains and go far away, maybe all the way to Los Angeles if that was what it took. Come to think of it, she did occasionally wonder what it was like in California, and it was very far away from Maine... She would have to be sneaky, but she knew she could do it. There wasn't a moment to lose. After all, she didn't even have anything to lose anymore. Turning her back on the wreckage, she started off into the cool night air. All the while, she wondered what she could have ever done to them... What was so bad about Carrie White?

* * *

Forever...

Was she really worth it? Would she ever truly forgive him? Could she forgive him for what he had done?

Forever...

He had to wait. He loved her. He had said it to her face. He wanted her so bad... just, the touch of her hand again...

Forever...

If anything was particularly nice in this situation, it was the occasional periods of alone time Tate would receive. Sure, being alone wasn't always the best thing, but it was just... nice, sometimes... Kurt Cobain's vocals were playing as he looked out a window, a rose with painted black petals in his hand. Maybe spending an eternity longing over this wasn't such a good idea. He had screwed up too much. He had essentially lost the most important person to him because of this. Heck, even Addie seemed to avoid him now. She went as far as to not even come to the house to talk to him anymore... Come to think of it, he hadn't seen much of her as of that point...

It didn't matter. Nothing mattered, and nothing was helping. Not even the music. Tate frowned and turned off the speaker. He gazed longingly at the flower he held; a reprise of something he had done for her not so far back. He had put such tender care into gently painting the pretty thing in order to make it abnormal. It would be far more prepossessing to her that way. He even found her in the basement when he offered it to her, just like he had done in the past. The only difference was that his offer was ignored this time. With a defeated sigh, he put it down. There were just too many things on his mind. He needed something to relax himself—no, he's never relaxed. Maybe just a better distraction... 

He went downstairs to where the TV was and turned it on. It was worth a shot, but after flipping through three channels, he realized something was off: the same news topic was on each channel.

"...and as you can see, the firefighters have done the best they can to clear out the mess, but it doesn't look like there's much hope in this case. We interviewed some of the survivors of last night, each of whom claim that it wasn't an accident, but it was the doing of the prom queen."

Tate frowned again. A mass murder at a high school. Nothing like a trigger to the incident of 1994, also known as another reason Violet probably wanted nothing to do with him now. He was about to turn it off when things got more interesting. 

After the yearbook photo of the murderer, who was admittedly rather pretty in Tate's eyes, was displayed, an interview at a hospital with one of the surviving student was shown. "We are here with senior student and survivor of the prom, Norma Watson." Tate snickered a little. The girl was in a neck brace and was still petrified with fear, and yet she had the decency to fix her red baseball cap—the fact that she was even wearing a hat was a surprise in itself considering her current state—for the interview. He ignored her story for the most part, as it was a bunch of "they rescued me" and "I'm so lucky to be alive" nonsense. However, he hadn't expected what had come next...

Upon being asked about the theories of the other students, Norma replied, "Oh, you bet they were correct. It was her. Carrie. You should've seen how terrifying it was. She would simply glance at someone with those wide, stone-cold eyes and something terrible would happen. God only knows how she did it, but if I can say anything, it's that..." she sighed, "she was pushed too far. The prank was just too much. I can still see the horror in her eyes when the pig blood showered over her... And now, all those people are dead. I'd say she killed abo-"

A knock on the door brought Tate's attention away from the TV. It was quiet, but rather distressed. Tate's initial reaction was to ignore it and continue watching it, but the knock came again... and again... Sighing in annoyance, he got up and made his way to the front door, not even bothering to look in the peephole. Perhaps if he did, it wouldn't be as shocking when he opened the door. His mouth dropped open at the ghostly figure that stood before him. She was a girl who looked to be around his age, but smaller. She had large blue eyes, her hair strawberry blonde and her elegant dress pink, both of which were soiled by the syrupy red of blood. She was covered in it. It almost looked as though... a bucket of the stuff had been dumped on her...

