#God dammit gorge

[vampirezogar]

I gotta know about the food of ancient cultures.

And not in like an Epic of Gilgamesh meets Portal type of "And by a pie, what I meant was darkness and torrential flooding" way.

I NEED to know what Agrarian Greg's favorite snack was. There were streets back then, I AM DEAD CERTAIN there was street food. What the fuck did the construction crew at Gobekli Tepe daydream about gorging themselves on. I KNOW THEY DID, I'VE WORKED IN THE CONSTRUCTION INDUSTRY, I KNOW YOU CAN SAY "dumpling" AND HEAR THE WHOLE CREW GO "aaaaah, noooo, I'm trying to focus dude, I know a guy in nebraska who has a fuckin recipe I'm gonna have to call him, god dammit."

[beebberb]

Can't an ethereal being and an anthro fox just get married without a colorblind english gremlin destroying it?

[deanwithscissors]

Cas-Appearing

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 989

Summary: Cas catches [Y/N] and Dean during intercourse 

Warnings: Banter, cas being cas, sex, getting caught

A/N: i just found this piece on an old laptop i’m having to use. i’ve just re-written it this morning because it made me chuckle and i’m quickly posting it before work. this is the first time i’ve ever written cas as well lol *feedback is welcome, but be nice, not just to me, to everyone!*

Having a Winchester, specifically Dean, on top of her was not only becoming a nightly event but a whenever possible occurrence. The sexual tension kept climbing despite the pair getting their release, multiple times. No matter how much Dean gorged of [Y/N], or how much [Y/N] inhaled of Dean, it wasn’t enough. Desperation engulfed them and followed like a loyal dog that never strayed.

[Y/N] lapped Dean as he sat on the edge of the broken bed in the shabby motel room, her knees barely supported her as she bounced on Deans rock solid hard on. The room was small and dilapidated, in no way appealing but it didn’t matter, the motel was just a backdrop for their lust to consume them in fiery passion. 

His hands were planted on her hips for extra support as he leaned back allowing his dick to push in deeper. She moaned and her head fell back as pure bliss escaped her mouth. 

Dean wanted to stay in this moment forever, or at least make it last longer than ten minutes, but with Sam only popping to the store that’s all the time they had, so it’d have to be enough. For now.

“Fuck Dean, I’m close,” [Y/N] muttered breathless as the frayed rope threatened to tear in two. Her walls suffocated his dick in a terrifying death grip as she quivered in his arms.

Both fast approaching an explosive climax she clutched his shoulders and buried her face into his neck. With each thrust she was jolted with euphoria, edging her closer to the cliff and pulling him along too. Her thighs tensed and Dean rocked harder, he could no longer contain the volume of his own grunts of pleasure. 

“Why are you hurting her Dean?”

Blown away with utter shock at the voice in the room, Dean lost all connection with his body, his firm embrace of [Y/N] vanished and she went tumbling to the floor in a stormy sea of red hair and pale limbs.

Cursing under his breath he instantly helped her onto the bed, wrapping her in the loose bedsheet and then gathering a sufficient amount of fabric around his crotch to keep their dignity intact. 

In tandem both hunters turned to the decaying brown coloured sofa to see a well-suited, paired with a long tan trench coat angel denting the cushions. He leaned forward squinting while tilting his head.

“Cas what the hell?” Dean roared. “Were you watching us have sex?!”

“Is that what that was,” Cas replied with a raised eyebrow.

“How long were you there?” [Y/N] asked flabbergasted.

“A few minutes,” Cas replied in his monotone voice.

“Jesus Christ Cas! You don't watch people having sex!” Dean yelled throwing his hand in the air. “Well I mean, unless you’re watching porn, or y’know getting a little kinky,” he said grinning, his eyebrow cocked as he looked at the ceiling .

'Dean!' [Y/N] swatted his bare shoulder.

“Yeah right, Cas don't watch people having sex.” Dean tried to berate the angel.

“So do I watch or not?” Cas asked confused.

“If you walk in on someone you walk back out.” Dean told him.

“But I didn't walk in?” Cas questioned further.

“God dammit Cas if you don't leave right now I will use the angel blade on you.” Dean said, fists clenched and jaw taught.

“Cas just give us a minute, y’know to get dressed,” [Y/N] said.

“Why not just get changed? I've seen it all,” Cas replied. 

“Jesus fucking Christ.” The beefy hunter flew off the bed, making sure to grab the heavy silver blade as he dashed towards Cas.

In the blink of an eye they were left naked and angel-less in the motel room. “Angel of the lord my ass, angel of bad fucking timing more like. I was so close!' Dean yelled as he threw the blade on Sams bed. 

“It’s okay, c’mere let’s finish,” [Y/N] cooed him over with a bent finger.

A small grin flashed across Deans face as he descended on her like prey. Their tongues instantly tangled like a discarded necklace. 

The familiar roaring of the Impala rocked the room. 

“Fuck Sams back,” Dean hissed as he looked out the window.

“Go get in the bathroom, hurry,” she ordered while pushing him off her.

Leaving Dean to take care of himself she darted around the room fumbling into clothes and collapsed onto her stomach on the bed just as Sam walked through the door with a smile on his face, carrying a stuffed paper bag.

“Please tell me you have something stronger than beer in there?” She asked.

“I do. Whiskey,” Sam assured her.

“Good, give it here, I'll crack it open,” she said climbing off the bed as the bathroom door creaked open.

“Did someone say whiskey?” Dean asked. 

“Are you guys alright?” Sam asked his brows furrowed as he eyed them wearily.

“Yup, good, fine,” Dean confirmed immediately as he took the whiskey from Sams hand, ripping off the top and swigging straight from the bottle. Without a word he pushed the bottle towards [Y/N] and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

[Y/N] took the bottle and repeated Deans actions.

"Are you guys really alright?” Sam asked clearly not convinced. He eyed the pair suspiciously.

“Yeah man y’know, just frustrated,” Dean admitted to his brother, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.  

“Both of you?” Sam quizzed. 

[Y/N] silently nodded. 

“Alright, whatever.” Sam said letting it go. “I uh seen a sign in the garden of the house across from Mr Peters and I was gonna check it out, see if anyone would talk about him, you guys coming?”

“Can you manage on your own?” Dean asked.

“I mean yeah,” Sam said.

“Cya later dude, we’ll be here chilling.”

“No we’ll be at the bar,” [Y/N] corrected. 

“What she said,” Dean pointed at the short redhead. 

“Fine whatever, I’ll do all the work, you guys do all the play,” Sam huffed as he left the motel room. 

Dean instantly turned to [Y/N] and said, “now we can finish.” He was on her faster than a moth to a flame. 

[bloomblitz]

Dracula Daily June 30th

Today’s the day

These may be the last words I ever write in this diary. I slept till just before the dawn, and when I woke threw myself on my knees, for I determined that if Death came he should find me ready. What an opening!

With a glad heart, I opened my door and ran down to the hall. I had seen that the door was unlocked, and now escape was before me. Go Johnny GO!

But the door would not move. Despair seized me. I pulled, and pulled, at the door, and shook it till, massive as it was, it rattled in its casement. I could see the bolt shot. It had been locked after I left the Count.

oof. Oh, oh that hurts. Poor John.

Without a pause I rushed up to the east window, and scrambled down the wall, as before, into the Count's room. When in doubt, lizard fashion it up!

There lay the Count, but looking as if his youth had been half renewed, Is...is that a thing? I think maybe a handful of vampire media has that aspect of them, rather then the usual 'I'm thirsty' gimmik.

 It seemed as if the whole awful creature were simply gorged with blood. Ewww.

There was no lethal weapon at hand, but I seized a shovel which the workmen had been using to fill the cases, and lifting it high, struck, with the edge downward, at the hateful face. Yes! YES! FIGHT ON, JOHNNY-BOY! FIGHT ON!

But as I did so the head turned, and the eyes fell full upon me, with all their blaze of basilisk horror. The sight seemed to paralyse me, and the shovel turned in my hand and glanced from the face, merely making a deep gash above the forehead. The shovel fell from my hand across the box, and as I pulled it away the flange of the blade caught the edge of the lid which fell over again, and hid the horrid thing from my sight. So at first I thought the Count had awoken, but I guess not? He didn't attack or say anything. Did he just move in his sleep? I'm surprised the cut didn't wake him at least.

I was again a prisoner, and the net of doom was closing round me more closely. Dammit!

I shall try to scale the castle wall farther than I have yet attempted. I shall take some of the gold with me, lest I want it later. I may find a way from this dreadful place. A last desperate attempt at freedom. Best do it now before the wolves come!

At least God's mercy is better than that of these monsters, and the precipice is steep and high. At its foot a man may sleep—as a man. Good-bye, all! Mina! He'd rather die a human then face the vamps. Such honor!

Also yes I hate that this is where this entry leaves off. I haven't read the book yet is this the last entry (pls don't spoil) from my good friend Jonathan Harker? He can't write if he doesn't make it. Oh the next entry can't come quick enough!

JONATHAN! BE CAREFUL!

[inc0rrectmyths]

friend

i come bearing more jercy headcanons

Percy likes Twinkies, and Jason makes c o n s t a n t jokes about it. Mainly about the correspondence between Percy the Twink (trademarked by Jason Grace) and the snack food Percy likes to gorge on.

In retaliation, Percy makes jokes about Jason and Ding Dongs. Most of them are about the escapades of Frank, Hazel, and himself, to annoy Jason.

Sometimes, Percy forgets to hydrate (how he does that as a child of the sea god, I have no idea-) and whenever Jason notices, he gets on Percy's case until he drinks at least two Gatorades and a full tall glass of water.

Jason forgets to sleep, and Percy will flip the roles around, begging and whining for Jason to come to bed with him until Jason finally caves and goes to cuddle with Percy in bed until they both inevitably fall asleep.

Percy kept his Pillow Pet, and at first, Jason made fun of it, but over time, he realized this stuffed thing was really important to Percy, so he stopped making jokes about it, because gods dammit, he CARED about his boyfriend's emotions, even if they were towards stuffed animals for kids.

They both sleep under mass amounts of blankets, with the fan on. It's just their way of life. (And mine)

[leporellian]

warrior cats rewrite part 2: fire and ice

more of This apparently! this is a continuation of this post so go over there to get the gist of this. 

with the last book i was focused on establishing characters and dynamics within thunderclan, so this one is more focused on establishing the other groups outside of thunderclan (windclan, riverclan, the rogues in shadowclan, kittypets) and the exact mechanics of the world. also assume that anything i mention little of stays the same- bluestar, yellowfang, etc 

-so like in the original we open on a prologue of windclan. the prologue is from the perspective of a young apprentice, gorsepaw. he and his brother mudpaw are trying to comprehend What Is Going On while morningflower soothes them and tallstar attempts to lead. they are helped by members of the blood brothers (the city cats who try to keep things safe in the city and suburbs). little is mentioned about the blood brothers but it is mentioned they’re not as good as they once were and could use a fresh young leader to give them real direction again

- anyway back in thunderclan we hear about darkstripe’s pov of redtail’s death

- redtail was a risk taker and very fiery and passionate- much like fireheart himself. bluestar chose him because his eagerness balanced out her pragmatism. however, redtail’s impulsivity and tendency to be a bleeding-heart became more and more loathed by others- especially the elders and tigerclaw.

- tigerclaw values conservatism, duty, and tradition. he’s a man of stability. and he realized that redtail’s ways could get thunderclan in trouble- he had a point, of course, but he took it too far.

- the entire sunningrocks battle was suggested by thistleclaw, tigerclaw’s father, and quickly approved by the elders (elders are often the ones who start battles), although none of the other elders knew of the plan.  thistleclaw also suggested the time- in the dark of night, where no cat could see who was fighting who too well. thistleclaw was helping tigerclaw the entire time.

- redtail was killed by not oakheart, although it was often claimed they had killed each other (and who had no voice to speak up- oakheart was dead and was an impulsive type like redtail who would have totally killed him in defense if they had fought), but tigerclaw, who figured it was the only way to become deputy and lead thunderclan with the stability he had desired it to be led with.

- fireheart shares his findings with the others, in secret. raven, gray, and cinderpaw all believe him, although it takes them a while to come to terms with the idea of tigerclaw being a murderer, but sand and long are unconvinced- neither wants to even entertain the idea their father was murdered.

- anyway thunderclan sends a few cats to retrieve windclan now that Brokenstar Is Gone(TM), gray and fire being two of them. windclan doesn’t like how little thunderclan seems to care about them because none of the high ranking warriors were sent- especially the angry mudpaw, who is still rather traumatized from being chased down with the rest of windclan by shadowclan. meanwhile, fireheart meets onewhisker and they become fast friends. onewhisker is kind of a Cool Older Brother type but he’s also sycophantic and a little bit of a coward.

- meanwhile there’s barkface, the quiet medicine cat of windclan. on the way back starclan sends him an omen: the moon will bring unnecessary death on its back.

- on their way back they find riverclan dicking around on windclan territory and so there’s a Fight- right by the gorge. it plays out like in canon and whiteclaw dies, fire figures ‘oh that’s the death’ and moves on

- once they get back a few days pass and then The Gang Become Mentors to lionheart and frostfur’s litter: brackenkit, thornkit, brightkit, and swiftkit. (cinder meanwhile was goldenflower’s kid.) fire gets bracken, gray gets thorn, sand gets bright, and long gets swift

- while this goes down, gray falls in love with silverstream like he does in canon- further propelled by his own half-clan heritage and desire to know outsiders beyond thunderclan. fire spies on him as he does in canon, etc etc. also it’s here that fire sees princess, and he recognizes her immediately.

- also thorn doesn’t like that graystripe isn’t really paying attention to him, which makes him kind of a try-hard prick that Just Wants To Be Noticed. Patrol Guy: Origins

- meanwhile tigerclaw keeps asking bluestar to see some unusual activity at the thunderpath. he looks worried about it.

- this comes to a head when tigerclaw rushes into camp with a few other thunderclan warriors. “there was a rogue attack at the thunderpath!” everyone follows him and finds two cats being carried out, both unconscious- darkstripe and cinderpaw. cinder’s leg has been shredded by a car (the rogues pushed her out in front of one) and darkstripe’s face is clawed up to hell and back.

- fireheart immediately Suspects Shit because this is tigerclaw. nobody else does except for ravenpaw, who notes that while cinderpaw’s injury is plausible, whoever clawed darkstripe did it in a very deliberate manner and not in defense as usually is done in the midst of dispute. fire figures out that tiger probably did the same trick he did with redtail, but targeting darkstripe instead.

