i will make my house have all wood floors when i grow up

I never pranked my parents again after the incident.

by reddit user Eigengraulogy

I was 11 years old when it happened.

As a kid, I knew that something wasn’t quite right with the events that unfolded at the time. Even though it was never brought up again under any circumstances by either one of my parents, it’s something that always stuck with me. I can’t say it’s a memory that I tried to suppress seeing as it was always there at the back of my mind, bothering me like an itch that wouldn’t go away unless properly scratched.

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Shorter

Ah, haircut blues are the inspiration behind this one. But, it’s growing on me so that’s good. Short and sweet, hope you enjoy. x 

Originally posted by wonderfllower


“Love? Where are yeh?” Harry’s voice calls out for the second time after he’s shuts the front door of your flat, boots clicking along the wood floors as he makes his way to your shared room. 

You don’t respond, cuddling deeper under the covers and making sure your hold on them is tight for when he is able to find you and your poorly chosen hiding spot.

When he hadn’t gotten a response from you after texting several times, pleading to send a photo of your recent endeavor-he had the slightest feeling that it hadn’t gone how you wanted it too. 

“Think m’gonna get a haircut today,” you had mumbled over tea that morning, scrolling through your phone as he poured you another cup.

He raised his eyebrows at you in surprise, “S’tha’ so?”

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Robb x Targaryen!Reader...

((I hope you all like! Might have gotten a little wordy! ALSO, anon, sorry I couldn’t find a way to add smut!))

Word Count: 2,218

Warning: None

He sat at the long table between his siblings and his mother. All six were true Starks, watching you with cold gazes that gave nothing away.

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creideamhgradochas  asked:

Could you do 067: "I came home to a Nerf gun on the front porch and a note that says ‘Here is your weapon. I have one too. Loser cooks dinner. Good luck. xo’" from the 101 Fluffy prompts with Bucky please?

Why of course I can!!! And I am so fucking sorry this took a century and a half to post. I’m a horrible person. xxx

Originally posted by gliceria

Home Sweet Nerf Gun

Bucky came home to see an offensively bright, neon pink and orange nerf gun on the front porch. Just laying there all innocently on the doormat (the doormat says ‘Welcome! Beware of husband, cat is shady, wife is cool though’). With a curious grin he climbs the three porch steps and halts before the gun that has a small torn piece of scratch paper perched on top of it. It reads in your familiar script: Here is your weapon, I have one too. Loser cooks dinner. Good fucking luck xo.

Bucky right out cackles when he sees your P.S - ‘p.s you should not have taught me how to snipe baby’

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So I thought to myself: but why does he get a new jacket? And then this happened.  But one possibility of many.  I blame @acrobat-elle for this.  Starts pre-new-jacket.


Stepping quietly across the living room floor, Killian peers out the nearest window.  It’s still the middle of February, and as he’s gathered, winter never seems to end in this realm, as surely as summer persists in Neverland.  He gives the fire a stir before he rests against the windowsill, the divots in the delicately carved wood sure to press a pattern into his flesh.  But there’s something about the quiet, the illusion of total solitude, the complete and utter darkness, that’s remarkably comforting. So he stays, and presses the palm of his hand against the glass, where the wind and the biting cold have begun to draw sharp, frozen figures.

“Your hand’s gonna freeze to the glass.”

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Downright Neighborly

Fandom: WWE/TNA

Pairing: Jeff Hardy/Female Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: I return almost wholly whole from the land of concussions and I offer you this…kayfabulous indulgence! Tagging the always-beloved @toxiicpop, the ever-enthusiastic @oraclegazes, the King Captain @hardcorewwetrash  (my thanks for not keelhauling me for the IRS thing, cap!), and new tagees @karaboomhower, @thephenomenonalkingofthebrogues and @superrezzy00 (not sure about these tags, work darn it!). Enjoy!


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Essays in Existentialism: Valentine’s Day

With Valentine’s day coming up, how about a themed Clarke and Lexa story?

The hospital swirled with the quiet steady of patients and doctors, all taking their time getting anywhere at all. Nurses stations filled with deliveries of bouquets and cards and chocolates, while the halls were littered with cardboard hearts and babies with little wings and bows. Reds and pinks of every shade and color turned the fifth floor into a haven of sappiness and commercial love.

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Anxious

This imagine has already been uploaded to my account but this will be uploaded with tags so more can view and enjoy it <3

Imagine~ Kai noticing you were anxious and making sure you were okay.

The music boomed through the club but you were the only person who seemed effected by the deafening volume. Alone, you sat at the bar, feeling uncomfortable being surrounded by the drunk, sweaty bodies.

Caroline bounced over to you, clearly tipsy from the alcohol that was running through her veins but due to her vampiric abilities she was able to have a rather high tolerance to it. “Come on Y/N! Let’s dance!” she shouted over the music, knowing you were bored here.

You rolled your eyes and followed her to the main floor, where bodies mingled and danced to the beat. As soon as you reached the crowd, Caroline fell into the abyss of drunk people leaving you alone and cramped.

It didn’t take you long to realize you didn’t fit it and you quickly became uncomfortable in your surroundings. Your breathing became shallow and your heart pounded.

The world seemed to be closing in on you and there was nothing you could do to prevent it. Just as you felt as if you were going to pass out, two arms pulled you up. Your eyes flickered up be met with Kai’s who was staring down at you in concern.

He pulled you out of the crowd but your heart still seemed to be pounding out of your chest. You slowly tried to adjust your breathing but to no avail, Kai still had his grip on you, worried you’d collapse at any second.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” he said, clearly noticing you weren’t getting any better. You gave him a small nod, grateful he at least partly got you out of your situation.

Of all the people you thought would help you, Kai was the last person you could’ve thought of. He was the enemy and sure as hell didn’t take any liking to you which is why it was so surprising he was so willing to help you, you were sure it was another ploy to get back at everyone but at this point you didn’t care.

The cold air hit you and you finally began to regain stability but not enough to be left alone. “Kai, do you mind dropping me home?” you breathed, glancing over at him.

He nodded slowly, his eyes still coated with concern. Gradually, he led you to his car, staying beside you to make sure you were okay. The loud music slowly drifted away as you pushed yourself into Kai’s car, the smell was minty and refreshing unlike the bar which only reeked of alcohol.

Kai soon joined you in the car, revving the engine as you looked out of the window seeing the drunken bodies flowing in and out of the bar. As the car slowly drove away your panic slowly began to calm down, although your breathing still felt some what shallow you couldn’t deny that being away from the party helped.

During the car ride you could constantly see Kai glancing over at you to make sure you were okay but you couldn’t help but wonder why he cared so much. “Um, Kai?” you stammered, clearly still anxious.

He hummed lightly in response, mainly focusing on the road but still willing to listen to what you had to say. “Why’d you help me? I thought you hated me.” you murmured, looking over at him as you awaited his reply.

“When I was younger I had plenty of panic attacks. I always felt anxious especially when I didn’t have control of my magic, it didn’t help that nobody was even there to help so I know how it feels to be alone in that type of situation. Which was why I couldn’t just leave you to suffer because I know how it feels.” he explained, not taking his eyes off the road.

You weren’t sure what to say, you knew about Kai’s past but only on the surface, never anything that was deep into his personality. “Oh, I’m sorry.” you whispered, them being the only words you could utter.

He simply turned to you and gave you a small smile before pulling up outside of your home. You didn’t want to be alone yet but you were hesitant to ask him to come in.

“Do you mind coming in for a bit? I just don’t want to be alone right now.” you said shakily, glancing over at him as if awaiting rejection. But instead he gave you a small, sympathetic nod before stepping out of the car and waiting for you to join him.

Slowly, you got out of the car and approached the porch with Kai following closely behind you. As you entered the home you could feel your anxious thoughts begin to slip away as the aroma of the house shielded you from the outside world.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped inside the home, slipping your heels off by the front door. Kai followed closely behind you, replicating your actions.

“I’m gonna put some comfy clothes on but make yourself at home.” you said, walking towards the stairs and towards your room. Kai shuffled around the living room, looking for a film to watch or at least something to do.

After a while, he simply turned on your TV and put Netflix which was something he’d completely forgotten was a thing. Not long after, you trudged down the stairs with leggings and an over sized jumper on, feeling much better than you did in the tight dress you’d previously been wearing.

You glanced over to see Kai lounged on the couch, watching American Horror Story and eating a bowl of popcorn. “Usually when people say ‘make yourself at home’ people don’t take that literally.” you giggled, looking at how relaxed he was.

Kai simply rolled his eyes, continuing on with his activities as you sat down next to him. The scent of Kai’s cologne radiated onto you and you couldn’t help but breathe in the sweet scent.

As the two of you watched the show in silence you could feel yourself growing closer to Kai. Either you were slowly moving over or he was but sooner or later your head was leaning against his torso as you slowly became more and more sleepy.

After just a few episodes, Kai became aware of your growing tiredness but wasn’t sure if he should leave or stay. Just as he was about to stand up, you could feel the movement beneath you and you knew you would miss his warmth.

“Stay.” you mumbled under your breath and you could feel Kai collapse back onto the couch beneath you. Your head rested against Kai’s torso as he played lightly with your hair.

With the slow background sound of the TV you gradually drifted off to sleep, grateful it was Kai who’d come to save you on the dance floor.