I can still see the horror in her eyes when the pig blood showered over her...

Tate was in disbelief. He had no idea how, but at this point, all thoughts left his mind and were replaced by sudden shock.

"H-Hello there... I-I know that I look a bit... well, you know, but... c...can I come inside?" asked Carrie White.

* * *

It was yet another miracle that she was able to make it all the way to Los Angeles in a decent amount of time without being noticed, but the day itself didn't go so well. Carrie couldn't let herself be seen during the day considering the dress that she wore... She spent a good deal of time running as far away from the actual city as she could and preceded to hide from other people for even more time, so once was nightfall, she knew she had to rest somewhere... but where?

Fingers curled in talons as her stained prom dress blew in the breeze, she practically seemed to float across the streets, searching for a place to stay. None of the houses looked particularly inviting with their blaring lights. Any house with that many people could be dangerous. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea... She shrugged. She had nothing to lose. 

It wasn't until she saw one of the older, dimmer homes that she felt the urge to knock on the door. The house was not in the least bit inviting. It was an old Victorian house that seemed to have an ever-present lurking aura of darkness and malice. Maybe that was what attracted Carrie. After all, the papers and news channels were already referring to her as a monster. She was rather nervous about how the people would react when they answered it. Maybe this is a bad idea... 

She began to turn around to leave, but that wouldn't do her any good either. After all, she just needed to stay somewhere for a little bit so she could rest and sort things out. Taking a deep breath, she tapped her fist to the door three times. Maybe the people who lived here wouldn't be freaked out by her. Any house that gave off such an eerie sense had to have owners of similar nature. She waited a few moments until she assumed they didn't hear her before proceeding to knock louder. Still no response. She was admittedly somewhat annoyed since one of the windows casted the flickering light of a TV on the bushes. Were they just ignoring her? She knocked a third time. Still no response. Maybe if she flexed and opened the door telekinetically, then they'd listen. It wasn't a rational reasoning, but she began to prepare anyway. That's when the door swung open to a very handsome young man...

Tommy?? she thought with sudden hope, but that was even less rational than her previous thought. Tommy was dead, gone, departed. And even if he weren't, what would he be doing in California? However, the boy still looked to be around her age, but the look on her face made her worried. This was such a bad idea! She might as well turn and run, but what would he think then? Perhaps there wasn't a way out of this. She straightened up as best as she could and spoke with in a mousy voice, "H-Hello there... I-I know that I look a bit... well, you know, but... c...can I come inside?" No response. He just looked at her with his mouth agape. He almost looked to be in a trance.  "Please, I really have nowhere else to go! I just need to stay somewhere for a night and get things sorted out.

To her surprise and pleasure, he blinked out of space and replied, "Sure... come on in." She thanked him and made her way inside. He looked her over again and, after somewhat of a long pause, he said, "you know, Carrie," (she cringed when he said her name. That had to mean she was all over the news!) "you're kinda famous right now. I saw you on TV, and first of all, you look very, very different in person..." She looked down at her bloody, soiled prom gown, which she had devoted so much time and care into sewing. Then, she viewed her hands and arms, which were still sticky from the blood of the swine. Her hair was still wiry and covered in dry blood, and the stuff seemed to barely even flake from her forehead. She looked down, embarrassed. "Second of all, you shouldn't be walking around in public. Who knows what the police will do to you? Heck, you don't want to know what'll happen if the SWAT team gets involved..."

She didn't reply. She could only imagine what kind of stuff the authorities would do. She suddenly heard the TV on in the other room. "You... you said I was on TV, right?"

"Yeah, that's right."

"...I want to see."

"Okay then." The boy led her to the TV room and offered her a seat on the couch. When she viewed the screen, she quickly wished she hadn't. They weren't discussing the actual massacre right now. The school wasn't even on the screen at the moment. The remains of her house were...