- (”why are you relying so hard on mystery here?” mystery is really good for setting up worldbuilding, which is the main intent of the first three books.)

- meanwhile, cinderpaw is told that even though she can be a warrior, with the loss of her leg working properly she will likely need extra time and dedication to become one, and that it won’t be an easy road. cinder however refuses to give up, even though she’s initially left shaken and hopeless

- fireheart goes to see princess, who’s much more of a homebody than he is and comfortable in her life. however, she’s so relaxed because she doesn’t leave her home into the outside kittypet world, and is concerned about smudge and her mate- who both leave and get in fights with other cats pretty often. did you ever find smudge? she asks. what do you mean? replies fireheart. oh, this moon he decided to come with you, into the forest. i haven’t seen him since...

- anyway since princess doesn’t want her first child to enter the chaotic disputes of Kittypet Borders (and the other calamities of having little established government) she hands fireheart cloudkit

- like in canon nobody initially likes cloudkit but brindleface takes him in. their main worry is that he’s a white cat with blue eyes, which could mean that he’s deaf- not that this would hurt thunderclan, but that this could leave cloudkit to have a harder time being a warrior. cinderpaw however makes the connection and tells everyone that she wants to mentor cloudkit as soon as he becomes an apprentice.

- fireheart asks darkstripe to tell him more about tigerclaw killing redtail, hoping to get the details he needs to properly accuse him. but darkstripe is... different, this time. what do you mean!?! he screeches. tigerclaw is a loyal thunderclan warrior! you would never accuse lionheart or spottedleaf of this. how dare you even think- 

- fireheart realizes that barkface’s ‘the moon will bring unnecessary death on its back’ omen was not referring to only whiteclaw, but also, perhaps, darkstripe in a way. whatever tigerclaw did to darkstripe, whatever he told him, it changed the tabby tom forever. as fireheart continues to think about the omen, his mind flickers to smudge for a moment, and then it returns to thunderclan.

- the gathering goes down like it does in canon. thunderclan slowly realizes that the rogues nightstar mentions are the same ones that tigerclaw had to fight at the border. ohhh shittt, they collectively go

- they get back to see rogues everywhere in thunderclan camp. the usually-bellicose thistleclaw isn’t fighting them, and darkstripe is half-hearting it. those who are There however are doing an okay job of fending them off, and their asses are collectively kicked when the ThunderClan Gang gets to them. they also manage to capture brokenstar after yellowfang blinds him (and fire hears that she was his mother- honestly i’m not changing a lot abt yellowfang)

- in the midst of this, fireheart accidentally kills clawface. he’s wracked with horror at it, and wonders if this is how graystripe felt when he killed whiteclaw.

- anyway there’s like 2 days of peace and then mudpaw rushes into gathering like ‘HOLY SHIT GUYS WE ARE BEING FUCKING ATTACKED BY THOSE SHADOWCLAN RIVERCLAN MFS’ and everyone is like ‘god DAMMIT we JUST PUT you guys back there’ and they all go in, ally with windclan, and have a Big Ass Fight like in canon. we get a good idea of everyone’s loyalties to who- graystripe is only fighting shadowclan, darkstripe only attacks whoever is around tigerclaw, sandstorm and longtail tagteam fight against river and shadow, onewhisker is just running around doing nothing but Look Cool,

- barkface dies in the battle, leaving windclan to wonder if he had predicted his own death in the omen from about a moon before. fireheart doesn’t have the heart to tell them that it meant much more than they could know. spottedleaf joins windclan in barkface’s stead as he left behind no apprentice. ‘wait you can just Leave Clans like that?’ says graystripe. he is Thinkin

- the book’s end is uncertain as fireheart is still reeling from clawface’s death and the big battle between all the clans. he wonders if this is how the rest of his life will be- and then, as he falls asleep, he gets a nightmarish vision of hell and heaven, life and death, and an odd peace afterwards, all narrated by a voice he swears he knows but not from where. it almost becomes... oddly soothing, like a long-forgotten childhood memory.

- lion and tiger will meet in battle, and fire alone will herald it. there will be three, kin of his kin, and they will hold the power of starlight in their paws; yet peace will only arrive on the gentle wings of the fourth. out of the darkness of blood-spilling-blood will come a new dawn, and the four oaks will live beyond the memories of its memories. nothing is as it was, yet this is how it always has been, and this is how it always will be...

[divinewhimsy]

Ichor Pt 4 (DabixReader)

Because I apparently don’t know when to stop writing, this one is a tad longer than the others, I think. Who knows?

TW: Blood (mentions, mostly) Swearing

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Message me if you would like to be added to the tag list~!

TagList: @marydragneell​ @velvet-kissesss​

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Part 3: X

Part 5: X

You’ve bitten off more than you can chew with this man. Why, of all people, did you have to save him? You’re regretting your kindness. 

“This is it, right?” he glances down at your scar. “The wound you fed me from.”

You don’t answer.

“Answer me.” he bares his teeth, an animalistic gesture that strikes fear into your bones. 

You nod. Tears are prickling at your eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment as he brings your wrist to his lips. His eyes never leave yours as he opens his mouth, maintaining eye contact as he swipes his tongue up the length of the scar. 

You shiver at the sensation and squeeze your eyes shut, the tears falling as a result. You want to beg. You want to plead. For your life, for him to stop- for anything to get him to let you go. But your pride is wrought iron and cemented down into your heart. You will not bow before this man. You will not break. 

“It doesn’t have to be blood but where’s the fun in getting it any other way?” he laughs darkly. “Or should we experiment, hm?” 

You snarl. 

“Ooh what a face! Crying your little heart out and still trying to kill me with a look!” he grabs a hold of your face with one hand, gripping your chin roughly. 

“You hate me so vehemently right now, don’t you?” he coos mockingly. “You wish you could have left me to die, don’t you? But you made a mistake and let a big, bad monster into your home. And now? Now I’m going to make you remember you decided to do this, princess.”

He releases you- completely- and you tumble backward. Away from him. He laughs as you clutch your arm to your chest. 

“Give me the goddamn blood packs.” he sighs and your brows furrow together. After all that he wanted to try it your way? After that fucking frightening speech? What was this? A joke?

He can read your face better than you know how to properly express it. 

“Just wanted to remind you who’s in charge here, doll face.” he simpers and extends a hand toward your face. You flinch away from him. “Try not to hate me too much for it.” 

You throw the blood packs down into his hand and stomp away from him. His laughter only makes you angrier as you grab your plate. You throw it into the sink and begin to wash the dishes as he sits back down to eat.

Or drink, you guess. Whatever. 

You take your anger out on the dishes. Scrubbing away at each and every piece that was sullied. Imagining every stain and all the baked on residue is his face and you’re scrubbing it away into nothingness. 

When the kitchen is clean, you’re still upset. You flip the clothes from the washer over to the dryer and slam the door shut. Once you’re sure it’s starting you stomp past Dabi- who’s lounging on the couch lazily flipping through the television channels. 

He’s still in that goddamn towel. You know he has nothing else to wear but the idea of him having gone through that stupid speech just to be half naked sets your fury ablaze. Not that you want him to have clothes at your place like some distraught couple living separately. You really, really don’t want that. Anything but that. 

But you’re kinder than you should be. Your mind whispers awful ideas about his life. As a villain, when is the last time he’d have clean clothes again? Did he have a home, a family? People who are worried about him? What if he looked so filthy was because he didn’t have anyone who cared enough about him to offer things like a shower or a drawer for clothes. The thought pulls at your heart strings and you cuss yourself out in your mind, hating what you’re going to do. 

You shove yourself into a pair of jeans and throw on a clean t-shirt. You tug shoes on your feet and grab your wallet, not nothing telling Dabi where you’re going. You do tell him you’ll be back later, though. And not to leave. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” he snorts from the couch. 

You wish he would. He would just disappear from your life and you wouldn’t have to worry about him. Wouldn’t think of him alone on the streets with dirty clothes and having to fight even just for a place to sleep. You’re sure villains have some kind of underground network that offers them places to sleep but knowing villains it wouldn’t come free. There would be a price. There always is. 

And the price of staying with you is significantly less. 

You know you’re too nice, too kind, too empathic for this world where people will always take advantage of that. Dabi is one of those people but how can you turn him away? Certainly not after he knows your name and where you live. Calling a hero wouldn’t do anything but signify you had to leave as soon as you could. Who’s to say Dabi wouldn’t track you down, either? No one can truly protect you if you decided to eat him out. 

Besides, you decided to do all of this. 

It was your decision to take him to your home. Your decision to heal him, to try and help. Whether or not he’s grateful for that isn’t part of your choice. It’s not why you do these things for people- hero and villain alike. Titles mean nothing but responsibility. And you’ve had more than your share of that in your years. 

As you scan through the rows of clothes hanging on racks, you can’t help but imagine what things Dabi would like. What would look best on him. 

He doesn’t deserve your kindness but that doesn’t mean he deserves to look awful. Even if you are the one buying him clothes. It’s hard not to picture him wearing specific colors or styles. You know what would look good on him.

He’s handsome, in a strange way. It’s definitely tied to the confidence he carries himself with. The way he acts like he doesn’t care about anything or anyone else but himself. He must have been drop dead gorgeous before his burns and piercings- but as you try to picture it you find you might prefer the burns. Not that you’ll ever tell him that, if course. He carries them with a sense of honor, although you wonder if he’s faking it. 

Asking what happened is out of the question. The man already threatened to kill you and here you were buying him clothes he won’t appreciate so he doesn’t have to bum around in more than the same stupid outfit or just a goddamn towel. Your entire paycheck is disappearing with every article of clothing you think will fit him. Besides, it’s not like you know how long he’s going to be there. His quirk disappearing is a situation you’ve never dealt with before. 

It could be weeks or months, gods forbid. Another mouth to feed and clean and house. The thought of it exhausts your bank account more than you’ll ever fully realize. Sure, your job pays reasonably well and you've taken a couple courses in medical school but you were on a break from that right now. You could pick up more hours at work, of course. There’s bound to be someone who wants to work a little less. But what if someone tries to visit you when Dabi’s there? If he’s not quiet then it’ll only make him staying there more obvious. 

You groan inwardly and glance down at your now filled cart. You’ve got more than enough for him to last for at least a week without having to do laundry. Although you were increasingly enraged when you flipped the laundry you were thankful you still checked the sizes he had been wearing. You could have guessed but at the end of the day you wouldn’t have been satisfied with that. And it’s not like you could drag him along with you to try things on. Even if you could, would he even bother coming along? You need to remind yourself this is Dabi you’re dealing with. 

You know next to nothing about him save for what you can gather from news reports on him. You know his quirk is gone, too. Now you know what size clothing he wears- roughly. You forgot to look at his shoe size. Dammit. 

His boots are still in the closet by the front door, thrown in there in your hurry to hide all evidence that you’re housing a villain. Well, sort of. It’s complicated. 

Does he need socks? Was he even wearing any socks when you first dragged him to your house? Every memory you pull from that night not too long ago can’t show you his feet. How often are you even supposed to look at someone's feet? Are you supposed to look at their feet?

As you cash your items out and make your way back home, your anger burns into nothing but fumes. Rolling steam off of a warm spring. Barely even there. 

Well, it was. Until you opened the door. 

The sight of Dabi gorging himself on your favorite ice cream brings the rage back.

He turns his gaze to the door as you slam the door shut behind you and drop the bags in front of him. Licking at the spoon in his hand while balancing the carton of ice cream in the other, he flickers his gaze down curiously. The t.v continues on in the background. You watch for a couple of seconds and recognize it as some dark and edgy movie about vampires and werewolves that was made more than ten years ago. ‘Under’ something or whatever. You don’t really care as you focus your attention back on Dabi.

He’s sifting through the bags, having abandoned the ice cream carton now beside him. The spoon is still clamped between his lips as he leans down to pull out a shirt. He studies it for a solid minute before his brows furrow on his face, a slight twitch to them. When he finally tears his gaze from the garment and back to you, all you can think of is how wonderful it’ll be to live alone again. 

“Are these for me?” he asks around the spoon in his mouth. 

“No, they’re for the other dumbass villain I’m stuck with.” you scoff and stomp toward your room. 

“Aw do you not like me in the towel, doll?” he calls down the hall with a laugh. “I can take it off, if you want.”

“You can shove it up your ass for all I care!” you snap back and slam your room door shut. 

Of course he ate your ice cream. Of course. 

But it’s okay. It’s fine. Everything is fine. One hundred and ninety nine percent fine. There’s absolutely no reason to be upset right now. It’s just ice cream. It’s just an ungrateful, unruly and disastrous asshole you’re stuck with who threatened to kill you not even four hours ago. That’s all.

You fall face first onto your bed, groaning loudly into your pillow. The memory of his threat is still fresh as sin on your mind. A reminder. He’s not just some idiot you have in your house. He’s an actual terrifying, cold blooded murder who’s hurt people for less. There isn’t anything about him that you shouldn’t fear. 

If anything you’re the idiot for bringing him here. 

It’s times like this you wish you had a different quirk or no quirk at all. It would have saved you from this situation, at least. Or maybe it isn’t your quirk that's the problem, it’s you. Tender hearted and kind. Empathic. 

More like pathetic. 

You sigh and turn your face over to stare at the empty wall beside your bed. You hanged lights there at some point in time but you never used them. Not when the overhead light is brighter and more useful. But looking at them now makes you miss the magic they bring when they’re on. There’s an untraceable emotion that bubbles through your veins as you look at the gleaming lights. 

You shuffle to turn them on and stand to turn your overhead light off. You stare at the bright rainbow bulbs glittering around your bed and smile. It may be dumb or stupid or whatever but you like them. And that’s all that matters. 

You wonder if Dabi drank the blood you gave him earlier. Would he have said anything if he noticed a difference? You hadn’t felt any tug on the thread that connects you two and there aren’t any new ones to mention. But you swear the pulsing light from it is brighter than before. 

Should you have mentioned the pulsing light to him earlier? Not that it’s significant. But it’s certainly there. There’s no doubting it. Can he even see the thread connecting you two? Is it specific to you and your quirk? Or does it work on both ends?