(a/n) in this imagine I would like to say I’m not trying to romanticize anxiety or anything of that sort. I don’t think these should be put out as if a simple kiss will heal it. Mental health isn’t something that should be romanticized so if this imagine feels as if it is I apologize but I did try and avoid it but I also wanted to say that I won’t write imagines that involve that kind of nature<3 

Lesson 3: Witchcraft 101

Terminology and Basic Theory

By: Headmistress Trick

Live class date and time: 1/3/2017 @ 4:40pm

As with all things in the pagan community, I advise you research twice then come to your own conclusions. Your craft is YOUR CRAFT, this may not be a perfect fit for you, that it okay. We are all  the tailors of our own spiritual clothes.

This course will cover basic terms and tools, the beginner’s theory and practice of simple rituals and how to construct your own spells.

Things that will NOT be covered in this course: In-depth explanations of the various areas of magic. I will provide a basic grand overview, but the purpose of this class is not to delve into any one concentration of practice. If something you hear strikes your interest, please feel free to ask me for more information. If I don’t know about what you’re asking, I’ll find someone that does.


The Basics

The only thing you need to cast any spells whatsoever, is a witch. If you’re sitting in for this course, that’s probably you. You can call yourself any title you choose, practitioner, wizard, sorcerer, magician, crazy person, spiritualist, whatever… Anyway, to perform magick, that is the manipulation of energies to bring about an intended result. This can be done with or without the assistance of deities or entities outside one’s self.

Generally all workers,  even secular ones, have some sort of altar to use as a work space. These are highly personal spaces. They can be simple, grand, portable, stationary, cluttered, clean, whatever you like. It doesn’t have to be fancy or expensive. In traditional Wicca, every tool has a place on the altar. This is by no means is something most practitioners still prescribe to. What you choose to have and use in your practice can be as minimalist or extravagant as you like. You can have all the tools or none of them. It is entirely up with you.

Statues, fetishes (these are small carvings,) or some kind of physical representation of gods or goddesses. Many consider this to be the house that you invite spirits, deities, or entities to inhabit when calling them for spells or rituals. Obviously if you’re secular this won’t be part of your practice.

Candles- Let’s be honest, an altar without a single candle, led or traditional, is a rare one indeed. They’ve a million uses in spells and have their own branch of magic aptly called candle magic.

Bowl- For keeping stuff in. When doing an elemental spell this is usually used to hold water, sand, salt, or dirt, but it can hold anything that needs containing.

Athame- This is a ritual knife. Some people use swords or daggers, some people use a grubby old pocket knife given to them by their great uncle. This is generally used for cutting or directing energy. It is not always sharp and there is a little bit of argument about whether it should be used for non-ritual purposes. Some say daily use dulls the magick inside it, others say it enhances it. I say, it is your knife, use it for what you like.

Bolline- A utility knife actually used for cutting physical objects. If you use your Athame as a functional knife you probably don’t need this.

Cauldron- If ever there was an image of a witch it was an old crone bent over a cauldron stirring away at something nasty bubbling over a fire. These can be used for bubbling toil and trouble, but also for a holding place for burning things.

Wand- Generally a thin stick thing for pointing and directing energy. This can be a myriad of objects from one’s fingers, pencils, spoons, actual sticks or specially crafted wands. Don’t let anyone tell you something can’t be a wand.

Mortar and Pestle- A small bowl with a little club for crushing, grinding and mixing herbs and spices. Be advised that wood, plastics and porous stones can pick up scents and flavours from the things you put in them. Do not use the same set for non-edible items that you do for ones you intend on eating.

Chalice- Fancy cup. Usually used for offering drinks to entities or passing around the group in a coven ritual. Traditionally this is in a goblet shape, but I’ve used a coffee cup in a pinch. Make sure whatever you use is food safe and easy to wash. Do not leave offerings sitting it until they get fuzzy.

Incense- This is sometimes used to represent air in elemental workings. It is best to avoid purely synthetic scents when possible. These will require some kind of holder. A fireproof container filled with sand can serve just as well in a pinch. If working in a group please be sure to ask about allergies and sensitivities to scents.

Grimoire- This is a witch’s go to book for all things that are important enough to write down. Just like a woman’s purse, one should never open and look through another person’s grimoire without express permission. Taking things that are not freely given from it is dangerous at best.

Broom- Used for sweeping energies, especially negative ones. Is wonderful for dissipating said energies.  Not for flying on. Sweep your floor and get the dust out along with the bad stuff.

Drums/bells- Sound can be useful for wards, driving away negative energy and calling attention. They’re also great for keeping time when dancing in a group.

Baskets, bottles, bins- For keeping stuff in. Don’t laugh.

Bucket of water/fire extinguisher- Candles can go from representations of fire to “oh shit my house is on fire” very quick. Safety first.

Stones, crystals, cords, fabric, oils, herbs, salt, flour, chalk - spell ingredients. They’ll end up everywhere unless you contain them in the baskets, bottles and bins I mentioned earlier.  DO NOT CAST CIRCLES OUTSIDE USING SALT. IT WILL KILL WILDLIFE.

Ritual Clothes- Special clothing is by no means a requirement, actually some people say this separates them too far from their craft, like putting on a costume. Others say it enhances the ritual experience for them. Whatever you are comfortable wearing should be what you practice in. Skyclad is a way of referring to being naked, by the way.

Divination tools- Tarot cards, runes, scrying mirrors, crystal balls, tea leaves. Only needed when planning on doing divination.

While none of these things are required to perform any spells, they can be helpful. No beginner should feel they have to break the bank to get a bunch of items they may or may not use. Be wary of materials of anything that will be touching your mouth or eyes. Cheap antique metals especially can sometimes contain lead. Used bookshops, thrift stores, flea markets and yard sales can be gold mines for things to use in your craft.

Many practitioners believe in cleansing and consecrating their tools before using them. They feel any strange energies coming into their space that wasn’t invited can contaminate their spells. There are as many methods of purification as there are stars in the sky, but some common methods are

Ground, cast a circle and call whatever energies into play that you wish to work with. Hold the item above your work space and “sweep” or “cut” away any unwanted energies while calling for the negative to be dispersed. Then you can set the item down onto your altar and  fill it with good energies and intents.

Smoke cleansing, passing a fireproof item briefly through candle flame, bathing in water (charged, rain or crystal water are commonly used for this practice), leaving it in direct sun or moonlight for a few hours or burying overnight in clean soil are also common ways of dealing with negative energies. Some believe a simple spiritual wipe down is all you need.

I have heard some practitioners say the repeat this process any time they use a tool in a ritual, and some simply when they feel the need recharging.

Whatever process you choose, make sure it is safe for you to use on the item and that you feel completely comfortable doing it. If you go into it with uncertainty or negative feelings, you’ll just be imbuing those into the item instead of cleaning it.

Now that you know what kind of tools you might be using, you probably are curious what kinds of magic you can perform. I by no means believe this is a completely comprehensive list. I’m only human after all.

Astral work- The art of using one’s mind to expand your presence and travel beyond one’s physical body.

Black/Dark/ Left Hand Path- This generally is anything that falls outside of the realm of white magic. This can include work that deals with death, blood, hexes, and gathering of power. Not always evil, not always good. This sometimes includes working with demons or fae, but certainly not always.

Cosmic- The use of planetary or celestial bodies in influencing one’s magical workings.

Candle- The use of color and shape correspondences in spells that use candles extensively.

Crystal/Stone/Lapidary- The use of correspondences of types of stones and gems in spells, using the natural energies found within  rock.

Herbalism/Green magic- The use of growing things to make your potions, spells and other magical workings. This generally includes gardening at some point.

Kitchen/Hearth/Cottage- This is household magic. Spells are woven into everyday cooking, cleaning and household tasks. This is a very vast area of magic that can encompass many other sections.

Knot/Cord/String- The use of string and cord for creating spells or charms. A very portable type of spellcasting.

Music/Sound- The use of singing, humming, playing musical instruments or otherwise creating sounds for spells.

Divination- Attempting to foretell the future through various means such as tarot, runes, scrying, reading tea leaves or palmistry.

Sigils, Symbols and Runes- Visual representations of concepts and intents in one’s craft. This can include esoteric alphabets and occult imagery.

Elemental- Working with one or all of the elements to bring about one’s intentions.

Weather- Working in conjunction with and influencing the weather

White/Light- Generally any magic that does not fall into the somewhat unsavory realm of “bad” magic. This does not mean this is the only right kind of magic to do.

There are literal hundreds of types and branches of magic, including specific pantheons of deities that I am not going to cover here, and ethnic or regional types of crafts. I always encourage you to seek out more information on your own.

Before we wind down I want to go over some other common terms that may or may not come up

Familiar- A companion, usually animal, that serves as a host to a spiritual entity or energy. They assist with workings and are generally good to have around. Please take good care of your familiars if you have them.

Coven- A group of witches or practitioners. You do not need one if you don’t want one, but they can be a great support group.

Spell- The working of magic itself.

Incantation- The spoken bit of the spell, absolutely does not have to rhyme, though that can help with memory recall. This can be in any language, though one you’re familiar with would probably be best.

Charm- An object that is created to hold an enchantment, usually carried or worn by the intended recipient.

Channeling- The controversial process of becoming host to another spirit of entity.

Three Fold Rule- The idea that whatever you send out will return to you three times over. This applies to both the good and the bad.

Potion- A mixture of ingredients usually meant to be swallowed by the person the magic is supposed to effect. Please never make a potion out of toxic or dangerous ingredients.