"...It is assumed that it was an act of suicide, but as you can see, the house seems to have caved in on itself, presumably due to her claimed abilities of telekinesis. The candles inside caused the house to ignite while White and her mother were still inside. The two women were already dead by the time the firemen made it to the scene. There was no evidence of fire damage to the bodies, although stab wounds were found on the bodies of both Ms. White and her daughter."

The boy's eyes widened in surprise, but the one who was really shocked was Carrie. She was... dead? Did that mean she was a ghost now? She felt like she was going to faint... wait, are ghosts even capable of fainting?

"Well, Carrie, looks like these past couple of nights haven't been your best," said the boy, who was somehow far less shocked than she was. She couldn't face reality, but here it was slapping her in the face. A large number of seniors at Bates High School died that night. Their prom queen was one of them.
Idle Teens - Carrie/AHS Crossover: Chapter 1
Well, it's been quite a while since I've posted something, but I've really been inspired lately. This is my first fanfiction that I am hoping to actually complete for once instead of leaving you people hanging after the first chapter. This is a little story about the meeting of two very messed up teenagers with tragic back stories. It came to me while I was binge watching American Horror Story and I felt that these two needed to know each other. Hopefully it isn't too terrible. Also, in this case, I based Carrie off of the movie Carrie, and by that I mean the Sissy Spacek one, even though this supposed to take place around the time of the remake. Please enjoy!

Carrie White and Norma Watson belong to Stephen King/Brian De Palma

Tate Langdon belongs to Ryan Murphy and Brad Falchuk

Unnamed newscasters belong to me, but I don't care about them enough to stop you from stealing them so whatevs
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Hey guys. As all of you have probably noticed, I have been inactive for a whole. I haven't been keeping in touch with you guys or posting anything, and unfortunately, that's how it's looking to be from now on. I've been dealing with a ton of stuff lately and haven't had the time to go on DeviantART very much. I apologize to those of you who I've been meaning to talk to and to the ones who I had started RPs with. I am not leaving; I enjoy having a place to share my stories, but I'm not really going to use this as much of a social thing anymore. Honestly, I appreciate all of you people for putting up with my shit. Thank you.
  • Playing: My iPod
  • Eating: You know the drill
  • Drinking: Tangerine & Lime Clear Splash
Warning: This story and its following parts all contain vore. If you are unfamiliar with vore, I would highly advise not reading this. Otherwise, read at your own risk.

Weird. The practically alien piece of gun-shaped machinery reflected the moonlight as Dean gazed down at it. It was a beautiful night out, so why not spend it outside? After all, Sam was sleeping inside the motel, and he hadn't been shown the weird device yet. Wait. Perhaps another time would work. He didn't want Sam to know... what the thing was capable of just yet.

The older Winchester brother let out a sigh as he rocked back and forth on the swinging bench. The pond it faced, located behind the hotel, sparkled from moonlight in the same way as the gun. It was quite a calming setting, that is, until the paper bag that rested on Dean's lap began to fidget again. He grunted. "You going to shut up in there or what?"

A tiny, feminine voice answered, somewhat faint due to the bag. "This makes no sense! There aren't even spells that can do shit like this! How could this even happen?!"

"Well, sister, shit happens," he snapped, though he himself was quite unsure of it all. He confronted the witch in a room within an abandoned asylum. She had preceded to rid him of any weapons he had, but he was lucky enough to find a peculiar looking gun sitting on the table at the last minute. He snatched it up and, running out of options, blasted her with it. No bullets came out, of course. However, a stream of pink light shot into her, causing her to disappear! Well... so it seemed. When Dean made his way to the spot she had last been standing, he realized she was, in fact, still there, standing at a height of about two inches. The gun had shrunk her! It was simply too awesome to leave there, so curiosity got the best of him and he took it. However, something kept him from squashing the young woman into the dust... He didn't know what exactly, but he ended up scooping her back up and taking her with him. He did have difficulty hiding her from Sam, however, so he had to make a quick stop at a donut shop, where he got a bag to toss her in after she insisted on crawling out of his pockets.