You have so many questions but you know he won’t bother answering them. It’s not useful to him. The only thing he cares about is getting his quirk back. That’s the only reason he’s here. Once he gets it back he’ll be gone and out of your hair, regardless of the rarity this situation has. Having this kind of connection with someone with your quirk is complete unexplored territory. The breakthroughs you could have if he let you study it beyond just trying to get his quirk back would be phenomenal! Scientifically speaking this is completely foreign ground. Quirks like yours are unheard of. 

Any form of healing is beyond the norm. Using your own body for it? Even more so. Some have had similar types of quirks- like Recovery Girl. But her quirk focuses on what the patient's body can handle. Your quirk has no such focus. No boundaries as far as you know. Limitless and unknown, a mystery waiting to be solved. It burns you not to know every second of every moment that he’s feeling or going through right now. To be able to document the information would be exhilarating. 

If only he cared enough to let you. If it were anyone else but him, you would ask. But you’ve provoked that bear one too many times today and it’s best if you stay out of his way for the foreseeable future. 

Except he won’t let you. As you hear your door open you turn to glare at Dabi. He’s still in that goddamn towel. At least he has the decency not to bring your ice cream here to eat it in front of you. What he is holding, however, isn’t easily seen through the low light in the room. The rainbow sheen across him is almost laughable but you’re too angry to even crack a smile. 

You blink at him before turning your gaze back to the lights, trying to keep a hold on the good mood they provide. Maybe if you focus on the colors it’ll settle your nerves enough for you to speak without screaming at Dabi. 

Maybe.

You hear the footsteps of Dabi walking toward your bedside but you don’t turn toward him. You keep your gaze on the lights, trying to lose yourself in the flashing hues. Ignoring him seems to be the only way to keep your calm. 

“You stormed off so quickly I didn’t even get the chance to tell you about your delicious little vampire snack packs.” he muses with a little too much amusement. You’re not taking the bait.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d guess you don’t want to talk to me.” he tries again and waltzes over to your desk, pulling the chair out and turning it around. 

You see him straddle it out of the corner of your eye. It’s a casual movement- or it would be if he was in anything else but a stupid, useless, indecent towel. You pointedly ignore him even as he rests his chin against the back of the chair and looks down at you. 

His quiet laugh is the only noise that lets you know he’s staring at you intently. Beyond the feeling of holes burning into your face from his cerulean eyes. He takes a deep breath and sighs loudly. 

“The blood didn’t do anything important on this end.” he announces. “In case you were wondering.”

You don’t answer. 

“Tasted a bit weird, if I’m being honest. But let’s be real here, would you be able to tell if I wasn’t?” 

You blink.

“Jokes aside, though.” he sighs, “Anything different on your end for your quirk?”

“Are you honestly trying to talk to me about this right now?” you snap and sit up. “Take the hint and leave.”

“No.” he shrugs. “I’m not trying to talk to you about this. I am talking to you about this. I want my quirk back.”

Your heart is fluttering in your chest with fear and rage. You want to hurt him. You want to scream and run and fight and burn the world to the ground. Starting with him. You can feel your skin ignite with heat and you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from grinding your teeth. 

“No changes, asshat.” you growl and flop back down on your bed. “Now buzz off. I have work tomorrow.”

To your surprise, he listens. Mostly. 

He leaves the chair beside your bed and the door open but he does leave. 

“Asshole.” you breathe and slam your door shut. 

**

Work is as boring as ever. Schedule where blood goes, filter and document the various tests asked of you. File paperwork. Sit at the front desk. Wait for an order. Wash, rinse, repeat. It’s easy. You used to be able to do your homework while you worked but now that you’ve taken a break from school you’re left with nothing to occupy the free time you find yourself having. So you focus on the thread connecting you to Dabi. You try and send things through it, treating it like a sort of bond. Maybe if you willed his quirk back it would go away. Maybe he would go away.

He didn’t even wake up when you left this morning. You left a note on the coffee table for him. You had been tempted to staple it to his stupid forehead but the lack of a staple that would hurt enough to stick it to him stopped that idea. Unfortunately. 

All the research in the world wouldn’t be able to help you, either. You tried to research what happened when people lost their quirks, if it was even something anyone documented. There were a few stories of it disappearing in families only to pop up generations later. Even fewer with those who claimed to have lost their quirk. Most of the causes were bodily harm. Specific quirks that required a part of the body to work being destroyed. Nothing like the situation you had. 

Still. It brings Dabi’s words back to your mind. Maybe the blood from the bags didn’t work because they weren’t directly from you. Sure, in a way they are but not the way he got your blood to begin with. He might be onto something with needing the same process to set things back to how they should be. Are you going to tell him that, though? 

No.

You’ll never admit you agree with him. Not after yesterday. 

You sigh and glance back at your wrist, the scar throbbing in response as if it’s acknowledging you. As if it knows. Would it be worth it to let him drink directly from you? 

You could try something else. Giving him a piece of your hair or an eyelash or something. Your spit might work- but there was no way you were going to get him to agree to that. Sure, you produce other secretions but the thought of any of them making contact with another human’s digestive system is sickening. Then again, it’s pretty weird your blood is what helps others the best. You’re a vampire's dream come true. 

Could Dabi have turned into a very specific vampire? Maybe he got a vampire quirk in place of his fire one? You turn back to your computer and start typing away at it, documenting the various kinds of vampires and the details you know from your bond with Dabi. Through blood, anything is pretty much possible one way or another. 

After twenty minutes you know it’s a ridiculous theory but you can’t bear to delete the document from your computer. Crazy as it might sound there are types of vampirism quirks out there. Somewhere. 

There has to be. But how would your quirk replace his? Is there any other way to go about such a thing? Or a way to reverse it?

Your head hurts as you try and stop thinking about it. Thank goodness work is over with. Finally it’s time to be released from the windowless office and go home back to the reason for your headache. 

It’s windy and cold as you step out onto the street. The unpredictable autumn weather draws you to tuck your chin to your chest. You should have brought a warmer coat. The only sound is the shuffle of your feet and the sweeping wind playing among the litter and leaves of the street. 

Too bad it gets so dark so early. You’d like to enjoy some time in the sun before you shut yourself in for the night. But every moment you’re not home is another minute Dabi gets to snoop around your room. Who knows what he’s looking at now? 

You decide to buy a new doorknob for your room. With a lock. Making a note to stop by sometime tomorrow you pass by the store. 

Sure you could rush home now but if you have Dabi more time tomorrow to snoop than you’d only regret it later. Turning back toward the department store you sigh. A few moments today save you the trouble for tomorrow. 

It's only when you exit the store that you notice the couple waiting outside. You’re not sure if they were there beforehand but as you watch them watching you now your gut tells you they must have been. But why? 

The woman- who looks barely older than seventeen- has blonde hair tied into two messy buns at the side of her head. Her golden eyes are locked on you, a blush on her face from the cold wind. She waves you over excitedly and you pause. 

You have no idea who she is. And the man next to her with the mutant lizard quirk, doesn’t look like anyone you know either. He casts a weary glance at his female counterpart and rolls his eyes before looking away. His purple hair is whipping in the harsh wind and now that you examine him you recognize you have seen these people before. 

They’re from the League of Villains. 

Spinner and Toga, if you remembered correctly. They had almost been apprehended by AllMight when he fought that weird villain with the black helmet and lack of a face. 

Chills that aren’t from the wind run down your spine and you take a step backward. Why were they here now? Did they know about Dabi and where he is? Had he contacted them? 

Toga giggles at your retreat and you groan inwardly. Of course he would use these punks to threaten you. Just a reminder of who it is exactly waiting for you at your house. 

You turn from them and start walking home, knowing it’s useless to argue or run. The following footsteps that echo your own solidifies your suspicions. 

With a great amount of dread in your heart you lead them to where you live, knowing that your life of normalcy and staying hidden is no longer obtainable. 

[sienna-writes]

Butterfly Blood || novel update

chapter three

I initially had a lot of trouble with this chapter. It’s been through about three drafts and it’s still nowhere near perfect, but I’m working on just moving forward with the novel now and am trying to quit obsessing over revising because... it’s unrealistic to expect a first draft to be perfect. 

The first draft of this particular chapter, though, was basically all dialogue, and all very poorly executed dialogue. (Dialogue is absolutely the weakest aspect of my writing but I’m working on it.) On my second attempt at the chapter I initially attempted to create an outline, thinking this would help me find a direction. However, in my next writing session I ended up totally ignoring the outline and just winging it, and the second draft was formed. I really liked the events in the chapter now but still wasn’t happy with some of the individual scenes so I reworked it yesterday morning. The argument between Rowan and Karmen still needed revision  because Karmen’s character within it was totally inconsistent to his usual disposition. So! The final (for now..) draft is a more stripped back, since Karmen is too disassociated to get as angry as he did as quickly as he did, and I think the tension and the build up is a lot better timed and more... muted? It’s less overt, more subtext heavy, and I'm relieved because that is what I had been trying to achieve all along.

Again, it’s not perfect, but it has evolved and it is definitely better than before. 

The chapter is just over 3000 words now, but I am only going to be sharing the main, gritty extract. The other scenes are less exciting, but I also suspect they need the same amount of work till they're even remotely sharable. (I was going through a bad writing slump in this chapter lol.) I really hope you enjoy it? I'm ultimately quite proud of how it turned out in the end :)

excerpt:

[Rowan has missed her GP appointment + her dad uses it as an oppurtunity to also be angry about her slacking in school]

    “I’ve booked another for tomorrow morning. You’ll miss some school, but I figured that’d be an incentive since you don’t seem to care about that anymore.” There is now an edge to his voice that hadn't been there before.

    Rowan visibly flinches, digging her fingernails into the supple skin of her palms. The dents purple then fill with blood. She locks eyes with her father, searching for the reason for his sudden anger. He has struck a nerve and he knows it.

    “Miss Phelps called.”

    She pushes her toes into the dirt, white sneakers now blotted with dust. “Oh.”

    He doesn’t ask for an explanation, simply straightens his back like an ancient scroll unravelling itself and meets her gaze finally. Karmen stands with his chest puffed out and his chin pointed forward. It is apparent that he won't ask her side of things. He’s heard enough, and has his made up his mind about her already.

    Rowan pushes past him to get inside. Karmen doesn’t shift as she squeezes by his statuesque stance. His face twitches like a camera shutter, so fast she can barely believe the change in his expression. She convinces herself it didn’t happen and throws her bag onto the couch, almost tempting another lecture. A tamer one. Something he could murmur through his daydream fog before slipping back into his silence and letting everything remain undiscussed. Like it normally is. Her slipping grades. Her laziness in class. Not writing a single word in an entire school day. Talking back for little to no reason.

    He turns as her rucksack lands, his footsteps looming behind her. Something sharpens the air between them, but she can’t tell what. The elephant is in the room and it is wrecking the place. They watch the destruction mutely, each waiting for the other to intervene and consequently letting the walls crumble into ruin. The old house audibly creaks, it is so quiet. Finally, Karmen speaks. “What’s the matter with you?”

    Rowan runs through all the excuses she can think of. I was dropped as a child. I was a premature baby, so my brain must be under-developed. The content is so easy it feels obsolete. I’m being bullied. I’m just not as smart as you thought, dad, sorry. Teachers are liars and we both should have known this.  “There’s just too much.” She says instead, through gritted teeth, moving into the kitchen. “I can’t focus on school and have to be there for everyone.” It is limp and she knows it. It flops between them weakly like a helpless fish. She takes a glass from the cabinet and closes it softly.

   He consumes the lie like a starved ghost, though. Proving he doesn’t know her. Doesn’t know how absent a friend she has been of late. How she has become her father at school, numb and quiet. How, secretly, she enjoys the façade because people avoid her, don’t ask difficult questions, don’t tackle her with unnecessary comments about her long-lost mother. “Then stop being there.” He says simply.

Rowan scoffs. “I do enough of that at home.” She studies her dad’s face—clenched jaw and squinting eyes—as if it hurts to look at her. “Everyone’s always telling everything how things must be. I must participate, I must be smart not emotional, I must not slack for exams I know I will pass without a glance at my books”—suddenly an urge to twist the knife into his gut overwhelms her, she draws out the moment as she fills the glass with a thread of water from the tap—"I must deal with a stranger for a Dad and a god knows what for a mother. A shrieking banshee? An abusive fugitive? She’s probably become a social worker just to scorn us.”

    He rolls his lips, lowers his gaze and chews on the inside of his cheek, sucking it in. Rowan’s breath catches in her throat. In this moment he looks shockingly hollow. Did she empty him? Wind him with her blows? Spoon out his entrails with an ice cream scoop? Carve him like the roasted corpse of some great beast? Karmen puts two hands on the back of the chair opposite her, clutching it as if he might just fall over. His stare is cold and unsympathetic when he raises it toward her. “Don’t you want to make something of yourself?”

Yes. “What?” She laughs bitterly, placing the tumbler on the counter with a satisfying thud. “Like how you made something of yourself?” There is a terrible moment where he sits in the midst of the cruelty, shrinks into himself as if absorbing it, before his mouth creaks open and he lets out a broken shriek.

“GOD DAMMIT ROWAN!” Rowan flies back, arms sheltering her head instinctively as he reaches for the glass she placed on the counter, spins, and throws it at the wall. One big horrific movement. A cutting arc of his arm through the air and then the shattering. “Are you ever even listening?”

    Millions of glittering fragments of her life laid out before her, encircling her bare feet. She thinks of the sneakers she slipped off at the door, wishing she had them now.  Something about naked feet look so naïve, so vulnerable. Her toes shrink, curling inward. Her breath quickens and her hands begin to tremble. All this broken glass. All these fragments like a lifeline stretched between them. Her eyes blink away tears in different shards, her reflection is fragmented, her features lost and bobbing about as if at sea.

    “Are you, dad?” Rowan asks in an empty voice, staring at him till he flinches. He stares at the glass on the floor in shock.

    “I...” He crouches, sifting through it with his bare, shuddering, and unsure hands. “I don’t know why I did that...”