Ointment/Salve- Lotiony sort of stuff that goes on your skin.

Poultice- Soft wet mass of stuff you put on your skin. Usually contains herbs and other ingredients bound together with moss, gauze or flour and held on with a cloth wrapped around the body part

Correspondence- The relation between an item and the energy it influences. Like a type of stone being handy for working with psychic energies, or healing. Black candles being good for banishment and cleansing.  These are not always agreed upon by every magic user.

Enchant- to fill an item with energy or intention

Grounding- The release of negative energy and reaffirming one’s personal boundary of energy and influence

Sabbat- A festival, holiday or gathering for celebratory or ritual reasons

Pentagram vs Pentacle – If you are involved in craft that uses the star in the circle emblem, you should know that a pentagram is just the star, the pentacle is the whole thing within the circle. Calling it a pentagram makes you look like an ill informed goth kid. Always be a well informed goth kid.

Casting a circle- the act of creating both physical and metaphysical barriers for energies.

Shielding/ Warding- the creating of a protective barrier between your target and bad/unwanted things.

Binding- The attempt to hold someone or something and keep it from performing any harmful or unwanted actions.

Banishment/Purification- Casting out of bad energies or influences

Calling the Corners- The concept that the cardinal directions correspond to guardians or spiritual entities and calling upon them to serve as protectors for a ritual

Offerings/Sacrifices- Objects that are surrendered to an entity. Do not perform any kind of animal or blood sacrifice without fully understanding what you are doing and warning anyone else that might be involved in the process. Food, drinks, gifts and offerings of effort are generally more than enough to appease deities or spirits.

Please if you have any questions, please let me know. I will not be answering any questions about specific regional or cultural craft that I am unfamiliar with, but will try to find you resources or someone to speak to about them.

We will be reconvening for class on Sunday to do basic spellwork and go over some common correspondences. We will be doing a simple protection charm so please find an item you wish to enchant. It can be an item you use and keep on you daily or a found item. Any other things you would like to bring to share with the class of your own workings would be wonderful. Thank you and I hope you learned something new.

Save Me

Word Count: 1,166
Reader Gender: I used female pronouns, but you can substitute.
Warnings: Cussing, torture, blood, fluff
Love interest: Damon
Note: I got this idea while rewatching Season 1 of TVD

Originally posted by theeskyisthelimit

Originally posted by torturezone

I screamed out as they shoved a knife through my arm, the blade stuck in the wood of the chair. They were ‘questioning’ me on how to get something that Damon had in his possession, and naturally I told them to go fuck themselves. Unfortunately for me, they didn’t like that answer. I didn’t even know these guys, and not being able to place a name with a face was really irritating me. They pulled the knife out before pouring alcohol into the wound.

“WHERE IS IT?!” The woman yelled out.

“Right on the corner of Piss Off and Go Fuck Yourself!” I yelled back.

“I said,” The knife was shoved into my stomach, “Where is it?” The woman questioned again.

“Well, I can tell you this much,” I gasped, “It’s not in there.”

The knife was shoved a little farther up before she asked the same question, and the wound was growing larger and larger by the moment. My head was spinning, probably from the blood loss, and my breathing was ragged. I didn’t know how old the two vampires torturing me were, but they couldn’t have been that old. The lacked the vibe and disposition of a vampire who had experience under their belt.

The blade was now under the middle of my rib cage, and blood was pouring from my mouth. The man smiled, walking up to me and catching some of the blood on his finger. The popped his now bloody finger into his mouth, looking quite pleased with himself. I lifted my head up enough to spit a mouth full of blood in his face. I suppose he didn’t like that, ‘cause next thing I know I have a fist in my face.

“Little bitch.” He spat.

“Only on Sundays.” I winked, earning another fist.

“Why won’t you just tell us!” He yelled, now angry.

“Get back to me when you can punch just a little harder.” I laughed, leaning back onto the chair.

“What was that?” The woman asked, perking her head up.

“Someone’s here.” The man concluded.

“You’re a genius.” I mocked, my head resting behind the chair.

The blood was building up in my mouth, almost making me choke, so I returned my head to the previous position. My chin rested against my chest as the blood poured freely out of my mouth. I heard the door get splintered, and I assumed it to be him. I chuckled for a moment, knowing that the both of them will be dead in less than a minute. I would’ve done it myself if I wasn’t, you know, a human and all.

“Wait, wait, wait-” The woman began.

“You hurt Y/n,” Damon paused, “Big mistake.”

“Damon?” I weakly questioned.

“Y/n, holy crap.” He said in a surprised tone, taking the ties off of my hands and legs, “What did they do to you?”

“What didn’t they do to me.” I questioned jokingly, Damon catching my body.

“Oh my God.” He whispered, seeing my wounds, “I-I can fix this.” His voice broke.

“Damon?” I heard his brother call, “Dam-Jesus Christ.”

“Stefan?” Elena asked, “Stefan what’s wrong?” Stefan took her to the side.

I looked over at Damon, blood on my lips as he slowly set me onto his lap. He bit into his wrist, tears in his eyes. He held his wound over my mouth, his face contorting as he tried not to cry. I brought my mouth up as far as I could, drinking from the punctured vein. After a moment I brought my head back down, unable to keep it up any longer. His hand moved to cup my face, stroking my cheek with his thumb.

I was in a tremendous amount of pain right now, and I don’t know if he was able to get to me in time. I put my hand on his gently, my brows furrowing in pain. I felt myself begin to heal, but I was also still bleeding out. My vision began to blur as I tried to sit up, Damon helping me. I leaned onto his chest slightly as I fully sat up, and he put my arm around his neck. I put a hand over my stomach as another wave of pain set in.

“Damon, we need to get her to the house,” Stefan said firmly, “Now.”

“I know, I know,” Damon’s voice broke, “I’ll, uh, I’ll meet you there.”

“Stefan, is she going to be okay?” I heard Elena ask before I was flashed to the house.

Damon set me down on the floor near the fire, which was great for me because I had begun to feel cold. I turned on my side and curled into a ball, shaking lightly. Damon put a small blanket over me and I held it tightly to myself, hoping that it’d be over quickly. I felt him sit by me and I slowly put my head gently into his lap. He provided a sense of comfort to me, like everything was going to be okay.

–3rd P.O.V.–

Damon sat near the fire with Y/n in his lap, and he gently played with her hair. Y/n had really scared him today, and for a minute there he was sure he had lost you. He was still worried, and even though your breathing had returned to normal, he was still worried that you wouldn’t wake up. There was still that negative spot in his mind that told him that everything wasn’t going to be okay. He refused to let you go, and he refused to lose you.

He heard Stefan and Elena enter the house, but his attention was still on the sleeping figure on his lap. He felt terrible, he blamed himself for letting it happen. He blamed himself for causing it. He didn’t even know, or remember, the two vampires that captured you, but he still felt awful. Stefan and Elena entered the room, but Stefan asked Elena to give the two of the a moment. After she left, Stefan slowly made his way over to his brother.

“She’s gonna be alright.” Stefan said, hands in his pockets.

“No, she’s not,” Damon paused sadly, “Not if she’s around me.”

“Damon, what happened today wasn’t your fault-” Stefan began firmly.

“She almost died today, Stefan, solely because of me.” Damon countered stubbornly.

“Damon, they would’ve just tried to kill someone else instead.” Stefan reasoned.

“Yeah, but I don’t care about someone else, I care about her.” Damon said, looking back at you.

“If she didn’t want to get hurt, or if she didn’t want to die, she would’ve just told them what they wanted to know.” Stefan said.

“I just-” Damon began and Stefan sighed.

“Let me tell you a little secret, I don’t think she cares.” Stefan spoke truthfully, and Damon remained silent, “Just be glad she’s alive, and don’t push her away because I can guarantee that she’s not going anywhere.”

“Thanks.” Damon said after a moment.

“Anytime.” Stefan said before walking away.

I will make them pay for this

Originally posted by dailyalexhogh

Pairing: IvarxReader
Rating: Explicit
Words: 3735
Warning: Mention of rape and death, a little bit of blood, cursing, a fight

Notes: Hello everyone! Here’s my second one-shot which prevented me from studying for my upcoming exam! But I’m not complaining! English is not my native language, I’m sorry if there’s any mistakes. I hope you’ll enjoy it!


You could hear the laughs and music coming from the feast, which took place in the great hall, not too far from the hut you shared with your husband Ivar. It was a celebration night, like every night was since the sons of Ragnar came back a week ago, boats full of gold, silver and slaves. You wished you could have gone with them; it’s been a long time since you fought and you missed it. But, you were a mother of two beautiful babies now, your son Sigtrygg was 5 years old and your daughter Freydis was 3. They became the most important thing in your life; you had to stay alive to raise and protect them. 

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before he sells the beans to jack, he is born in a house that smells of ceder.

his name is Tiffany. a bold bright name. a stardust name. a girl name. but he is not a girl. he knows this, even if others don’t. his mother puts him in dresses, teaches him how to sew, chastises him when he lets his voice get low.

