#food coma core

[13rurururi]

Hello!! May I ask for a Regonku Kyojuro x reader?

Where Kyojuro survives but his body is covered in scars from the battle, even his face, and he feels a tad bit insecure about it but reader is there to make sure he feels loved, kissing his scars and overall showering the Flame Hashira in love and care

Even the Brightest Flames Flicker [Rengoku Kyoujurou x gn!Reader]

Pairing: Rengoku Kyoujurou x gender neutral! Reader (SFW)

Synopsis: After the arduous and intensive battle against the Upper Moon, it was a staggering miracle that the Flame Hashira even survived to see another day. However, his survival came with the consequence of lifelong physical and emotional scars. Perhaps, you — his lover — can help in setting his heart ablaze once more.

I. When flames nearly shrivel, we only grow colder. Please, let the warmth last longer.

"Rengoku Kyoujurou is on the brink of death after an encounter with Upper Moon 3!"

Your Kasugai crow's loud squawks painfully tore through your ears; simultaneously, you felt pure dread weigh down on your shoulders — heavy, hot, and suffocating. Bile rose up your throat, but you forced your legs to run towards the direction of the gliding crow.

Kyoujurou. Kyoujurou. Kyoujurou.

Your mind was numb, and the only comprehensive thought was the bright smile of your lover. Oh, god. The thought of the life draining from his eyes sent a tsunami of tears to fall from your face, carried away by the wind as your legs burnt from your unending sprint.

Panting, gasping, and silently sobbing, you reached the Demon Slayer Corps Headquarters and hurriedly stumbled towards the medical wing where you vehemently hoped you would find your lover alive. Before you could burst through the room dedicated for intensive care, a Kakushi grasped your shoulder and gently called your name,

"Rengoku-san is alive, but he's still in critical condition; we need to let the doctors ensure his survival. Please, sit down for a moment."

As if the comforting hand on your shoulder brought you back to Earth, you were unable to do anything but fall to the floor and sob.

Kyoujurou, please don't leave me.

II. There will always be those that stomp on flames to keep them from setting ablaze.

Two months — Kyoujurou was enveloped in a deep coma for two torturous months. You never missed a single day visiting his room, carrying flowers that inevitably withered by his bedside table. Occasionally, you'd bring him a variety of his favorite foods: beef bento boxes, udon noodles, and whatnot. You deeply hoped that the scent could awake him from his vegetative state, so he could once again eat meals he would call "Delicious!" with every bite. Eating alone never felt so painfully quiet before.

Senjurou, his younger brother, also diligently visited alongside you. Both of you shared lighthearted stories about Kyoujurou with unshed tears. Their father, on the other hand, remained in their abode, drowning his anger (and worries) with alcohol.

"That weak brat! He's incapacitated and done for in the world of Demon Hunters! Maybe once he wakes up and looks in the mirror, he'd understand just how incompetent he is. He better quit!"

You knew, deep in your heart, that his father didn't mean such harsh words; however, your hot tears and sorrowful heart only led to a nearly-violent argument with the former Flame Hashira. Thank goodness for Senjurou, who led you away from the man you tried to bring with you to visit his unconscious son.

After two months of your hazy routine veiled by a dissipating hope, Kyoujurou opened his eyes.

"He's awake! The Flame Hashira is awake!"

A Kakushi intercepted you on your way to his room, and the news was enough to shake you to your core, resulting in a discarded bento box left lying on the floor. You ran with a newfound hope burning in your heart. He's awake — he's alive!

"Kyoujurou! Kyoujurou!" You choked out nearly incomprehensible cries of his name, rushing to his bedside where he was miraculously sitting up. You tried to urge him to lie back down, but he gently refused, placing a cold hand on your tear-stained cheek. His hands were so uncharacteristically cold. You fought back a new wave of tears when you recalled the many times you snuggled into him for warmth; now, you hoped you could provide him a sliver of the sunshine he gifted you.

"I'm alright," he croaked out; his normally booming voice was reduced to a broken tune, making you melt into him further, enveloping him in an embrace. Your sobs were broken yet relieved, and you were thankful for the survival of your beloved Kyoujurou. Little did you know, flames can't instantly recover from being nearly extinguished.

III. We can keep the flame burning by basking in its warmth.

Kyoujurou's smiles didn't feel the same after he rose from his coma; he still had a wide grin plastered on his face, and he jovially praised each bite of his meals — just like old times. However, there's a subtle tension that weighed on your shoulders, and you couldn't pinpoint the source of such worries until you saw Kyoujurou staring at his reflection on a hand mirror.