    Rowan gets a sudden urge to have the last word. Except she doesn’t speak. Her eyes settle on the glass and the idea flourishes like a flame in her mind, burning everything rational, everything he might think. To hell with appropriate. To hell with acceptable. One unsteady step. She expects a crunch or a crackle, but instead there is a damp muffle and squelch. Her spine rattles and her teeth prickle in response. A sunrise in her chest warms her throat but she presses against it with her palms, forcing it down. It is a scorching, molten pain. Third degree burns and all she swallows rays of light till she is drowning, gorging. Slipping through furnace tongue flames. Rowan gags. Bile and acid boils her tongue and the bright, burnt out orb slips into her stomach. She gulp, gulp, gulps every atom of the blaze that consumes her. Till she is heavy. She walks across the broken glass as he yells out. Let there be outrage. Let the sky fall. Its clouds embrace her limbs, draining everything fluid from her, letting her grow limp. Letting her rain. Heavy. As she moves away from the kitchen, she feels her footsteps peeling from the floor, warm and wet. And she is so, so heavy. Then she stumbles, splintered feet unable to keep her up—her legs can no longer hold her and her lava—as the pain erupts within her fierce and sharp and sudden. Flashing its ugly teeth. Catching one last glimpse before her vision goes dark, she sees a red ocean seeping into the living room. How could one body hold so much? Fast and gushing the rapids wash her dregs of consciousness away. It was just a few steps...

soo... yeah. Rowan walks on glass because, oh lord that girl has no impulse controls. 

I'm not going to lie, although it was a pain to get this scene to the stage I have just shared, I think it's one of my favourites in the book so far. I'm proud of how much it's grown. Also, I love me some dramatic descriptions of pain and characters being nasty... :”)

I hope you enjoyed this update! (if you did, reblogs really help me out, but absolutely no pressure <3) I’m also still looking for people to add to the tag list, so if any of this interested you, feel free to send me an ask, message or comment. :)

Tag list under cut (ask to be added or removed):

@alicewestwater @elaz-ivero @coffeeandcalligraphy @hanwatchingmovies @sirfitzroys @chloeswords @nev-953

[echoes-of-the-clockwork]

Book Four: War (Gladiolus x Reader) Chapter Nineteen

The three remaining members of the royal retinue are sitting in the dining car. Ignis and Gladio sat at a table, Noctis sat at the bar by himself. Biggs addresses them over the loudspeaker. "Oi! Uh-attention all passengers! We're on our way to our final destination in the imperial capital. Enjoy the ride. I'll be in touch if anything comes up." Biggs ceases his address, the loudspeaker deactivating.

Gladio glanced out the window, his arms littered with goosebumps. "Look at all that snow. No wonder it's so cold in here."

"We must be approaching the Glacian's cadaver," Ignis informed the shield.

"Won't be a blessing if all we got's a body."

"Let us hope we pass through the gorge without incident."

"It's what's after the gorge I'm worried about," Gladio shared his thoughts.

Noctis overheard the conversation before standing up from the bar. He gradually made his way over the door leading to the next car, but he froze when feeling the train shake slightly. Unbeknownst to him, the locomotive began barreling through large chunks of ice that have formed over the tracks, causing the front of the train to start icing up.

When the train's brakes bring it screeching to a halt, Noctis gripped the counter of the bar to keep him from falling.

Gladio looked around in puzzlement. "I wonder what it could be this time."

Just then, Biggs addresses them over the loudspeaker once more. "Attention, eh!"

"Yeah?" Noctis responded.

"You may have noticed we've stopped. As for the cause... Outside, ya think?"

"We'll take a look."

The prince begins to head outside. Gladio climbs out of the booth with a grunt. "Hope it's just a quick snow-shoveling job."

"Indeed," Ignis agreed. The shield and tactician follow after Noctis.

Outside, the raven-haired boy has his arms wrapped around himself in an attempt to stave off the cold. "It's freezing!"

"Better keep moving to stay warm," Gladio advised.

Although unable to see, Ignis could feel the unnatural coldness of the blizzard. "The Glacian did this."

Noctis' eyes narrowed as he stared into the distance. Through the blizzard, he could see Shiva's lifeless body. "I think I can see her."

"It's a shame. She's lying dead." Gladio could feel his teeth threatening to clatter. "Damn, it's cold!"

"Let's clean up out here, warm up in there."

"Better make this snappy."

Suddenly, the trio is attacked by several daemons. They quickly dispose of the creatures, dispelling their weapons. Noctis stands outside the train trying to catch his breath. From the doorway to get back onboard, Gladio leans out and calls to him. "Hey, Noct! You'd better get in here. Something's not right." He goes back inside and guides Ignis through the train. "C'mon, Iggy."

Noctis begins to follow them inside. Just as he's about to walk up the steps to get inside, he sees Ardyn walk past him, already onboard the train. The prince was taken aback at seeing the man. "No way." He sprints up the stairs and pursues the chancellor. "You! Hold it! That son of a bitch."

He follows Ardyn into the train car where Gladio and Ignis were headed to find it filled with mist and cold air. "What the hell?" Noctis muttered. Making his way into the next car, he opens the door to be buffeted by snow and cold winds. He can make out Ardyn's silhouette at the other end of the car and pushed through the cold. Wrapping his arms around himself, Noctis struggles through each step to keep advancing. "Stop! Stop, dammit! Where are they? Where's Prompto? What'd you do to (Y/n)?"

"Oh, there you are!" Ardyn acted surprised even though he knew the prince had been following him. "I'm worried about your friends. They've fallen and they can't get up. Why not lend them a hand?"

Noctis manages to get a few feet from Ardyn. Beyond him, he can see Ignis and Gladio on the floor. They were both covered in ice.

"A coldness that can only be hers," Ardyn said.

The boy falls to his knees, his vision beginning to blur. Managing to lift his head, he takes notice of a person in the doorway past Ignis and Gladio. He recognized the woman as Gentiana.

Ardyn turns and realizes she's there as well. His expression momentarily becomes one of surprise, then nonchalant. He watched her as she begins walking towards them. "Ahh, the face you wore the day you-"

Gentiana touches her finger to her lips, then touches Ardyn's lips. The chancellor's entire body turned to ice. Strolling past the frozen man, she then walks up to Noctis. "Let it now be done...as promised to the Oracle." She gestures widely with her arms and floats into the air before being obscured by a flash of blue and white light. As the light fades, the form of Shiva has taken Gentiana's place.

Noctis flabbergasted at the discovery. "Gentiana-it's you. You're the Glacian. Wha-"

"O King of Kings, restore Light unto the world." Gentiana raises her hands and conjures Lunafreya's trident. She hands it to Noctis who leans forward and grasps it. The two are enveloped in another flash of light. When the light dissipates, Gentiana is gone and the blizzard that was enveloping the train car ceased.

Noctis walks up to the frozen Ardyn, conjures the Trident of the Oracle, and shatters the chancellor's frozen body with the weapon. "Damn you." He then loses his balance and stumbles to his downed friends. "Hey. Wake up."

Gladio was the first to awaken. He looked around, confused. "The hell happened?"

"I saw the Glacian. It's okay, she's gone now. You guys check on our drivers," Noctis explained.

"Got it." The shield turns to Ignis, who woke up right after him, and places his hand on his shoulder. "You good?"

Ignis nodded. "Yes, I'm fine. Let's go."

Noctis remains on the floor for a moment as they leave. After a few minutes, he gets to his feet and makes his way through the next train car. When he did, he realizes he's not alone. The moment he turns around, he finds Ardyn standing a few feet away.

"I feel I've earned the right to call you Noct. For a moment I felt death's chill wind, such is the might of the gods. But then, I remembered I'm immortal. Such is my blessing and curse. Your attack hurt me, nevertheless..." The chancellor feigned a wounded expression before it transformed into a fierce scowl. His voice also becomes something of a growl. "My feelings at least."

Ardyn falls silent for a moment before continuing. "And after all the memories we've shared. Remember this?" He reveals what's in his hand. It was one of Prompto's guns. He pointing it at Noctis. "Ah, I should have asked if you remember him. Truly a blast from the past, nay?" The man casually walks up to Noctis and places the side of the gun against the boy's chest. He tries to grab it, but Ardyn pulls it out of his reach and turns away. "Ah, ah, ah! You mustn't take what's not yours."

"Where is he?!" Noctis demanded angrily.

""He"?" Ardyn parroted before turning back to face the raven-haired boy. "The little gunman's a short shot away." He raises his finger and points.

"Where?" Noctis, once again, commanded.

"Where else but Gralea, the seat of the empire? I'm sure he'll be delighted to see you. And you might even find your Crystal. With all these daemons about, you could certainly use it. But do be wary for I've acquired quite a gem that will turn the tides in my favor. A second Crystal lost to the passage of time. A splendid gift, if I were to speak from the heart."

Noctis' eyes widen in horror when realizing who he was talking about. "(Y/n)..."

"A rose with many thorns, that one," Ardyn chuckled. He walks towards the boy, deliberately pushing past him before coming to a halt. "Off you go, then. I wouldn't want to keep you from your friends." He raises his hand, in which he is holding a small device. He presses a button on the device with his thumb, then leaves without another word.

Noctis stares after Ardyn, gritting his teeth. He remained in the car for a short while before heading to the dining car. There, he found found Gladio and Ignis sitting at one of the booths and joined them. He sat down and told them what Ardyn had shared with him moments ago.

Ignis was perplexed as to how Ardyn would obtain the power of the second Crystal due to its location. "How would the chancellor succeed in claiming the power of Vanaheim's Crystal? Did (Y/n) not mention it lies at the depths of the sea?"

"I was kinda confused, too," Noctis confessed.

Gladio, on the other hand, knew exactly how he was going to do it. "(Y/n)'s got a shard of the Crystal embedded in her chest. It's how she's still able to use the Crystal's power."

"Isn't that a little dangerous?"

"Very, but it's how her people would wield the Crystal's power." The shield glanced out the window. "This train better move faster if that really is the bastard's plan."

"Something the matter?" Noctis asked.

"If he wants that shard from (Y/n), he'll have to kill her for it."

Just then, a figure manifested in the dining car. Noctis was the first out of his seat when recognizing it was Death. "Hey!" He shouted as her body crumpled to the floor. Kneeling beside her, he noticed the large gash across her body that reached from her left shoulder to her right hip. There was so much blood. Noctis provided a potion and was able to stop the bleeding, but it wasn't enough to heal the entire wound. "What happened to you?"

"Th-That bastard of a ch-chancellor...has done the unspeakable," Death managed to say. "H-He's fused War with...the dullahan..."

Gladio couldn't believe what the Horseman was saying. "What?"

"The dullahan is f-feeding off her. It's only...a matter of t-time before...it consumes her entirely. Not even I c-could stand against it with how...powerful it's become."

"That...doesn't sound good," Noctis muttered.

"Where was this thing?" Gladio pried.

"Zegnautus Keep..." Death mumbled.

"Zegnautus Keep?" Noctis reiterated.

"An imperial megafortress said to be impregnable," Ignis clarified.

"With Prompto, (Y/n), and the Crystal inside it," the raven-haired boy added.

"What goes in, must come out," Gladio declared.

Noctis looked back down at the injured Horseman when realizing she fell silent. He noticed she wasn't breathing, eyes widening. He patted his pockets in search of another potion, but he couldn't find one. "Dammit...!" He glanced at her just in time to see the wound beginning to mend. He watched in awe as the injury healed, not even leaving behind a scar. When she opened her golden eyes, he gazed into them. "You okay?"

Death nodded with a sigh. "Fine." She pushed herself up into a sitting position. "Thanks for the potion. It helped a lot."

"Yeah. No problem." Noctis helped her up off the floor.

"I'm heading back to the Keep," she said.

"After what that thing did to you?"

"Yes. I need to find Famine and tell her what's happening."

"Hold on," Gladio spoke up, stopping the girl from vanishing. "Is there a way of separating (Y/n) from that damned thing?"

"Brute force will be the only way. I tried, but it's gonna take more than one person," Death answered.

"We'll get her back," the shield proclaimed.

Noctis nodded in agreement. "Yeah. (Y/n)'s still gotta teach me some of her cool tricks."

"Indeed. Her teachings have been wondrous for Noct," Ignis added.

"I appreciate your help, everyone," she smiled at them. "Please, be careful." With those final words, she was gone.

Noctis returned to his seat with a sigh of relief. For a moment, he'd forgotten the sable-haired girl was immortal. However, his thoughts were cleared of the girl when his shield asked, "So, are we buying this story that the Crystal can purge daemons?"

"The proof is in the purging, but it does stand to reason. We've observed that as the nights have grown longer, the daemon hordes have grown stronger. If they are in fact averse to the Crystal's Light, it could save not only Lucis, but the world," Ignis answered.

"We'll find out once we take it back," Noctis said.

Suddenly, the train comes screeching to a halt. The trio braces themselves to avoid any injuries. "The hell?" Gladio growled.

"What is it?" Ignis asked.

"My guess? Something to sidetrack us."

The three get up and move into the cabin car. As they walk past the series of large windows, they all suddenly crack and the train car shakes. "What now?" The shield groaned.

The loudspeaker comes to life and Biggs speaks to them. "City's trying to keep us out...with the daemons."

At that moment, small imp-like daemons known as snagas begin swarming across the windows. "Whoa-whoa," Gladio gaped in shock at the sheer amount of daemons.

Biggs speaks over the loudspeaker again. "Gotta run! Don't worry about us."

One of the daemons busts through the glass and lands in front of Noctis and the others. He holds out his hand to tell Gladio to move back, then attempts to conjure a weapon into his hand. "Let's get to work..." When his sword didn't appear in his hand, he was utterly confused.

Gladio noticed the boy's bewilderment. "What's wrong?"

"The weapons...they're stuck!"

Gladio's attention was drawn back to the snaga when seeing it move. "Get back!" He pulls Noctis away from the now charging daemon and kicks it in the face.

"Run!" Ignis shouted.

As the tactician retreats, Gladio pats Noctis' shoulder. "C'mon, move it!"

The three run as fast as they can through the train. Moving from car to car, they dodge the daemons threatening to kill them.

When they passed through the cabin car, Gladio took a short detour to their room. He entered, grabbed (Y/n)'s blade, and left. "Noct, here!" He tossed the crimson-bladed sword towards the younger boy.

Noctis caught the weapon with ease, but he was shocked at how heavy it was. He recognized the blade as War's and didn't hesitate to slice through a few daemons that jumped in their path as they continued to the rear of the train.

As the three enter another car, more daemons took chase. "Only a matter of time before we run out of room to run!" Ignis bellowed.

"Got a better idea?" Noctis asked, slicing through another daemon.

"We trade the train for the Regalia!"

"C'mon!" Gladio hollered.

"On my way!" Noctis replied. He caught up with his companions and cut down a couple more enemies.

"Noct! The freight car!" Ignis yelled

"Keep moving!"

After a long, treacherous struggle through the train, the trio make it to the Regalia located in the freight car. Noctis gets into the driver's seat while Gladio gets in the passenger's seat and Ignis in the back. "Strap in," Noctis said.