“my great-aunt’s friend’s sister,” says his mother, with her red lips tight, “once knew these girls that spoke and diamonds came out of their mouths. you know what happened to the nasty one? she got toads. that’s your future if you don’t figure out how to be a nice little girl.”

so he speaks gently. but the whole time he is wondering: who gave them the language of gems. who gave them the language that rolled out of them. it must be magic. and if there is magic, maybe there is hope for him.

he takes off in a dark night. a sad night. one where the fire was too low and he was sick of mirrors. he leaves his mother a note: gone to find where the gems grow. 

in the black woods, he cuts off his hair. wears his father’s clothes. feels, at last, whole. runs and runs and runs until his air comes out in a wheeze. walks for weeks and weeks.

he finds the old woman carrying water. she is ugly, her mouth all twisted angry. but she carries the water alone. 

the boy does not have much. but he has shoulders. a good back. hands that work. when he takes her burden, she says, “thank you, young man.” and he smiles at her, but doesn’t say anything.

her house is damp. she feeds him stew, apologizes. says she used to make lovely foods but the price of milk and eggs got far too high. she says: if you carry my water for five weeks, i will give you something special. and he agrees.

she talks for him. spends a lot of time telling him of people he never met. girls with lips blood red. girls with white fairy dresses. boys who fell in love with swans. 

the boy says little. just nods. sleeps on the floor of her empty barn. when she’s not looking, he darns her clothes for her, keeps the floors swept, fills the lanterns with oil, makes her a blanket for the coming winter. 

on the end of the fifth week, she gives him the beans. tells him that they have been passed down in her family, that this was her portion. she says that she is too old now for such adventures. that she hears the beans will bring treasure. fortune. all the things of greed. she says: i will give them to you, for what you have done to me.

in the morning, he takes off. he feels the weight of them in his pocket. he thinks of the old woman and the stories and the sight of her tired hands. he stands in the market for a long time, unspeaking, simply staring at the cobblestones beneath him.

jack’s voice is the last call in the evening. a beautiful cow, young and thick and healthy. 

the boy has no money. he bounces the magic bean in his pocket, and thinks of treasures. 

“wait,” he says. 

jack turns. 

transaction complete: one cow for a handful of magic beans. the boy walks the cow home to the old woman, gets there in the morning. they are both very tired. he falls asleep beside the beast in the hay. dreams of the foods the old woman can cook now that she can get milk.

when he wakes up, he is changed. it is as if he simply turned into who he was made to be. not a new body. familiar. the body he could always see.

the old woman stands at the door of his barn. she says, “good morning,” and then she says a new word. a word he’s never heard. a name. his name. a boy name. 

he repeats it. it is a jewel in his mouth, so he says it again. another diamond.

“time to fetch water,” she says, winking. the whole way, he whispers his name. it never quite tastes the same, always beautiful, always a fine thing, always his. the something special he was lacking.

in the back of his pocket, there is one last magic bean. he will fetch the water and plant it. and he will carry that old woman to the castles she has never seen.

screenshot (m)

Originally posted by bwipsul

drabble.

genre: smut. there’s nothing more to it

word count: 2739

a/n: I’m honestly so nervous because it’s been literally millennia since I last posted something like this…. I hope you guys like it ;) this is heavily based off snapchat…. and…. I’m sorry if it’s too messy jfc I had to stop multiple times 

warnings: swearing, lots of lucid imagery

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If The Shoe Fits: Alexander Hamilton X John Laurens

Word Count: 4 997

Summary: Alexander Hamilton, starring as Cinderella. 

Warnings: Minor character death ; bad parenting ; forced servant


Casting

Cinderella : Alexander Hamilton

Prince Charming : John Laurens

The Fairy Godmother : George Washington

Evil Stepmother : Aaron Burr

Evil Stepsisters : Thomas Jefferson ; James Madison

The Pigeons : Marquis de Lafayette ; Hercules Mulligan

Cinderella’s Mother : Rachel Faucette [Alexander Hamilton’s Mother]

Cinderella’s Father : James Hamilton [Alexander Hamilton’s Brother]

The King : Henry Laurens [John Laurens’ Father]


Once upon a time, a mother lived happily with her two sons in a small cottage by the edge of the wood. The mother and her sons did not live a life of luxury; however, they lived happily in each others’ company. However, one dreadful winter, the three of them fell sick with the fever, the mother in the worst condition of them all. One day, knowing she would soon die, she called her two sons to her bedside.

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A Haunting

Prompt: After being brutally murdered at the young age of twenty- one and stuck on Earth, Harry has been searching to find a way to heaven for almost a hundred years. One day, a family and their autistic, seventeen year old, daughter, Heaven, moves into his home. Maybe this was the Heaven he was searching for all along.

DO NOT STEAL MY IDEAS! Enjoy! x

_____________

Heaven sighs heavily, biting her nails lightly, as she enters the musty smelling, older, abandoned home that her parents had suddenly decided one day to move into on a whim. The larger scale home still held beauty after so many years and was somehow still in almost pristine condition, sitting in the middle of the woods on the far side of their little town.

One morning, Heaven’s parents went for a jog and stumbled upon the old mansion, immediately falling in love with it. Becoming practically obsessed, they found a realtor and bought the house in just a few days, not even speaking a word to Heaven until they burst into her room and told her to pack.

Heaven panicked, of course, as she hated change. When she was young, she was diagnosed with autism and her parents made sure she was always happy and comfortable. They lived in the same house, used the same tutors, drove the same car, and ate the same foods to insure that she didn’t have a tantrum. So this was a major change, but eventually, with much coaxing, they got her to pack and get in the car.

When they drove up the tree lined driveway and the Victorian era house came into view, Heaven immediately understood why her parents were so in love. It was absolutely breathtaking and something about it made her want to never leave. Maybe this change will be good.

“Heaven, don’t bite your nails, darling. Go choose your room!” Her mother calls as she places a box down in the kitchen, snapping Heaven out of her thoughts.

“Okay, mama! Okay… Okay, mama,” She clutches her small teddy bear that she’s had since she was a kid to her chest as she takes a step up the rickety stairs. The steps groan under the forgotten weight of someone walking up them as she makes her way up them slowly.

As she steps foot onto the second floor, she freezes as she hears quiet whispering coming from down the dark hallway. “Mama?” She calls quietly, clutching her teddy tighter as she takes a step towards the voices. The hairs on the back of her neck involuntarily stand up as she suddenly feels the intense feeling of being watched after she speaks.

As soon as she takes another step, the voice and the feelings halt and everything seems normal again. Hearing foot steps, Heaven looks down and sees her mother and father walking back outside to the moving truck. Turning towards the dark hallway again, Heaven’s eyebrows furrow.

“Not mama. That’s not mama,” she mumbles as she makes her way down the hall, not caring about it too much. She peers into each room, shaking her head each time she didn’t like them.

Coming to the end of the hall, Heaven begins to frown as she doesn’t find a bedroom she likes. Her eyes tear up in frustration as she lets out a tiny whimper.

As she gives up and begins to walk down the hall, the whispers begin again, louder than before. Heaven gasps, turning towards the voices and before her eyes, a door she hadn’t seen creaks open slowly.

Curiously growing in her, she wipes her tears and slowly walks towards the open door. Peeking into the room, she lets out a happy squeal as she sees the dark red walls, her favorite color. The bed was large, the bed spread a muted red from all the dust accumulated on it. In the corner, a small nook was made by the window so someone could sit and read. The ceilings were high and in the middle hung a giant chandelier that glittered and sparkled in the sunlight.

“Mine,” she states to herself mesmerized and in a trance as the whispers slowly die down.

“Yes,” a deep, raspy voice behind her croons as she feels a hand on the bottom of her spine. The touch was calming and warm, sending slight sparks up her spine as she didn’t flinch away like she normally did to touch.

“Yes,” she mimics as she walks in and the door slowly creaks shut behind her.

____________

“So, I was doing some research,” Heaven’s mother starts as they quietly eat dinner in their new dining room. Heaven’s father hums in response as he gives the love of his life all his attention after he helps Heaven cut up some of her chicken and places her a small kiss on her forehead.

“It’s quite spooky actually. Apparently, the original owners were murdered here almost a hundred years ago,” she states fascinated as she takes a bite of her carrots and peas.

“Wow! That’s interesting. How sad. What happened? Do they know?” Her father speaks as Heaven pokes her chicken with her fork, in a daze as she stares fixated at the pattern on the plate.

“They say the killer snuck in in the middle
of the night and stabbed them in their beds. The son tried to find help after he had been stabbed but he only made it to the hallway where he, sadly, passed. That’s why you can see blood stains on the floorboards upstairs. They are buried in the somewhere in the woods out back, I think. There was Anne, the mom, Desmond, the dad, Gemma, the daughter, and the son was named-”

“Harry,” Heaven suddenly states, making her parents turn to her in shock.

“H-How’d you know that, sweetheart?” Her mom asks softly, her mind reeling in the scary possibilities on how her daughter, who has no way to get on the Internet, knew the name of the dead boy who once lived here.

“He wrote it. Wrote it on my bed,” Heaven states what she had found earlier. Carved on the dark wood on the bed’s headboard was a name. A little worn from the years but still visible, Harry was written in neat handwriting and, captivated, Heaven spent hours tracing the name with her fingertips.

“Oh,” her mom laughs it off lightly, relieved that their new house wasn’t haunted by its past residents. “We will get your bed up there soon, sweetheart. Sorry you have to sleep in that old thing,” she says, making Heaven frown.

“I like it, mama. I like Harry’s bed,” Heaven protests, wanting the old, soft bed that made her feel safe and calm to stay in her room.

“Heaven, a boy was killed there. I don’t want you sleeping in it,” her father says, making her eyes water.