You watched him, unnoticed, from the doorway as he dragged a calloused finger across the left side of his face, tracing the wound that rendered his eye useless. The twitch of his eyebrows and the slight shiver of his fingers could have been missed by anyone, but not you.

You are his lover, after all, and you would adore him no matter what state he found himself in. You knew he felt the same for you, and that's what made your love special and strong: it was undeniably unconditional.

You were going to help him set his heart ablaze once again. He was only human, after all. While your lover had impeccable emotional resilience and an amazing outlook on what makes life worth it, you knew he had ups-and-downs, just like any other human being fighting in this cursed war.

You were going to show him that all parts of him — the bright, the bubbly, the scarred — deserve the love you were going to pour out of your soul.

IV. No one can ever stop you from setting your heart ablaze.

Rengoku called out to you, a quizzical look on his face. For the past few days, he sensed a slight difference in your behavior towards him. Somehow, you'd grown to be more gentle, more caring, and more loving than ever (which he didn't think was possible, since you were — in his eyes — the epitome of overflowing compassion). Somehow, he felt guilty for keeping you busy with tending to his daily needs.

"Is there something going on?" He asked you with his unwavering, piercing gaze. You didn't feel the need to put on a cloak of secrecy and decided that it was time to properly communicate with your lover. You sat on a chair next to his bed and said,

"I love you so much."

"I — I love you, too! So much," Kyoujurou answered abruptly with a lopsided smile and a slightly bewildered gaze at your sudden declaration. "But, darling, is something bothering you? Am I becoming a burden—"

"Hold that thought! Rengoku Kyoujurou, you will never, ever, be even a minuscule annoyance to me. I love you so much, and it's just that I noticed how you recently look sadder." You trailed off at the end of your sentence, grabbing his hand as you rubbed his palm with your thumb.

You explained to him that you caught him staring at the reflection of his wound across his face; sometimes, you also caught him holding a shaky palm to his stomach where a massive scar was bound to develop. You told him with absolute certainty that each and every injury was a sign of his strength and resolve to protect all the innocent people that rode the Mugen Train.

"They all survived!" You would drill it into his head until he understood how loved and appreciated he is. "Tanjiro and his friends have sent countless letters asking about you, telling me that they wouldn't have survived without you. You are amazing."

With each word you spoke came a kiss that gently fluttered on Kyoujurou's bandaged wounds. Your grip on his scarred hands were so tight, you felt blood pump at the tips of your fingers. You only wished that your lover could feel just how impactful and eternal his flames are.

Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.

Each tender movement from you felt like heaven's caress, and Kyoujurou felt tears silently pour out of his eye. You moved to place your lips on his wounded face, gently whispering an 'I love you.' He may have been the Flame Hashira, but you were the pure embodiment of a comforting fire, set ablaze to light his path towards happiness and strength once again. Slowly, the flickering sparks in his heart grew hotter.

Before you could kiss his injured eye once again, he moved his head to place his lips on yours, initiating a soft, loving kiss that made you shed tears of overwhelming emotion.

He moved his head to gaze at you with the most gentle, loving expression you had ever seen. You stopped yourself from falling into incoherent sobbing once more and declared to him,

"Kyoujurou, you've been living your entire life to protect the weak. For once, please let us protect you while you rest and recover. The people you have touched with your flame will embark on this journey with you — with us."

You placed your lips against his forehead ever-so-gently, your hand rubbing light circles on his wounded back.

"Your flames have branded themselves into the souls of those you have saved. So please, for once, save yourself first."

Your touches, your soothing voice, and your heartfelt words moved Rengoku Kyoujurou's entire soul. Perhaps, with you, he can conquer any battle and any scar that is etched onto his being. After all, you are the center of his heart that burned with unconditional love for you.

You truly were the spark that helped set his heart ablaze.

A/N: Here's my first Rengoku fanfic (first angst here on my blog, too). Boy, do I miss him a lot, and I just finished reading the KNY manga this afternoon. Anyway, thanks for the request! I hope you guys enjoyed some angst-to-comfort.

My requests are still open for anyone interested. (Yes, I will be writing about Haganezuka next; I miss him already).