"Gun it!" Gladio yelled.

Noctis drives the Regalia out of the freight car and onto the train tracks. As they rode down the tracks, an automated message rings out.

"Threat upgraded. Activating level 4 security measures. Sealing all gates."

Hearing the announcement, they could see the gates beginning to lower in the distance. Noctis drove as fast as the Regalia could go. He drives the car through a tunnel and onto a tracks bridge in the city. While racing down the bridge, an artillery shell suddenly strikes near the car, causing a small explosion.

Ignis was startled and bewildered by the sudden explosion. "What was that?!"

"They're trying to blow us off the tracks," Noctis calmly replied.

Artillery continues striking around the Regalia. One after another, they begin hitting their mark. In the distance, an imperial drop ship can be seen falling out of the sky. More artillery strikes the Regalia, causing a flame to ignite. Noctis gripped the steering wheel tightly. "You can do it, girl. You can get through this."

As the Regalia closes in on the gate, several more artillery strikes land directly on the car. The moment the car makes it through the rapidly closing gate, another strike lands square on the vehicle, briefly engulfing it in flame.

Noctis brings the car to a screeching halt on the other side of the gate near the debris of a train car that stretches across the width of the bridge, one end propped up above the tracks. The Regalia now sits sizzling on the tracks, all its windows shattered.

Noctis, Ignis, and Gladio get out of the car and begin to walk away from the destroyed vehicle. The raven-haired boy turns to look back at the car with a somber expression, recalling a memory from childhood of his father stepping out of the car and embracing him. "Dad... Thanks for everything."

After a moment, Gladio speaks up. "Are we seriously marching into the capital with only one sword?"

"And with no assurances the Crystal can beat back the daemon hordes," Ignis added.

"Guess we'll find out the hard way. No turning back now, right?"

Noctis gripped (Y/n)'s sword tighter. "No way in hell. Let's go."

[april-is]

April 16, 2020: in lieu of a poem, i'd like to say, Danez Smith

in lieu of a poem, i'd like to say Danez Smith apricots & brown teeth in browner mouths nashing dates & a clementine’s underflesh under yellow nail & dates like auntie heads & the first time someone dried mango there was god & grandma’s Sunday only song & how the plums are better as plums dammit & i was wrong & a June’s worth of moons & the kiss stain of the berries & lord the prunes & the miracle of other people’s lives & none of my business & our hands sticky and a good empty & please please pass the bowl around again & the question of dried or ripe & the sex of grapes & too many dates & us us us us us & varied are the feast but so same the sound of love gorged & the women in the Y hijab a lily in the water & all of us who come from people who signed with x’s & yesterday made delicacy in the wrinkle of the fruit & at the end of my name begins the lot of us == More Danez Smith: from how many of us have them? | not an elegy for Mike Brown On this day in: 2019: from The Invention of Streetlights 2018: Returning, Tami Haaland  2017: An Ordinary Composure, James L. White  2016: Verge, Mark Doty 2015: Reasons to Survive November, Tony Hoagland 2014: Unhappy Hour, Richard Siken 2013: Just Once, Anne Sexton 2012: Talk, Noelle Kocot 2011: Why They Went, Elizabeth Bradfield 2010: Anxiety, Frank O’Hara 2009: The Continuous Life, Mark Strand 2008: An old story, Bob Hicok 2007: you can’t be a star in the sky without holy fire, Frank X. Gaspar 2006: For the Sisters of the Hotel Dieu, A.M. Klein 2005: Other Lives And Dimensions And Finally A Love Poem, Bob Hicok

[painted-piggy-ships-archive]

The Reunion Pt. 2

Words: 522

Ship: Dollfriends (Chucky x Vince x Tiffany)

Synopsis: The reunion didn’t go as planned, but then again, was it ever really planned? Vince took Chucky out for a drive and a beer to contemplate what was to be done... After all, their wife would be very against both of them when they got home.

[Recap]

“What have I done??” He asked in a defeated tone after a beat of silence. I stood and picked him up.

“Let’s go grab a beer.”

[POV: Vince]

We sat on the trunk of my car, cheap beer bottles in hand, parked outside of the local convenience store. Neither of us had spoke for a long time. It was noon.

“Chucky...” I spoke up after taking a swig of my second beer.

“I know, I know... I fucked up.” He sighed, never one to admit to being in the wrong. He looked at me with those ice-colored eyes, “My heart’s as broken as Tiffany’s, Vince. Her’s is probably more broken than mine because she has to deal with me as a husband. I was... I... I was scared, dammit! I’d never heard of something like ‘genderfluidity!’“

Chucky’s voice broke on the word “scared.” For the first time in a year, I saw him began to cry. I sat down my beer and pulled him onto my lap to keep him close. I stroked his hair, he needed to get these things out, he always had them bottled up.

“But... Then I met you. And I learned that I was Bi.”

“You’re going to apologize, then?”

He snorted through his tears, “More like beg for mercy, toots.”

“As long as you accept your children for who they are, I’ll take you back. Things like this can’t be smoothed over, but I hope it’ll all be fixed eventually.” I slid off the hood of my car and put Chucky in the passenger seat before throwing away our beers.

“I can’t bare to have our family torn to shreds because of me...”

Back at home, we came upon Tiffany and the twins wrapped in blankets on the couch, gorging themselves with chocolate and watching romcoms. They had been crying, it appeared, but their eyes were dry now.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in.” Tiffany spat bitterly.

“Tiffy, wait...” Chucky said, then sighed and looked at the twins, “I... Should apologize to all of you.”

“... We’re listening.”

“You know I’m shit with words, but... Seriously, I am god damn sorry I flipped out on you like that. I was scared... But Vince has opened my eyes, I guess... So I can only hope that you know I love you all very much... And I’m going to try and be a better support.”

Tiffany and the twins turned away from us to discuss the situation. I put a hand on Chucky’s shoulder, hoping they’d understand.

“I forgive you.” Glen said, squirming out of the blanket pile to come kneel and hug their father, tears in the corners of their deep blue eyes. Chucky hesitantly hugged his child back, but quickly became comfortable with the affectionate gesture.

“I suppose...” Tiffany sighed, “I forgive you too.”

Glenda nodded in agreement and Glen let go of their father to grab a tissue. They then turned to me.

“May I give you a hug as well?” They asked shyly and I smiled.

“Yeah. You and your sister may be Chucky and Tiff’s kids, but that doesn’t mean we’re not family, too.” I hugged my... Child-in-law? I supposed. I got to hug Glenda, too, but she seemed more reluctant to accept I was here to stay. But all in all, it was a peaceful, respectful ending to it all, even if there would still be bumps in our future. We’d get through it.

I was sure of it.

[allthingsimagines]

REACTIONS TO GOT EP. 3

- Oh god sam

- Don’t hurt my sweet boy

- YES LYANNA

- why does Tyrion look like he’s leaving???

- Sansa looks so scared

- there go Jon and dany

- love all the women in this battle

- Jaime at Brienne side- yesss

- NO NOT GENDRY

- WHY IS SAM AT THE FRONT

- GHOSSSSSST

- Jorah knows this is it

- The storm is starting fuck

- Why doJon or Dany have zero armor on what the fuck

- ARYA WITH THE BOW

- WHO IS THAT

- IS IT MELISANDRE

- BITCH IT IS

- OOOOOOOO

- o girl got plans

- tell me they light on fire

- YES

- I HAVE CHILLS

- JAIME NODDED HIS HEAD HA

- this bitch is owning it

- aww my bby Davos

- o boi don’t do anything now

- We NEED HER

- WHAT

- SHE KNOWS ITS OVER

- HERE WE GO KIDS

- if anything happens to ghost I’m gonna kill myself

- This looks so cool

- Damn

- YES THE TREBUCHETS

- YES GHOST GO

- oh no

- no no

- NO

- if anything happened to ghost I’m done

- whelp now we have fucking wight Dothraki blood riders dammit

- JORAH WHAT

- yes Dany

- actually stop listen for five seconds

- bad idea

- Not my son podrick fucking Payne

- this is exactly how helms deep felt

- OHMYGOOOD

- THSI IS GORGEOUS

- NO JON

- oh my god

- arya I love you

- THE CALLBACK TO SEASON ONE

- great now we really can’t see

- Yes Edd

- NOOO

- NOT MY EDD

- SAM RUN RUN RUN

- AHHHHH

- I FUCJING SCREAMED

- HOLD ON BBYS

- so much for this plan

- [NO GREYWORM

- Lyanna looks so scared

- Yes Arya

- IM SO SORRY GREYWORM BUT GIU GOTTA GO

- THATS SO AWFUL

- HE HAD TO KILL HIS MEN

- I ACCIDENTALLY RESTARTED MY EPISODE FUCK

- alright back to business

- MELISANDRE LIGHT THE TRENCHES

- HURRY

- Remember when she said she had a fire within her, this is what she meant

- HURRY UP

- THEYRE DYING

- YESSSSS

- WOOOOOOOOOOOO

- GO GET IT GIRL

- YES DANY

- Sandor Run

- if anything happens to baby sam y’all bitches dead

- VARYS NOT FUNNY

- roast him varys

- o Sansa

- haha aww sansa

- wait what

- she makes a point

- Missandei I love u bitch but shush

- Theon is so fucked goddammit

- you’ve got this my boy

- aww he apologized

- HOME BRAN YOU GOT MY HEART KID

- FUCK I LOVE THEON

- warging

- YES

- FIND HIM BITCH

- NOOOO KNKNKNKINENEJDHEHDHS

- NOT GOOD

- HES JUST WAITING

- OH BK BKNKNONKENSNBS

- HI ILOIVE ALL OF THEM

- NONONONENENDNXIXIJX

- JON HAUL IT

- here we go

- NO JAIME

- YES ARYA

- COME IN SANDOR

- NO

- LYANNAAAAA

- FUCKING GIANTS

- SHES A CHILD

- PLEASE DONT

- SHES A BABY

- YES SANDOR PROTECT

- NO LYANNA

- WHAT AN ICONIC BITCH IM SO SAD

- FUCK THAT SCARED ME

- IM SO SORRY DANY

- Arya looks so scared

- Don’t open it

- she’s a baby don’t hurt her

- this is so scary

-RUN RUN

- yes shireen 2.0

- No nonon

- Sandor is in full papa mode

- YES BERIC

- PROTECT HER

- NO NOT BERIC

- HE DID NOT PICK HER UP

- he’s such a hero oh my god

- Melisandre uh oh

- Arya don’t

- This is weird Arya looks more like a child then ever

- NOT TO-FUCKING-DAY

- YES JON

- DANY YO GO GIRL

- no now Jon is on the ground FUCK

- DANY

- BAD IDEA

- BAD IDEA

- HER THEME IS SO GORG

- that didn’t kill him obvs

- well shit

- Jon don’t be a dumbass

- he knows you’re coming ass wipe

- TURN AND RUN

NONODKDJDJDJDNDNDBDNNDBSNDHEBEBBEBRBDBDBDBBEBEBEBEBBEBEBEBEBEBEBGEGEHEBE

- WHERES GHOST

- JON YOURE A DUMB CUNT

- NO NOT EDD

- AWWWWWW NOOOO

- WHITE WALKERS FUCK FUCK

- DEAD STARKS

- ARE YIU SERIOUS

- THANSK BABE I LOVE YOU - Jon Snow

- GET UP AND RUN DANY

-I LOVE JORAH

- MY MANS

- HE DIDNR LEAVE SAM

- why did that look like pod

- KEEP FIGHTING THEON

- no my baby Sansa keep her safe

- what is this theme it’s gorgeous

- they never use a piano

- AWW

- MY GOD

- LAST TIME THEY USED A PIANO WAS FOR LIGHT OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS

- THIS IS SO BAD

- NO NOT THE NK

- FUCK

- JORAH

- POD

- THEON MY SON NO

- IF THE NK TURNS BRAN

- not my kids I’m begging you

- AWWWW BRAN

- NO NO

- HIS FATE IS SEALED

- THEEEIOOON

- NOOO

- HE DESERVED BETTER

- IM SO SAD

- JORAAAAAAAAH

- WHY

- WHYD YOU HABE TO KILL HIJIIM

- JON GO

- BRAN NEEDS YOU

- NODIDNDBDNSHDHDHDHHDHDH

- JON YIU DUMBASSS

- HURRY HUY

- ARYA

- SHE DIDNT

- OH MY GOD

- WE WON

- OH MY GOD

- SHE DID IT

- ARYA

- OH MY GIRL

- YES

- DANY NO

- JORAH I LOVE YOU

- give emilia a fucking Emmy

- HES PROTECTING HIS MOTHER

- wait melissandre isn’t dead yet tho

- Arya really just killed the night king huh

- Davos

- uh uh

- Ooo old woman Melisandre

- I semi salute her for being a bad bitch

- WE FUCKING WON

[oflcvers]

can i get some uh... dating wanda maximoff headcanons please?

DATING WANDA MAXIMOFF INCLUDES:

i cannot stress how incredibly delicate and careful you are around her in the beginning stages. not because you’re afraid of her, but because you don’t want to make her feel uncomfortable

wanda’s been through so much shit that it’s honestly ridiculous. being with her means you are 110% in, ready to be faithful, loving, and compassionate to her

it takes so long for wanda to open up to you. after losing pietro, she’s horrified to make intimate connections with anyone, fearing she won’t be able to protect the ones she loved like how she couldn’t protect her brother

but once wanda feels comfortable around you and assured in herself to date you, she is always with you, almost as if she’s shadowing behind you most of the time. it could be two in the morning and you’re out of bed microwaving something bc hey, you’re hungry

and she’ll just be trotting along behind you

leaning against the counter nearby

and she’s so fucking quiet so you turn around nearly shit your pants bc ‘when the fuCK did u get there baby what??’

you two talk to each other about literally everything. there are no secrets between you two; your relationship is strongly founded on trust and respect

any time she needs to vent or anything you are there ready to listen and you will not move from your spot until you know wanda’s finished talking

she offers great advice too, if you’re ever in a rut she always knows what to say. and not because she can get into your head whenever she wants; it’s solely on how well she knows you and how much she wants for you to be the best person you can be

OH ALSO she will never read your mind or invade your privacy. she refuses to, thinking it��s completely unfair to you. wanda is way too respectful to tap into your head like that. the only time she would is on pure accident or if she’s too out of control with her abilities at that given moment

wanda is always adamant on cooking all the time. she loves dabbling into the old sokovian recipes she learned from her parents and always cooks something incredibly tasty for the two of you. cooking is a coping mechanism in a way; it keeps wanda grounded, helps her feel close to her heritage, and keeps the memories of her family alive

sweet dinner nights where you drink wine, gorge yourself on wanda’s cooking, and just talk about your days yes please wanda deserves the sweet domesticity

she tells you about her avenger duties and all the shenanigans the heroes get into while saving the world time and time again

you talk about school/work and how you yearn for something exciting like being an avenger

wanda immediately shoots that shit down, not wanting to lose another loved one to events and forces too erratic and beyond her control

and you understand where she’s coming from so you drop that conversation, segueing into something nicer

you do get to meet the avengers though and it’s literally like meeting celebrities in real life

you kinda panic a lil like ‘holy fuck is that captain america’

you literally turn into scott lang meeting team cap it’s actually hysterical half of the avengers can’t help but laugh at you being all starstruck and shit

wanda makes fun of you the whole way home too

‘oh my god! you’re captain america wow i’m talking to the captain america wow that’s steve rogers oh boy!’ she mocks in a teasing voice, smirking as you fume next to her

‘i did not sound like that!’