“I want it!” She slams her fork down and just as she feels a full blown tantrum coming on, she hears the whispers.

She freezes as it feels like arms wrap around her from behind and a warm chest against her back, calming her instantly. “Don’t cry, sweet Heaven. It’s okay,” she hears the raspy, deep voice, that sounded like smooth honey, coo in her ear.

“Okay, Harry. Okay… Okay, Harry,” she mumbles as she picks up her fork and takes a bite of her chicken, completely relaxed as her parents stare at her wide eyed.

“Good girl,” she hears just as the feeling of the arms disappear and the whispers cease, but leave behind the feeling of warmth and calm.

“Heaven, w-who are you talking to?” Her mother asks, fear gripping at her heart once again. She had never seen Heaven calm down that quickly before.

“Harry say don’t cry so Heaven no cry,” Heaven mumbles as she finishes her food. “Bed time,” she states, standing and placing a kiss on her stunned parents cheeks. They were so in shock that they didn’t even protest as she make her way up the stairs to her new bedroom.

___

Harry smiles as he watches the beautiful, innocent girl twirl around in her bedroom as she dances with her teddy bear. He stands propped against the wall, transparent so she can’t see him just yet. He didn’t want to scare her, but with her reactions to him earlier he didn’t think she’d be too petrified.

When Harry first watched the family move in, he was livid. This was his house, his family’s house. He left and died here. How dare they just move in and take over his home of over a hundred years.

But, when he heard it, all his anger dissipated. “Heaven! Come inside!” He heard as a gorgeous girl walked though the door, lightly biting her fingernails with a dazed look in her eyes.

Heaven. Something he had been searching for for decades was right in front of him. On his tombstone, the words Find your way to Heaven were written, but Heaven found its way to him. This wasn’t what he expected but, to him, this was even better. His own personal Heaven.

He had studied her so much since she arrived he could now remember where each of her freckles were with his eyes closed. They dotted her rosy cheeks and nose like the stars in the night sky. Her hair was like spun gold with a slight reddish tint, shining in the light from the window, captivating him and making him feel like he was now one of the richest men. Her lips were like two, perfect, pink rose petals and he fought the urge to kiss them relentlessly. Her ocean green-blue eyes sparkled with innocence and were normally stuck in a daze as she focuses on something sparkly. Earlier, she had spent almost an hour just staring at the chandelier in the middle of the ceiling as he stared at her.

That’s when he figured something was…special about his Heaven. Listening in to her parents conversation, he quickly found out she had autism. He didn’t care. He actually fell more in adoration of the small, special girl with the gleam in her eyes.

Hearing a small shriek and a crash, Harry is knocked out of his thoughts. He panics as he sees Heaven on the floor with tears in her eyes as she clutches her ankle. Not caring any longer about transparency, he rushes over to her and appears right next to her.

His hand reaches out, laying on top of hers that clutched her ankle. She gasps lightly and the whole world seems to slow down as she turns her head and their eyes connect.

“Harry,” she whispers as he smiles gently, reaching out for her hair and tucking a strand behind her ear.

“Careful, sweetheart. Can’t have my Heaven getting hurt right after I find her.”


Hope you enjoyed! Please tell me if you want the part two!!! x -E

anonymous asked:

coco oil disaster reporting: I'm okay! thank you all for the care! my hair is still kinda funny from all washing but it looks okay now. I'd ask for RFA+3 react @ MC messing up her hair (dyeing/haircut), maybe put this in your queue? thank you loves!

I’m actually really glad to hear that your hair is doing better and tbh I was talking to myself (don’t judge) about my hair and started to wonder about yours the other day (wow that’s probably creepy im sorry) so I’m glad I finally got to your request ^^;; ~Admin 404

*YOOSUNG:

-He’s probably the one who helps you mess up your hair?

-MC! He dyes his hair! He can totally help you dye yours!

-HE WAS WRONG. HE WAS SO WRONG.

-THE COLOUR WAS NOTHING LIKE ON THE BOX. NOT AT ALL.

-Cries with you when you see the results

-”I DON’T KNOW WHAT WENT WRONG, MC! I’M SO SORRY!”

-He finds a beauty club on campus and joins, hoping it’ll help him figure out how to fix your hair

-You won’t let him near your hair anymore, at all. He has to pat your back when he’s consoling you for weeks afterwards because you’re very serious about not letting him touch

-Begs to go with you to the beauty parlor to watch them fix it though!

-Literally praises your hair 27 times a day once it’s actually the colour you wanted, because you look so good!!! He tries to tell you that you were beautiful before but the glare you give him makes him hold his tongue

-You considered messing with his hair the next time he did it

-But realized that would be tERRIBLE and you weren’t sure you could deal with the poor baby’s crying poor bby ;A;

*ZEN:

-You were just… simply getting ready for a night out with your boyfriend

-You couldn’t just go out in some comfortable clothes, nnooo

-You decided you had to dress up- jewelry, makeup, hair, the works

-JUST WANTED TO BE MORE DAZZLING THAN USUAL

-So when you attempted to curl a piece of your hair and attempt to simultaneously talk to Zen, you thought ‘Hey, it’s easy, I can do this’

-You were wrong

-Did you know you could set the curling iron too high? No, of course you didn’t, because you didn’t read the instructions

-’Oh no,’ you thought, ‘I know how to curl my hair. I don’t need this. What’s it gonna say? Step one: curl your fucking hair?’

-YOU SHOULD HAVE READ THE DAMN INSTRUCTIONS

-Because that curl? Completely burnt off

-You now have a missing chunk of hair and the house smells like burning hair and no amount of candles can cover it

-Trust me, Zen tried. After over-reacting and practically dropping to the floor, mourning the lost chunk of hair

-Who’s more upset, you or Zen?

-You’re crying, he’s crying, everyone is crying up in this house

-He tries his best to try and help you hide it

-Luckily for you, it’s in a spot that it can be easily blended in until you decide what to do to fix it

-So he helps to style your hair in a different way until then!

-Always coming home with adorable hair accessories to mix up your hairstyle!

-And when you’re upset, he’s always there for hours at a time telling you how amazing and beautiful he thinks you are, and refuses to stop his speech until he knows you’ve forgotten all about your hair disaster (at least for the moment)

- seriously has to buy like 20 more candles to help the burnt smell in the house

*JAEHEE:

-You just wanted to do a nice, relaxing, hair mask while you took a hot bath

-Did you buy a premade one at the store? No no of course not

-Your Pintrest loving ass had to make a homemade one

-That dESTROYED YOUR HAIR

-YOU COULDN’T RINSE IT OUT??? IT WAS PRACTICALLY LIKE AN OIL SPILL??

-YOU EVEN WRAPPED YOUR HEAD IN PAPER TOWELS AND IT STILL DIDN’T COME OUT OF YOUR HAIR

-Hours upon hours you’ve spent washing your hair and you just. Couldn’t. Get. It. Out.

-So when Jaehee came home and heard the water running she was obviously concerned because??? You texted her like a million hours ago that you were going to take a bath

-Did something happen to you??? Were you hurt??? OR WORSE???

-*Judo kicks down the door*

-Sees you just sitting in the bathtub, running water over your head, quietly sobbing

-*Mother Jaehee instincts kicking in*

-You explain what happened and she just laughs at you??? Like stOP LAUGHING MY HAIR’S A MESS

-She spends the rest of the night helping you strip your hair of the terrible mask you attempted, doesn’t stop until she knows your hair is gonna be okay

- that and she doesnt want that gross oil feeling all up on the pillows mc, keep it away from her at all costs

*JUMIN:

-”Why in the world did you attempt to cut your bangs yourself?? I have a hairdresser. Why didn’t you just make an appointment”

-You sat in the middle of the bathroom floor in defeat, a large chunk missing from your bangs, where you’ve been sitting for hours, crying on and off

-He stares at your hair for a good while, without saying a word. He’s trying to assess the damage, not judging you, stop crying MC

- mc, he has money, JuJu can fix this for you

-Bang extensions? Bang extensions.

-At least until your actual bangs grow out and you can style them

-He always tells you how beautiful you look, no matter what

-If he could, he’d fix it himself, but he knows that he’d just make it worse so he let the professionals handle it

-But he is a little…mothering? Always hovering and running around both you and the hairdresser

-Loves showering you with compliments no matter what your hair looks like, but he hides all the scissors from you. No joke. You can’t do any crafts without someone having to get you scissors. They check up on you every now and then. juST LET ME CRAFT, JUMIN, PLEASE

-You once threatened to cut Elly’s fur if he didn’t stop hiding the scissors

-But all that did was make sure that you only got safety scissors and a designated scissor handler daMMIT JUMIN

*SAEYOUNG:

-You wanted to go for just a little trim of your split ends!

-The love of your life just wanted to scare you a little bit without realizing you were a little busy!

-Cue the fact that you now have a chunk of hair missing. What was once flowing, long hair is now as short as Jaehee’s. Only in one spot. Just one.

-HE FELT SO BAD????

-He told you he loved it, you can just be unique with one spot shorter than the rest!

-”It’s a fashion statement, MC! It’s fabulous!”

- im gonna shove this fucking “fabulous” pair of scissors up your aSS SAEYOUNG WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU

-Runs away from you and your fury, scissors in hand.

-He comes back later, plopping one of his wigs on top of your head, kissing your cheek in apology

-Promises to get you an appointment with one of the best hairdressers! He’s gonna get this fixed!