The witch, as could be predicted, was not happy about this in any way, shape, or form. "You let me the hell out of this bag, Dean Winchester! God knows what I will do to you! Mark my words, I will ruin every part of your life!"

"Yeah, well plenty of others are already beating you to it, sister." She was such a pain in the ass. Perhaps it was time to drop her in the pond or something. His hand dug into the bag, to which he felt tiny scratches covering a section of his palm as she tried to avoid being caught. "You're not going to win here, Allysha," he grunted.

"It's Lysha!!!" she shouted, only to finally be scooped up by the seemingly mountainous man. It was nice to not be stuck in there with the donut, at least. It was too bad that she was still covered in icing. She tried to rid her now messy looking black hair of that, but nothing worked. She had nothing to wash it with. At least, she didn't realize this wasn't the case just yet. She was too busy trying to get the man to put her down.

Boy, she was by far the most annoying witch. Even shouting didn't work! It was time for Dean to take a more creative approach, but what?? That's when he noticed it; she was covered in icing. Of course, as weird as it would be, he could lick off the icing in order to grab her attention. That would surely scare her enough to listen.

Shrugging, Dean brought the witch close to his mouth. He only had to open his lips a little bit before his tongue began to lap the icing off of her, none too gently. Unfortunately, this didn't seem to result in what he had hoped. After giving her another lick, she began to scream as loud as Regina George from Mean Girls. As annoying as it was, Dean hardly seemed to notice. He was preoccupied... with something else that was much stranger than a tiny screaming woman.

The icing... it was vanilla, and yet it tasted... better than vanilla. There was something about it that improved the taste even more, and upon licking her again in a spot where there was hardly any icing, he began to realize it... It wasn't the icing. It was Lysha herself. Her body... Perhaps shrinking her caused her flavors to somehow be crammed together, resulting in a deliciously sweet flavor that just made so much sense. It made Dean's stomach growl... Well, perhaps he did have a way to deal with her, though he desired to be a little more creative with it. Eating someone straight up would just be completely weird! At least now, she'd be of some use before he ultimately ganked her.

Without another word, Dean's hand went back into the bag and yanked out the cream-filled donut. He bit a chunk out of it, swallowed, and stuffed the helpless witch inside the opening of the rest of the donut. The screaming was muffled, but it was even louder now. "Damnit, don't you ever shut up?" he growled as his mouth widened for another bite.

It didn't take long to finish up the donut, but she somehow ended up surviving until the last piece. Once he plopped it into his mouth, he scooped her out of it with his tongue and chewed up the donut. There was no way he was going to have a crushed and bloodied up woman in his mouth, though she didn't last long as a whole either. After tossing her around inside his mouth for a little while, he found that she really did taste quite amazing, but he had had it with her screaming. Tilting his head back a little to help her slide backwards, the Winchester brother took a huge, wet gulp. She didn't slide down his gullet too well, so a few extra swallows were necessary for Dean to finish the job.

Lysha, on the other hand, could not stop kicking and screaming as the muscles of Dean's throat carried her down further and further... When she thought it couldn't get any worse, she felt something begin to crush her legs; the sphincter. It squeezed and pressed her until she was dropped into a fresh pile of sugary muck that was once a donut. It made no sense... She gazed around the place as a pile of gastric juice that had already built up began to sting at her skin. She had gotten so close to killing the infamous hunter, Dean Winchester, and now she was in his churning stomach of all places?! Only one thing to do...