‘yes you did!’ she remarks before she dissolves into the cutest giggles you’ve ever heard your heart literally melts at the sound

the happier wanda is the happier you feel because she deserves the entire world to you plus more so fine baby, make fun of me more as long as it keeps you happy and laughing

so!! much!! snuggling!! i love it??? you two don’t even have to say it. some nights you two get home from so much shit that you kinda just look at each other and collapse onto the mattress together, immediately intertwining your bodies together

wanda always craves body heat and comfort 24/7 and you are eager to supply it bc hello??? this is your girlfriend and you love her goddammit

sometimes wanda will speak in sokovian to herself, whether it be from frustration, confusion, or joy she just throws some phrases every once in a while

and you’re immediately just like ‘hello?? how hot??’ like you will stop what you’re doing just to peek in and try to figure out what she’s saying and why she’s saying it bc it sounds so pretty

wanda doesn’t teach you sokovian, thinking you’d be uninterested in learning when it’s really the opposite. but you still pick up on some phrases and simple sentences

y’all get a cat too dammit. a rescued senior calico cat that you two love dearly named mose

he’s a good baby you two dote on him like a child, literally the ‘i wanna see my little boy’ vine

nsfw headcanons??? sure

wanda is supER NERVOUS the first time you have sex like no lie. being vulnerable emotionally and physically makes her get incredibly skittish and wanna vomit tbh; it takes a long time to build up to sexual trust for her

she more often than not wants to follow your lead, just so she knows what she’s doing is correct and something you like

you console her with sweet kisses and dote on her nonstop. like you compliment every part of her body and jesus she just melts underneath you

you love eating her out, she quakes against your mouth and whimpers in a way that strikes a chord in you. she yanks at your hair for dear life and just ruts desperately against your face when you start teasing her while she close, cursing you with every word under the sun until the chord in her belly snaps and she’s exhausted and spent

having you say filthy things to her while you’re getting her off makes wanda so pathetically horny. she absolutely loves hearing every single vile thing you want to do to her and welcomes it with open arms

tbh her powers help her get you off while being able to concentrate on something else, such as making out with you

she literally just flick her fingers and turns you into a cumming, shaking mess in minutes while she’s busying sucking on your neck like the little minx she is

yeah as she feels more comfortable with sex the tables turn sometimes bc she’s just so devIOUS MAN but you love this spicing up to your sex life??? so even tho it’s surprising ur just like ‘okay baby i’m down let’s go’

snuggles after sex is mandatory; it’s both of your personal aftercare. just laying with each other, limbs all wrapped up comforts you both so much. it’s just such a fulfilling way to end off something so intimate and private

aaaaand there u go some wanda hcs i honestly could keep going but for my own sanity i will stop

send me more hcs for wanda tho i’m a slut for her

[ginger-and-mint]

Could you do a scenario where character A ate way too much, and then their S/O has to calm down their tummy and keep them from puking?

This prompt has been sitting in my inbox foreverrrrr, wow. It was one of those ones I was almost too intimidated to touch because I liked it so much. But in the end I was able to pull through and create some real self-indulgent shit. ^^’ Enjoy!

CW: nausea and near-vomiting

The gurgles should’ve warned B that they were going too far. A’s stomach only ever made noise when it was on the verge of surrendering, right up against the limit of what it could hold.

“You okay?” B asked.

A blew out a slow breath, patted their grumbling belly, and nodded.

B had been a bit doubtful when A had asked to be fed an entire cake. At the grocery store, they’d suggested a relatively small one—simple vanilla, frosted with a thin layer of icing—but A had shaken their head and cheerfully picked out a chocolate-covered monstrosity that could’ve easily fed a whole birthday party.

B had long ago learned that A’s stomach capacity was not something to be underestimated, but still. There was a big difference between eating four helpings of dinner and eating a solid block of sugar. Honestly, B was amazed that A had gotten this far before their stomach began to struggle.

“There’s not much left now.” B scraped up another spoonful and eased it between A’s lips. “You’re doing so good.”

A just groaned and burped as they swallowed. Their belly rumbled ominously.

B gave it a rub, trying to help it settle. A’s stomach felt almost solid with cake, and it was obviously aching badly, making A’s breathing shallow and painful. Just looking at them made B’s own breaths come short—but they were starting to get a little worried.

“You’re sure you want the rest of this, A?”

“Mmhmm. So—urp—so close.”

“Just tell me if you want to stop,” said B, but even as they said, they knew A wanted to finish. They could see the determination in their eyes. And dammit, B wanted to see them finish too, even though A’s stomach looked ready to burst.

So B dug the spoon back into the remnants of the cake. Slowly but steadily, another slice disappeared.

B paused as the belly under their hand began gurgling again. It was so big and bloated, bulging even at the sides, and A was letting out tiny strained belches with every swallow.

Still, they gasped, “Keep going. Want to finish.”

So B kept going.

A’s next burp sounded ominously wet and heavy. They swallowed hard, hand braced against the top of their poor swollen tummy. “Urrrrgh…”

“A?” B set down the fork, frowning. “You don’t look so good.”

“Don’t—urrrlllp—don’t stop.”

“I don’t know if your stomach can take any more—”

“It can do it.” A took a careful breath, closed their eyes, and opened their mouth.

If B had had full presence of mind, they would’ve refused to give A any more. But B’s ability to think went flying out of the window at the sight of A sitting there, gorged to capacity, with their mouth open for more food like a baby bird.

They didn’t think about A’s wellbeing, much to their later shame. They didn’t think about the consequences of feeding a stomach that was obviously sick from too much food. Their monkey brain took control of their hand and guided the spoon back into the cake, and then up to that sweet demanding mouth.

A few more bites went down before suddenly, A’s belly lurched under B’s hand. They made a small choked sound and pressed a hand over their mouth.

“Oh god.” B kept a steadying hand on A’s stomach as they fought to keep everything down. “It’s all right, A. Just breathe through it. Let it settle.”

A whimpered. Their stomach made a sound of desperate overfullness—a low, strained rumble that ended in another stifled retch.

“Oh, your poor belly….” Part of B wondered if they should be trying run for a trash can, but they stayed put. “It’s okay. Try to relax. You can do it, A. You can hold this much, I know you can.”

A couple long, tense seconds passed. Then A let out a sudden painful-sounding but thankfully unproductive belch, before sinking back into the cushion with a shuddery sigh.

“That’s it. Well done.” Very very carefully, so as not to jostle A’s stomach, B shifted themselves onto the couch and put an arm around A. “How do you feel?”

“Ugh. Sick.”

“You poor thing! I should never have let you go that far.”

A glanced blearily from their uneasy belly to the remains of the cake and back. “Got so close….” they mumbled, and they sounded so miserable that it broke B’s heart.

B pressed a kiss to A’s cheek and said, “Oh, A! You should be proud of yourself. Your eyes were bigger than your stomach, but your stomach put up one hell of a fight.”

A’s defeated expression turned into a slight smile.

“Next you’ll get it for sure,” said B, and added privately, because next time I’m going to pick the cake.

Only two more requests to go – sorry these last few have taken so long! :P I’m not taking any new ones at the moment. Thanks!

[overwatchworks]

The Boy With the Emerald Hair:

Part 3 of mcgenji AU thing

Genji did not appear at the arcade the night after he stormed out of Jesse’s house, nor the next two nights after that. The cowboy had seriously started to worry, wondering what on earth he could have done wrong, then rationalizing that he hadn’t actually done anything wrong. Maybe he did? No, he had just put Genji to bed, then left him alone. There was nothing wrong with that. Unless maybe Genji had just panicked and gone, but that didn’t seem like something he would have done, given what he had told Jesse about his experience in that particular area. 

Jesse pulled open the door to the arcade with those jumbled thoughts, brows furrowed and biting his lip. He didn’t even notice Daisuke waving at him until he called out for the second time.

“Hey! Eastwood! Jesse!”

Jesse snapped his head up, Daisuke giving him a grin and tossing him a soda.

“Looking a little perturbed there buddy. Need to play some games to get your mind off of whatever’s bothering you?” He offered, Jesse smiling a bit in return.

“Yeah, that’d be a good idea.”

“You’ve been weird since slutface came in and got you...Did he do something to you?” Daisuke asked as they wandered over to Jesse’s favourite game.

“What? No, no he didn’t even...No. It’s fine. An’ why do ya call him names like that?” Jesse inquired defensively, though he didn’t know why. Daisuke leaned against the game as Jesse sat down in front of it, giving him a half hearted glare and sighing.

“Because that’s what he is, and everyone knows it. I’m just the only one that says it.”

“But why are ya so hostile towards him? An’ why did ya do what he said if ya hate him so much?” Jesse questioned further, Daisuke pulling up a chair from the game next to them and sitting heavily.

“If you don’t do what that guy tells you, bad things happen. People get hurt, disappear, things like that. That’s why he pretty much rules this city. The Shimada’s do whatever the hell they want, and if you dare ask questions, they get rid of your sorry ass for trying.”

Jesse narrowed his eyes, taking in the information. He then turned back to Daisuke.

“Yer avoidin’ my first question.”

“That’s personal.” Daisuke huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at the floor.

“But we’re friends. Friends share things.”

“But you’re also friends with dragon bitch.”

“But I’m also friends with you.”

“But this is tip top secret, personal, special, me information.”

“Just tell me dammit!”

Daisuke laughed, then sighed, Jesse’s smile fading a bit as a sad look crossed his friend’s face.

“He...Genji wasn’t always such a righteous asshole. We used to be friends, back when he didn’t have those fucking losers he hangs around now. They’re a horrible influence on him. Anyways, we used to do...Well, pretty much what you and I do. Just hang out together and mess around in the arcade. He was a good kid, always nice and bubbly, and I had a blast hanging with him. But...Something changed in him one day. He came to the arcade, upset about something or another his family did, scared about whatever it was, I dunno.”

Jesse frowned, listening intently as Daisuke took a sip of his soda, brows drawn low in thought.

“Then, he left early. Probably met those jerks he has around him now. And he just...Went from Genji to what he is now. It was day and night. So I stopped paying attention to him, didn’t want to be around someone like him anymore. Now he always takes the people I hang around, like he did with you. I think that’s his personal way of getting back at me for being decent and ignoring him. I dunno. We used to be friends, and now I don’t even recognize him. It kinda sucks, but it is what it is, you know? I can’t do anything to change his mind, and he damn well doesn’t want to change either.” Daisuke ended with a huff, finishing off his soda and crushing the can. 

Jesse hummed, pursing his lips as he absorbed the information. That had been a very interesting story indeed. A slam from the front of the arcade had them both looking up curiously, Daisuke narrowing his eyes and making a face.

“How the hell does he always do this...?”

Jesse shrugged, staring at the spot Genji and his friends were swaggering into the arcade. The Shimada was laughing before he spotted Jesse, eyes hardening and brows drawing low.

“You.” He growled, Jesse looking back over his shoulder, then pointing at himself as Genji stormed towards him.

“You son of a bitch, you and I are gonna have a fucking talk.” Genji spat, gripping Jesse’s collar and dragging him down to eye level.

“Hon, I don’t rightly know what yer talkin’ ‘bout...” Jesse murmured, holding up his hands placidly. Genji’s friends were making “oooooh” noises behind them, Daisuke backing away, eyes flicking between Genji and Jesse nervously. The Shimada growled low in his throat, Jesse strangely reminded of a dragon with the way his eyes were glinting dangerously as Genji dragged him outside, then shoved him against the wall with an arm on his neck.

“Alright motherfucker, what did you fucking do to me the other night?!” Genji hissed, Jesse frowning as his body automatically moved into a position to counter the hold he was in.

“What, ya mean when ya took me out clubbin’?”

“What else, numb nuts?!”

Jesse shoved the arm off of his throat, taking a step off the wall and looking down at Genji with a little glare.

“I didn’t do anythin’ ta ya. All I did was let’cha sleep when I thought things were gettin’ too far.”

“Getting too far?! Says the one who brought me back to their place to use me after I was drugged!” Genji shouted, fury burning behind his eyes, stance tense and unmoving.

“Drugged...?”

“I always remember something, always! You had to have drugged me because I couldn’t remember anything after leaving the club! That NEVER happens!! So what did you fucking do to me?!”

Jesse shifted uneasily, Genji’s eyes flashing bright green for just a moment, his hand slipping into his jacket. Jesse didn’t miss the motion.

“Ya just had too much ta drink, partner...Ya were gettin’ a lil’ weird, so I letcha sleep, okay? I swear I didn’t do anythin’ to ya.” Jesse tried soothing, but Genji’s features only twisted more, the flash of a blade catching the cowboy’s eye where the Shimada’s hand was in his jacket.

“BULLSHIT! I ALWAYS remember something! Stop lying to me!!” Genji shouted, voice taking on an almost crazed tone, fear underlying his words.

“Is it really that hard ta believe someone didn’t use ya...?” Jesse murmured, Genji’s eyes flicking down for a moment, shoulders slumping slightly. Jesse took the chance.

“Listen, ya were too drunk ta remember where ta go, so I took ya ta my place. We kissed a bunch, then ya said ya were gettin’ tired, so I stopped. Ya went ta bed after that, so did I, but I slept on the couch. I promise ya, I didn’t do anythin’ ta ya. I don’t like the idea of someone not bein’ able ta give their real consent anyways, an’ with how hammered ya were, it wouldn’t have been fair ta you. That’s it.” Jesse explained, Genji’s eyes softening as he relaxed a bit.