- news flash, the hairdresser is him in disguise. He actually did a fantastic job at fixing your hair

-He’s so cute though! After he gives you an adorable (and flattering) new hairstyle, he can’t stop taking pictures of you??

-The group chat is spammed with candids of you and everyone else thinks it’s absolutely adorable! They all love your haircut too <3

*V:

-Okay but he’s the one who fucked up your hair

-How was he supposed to know just how much coconut oil was supposed to go in your hair? He’s never done it

-’The more oil, the more it’ll smell like coconut, right?’ is what he thought to himself

-Smh this asshole was just thinking of himself- he wanted to spoon you and just lose himself in a sweet coconut scent

-”Here, you said you wanted to try a hair mask thing, right? I researched and found that coconut oil helps… I got you some! Let’s go shower”

-Like hell yeah I’ll go shower with you Jihyun, who would turn that down??

-But now you regret it. You regret it and you wanna pour the rest of the bottle over his head

-Obviously he’s apologizing like crazy

-Sounds like he’s on the verge of tears and you can see the guilt splattered across his face

-YOU CAN’T STAY MAD AT THE POOR GUY. HE JUST WANTED TO DO SOMETHING NICE FOR THE BOTH OF YOU

-He’s calling everyone he knows, looking all over the internet, anything he can do to help your hair

-Even calling some famous hairdressers he’s met overseas

-*Lays napkin on your head* “Sit with this on MC, maybe it’ll soak some of it up”

-Like clockwork, he’s changing the napkins on your head

-Well he got what he wanted- your hair smells like coconut. So does your whole bathroom. And house. And everywhere you go. He can pick you out of a crowd by following the coconut smell

*SAERAN:

-Also does his own hair

-Refused to help you dye your own because??? He’s not taking responsibility if something goes wrong

-He should have knocked on wood because…. You fucked up. Real bad.

-YOU DIDN’T KNOW YOU HAD TO GRADUALLY LIGHTEN YOUR HAIR??? YOU THOUGHT YOU COULD JUST BLEACH IT OVER A FEW DAYS AND GET COOL COLOURED HAIR???

-You MCFucked up(™)

-He walked into the room as you stared in disbelief that your hair was dry, coarse, and just all around dead

-What did he do? Stared blankly, finger-gunned, and walked out of the room. whAT THE FUCK SAERAN GET BACK HERE AND CONSOLE ME

-He sat in the bathroom while you dyed it *insert whatever colour you want here* hoping maybe the dye would bring it a little life?

-It Did Not.

-He bought you a few different hair masks and damage repair shampoos hoping it would help, and help stop your crying

-You made him promise to help you with your hair the next time you decide to do it. He agreed because jesus christ MC why would you do this to yourself okay but??? This whole part vof the hc is literally what i did when i first bleached my hair ;A;

-Seriously though, he helped no matter what you wanted to do from then on. You wanted to retouch the colour? He’s helping. You wanna change the colour? Also helping. You want it to go back to a normal colour? HelPING.

-Literally always on the internet looking at different articles on how to help repair hair damage, how to keep it healthy, different products you could use, he is not gonna let you do that again because??? He loves your hair and actually felt terrible when you cried about it

Onesies

This little story is based off of a post I made about Anti liking onesies. I couldn’t help myself since I found the entire thing really adorable. Thank you @jiminy-krispies for sharing these lovely ideas and creds to you for also giving me a few ideas on how to write this out.

Also, if you want to know Anti’s main look for this story, just check out this post made by the talented @atomiktaco.

I guess there’s sort of Danti implied but you can either take the interaction as platonic or romantic, whichever you prefer.

I’m tired but I wanted to finish this before I went to bed, so it may not be the best thing ever but I did it! Yaaaay.

Anyway, enjoy! x


Anti is alone. Not by choice of course; Dark said he was going to be gone for about a week for ‘business reasons’. Anti doesn’t really care why Dark is leaving, he’s just glad that he gets the house to himself. Why?

Because if Dark isn’t around, that means he can wear his onesies.

Several months ago, Anti got himself some onesies. He saw them at the store and couldn’t resist the incredible temptation. He barely even made it through the door before he slipped one on and started sliding around the house with it. This didn’t come with a price, however. When Dark came home that day to find Anti, a grown man, sliding around the floors of their house with a onesie on, he certainly had a lot to say.

The amount of times Anti was called something along the lines of ‘childish’ was uncountable.

After that, Anti made sure to prove that he was an adult and capable of being ‘more mature’. After telling Dark that he got rid of the onesies, he was never seen in one again and didn’t even mention them.

Instead, he just hid them hidden in a box in his closet, keeping them for a time where he would be alone and could wear them once more.

What, did you really think he would get rid of them? Silly.

Of course, now that Dark won’t be home for a week, Anti takes this as the perfect opportunity to bring out his beloved onesies. The second he’s certain that Dark isn’t coming back for another seven days, he dashes into his room faster than the speed of light and practically rips the box open. As soon as the soft fabric of the pyjama is between his fingers, a beaming grin spreads across Anti’s face.

“This is gonna be fuckin’ epic,” he chuckles, eyes gleaming with childish excitement.

It’s only minutes before Anti has one on and is proudly admiring his appearance in a mirror in the washroom. The onesie is that of a bright green dinosaur with a yellow patch on its belly and red spikes going all the way from the top of his hood, down to the bottom of its green tail. There’s even a face on the hood with little white teeth sticking out of it. The green-haired male throws the hood over his head, getting some hair in his eyes and the fabric falling down to his nose.

“This fuckin’ hood is so big, I could fit two of my heads in here,” he grumbles to himself, pushing it up and brushing his hair away. However, he quickly finds himself giggling as he begins to shake, the little tail coming out of his lower back jiggling with his movements. “Time to go slidin’!” he cheers.

Anti spends hours after that, doing nothing but sliding around the house in different rooms, allowing the fabric beneath his feet to carry him swiftly across the smooth flooring. He laughs and giggles, the sound overlaying and even glitching slightly with his growing excitement. It’s the most fun he’s had in weeks.

Once he’s too tired to keep going, Anti grabs himself some blankets and pillows and crashes on the couch, curling up in the warmth and coziness the clothing provides. Anti has never felt more content.

The next day is another new adventure in another onesie. Today, Anti is wearing a black onesie with a skeleton on the front and back in a bright green color. This one doesn’t have a hood but still covers his feet, so he’s still able to slide across the floors.

This time, Anti decides to make things even more interesting for himself. He gets a large piece of wood and draws a bullseye on it with a thick black marker. Once he’s satisfied, he hangs it up on the wall and gets his collection of small knives. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Anti slides across the floor and attempts to throw all his knives into the center of the target.

Needless to say that, by the end of the day, there are many holes in the wall where the makeshift bullseye is. Anti is passed out on the floor beneath it, curled up into a ball while holding himself and his beloved knives scattered around him, both on the floor and stuck in the wall.

For the next few days, Anti continues to occupy himself with different activities, all of them revolving around his onesies somehow, whether that is using them to slide around or for comfort. When the seventh day finally arrives, the green-haired male seems to have lost track of time. He’s forgotten that Dark is scheduled to come home.

Anti is wearing a bat onesie this time. There’s fabric between his arms and torso, acting as wings. He’s sliding and dancing around the house to some silly music and giggling at himself like a dork. Hell, he’s having the time of his life and is completely unaware of the familiar figure standing in the doorway, watching him with amusement.

It takes a solid five minutes before Anti finally notices Dark standing at the entrance of the room, watching him with a mocking grin. The green-haired male freezes in his movements and the radio from which the music is playing begins to glitch with Anti’s surprise. Dark releases a deep chuckle and holds his hands behind his back in a professional manner. He tilts his chin upward, as if attempting to fluster Anti even further.

“I thought you said you’d gotten rid of them?” he questions, his eyes gleaming with mock, “Something about ‘being an adult’ if I remember correctly?”

Anti looks away from Dark and down to the floor, finding it much more interesting than his friends face. The radio has glitched into silence at this point, seemingly weighing down on Anti. He attempts to kick the ground as a distraction, but his foot only slides across the floor and he loses his balance, nearly slipping onto his backside. Dark’s grin widens.

Anti glares at him harshly, face still displaying the shades of his embarrassment. Dark lets a sigh scape his lips.

“Anti, I really couldn’t care less if you want to wear those silly pyjamas. Your little hobby doesn’t bother me in the slightest. You can dance around and slide across the floors all you’d like, I only enjoy teasing you but that really doesn’t mean that it should stop you from doing what you enjoy,” Dark suddenly says, releasing his hands from behind his back and bringing one up to gently brush some hair away from his eyes.

Anti’s eyes soften at his friend’s words. There’s a moment where conflict is seen within him but it is quickly replaced with delight and excitement, almost as bright as the day Dark left for his little trip.

“However,” Dark says, tilting his head downward and looking at Anti sharply. The green-haired male’s face forms an expression of confusion and Dark continues,”I wiLL nOt ToLEraTe YoU ruIniNG mY wAlls, UNderSToOd?”

Shadows are cast across Dark’s face, giving his eyes a redish tint. He speaks through gritted teeth and is leaned forward slightly, looking down at Anti with sharp eyes. The air seems to have gotten thicker and Anti simply nods.

Good, otherwise I will have your head on a silver platter,” Dark threatens before taking in a steady breath to recompose himself, “Oh, and if I find any of those things lying around, I will burn them.”