The screams could be heard muffled through Dean's skin, even under his clothes. It continued for quite a while, but as the little witch began to mix more and more with the acidic donut soup, it became a lot harder for her to not pass out. One final digestive wave pulled her under, rendering her unconscious. Dean held a hand over his stomach in satisfaction. He snickered. "And that's how Regina George died," he said with a growing smirk. He stowed the gun away into the paper bag and walked back to the motel, not knowing that he would soon be using it again...
Better Than Kalteen Bars: SPN vore fanfic
So, in spite of the references to Mean Girls, this is a Supernatural fanfic. It's actually a teaser for one that I'm currently working on, which should be interested. I was asked by quite a few people to do a vore crossover, and I figured why not? As you can see, it will feature Supernatural, but the other featured story is a secret for now ;) Anyway, hope you liked this one! I know, it's short, but aren't teasers supposed to be? :D
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So yeah, as you've all probably noticed, I've kinda been pretty inactive lately. DeviantART just hasn't been as fun as it used to be, so I've gotten a bit bored of if. I've also been so busy lately... That being said, I will still be posting stories whenever I get the chance, but I won't be on nearly as frequently as I used to be, so... sorry ^^;
  • Mood: Tired
  • Listening to: Marina & The Diamonds
  • Reading: Carrie
  • Watching: Supernatural
  • Playing: My iPod
  • Eating: You know the drill
  • Drinking: Tangerine & Lime Clear Splash

deviantID

Stefani6268
Stephanie Dreifuss
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
Hey :wave: My names Stephanie, but I prefer to spell it the way I did in my username. ^.^ I'm really into music and stuff like that. Also, as you can probably see, I'm a huge fan of Lady Gaga :love: I used to submit a lot of crazy deviations, but I've been sticking to literature, lately.
I don't really share that much information about myself with other people unless I trust them with it ^^; But I'm a really friendly person and I definitely like talking to people. I'm not a mean person, and I don't like fighting with others.
As mentioned above, I used to submit a lot of stuff, though now the central focus is literature. Some literature is somewhat inappropriate for others, so I'm sorry for anyone with curious eyes ^^; I'm also into poetry and song lyrics!
That being said, a few things in my gallery contain something called vore. If you know what it is, keep this in mind: I DON'T support vorn stamp by Stefani6268 If you don't know what it is, please don't look it up -.- Even though I like the stuff, it isn't my fetish. I don't even have a fetish, unless liking guys who are muscular and taller than me counts... Anyway, I hope you enjoy my page! Have a nice day :D
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Just curious to see if I can get enough points for a premium and I noticed a lot of people do this. Make a donation and I'll love you forever! :love: I'll also comment on something.

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:iconsmudgethistle:
SmudgeThistle Featured By Owner 18 hours ago  Hobbyist
Thank you very much for the favourite on my American Horror Story art! :D
Reply
:iconcomicbookguy54321:
Comicbookguy54321 Featured By Owner 3 days ago  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you for the watch :D 
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:iconstefani6268:
Stefani6268 Featured By Owner 3 days ago  Hobbyist Writer
No problem :)
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:iconprofessorwagstaff:
professorwagstaff Featured By Owner Oct 13, 2014
Hi Stephanie, thank you so much for the fave for my Piper Chapman. :)
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:iconstefani6268:
Stefani6268 Featured By Owner 6 days ago  Hobbyist Writer
Anytime~ You did a beautiful job with one of her better pictures
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:iconchap-lau:
chap-lau Featured By Owner Oct 7, 2014  Student Traditional Artist
thanks for the fave!
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:iconstefani6268:
Stefani6268 Featured By Owner 6 days ago  Hobbyist Writer
Of course~
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:icondetinteylengua:
DeTinteyLengua Featured By Owner Sep 15, 2014
Hey there, Stephanie! Thanks so much for faving. If you can check out our brand new animated video and vote, comment or share it, I´d really appreciate it. Colombian sci-fi art about the armed conflict on two video clip contests.

www.talenthouse.com/i/367/subm…

anticorruptionmusic.org/?video…

¡Cheers!
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:iconvoracious-man:
Voracious-man Featured By Owner Sep 8, 2014
You still alive? *pokes you through my belly* ;p
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:iconstefani6268:
Stefani6268 Featured By Owner 6 days ago  Hobbyist Writer
*is, in fact, still alive, and is really sorry to not have replied ^^; *
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