“So...You didn’t do anything...?”

“No, I swear.”

The Shimada bit his lip, backing away from the cowboy as his hands dropped to his sides, staring him right in the eye for a few drawn out moments.

“Okay...But I swear to god, if I find out you’ve been lying I will gut you.” Genji growled, Jesse shaking his head.

“I ain’t lyin’ an’ ya know it.”

“Dammit...” Genji muttered, sighing as he went to go back into the arcade, arms wrapped around his middle now. Jesse turned to watch him, then blinked as the Shimada pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, a slight blush covering his own.

“...Thank you.” He whispered, Jesse just barely catching it as Genji went inside quickly. The cowboy stared, then pursed his lips. Genji was certainly not who he had originally coined him for.

--

“Yeah, I dunno boss. He ain’t...He’s different.”

“Different how?”

“Yanno how ya picked me outta that hell hole in Deadlock Gorge? What did ya see?”

Reyes hummed over the line, Jesse picking at a wrinkle in the unmade bedsheets as he waited.

“I saw a kid scared and fighting for his life. Someone who was only in the situation they were because they had no other choice in the matter.”

“Exactly. Gabe, Genji’s afraid of somethin’. I’m thinkin’ it’s things his family does, ta him or other people. But he was so...Angry. Kept insistin’ that he always remembered when he was out. Like he was afraid of not knowin’ what was happenin’ ta himself. An’ yanno what he said when he woke up that morning? ‘What am I doing.’ Doesn’t sound like a kid who wants ta be in the place they are.”

“Wait wait wait. So you went through all that work and didn’t actually fuck him?” Reyes cut in, Jesse making an indignant noise.

“No! Of course not! An’ seriously? that’s what you’re worried about?!”

“Hey, I’m just asking! So you think he’s scared, and puts on this show so, what, he can be the one in charge for a night?”

“Well, that, among forgetting everything and pretending to be a regular kid for a few hours, yeah...” Jesse murmured softly, Gabe going quiet on the other end of the line for a moment.

“Look, Jesse...I know you feel for this kid, and I trust your instincts on this, but he’s your target. Don’t get attached where you can’t afford it.”

“I know...But I don’t think he’s a bad kid.”

“And I’m not saying he is. You’re there to take out his family though, so it probably isn’t going to end pretty.” Gabe sighed, Jesse leaning back against the headboard of his bed and staying quiet.

“Listen, just keep doing what you’re doing, get close if you have to. But remember why you’re there, okay? I trust you on this, and you have to give me a little trust back, alright?”

“Yeah Jefe. I’ll talk ta ya later.” Jesse mumbled, hanging up after Gabe told him goodnight. 

The cowboy sighed and leaned back, flopping onto his bed and rubbing his eyes. He felt different about Genji now, knowing the things he did, the little behaviours he picked up on. Genji was a kid just like him; forced into a family and place he had no business being in, used in more than a few ways, and afraid of it all underneath the boisterous, carefree exterior he displayed. Pretending that everything was okay, because that was all he could do. 

Reyes had told him not to get attached, and Jesse chuckled dryly to himself. It was far too late for that.

-

The next day was a beautiful sunny one, and Jesse wasn’t about to waste it sitting around inside. He pulled on a light flannel over his fitted tank top, then shoved his feet in his boots, snatching his hat off the little dresser before walking out the door with a bounce in his step. This whole mission had been really nice so far, like a mini vacation of sorts, and he felt refreshed. No waking up early for training, no boring stake outs, no shooting people, just doing normal things. It was a great change of pace for once in his hectic life. 

The cowboy pulled out his pack of cigarettes, lighting one up and taking a smooth drag. He’d also been going through too many of these without Ana or Gabe around to give him shit for all his smoking, but it hadn’t killed him yet. A little grin formed on his lips as he walked, blowing smoke in a wave of grey-white intermittently and tipping his hat at anyone who caught his eye. 

Jesse had just passed the Rikimaru when his cigarette was snatched from his lips, a flash of green and a cheeky smile meeting him when he whipped around, hand automatically reaching towards his empty thigh for a gun that wasn’t there. Genji smirked up at him, taking a long drag from the stolen cigarette and blowing it towards Jesse.

“Hey there cowboy.” He hummed, dropping the stub left and putting it out under his fancy running shoe.

“Well I’ll be damned. If it ain’t my lovely lil’ dragon. Where’re all yer friends at?” Jesse grinned, Genji shrugging and looping his arm through the cowboy’s.

“I only hang out with them when I want to. And right now, I want to take you out. I never properly thanked you for what you did for me, so lunch is on me.” Genji told him, walking forwards with that same jovial, confident swagger he always seemed to have. 

Jesse noticed he wasn’t wearing any make-up save for a bit of eyeliner, and his outfit was much less flashy and revealing than the ones he had been wearing when they talked before. Still expensive as hell, but he looked more comfortable. 

“Lunch huh?”

“Mhm~ whatever you want. Though, just on a totally unrelated side note, I’m feeling like ramen.”

Jesse laughed, Genji grinning and waiting for the cowboy’s response.

“Lucky fer ya, I’m feelin’ like ramen myself. Maybe the Rikimaru?”

“Rikimaru it is then!” Genji chimed, spinning them around and leading the way into the ramen shop. Jesse couldn’t help but smile at the difference in Genji’s attitude, how much happier and sweeter he was. The real him. 

The Shimada led them to a little table in the corner, Jesse sitting down across from him as he looked at the menu.

“What’cha thinkin’ of gettin’, sweetheart?” He hummed, Genji glancing up almost shyly before clearing his throat and straightening.

“I love the spicy pork ramen here. It’s the best I’ve ever had.” Genji told him with a bit of a grin, not even needing to look at the menu. He laced his fingers together, then set his chin on them, watching the cowboy with interest.

“What about you? Do you have a favourite?”

Jesse turned to him with a sly smirk, giving him a little wink.

“Oh yeah I do. Though, it ain’t the ramen.”

Genji huffed, puckering his lips slightly as he tried not to smile and waving the waiter over, his umber eyes sliding over to Jesse’s face, dancing with mirth.

‘I’ll take a spicy pork ramen please. My friend here will have the chicken yakisoba. And we’ll take two lime sodas.’ Genji told the waiter, Jesse raising a brow with a grin, shrugging when they turned to him for confirmation. So Genji had noticed him earlier than he thought.

‘Sounds good to me.’

The waiter nodded with a little smile, walking away as he jotted down their order, Genji turning to Jesse once more.

“Soooo...I wanted to say thank you for not, you know...Doing anything to me the other night. And sorry about attacking you like that, I just...I have to feel in control, you know? I wasn’t that night and I guess it scared me.” Genji murmured quietly, Jesse leaning back in his seat.

“That’s fine, I understand. Being in control of yerself is important, I get it. But why do ya do the things ya do if ya wanna feel in control, if ya don’t mind me askin’? The whole clubbin’ an’ drinkin’ thing seems counter productive ta makin’ ya feel that way.”

Genji tensed up a bit, and Jesse leaned forward as he seemed to gather himself.

“I have certain...Issues I want to forget about for a bit, and the clubs, drinking, sex, all that helps. I know my own limits, so I can stay in control of myself while also relaxing, you know?”

There was silence for a moment, Genji fidgeting and frowning to himself, like he didn’t know why he was saying those things, then Jesse took a little breath.

“Listen, I don’t wanna seem presumptuous, but I’ve been in a similar place yer in.” Jesse started, Genji’s eyes snapping up to him with a glare and opening his mouth, but the cowboy continued.

“I know how it feels ta wanna forget about things fer a while. I know how it feels ta wanna hang around people who’ll listen ta ya no matter what, ta wanna make yerself feel good for a little while. Trust me, I get it. But I also know that hindsight is twenty-twenty, an’ I see it really wasn’t the best thing fer me ta be doin’ ta myself. Now, I ain’t attackin’ ya or what yer doin’, I’m just sayin’ that if yer tryin’ ta forget ‘bout somethin’, that ain’t the best way ta do it.”

Genji glared at him, their food being set down in front of them keeping him from replying for the moment. Jesse thanked the waiter, then focused back on the green haired man across from him as they were left alone again.

“What makes you think you know anything about me or my situation? What reasons have you given me to just trust what you say?” He hissed, Jesse raising a brow as he stirred his ramen.

“Darlin’, I gave ya a pretty damn good reason the first night we met. Have I done anythin’ since then ta make ya distrust me? I trust you, now yer gonna have ta give some ta me in return, yeah? Yer right, I don’t know yer situation, but I’ve been in the same coping places ya are.” Jesse told him seriously, Genji narrowing his eyes before lowering them, tapping his chopsticks together absently.

“Listen, what I’m tryin’ ta say is that...Yanno, if ya need anythin’, I can help. I...I like ya, an’ I can see yer a good person, so, if yer willin’ ta give me a chance, yanno, I’ll be there if ya need me.” Jesse stuttered, face flushing as he just blurted whatever came to mind. 

Genji stared at him for a very stretched moment, definitely judging him harshly, Jesse shoving some ramen in his mouth to keep from saying something stupid again, eyes downcast in embarrassment. Where the hell had all of his charm gone right when he needed it most? Then, Genji smiled, just a small quirk of the lips, barely there but sure.

“That was a really odd way to ask me out, cowboy. And I thought we were already on a date anyways.”

Jesse almost choked on his ramen, coughing as Genji flat out laughed, bright, airy, and damn gorgeous.

“That wasn’t...I mean I wouldn’t mind, but I—It wasn’t supposed ta sound like that, an’ if ya don’t wanna...I mean I’d love ta but—“

“Relax, relax! It’s okay! I like you too Jesse, don’t panic. Thank you for your offer. I’ll take you up on it.” Genji giggled, waving a hand and melting the awkwardness and tension in a heartbeat with his relaxed demeanor.

“Y-yeah...?”

“Yeah.”

Jesse chuckled self-consciously to himself, Genji grinning at him before motioning to his food.

“Now stop staring and eat! It’s really good, I promise!”

When they finished their food and went back outside, Jesse pulled out a cigarette. It was habitual, a promise of repetition and sense of calm, his tension floating away along with the smoke drifting up from his lips. Genji turned to him as he put the lighter back in his pocket, face unreadable as he watched the cowboy smoke.

“Jesse, you do realize that isn’t healthy for you, right?”

“Hm?”

“Smoking. The way you do.” Genji told him, eyes darting down to the cigarette hanging from Jesse’s lips.

“Oho, so yer a doctor now, are ya?” Jesse teased, thinking back to all the times Doctor Ziegler had given him the same reprimand.

“No. The way you smoke, almost obsessively. It’s more than addiction. It’s a need, to calm you down, isn’t it?”

Jesse eyed Genji for a moment, then shrugged. He wasn’t the only one that was good at reading into people then.

“I suppose so. Why are ya pointin’ it out exactly, may I ask?”

Genji hummed, tugging at Jesse’s jacket and taking them down into an alleyway before shoving the cowboy against the wall. His cigarette was then stolen from him for the second time that day, the same man taking a pull from it and dropping it without taking his eyes off of Jesse.

“Smoke does have a certain appeal, but not one I prefer the taste of. But if you do intend to keep smoking, make them expensive cigarettes at least.” Genji murmured, pushing in close, beautiful umber eyes glinting as they dropped to Jesse’s lips. The cowboy smirked, nosing closer to Genji’s cheek as he spoke.

“Well, looks like I’ll just have ta do just that, now won’t I?”

Genji’s eyes fluttered closed as Jesse closed what little space was between them, locking their lips together and sliding his hands up into the Shimada’s emerald hair. Genji’s head tipped back willingly, lips parting as Jesse slipped his tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss easily. Jesse pulled away, biting at Genji’s bottom lip and dragging it back with him, smirking. 

Genji grinned up at him, chasing the kiss, pressing himself against the cowboy completely, his own hands curling in unruly brown locks. Jesse was pushed back against the alley wall again, Genji taking lead in the kiss, persistently licking further into Jesse’s mouth with eager intensity. When they parted, Genji laughed breathlessly against Jesse’s lips, forearms resting on his shoulders.

“Damn, you’re a dangerous man, Jesse McCree. I could actually get used to that.”

“Darlin’, I was just thinkin’ the exact same thing.”

~~

[redditnosleep]

Chocolate Is Rocket Fuel For Nightmares

by TheColdPeople

My wife, Faye, has an undiagnosed sleep disorder. I knew about it long before the events up on Pike’s Peak. When we first started dating, she recounted a few of her memories of sleepwalking at a young age, and one of them always sticks out in my mind. When she was a child, she climbed out of bed and crawled across the floor, growling like a rabid dog, and hid in the darkness while her older sister watched late night TV. Faye watched her for several minutes, fixated on her sister's throat, then suddenly came to. She could not explain why she’d felt compelled to do that. As a fan of all-things horror, Faye’s sleep disturbances fascinated me.

Early in our relationship, it did not occur to me that she suffered from night terrors until I began sleeping over at her house. Night terrors are different from nightmares; they are prolonged, intense hallucinations that persist even after the person’s eyes are open. The fantasy does not end upon awakening – instead it pours into reality. These phenomena occur at a different level of sleep from the one that produces bad dreams.

Each night is a new adventure when my wife and I go to bed. Typically the strange behavior occurs when she’s under extreme stress from her job, or when she’s jet lagged. Sometimes it happens when we’re staying in a new place, like at a relative’s house or in a hotel. Any sudden changes to her life can trigger one of these incidents – but chocolate seems to compound the issue dramatically.

The first time I noticed this was on Halloween in our senior year of college. We munched on some leftover candy from a party we had thrown, then went to bed. In the middle of the night, Faye sat up slowly, ran her fingers across my cheek, and said, “I want to wear this.” She started laughing, then slumped over snoring.

Another time, I woke up to Faye holding a hand straight up in the air, snapped her fingers over and over.

“Babe?” I asked, “what are you doing?”

She shushed me and motioned down toward the floor.

“There’s a snake under there,” she whispered. “Huge. All coiled up in the bed frame. It’s got a human head.”

There was one occasion that really scared me. A week straight, Faye would wake up and ask me if I could hear a child singing in the dark. I always told her no, but she persisted in her belief that there was a little kid somewhere in our house, singing about teddy bears.

Faye’s night terrors started to become far more acute about a month after she and I moved in together. And, of course, chocolate was the catalyst.