Anti’s jaw drops and he clenches his fists, eyes gleaming dangerously, “If ya dare try to burn any of my onesies, I’ll kill ya!” he threatens.

“Don’t leave them laying around and we won’t have a problem,” Dark finalizes, his tone signifying that it is no longer open for discussion, “now, go enjoy yourself – without being too reckless. I still have to clean up the mess you’ve made with my wall,” Dark grumbles unhappily.

Without needing anything else to be said, Anti dashes out of the room, nearly crashing into several pieces of furniture as he does so. Dark can hear his giggles becoming distant and muffled the farther he gets from the room.

For the next few weeks, Anti slowly gets used to the idea of being comfortable enough to wear his onesies around Dark without being relentlessly teased about them. Dark still teases him here and there, but not enough to make his friend want to hide them again.

About a month after the confrontation, Dark sighs after the wall that was once filled with holes is finally fixed. He admires it from a distance, being sure that the paint covering it looks just right and that the holes are no longer apparent. A small smile appears on his lips – he’s content with how it turned out.

Suddenly, Anti comes sliding across the floor and into his sight, standing right in front of the spot he was just admiring. He’s wearing his dinosaur onesie and a wide grin is on his face. Dark notices his hands being held behind his back and lifts a curious brow the sight.

“Look, Dark, I found one for ya! It’s a devil onesie!” Anti cheers, pulling his hands out from behind his back. He holds the black fabric up in front of him, allowing it to roll down to the floor. It’s entirely black with the exception of the pointy red tail and horns sticking out of the lower back and the top of the hood, “You’d be so comfy!”

There’s a moment where Dark re-evaluates his choice to be accepting of Anti’s childish obsession. However, after seeing the bright, toothy smile on his friend’s face, he simply lets out a sigh and internally smiles.

“Anti, if you put that on me I will burn you along with all of your onesies.”

anonymous asked:

Fic prompt because I LOVE your work!!! Fitz with Ophelia "I'll never stop fighting you!" I

You’re so sweet, thank you! I should have spent longer on this (I’m gonna reread it and cringe later), but I wanted to get it in under the wire before canon blows it to shreds haha! [tw: obv ophelia features in this, dealing with feelings because of non-con, but they don’t have a ‘relationship’]

Read below or at AO3!

——

He doesn’t fight. When she lands them in a desert and lets go, he barely has the strength to lean over before throwing up.

“Oh, Leopold,” she says, concern etched into her features. “I’m so sorry. You’ll get used to the teleportation.”

As if an unexpected dematerializing is even on the radar of things to churn his stomach. He has been split wide open, the core of him exposed for everyone to see. He has flaws, so many of them, and before he might have listed them dispassionately: temper, loyalty to the point of blindness, jealousy, arrogance, a false bravado when he secretly feels like a coward. Years ago, he remembers thinking: Jemma knows my flaws and she loves me anyway. I’m not a bad person.

But now the protective film has been stripped away and he’s seeing clearly for the first time; this darkness has always been there. He is a bad person. He’s an evil person, and he has hurt people. His brain spins with images of his friends and his victims. In another reality, he had yelled at Mace for sending Jemma away without warning, but the punishment for that was not supposed to be death.

“You mean nothing to me,” he had told the woman he’d wanted to marry, and he would have killed her. His hand shakes, as if still straining with the weight of the gun. Fitz falls to the ground, rocks biting into his knees. He can’t remember how to breathe.

“It gets easier with time,” Ophelia says, attempting to run a comforting hand along his arm. He turns his face from her and retches again.

++

He doesn’t fight because he doesn’t have the strength and deep down he knows he deserves this punishment anyway. Perhaps he is doomed to wander through the desert with her for forty years; he hopes they both die before reaching her promised land.

“I understand what you’re going through,” she tells him. “And I’m going to help you, because you were the only one to treat me with compassion when I was a slave.”

“Don’t you regret anything you’ve done?” he asks. It’s the only thing he’s said in hours. For a moment, he’s not sure he’s even spoken aloud.

Ophelia gazes at him searchingly and then frowns, as if working through her own emotions. “No,” she finally replies. “I have learned so much, Leopold. I fixed a single regret for each of you, to make you happy. And everyone simply created new regrets.”

He wants to tell her that she rewrote his entire life. He wants to tell her that she took away all of his choices, that he loves his mother and would never have traded her for a lifetime with an abusive father. I wanted a father who loved me and supported me and stayed, he thinks, surely you knew this isn’t what I meant.

But he doesn’t argue with her because this, like everything, is his fault. You don’t put wishes out into the universe without carefully considering the consequences—he of all people should have known that.

“Humans don’t understand what’s best for them,” she says. “This is what I’ve learned. All this capacity for feeling, for free will, and they waste it. We’re going to create something better. We’re going to help people, and we’re going to be so happy.”

He marvels at how genuinely delighted she appears. Maybe she stole his soul to become a real person because he can’t even remember what happiness feels like. He thinks of Jemma, but all of his good memories are tainted by the acrid smell of gunpowder and the words he’ll never be able to take back.

“It’s time to go,” Ophelia says, grabbing his arm to disappear him again. He shudders at her touch, but he doesn’t fight. He doesn’t know how.

++

He sits in an abandoned house, head in his hands, and breathes through another panic attack. Ophelia, it seems, is growing impatient with his weakness.

“I need your help,” she says. “For our plan. And if you’d just let me, I can make all this pain go away.”

But he needs the pain, because it’s there to remind him that this world is real. He cries when he thinks of Jemma, but he needs to replay her words over and over so that he never forgets what he’s done and why he’s here. He has lost faith in everything, but he offers up silent prayers anyway: keep her safe. Keep them all safe, and I will stay here with Ophelia and I will not fight. No one could accuse him of not accepting his prison sentence.

Ophelia’s plan doesn’t make much sense to him, although perhaps that is because nothing makes sense to him at the moment. Or perhaps she doesn’t fully trust him so she’s only letting him in on part of it.

He has so little strength, but he holds her back in small ways. He sabotages where he can. Sometimes he hears Jemma’s voice in his head, guiding his actions. Sometimes he even sees her, but she never lays a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” he tells this imaginary Jemma. “I understand.”

“Is this how you felt?” Ophelia asks, kneeling next to him. She has procured a bed for them to share, but he spends every night curled up in the corner of the living room, the stiff wood of the floor burning his joints. “Is this how it felt when she chose someone else? Do you know how much you’re hurting me?”

No, he thinks, of course this is not how it felt. With Jemma, his heart had shattered into a fine dust. With Jemma, he had seen her videos and known she loved him, maybe even loved him the most, and that made it hurt more. But with Jemma, he had thought her happiness could be enough to save them both.

Now, he and Ophelia are locked in a sick dance and when he falls, he will pull her down with him. He will sacrifice himself to stop her, and his anger and disgust and self-hatred will be enough to save the world.

Keep reading

katie-wants-donut  asked:

#5 sonamy (whether it's classic, Boom or modern you decide) Please. Your stories are amazing 😄

Oh sweet chaos.. 0-0;

Whatever you say…

Prompt (Boom Universe)

“And what if I’m torn!?”

“Oh please! It’s piece of meat!”

Sonic gasps, “IT’S A CHILIDOG! You bag of bones!”

“Ah! You blue jerk!”

“How am I being the jerk? I~ didn’t insult the chilidog.” he gestured to the luxurious food in his hand.

She swiped it away.

He freezes, before diving for it, and then rolling to reveal it. “Nice save!” he complimented himself, before Amy growled and started storming off.

“You’re so immature! First I ask if you’re doing anything tonight, and the next thing I hear, you’re standing me up for a AMERICAN.” she gestures back to the food in his hands. “A freakin’ hotdog.”

“CHILIdog. Geez, you’re as bad as Eggman with identifying different species.” he scratched behind his head.

“Augh.” she rolled her eyes, and started to walk away again.

“Hold on!”

Sonic gripped her arm.

“Hey!”

“I wasn’t done defending my friend yet!”

“Well, that friend certainly must mean more to you than your REAL friends!” she put her hands on her hips, leaning forward as she finally had it, stomping her foot one last time to the ground.

“OOHH! I’m so done with your attitude! Why are you so stubborn!? Do you want to go on a date or not!?”

“…D-Date? I thought you said we were hanging out?”

Amy widened her eyes, realizing her folly as she clammed her hands over her mouth.

“D-da-da-whaaat? PFft, boi please.” she leaned against the door frame, looking away. “That’s what the hip and happenings are saying now adays…” she bit her lip and sweated profusesly.

“…Ames?” Sonic raised an eyebrow, holding the chilidog in both hands now.

He waved it in front of her face, as she avoided looking at it too.

“…You can’t lie to the chili…”

“Gr…erk…” she twitched.

“Alright! FINE!” Amy flung it out of her face, screaming as she threw her hands down in front of her. “I WANTED TO SPEND TIME WITH YOU! Is that too much to ask!?”

“Huh?”

Sonic watched the chilidog fly into the air, as the two both watched as it soared through the air, letting little chunks of the chili-meat fly off every now and then.

Sonic rushed to save it again. “Nooooo..!” he slid for it.

Dropping to his knees, he caught it, and held it up high. “YES! Two for two!”

“You mean one.”

“Huh?”

Amy stood outside the door, and slammed it.

He flinched at the wood against wood, before getting up. “..Wait.. Amy?”