It was October. My birthday is on the 30th, so most people have come to associate it with Halloween. Because of this, I always receive a windfall of chocolate chip cookies and candy as gifts, and the stockpile usually lasts several weeks. Faye and I would munch on the mountains of home-baked cookies and candy bars with reckless abandon, disregarding its propensity to make her into a midnight psychopath.

After a few nights of gorging, Faye began to talk in her sleep. This wasn’t unusual; she did it from time to time, but normally it’s just babble about work or giggling. However, on this night, she said something about a man.

“Go away,” she mumbled, slowly moving her head back and forth on the pillow.

I was awake, as usual, writing beside her on my laptop. I reached over and stroked her back until she fell into a deeper slumber. But about an hour later, just after I had dozed off, she called out into the dark.

“Leave us alone.”

As far as my fiancée’s night terrors go, there are a few omens that a serious episode is approaching. One of them is clearly enunciated words. If she’s talking like she’s awake, it’s bad. If she’s actively addressing someone, it’s worse. And if, God forbid, she gets upset, there’s going to be a hurricane.

I snuggled up against her and said, “Everything’s alright, sweetie. Go back to bed.”

She exhaled sharply, eyes still closed, and responded, “I don’t like him.”

The next morning, as we ate breakfast, I asked my fiancée if she remembered what she had dreamed about. She couldn’t recall, so I dismissed the event and didn’t bring it up again. It’s better not to prod Faye about her sleep disturbances in detail, because she occasionally gets embarrassed. It also runs the risk of causing more of them. So I went about the day without saying anything else, and hid the cookies in the back of the pantry. I had to deliver a lecture early the next morning, so I needed a good night’s rest.

That evening we went to bed early. Faye watched a rom-com on her computer while I graded a few papers, and by the time I came back from brushing my teeth, she was fast asleep. As I leaned over her to turn off the light, I saw a Snickers wrapper on the floor below it.

“Dammit, Faye,” I said, rolling my eyes. I turned over and went to sleep.

It was about 2:00 AM when I woke up to her talking.

“Why?” she said, after a string of words I was too groggy to make out.

I rolled over to see her sitting straight up, strawberry locks cascading down her bare back. She stared past the foot of the bed.

“Faye—”

“Shh!” she hissed. “Can you hear it?”

“Honey,” I said, “go to sleep. I really need to get some rest.” I gazed up into her eyes and saw that they were closed. She looked down at me, right at my face, and said,

“Tell the man in the bathroom…he can’t come around anymore.”

The hair stood up on my arms. Faye always said stuff like this, but it still creeped me out. I looked across the darkness to our bathroom. The light was on inside, barely lighting up the edges of the door. Faye was an expert sleepwalker, so I reasoned that she had gotten up to use the bathroom, forgot to turn off the light, and then dreamed that someone was in there.

I gently laid her back down, then shambled to the bathroom. The light stung my eyes as I pushed the door open. Of course there was no one inside. I flicked the light off and stood there in the dark for a moment, rubbing my tired eyes, then went back to bed.

“Is he gone?” she muttered, falling back to sleep.

“Yeah, babe. Took care of him.”

I dragged myself through the next day. I’d struggled to fall back asleep after the bathroom ordeal, so when I got home I expressed to Faye that I was upset with her for eating candy in bed. She had just returned from the gym, and her petite figure was wrapped in curve-hugging spandex.

“Do I look like I need to watch what I eat?” she laughed, leaning against the kitchen counter and stirring a protein shake.

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” I said. “You’ve been keeping me awake. I’m just asking you to cut the chocolate for a few days.”

Faye walked over and threw her arms around me.

“I will, Poptart,” she said with a big smile. “As soon as we run out.”

Things got a lot worse that night. I hid the candy with the cookies and searched our bedroom for a hidden stash. I found nothing.

“I haven’t had anything,” she said flatly. She crawled under the sheets and buried her head in the pillows. I shut off the lights, closed the door, and joined her. As I climbed into bed I glanced out the window. It was starting to rain.

I don’t know how long I slept.

At some point I jerked from a dead slumber to hear Faye shouting in the dark,

“Stay out of there!”

She was sitting halfway out of bed, feet on the floor, staring at the door that leads into the hallway. My protective instinct surged, so I got out of bed and investigated the hall.

Nothing. Faye murmured behind me.

“What?” I asked.

“The man in the hall...He’s ruining my wallpaper. Spreading his filth.”

“Okay,” I said, closing the door and walking back to the bed. I was exhausted and getting sick of this, but I always tried to be patient with her.

“Get out!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.

I shook her awake.

“Faye!” I snapped. “Keep it down! You’re going to wake up the damn neighbors.”

She came to and looked around with tired eyes.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, confusion in her voice.

“No. More. Chocolate,” I replied. I got into bed and yanked the sheets up over my head, then fell back to sleep. The last thing I heard was,

“I’m not a fucking child, Felix. Don’t treat me like one.”

Faye was already gone when I woke up. It was my day off, so I napped half the day, and intermittently caught up on my grading. When she finally got home, we had dinner together. She accepted my apology for parenting her, and acknowledged that she had been inconsiderate about my lack of sleep.

When 10 PM rolled around, Faye passed out right away, but I didn’t even feel tired. Instead, I stayed up writing, but this time I did it downstairs on the couch so as not to provoke any dreams. Any noise made while Faye was asleep could potentially lead to a night terror. Rain splashing against the window could conjure up a creature tapping on the glass. A movie playing on my computer could manifest people inside the room. I had to become a ninja each time she went to bed.

I sat there on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket, sipping on honey tea and revising a draft of a story. The little lamp next to me was just bright enough to cast eerie shadows all over the far end of the house. At about midnight, I heard a noise upstairs. It sounded like muffled footsteps. Someone was walking across the long throw rug in the hall. I quietly headed up there, intending to stop Faye from sleepwalking right off the staircase. But when I got to the top of the stairs, no one was there. The door to our bedroom was closed. I crept toward it and peeked inside.

The bed was empty.

“Faye?” I called out, flipping on the light.

She was standing by the bathroom door, lifting up one of the large framed photos that hung on the wall. It was a picture of a stream. Another frame laid on the floor nearby.

“There’s windows behind these,” she said, voice trembling with fear. “That’s how he got in.”

I rushed over, worried that the frame would fall on her head and shatter. I gently pulled her away from it, then led her back to the bed and tucked her in.

“There’s no one here, sweetheart,” I said, rubbing her back in a vain attempt to get her to go to sleep. “Just me.”

“Not here,” she replied, face half-buried in the pillow. “He went downstairs.”

Just as she finished her sentence, there came a thump from far off in the house, as if someone had bumped into a wall in the dark. I turned and looked over my shoulder at the door – it was closed. I thought I’d left it open when I came in. I left the room, then turned on the hallway light and stood at the top of the stairs, listening. Rain battered the house, and nothing else made a sound.

Maybe a tree branch fell on the house? I thought. After all, the storm was getting worse.

The lights were off downstairs, including the lamp I’d kept on while writing. Only my laptop glowed on the sofa now.

“Is someone here?” I called out, trying to keep my voice down. Only the rain replied. I made my way through the entire bottom floor, flipping on each light and looking around. As I entered the kitchen, I found an empty thermos with chocolate stains inside. It was Faye’s protein shake.

“For God’s sake,” I mumbled. I turned off the kitchen light and grabbed my laptop, then went upstairs to bed. I felt like an idiot for playing into my fiancée’s dreams.

Sleep came quickly, but nightmares came with it. The same one, over and over. There was a man in our house, standing at the bottom of the stairs, wreathed in shadow. He didn’t feel like a person, but more like a husk. A thing imitating a human. He was no doubt the consequence of my listening to Faye’s sleep-talk over the past few nights, but he scared me to death, and the dreams woke me up all night long.

I was an exhausted wreck the following morning. I called out sick from work and once again stayed in bed, intermittently seeing the shadowy figure in my dreams. Faye called to check on me twice, and told me that she would come home early to make me soup and grilled cheese – my favorite “at home sick” meal. Secretly, I wished she’d stay at work late. In fact I wished I could spend the night somewhere away from her.

That night, Faye was kind enough to offer to sleep on the couch. I reluctantly obliged, knowing that I’d be in serious trouble if I missed another day of work. We took extra blankets out of the closet and got her all set up, then she came upstairs to tuck me in.

“I’m sorry about all this,” she said, kissing my forehead as I lay in bed. “I don’t understand why I’m like this. You should find a less creepy girl.” She smiled, then I smiled.

“It’s not all bad,” I replied, pointing at the framed artwork for my first book. “You’re pretty good inspiration.”

“Okay, Poptart.” She left the room, closing the door behind her. The rain pounded rhythmically against the window, lulling me to sleep. It hadn’t stopped all week. It took only a few minutes for me to drift off.

The shadowy man appeared again in my dreams. This time he stood at the top of the stairs, looking down the hall at our bedroom door. He called out my name. I jolted awake, nearly leaping straight up into the air. I opened my eyes to see the ceiling, dimly glowing in the moonlight. The raindrops running down the window cast their silhouettes upon the surface, making it wriggle and writhe.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself.

The second I looked down, my heart knotted up in my chest. A lightning bolt of fear zapped through every nerve in my body. He was there, at the edge of my bed, holding tightly onto my foot through the blankets. I screamed in terror and pulled my legs up to my body, cowering in a ball against the headboard. “Who are you?” I yelped. I reached over and yanked the pull chain on the lamp beside me. Light flooded the room, revealing Faye, standing there with her eyes rolled back in her head. She was sleepwalking.

“Faye!” I shouted. “You scared the f—”

She silenced me with her hand, then put her finger to her lips.

As she did, the unmistakable sound of someone moving around downstairs met my ears. The bedroom door was open, so I could hear it clearly: a long scraping sound, like a hand dragging on a wall. A thud. A chair sliding on the wood floor.

“He’s here,” Faye whispered, repetitively clawing a circle on the bed.

I got out of bed and stood there next to her, straining to hear more.

A door creaked open.

Another thud.

Slow, uneven footsteps on the carpet.

“Who is he, Faye?” I whispered. She didn’t respond.

“Faye…where is he?”

She turned her head slightly. Only the whites of her eyes showed. She slowly pointed downward. “Basement.”

I leaped out of bed and stormed down the hallway in my boxers, ready to maul anybody I found in my house. As I jogged down the stairs, something caught my eye. Someone was sitting at the dinner table. Sitting in the dark. Terror iced over my hands, compelling them to shake as I reached for the light switch at the bottom of the staircase. The chandelier flashed on above the table, revealing four empty chairs – one of them slightly out of place.

“Who’s in here?” I shouted.

The sound of bones crackling beneath skin echoed through the dining room. It came from the short hall that led to the basement. The image of a man shuffling around my house, popping his knuckles and neck, arose in my mind. Maybe he was some drug fiend looking for pills. I grabbed the ancient flashlight from the kitchen, then made my way to the basement door.

It was open slightly. Faye and I always kept it closed to block the cold drafts that might otherwise pour in from the uninsulated basement. I poked my head inside and peered down the stairs.

There, at the bottom, was a face, looking back up at me. It was so wreathed in darkness it appeared disembodied. I couldn’t discern any of its features – only an outline – but it seemed to be looking at me. I shook so hard that the batteries in the flashlight audibly clattered. Without taking my eyes off of the face, I reached over and pulled the light string, but it would not turn on. The stale air went even colder.

The face retreated into the darkness, and again, the sickly sound of bones popping echoed all around me. I turned on the flashlight and directed its beam down the wooden stairs. Its pathetic glow barely reached the bottom; I probably hadn’t changed the batteries in a decade. The tiny circle of light illuminated only a few boxes and a broken vacuum.

I slowly walked down the stairs. They moaned under my feet, joining the symphony of disturbing noises that emanated from the dark. I reached the cold cement and rounded the corner, scouring the walls with my flashlight.

A box fell to the floor. I whipped the light toward the sound, and there he was. A man, facing away from me, hunched over and sliding his hands across the concrete wall. He was feeling his way around. As the light moved over him, that terrible dread from my nightmare once again took hold. I was overcome with the sense that this was not a person at all. His skin was gray and pallid, and his bones poked against it as if trying to escape. He looked like a skeleton draped in rotten ham. Big, festering sores pocked his back and arms. He was naked.

“Who…” the words bubbled up from my throat and dribbled off my lips, “who are you? What do you want?”

The man turned his ear toward me, listening for my voice.

“I’m lost,” he whimpered. His voice was impossibly raspy. There was not a drop of spit in his mouth. “Help me.” He turned his bald head in my direction. The skin on his face was taut and dry, clinging to a pair of sharp cheekbones. Where his eyes should have been, black divots yawned.

A frantic scream came rushing out of my mouth. I stumbled backward, falling onto a pile of boxes, and dropped the flashlight. It rolled away. The room went pitch black.

“I’m in the dark,” he said, shuffling toward me. I could hear him bumping into all the clutter. “I’m lost!” he cried, rage building in his voice. “Give them back!”

“Leave us alone!” I shouted back. I tried desperately to hoist myself off of the boxes, but the man fell on top of me and grabbed me by the throat with hands as cold as death. His face pressed against mine, and his waxy lips brushed my ear.

“Give them back,” he whispered.

In a burst of panic-induced strength, I threw him off of me and scrambled up the stairs. As I reached the top, I yanked the pull string one more time, and blinding light flooded the basement. I waited there, listening, but no more sounds of movement came from below. Against every instinct in my body, I descended a few steps and peeked into the room again. The man was gone.

I raced out of the basement and slammed the door shut. Terror compelled me as I made my way upstairs; every shadow in the house seemed to come alive around me. The horrible man could be standing in any of them, waiting to reach out and pull me in. The light was off in our bedroom, and when I pushed the door open, I was shocked to find Faye sleeping soundly in a pool of pale moonlight. The storm had lulled, leaving the house eerily silent. The blankets on her chest rose and fell. Her breathing was soft and slow.

“Faye,” I said, taking a seat on the bed and shaking her.

“Hm,” she grunted.

“Faye,” I repeated, “who is the man?”

“The what?” she asked in a sleepy voice.

“The man in our house.”

“Mm,” she replied, her eyes still closed. “He watches…you sleep. Stands right there…every night.” She pointed a lazy hand at the ground next to the bed. “So I took them. I don’t like it… when he watches.”

“Took what, Faye? What did you take?”

She yawned and rolled over.

“His eyes.”