Amy stormed down the dark street, and headed quickly home. “I can’t believe he almost found out! And he STILL cared more about that stupid… dumb chilidog! I mean, I made it for him, but he could have at least been thankful enough and-”

She stopped.

“I… I made it for him.” she looked up, realizing maybe the chilidog was more than just some hunk of meat with sauce on it.

She turned around, before shaking her head and rolling her eyes. “Grahh.. I won’t be the first to look back this time!”

“Good! That means I won’t need to go back!”

“H-huh?”

Amy was scooped of her feet.

“WOAH!”

Bolting into her home through her window, the two crashed down as Sonic rolled along the floor, landing face-first on the couch, and getting up.

“Phew. Definitely not my roughest landing.” he leaned up, happy for the soft terrain.

Unnnntil Amy swung a hammer in his face.

“You think you can waltz in here and make up for treating me second to a literal food product!?” she gestured to represent the chilidog.

“Actually, it’s more like…” he hesitated, but then took her arm and gestured it around his stomach. “Here now.” he sweat dropped as he smiled sheepishly up to her.

She looked annoyed.

“You didn’t give me a lot of time to enjoy it!”

“I wanted to hang out with you! Not have you drooling over the chilidog and say goodbye right after I graciously hand-delivered it to you!”

“You wanted to see me?” he looked up, smiling like a kid.

“Well, I… I mean, like anyone else would.” she looked away, growing self-conscious again.

“I~ remember when you first said you wanted a trip in my hammock, thinking it cool. You did the same thing when I said you could, but you refused to get on it with me sitting beside you.”

She turned away, a faint blush on her cheeks. “I hate how all of a sudden, you think you can read me.” she closed her eyes and continued to keep her head away from his peering eyes.

He smirked, “Come on, Ames. What do you mean by all this?” he drooped his eyes slightly.

“…Nothing. Now… get out of my house!” she sounded lazy as she swished her hand to the door.

“…Alright.” Sonic hit his knees with the palm of his hands and got up, dusting himself off and then looking Amy over.

“…You sure are cute though… when you’re mad.” He then started to walk out.

Instantly, Amy reflexed and threw him back towards her face.

“What… what did you just say?” she blinked, shock taking over her.

“I said please don’t hurt me and I swear I’ll never say it again.” Sonic looked terrified, she was holding him by his bandanna.

“No.. what? Augh.” she shook her head, “I mean the other thing…” she looked away and then back, losing her tough-girl attitude, and Sonic could suddenly see she wasn’t as scary as she usually is.

“… em… stop staring and just repeat what you said already!” she yelled out, as he suddenly knew what he needed to do.

“…Sonic?”

He leaned down and lightly held a kiss.

Minutes felt like seconds as he pulled away.

“…I said… I don’t remember.” he looked away, his eyes looking frozen as he realized what he had just done.

“…I’m… I’m thinking there was something in that chilidog.” Sonic tried to excuse his behavior.

“I’ll have to find the recipe again.” Amy pulled him back in for another one.

He flailed a moment, before completely surrendering to the sensation of it.

She pulled back, and he was literally starting to melt down to his knees, leaning completely and letting her lift him by the scruff of his bandanna now. “Woah. Comedy Chimp lied. That freakin’ rocked.” he had drooped eyes, before shaking his head and looking amazed.

“Wait.. did I just..” Amy looked up, and dropped him like a hot potato.

“Whoah!” he fell flat to the ground, before leaning up. “Yeah. I would be freakin’ out too if I kissed me.”

What she didn’t see was his lips trembling.

“I… I .. I have to go!” she ran out the door, slamming it as she heard him getting up.

“H-hey, wait!”

He banged on the door. “Amy! Where will you go!? This is your house!”

She was spread up against the door, her mouth a deep, open frown with her teeth showing, spazzing.

She then realized the logic of his truth and swung open the door. “Oh yeah.” she kicked him out. “You should go!” she then tried to slam the door again.

“Wait-OOOOOWWW!” his foot got jammed by her.

“Oh my gosh! I am SO SORRY!” she opened the door, covering her mouth and looking around, “Uh.. Um… j-just come in.”

He hobbled in one leg, as she set him back on the couch, letting him lift his leg up.

“Ugh! I just- I’m so confused right now!”

“W-why..” he was rubbing his poor foot.

“Because!” she flung ice at his face.

“OOOWWW!” he held it to his eye, letting it slowly drag his face down as he pulled it away. “Geez, are you here to kill me or-?”

“I just hate how you’re making me feel right now!” she threw an apple at him, making him lean back to dodge it and catch it, ‘phewing’ as he did, before looking back at Amy.

She was gone.

“H-huh?” He looked around, “Amy?”

He slowly got up, watching his foot and hopping a few times, over to the kitchen.

Amy was huddled down, gripping her legs, head down.

He examined her for a moment before sitting down next to her, up against the island counter. “…Do you really hate me that much?” he side glanced over to her, lifting his good leg up and leaning forward, against it.

“Cause I sure as heck didn’t mean anything I said.”

She peeked up a little, and when he saw the small opening, smiled and continued, pretending he didn’t see her shift.

“I mean,” he gestured up. “I may get mad at you sometimes, but I would never say I hate you.”

Amy felt bad just then, and lowered her head again.

“Ah!” he freaked out, realizing that was probably bad. “L-look, that… thing …we just did? D-don’t worry about it.” he slowly moved to his knees, trying to comfort her. “I’ll just go now and we’ll pretend the whole thing didn’t happen, alright?”

Right before he was about to leave, she pulled his bandanna towards her again.

“If you leave now… I really will hate you forever.”

He gulped, blinking in his surprise.

“Oooo… k? Now I’m really confused.” He furrowed his eyebrows, leaning closer. “Don’t you want me to leave..?”

“…Idiot.”

“Huh?”

She pulled him back into a hug, and kissed him quicker this time, before pushing him away and covering her face, sending him half way across the room.

“WHHHAA!!” he hit his head. “Ughh… if every time that happens, I might need to start wearing a helmet…” his eyes rolled around, before he shook his head to keep them straight again.

She looked away, “Like you even want it to happen again…”

He leaned up, “Woah… what has made you so hateful today!? And… surprisingly… open too..” he touched his lips, still unsure of why he wasn’t, himself, overreacting.

For some reason… he wanted to make her more mad.

He got up, still twitching from the pain in his foot.

“If love’s a battlefield, you certainly give it a new meaning.”

She threw a hammer at him, and he just narrowly dodged it, spinning around before landing on his bad foot.

“AHHHH-ph.” he shut his mouth, closing his jaw and pushing his head down to do so. “Em.” he squinted his eyes a moment, enduring the pain as he looked back at Amy.

She glared at him, then looked away.

“…You.. You can be so violent!”

She threw another hammer, and he happily leaned back, almost all the way down to his lower leg, matrix style, and leaned up again. “Heh, but you’re no match for the fastest thing a-OFFPH!” he struck a pose and waved his finger around, signature grin, before she threw another hammer directly at his face.

“Owkawy. I swee whawt’s gwoinwg won.” he muffled through the hammer, as he tilted his head with it, as if it was permanently stuck there.

He gripped it and tried to rip it off, succeeding and then holding it just in case she threw more. “Ha… You’re fighting how you feel, right?”

She threw another hammer, but he deflected it. Smiling.

“You’re worried I don’t mean it. That I’m gonna somehow play ya and this whole thing will end in our friendship being ruined forever, is that it?”

She narrowed her eyes more, but this time, her frown was a sorrowful one.

“Well. I think you doubt me too much!”

“What are you saying!?” she finally blurted out, getting up and staring at him.

“I don’t want to be deceived!”

“Deceived?! Oh, is that who you think I am?!” Sonic looked angry, walking towards her and pointing a hammer accusingly at her.

“Well, maybe I don’t want to face defeat! Be rejected in front of the only girl I’ve actually cared about on this level.”

“Level!? So what, I’m a game to you!?” Amy stepped forward.

“With all the hammer’s you’ve thrown at my face, and my injured big toe, I would say YES. You’re probably the hardest boss I’ve ever had to face. Because I can’t face you. You’re unfaceable!”

“How so!?”

“CAUSE YOUR FACE IS TOO PRETTY TO DISPUTE.”

“IS THAT SO!?”

“YEAH! AND YOUR HAIR SMELLS LIKE PARADISE FRUIT AND YOUR COOKING IS TO DIE FOR! That’s probably why I’m still here!”

“Waiting to be fed!? Ugh, you’re so-!” she leaned forward.

“Yeah?” he stepped forward.

“SO-!”

“SAY IT!”

“I.. I DON’T WANT TOO!”

“REALLY!? Cause I really want to eat your face right now!”

“Then do it!”

“FINE.”

“FINE.”

They suddenly were so close that the two just launched at each other, completely dropping the act and the hammer, and were completely absorbed in one another.

A little while later, they pulled away, panting.

“…I… I don’t know what just happened.” Amy admitted.

“I do… thankfully.”

Sonic and Amy didn’t take their eyes off each other, or remove their hands from around the other.

“..What does this mean?” Amy gasped out.

“…It means…” Sonic stepped more foreward, putting his head to her forehead.

“I’m gonna need you to deliver some more chilidogs.”

“Frequently?”

“A.S.A.P…” he leaned in for another one.

“…You can be that hungry?” Amy leaned back, wanting to pull a fast one before he did, smiling.

He smirked, “Starving.” he shook his head with the motion, and the two were quite different after that.