#rengoku x y/n #kimetsu rengoku #demon slayer rengoku #rengoku x you #rengoku x reader #kyoujurou x reader #kny x reader #kny x you #kny x y/n #kny #kny x gender neutral reader #kimetsu no yaiba imagines #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x you #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku kyoujurou x reader #rengoku kyōjurō #rengoku senjuro #kyojuro x reader #kyojuro x you #demon slayer imagines #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer angst #rengoku angst #kyojuro angst #demon slayer fanfic #kny angst #kimetsu no yaiba #rengoku

[wolken-himmel]

7k Followers Special

In which I give you a detailed recollection of tales about Grim trying to ruin your love life.

The poor cat just doesn't want to lose you... even if he won't admit that.

Request by anon.

"I don't care about (Y/n)!"

That's what Grim always yelled whenever someone commented on how close you had gotten during your many adventures. Every single time, the fire in his ears would adopt a soft pinkish hue, and his trident tail would betray him by wagging back and forth.

Grim cared about you, and he was the only one who hadn't noticed yet.

It was only when various students tried to get closer to you that he realised his platonic affection for you, his dear henchhuman. Afraid that he would not be your closest companion anymore, the naive cat monster swore to himself that he would drive away any unwanted suitor — so that the two you could remain friends forever. He had been your first friend here in Twisted Wonderland, and that had to mean something, right?

Truth be told: a part of him just didn't want to be the third wheel, but don't tell him that I said that.

The first ones that your protector had to fend off were none other than Ace and Deuce — but oh well, he didn't have to do much himself, anyway. These two idiots always fought amongst themselves instead of working together, and their fits and tantrums never ceased to ruin your day. Grim, on the other hand, was always there by your side whenever Ace and Deuce brawled on the floor. At the end of the day, the lazy cat would rest in bed beside you, not having had to do anything.

The same case applied for Jack and Sebek, who always were rather shy around you — or at least, they weren't themselves. With you nearby, Sebek never managed to produce any coherent sentences, let alone scream and yell as he always did. When you were there, Grim could do whatever he pleased, and the Diasomnia student would never scold him. Jack, too, was rather quiet around you — awkward even. Although, I have to admit that he wasn't as bad as Sebek. Interestingly enough, Jack was a sweet one, always leaving presents on your doorstep — but never revealing that these were his own doing.

And Epel, oh poor Epel. He always lost his newly gained confidence whenever your gaze crossed his. Everything that would come out of his mouth afterwards were heavily-accented curses that shook you to the core. It always was bizarre to hear such vile words coming from such a sweet face.

Again, Grim easily dealt with all of the first-years. However, ruining your love life wasn't always as easy as that.

A lot of witty students attended Night Raven College, and some of them really managed to succeed while others didn't. It was here that Grim knew that he had to step up his game.

Ruggie was a smart one — very sly and quick on his feet. And even worse, Ruggie knew that Grim was a glutton, just as he was. The cat monster's love for food was perhaps his biggest detriment, and the witty hyena used that fact against him dozens of times. The timing seemed perfect too! It was only when Grim was the hungriest that, suddenly, a glazed donut appeared on a bench. Despite the alarms going off in his head, Grim always failed to resist. And even just a few minutes of distraction gave Ruggie enough time to slip beside you and initiate a conversation — until Grim awoke from his food coma and shooed him away.

Lilia found success in a similar way... kind of. The third-year knew of the cat monster's interest in anything edible looking. After all, he had witnessed Grim devouring those strange black stones that appeared after an overblot various times. So, Lilia tried to concoct something delicious that would distract the gluttonous cat monster — oh, the food would make him fall out of his chair. However, it wasn't out of delight. No, the first time that Grim bit into the cake suspiciously placed onto his table at the cafeteria, he lost consciousness for a few seconds. And when he woke up, he would try to cough up the remainder of the vile frosting that had just touched his tongue — only to find out that a small third-year sat in his chair, chatting about the newest cake recipes with you.

Yes, Grim definitely preferred Ruggie's delicious donuts over Lilia literally trying to poison him.

Another student that I thought would pursue the same tactic was Trey. However, Trey didn't use his delicious baking skills to get ahead in the race — no, he instead relied on his flawless reputation as a kind and helpful upperclassman. You and your friends had gotten yourselves into countless of mishaps and dilemmas, and Trey would offer help every single time. Even worse, you always accepted his help without a second thought, and Grim despised your trust in him strongly. The cat always tried to convince you of Trey's darker intentions, but you never believed him — maybe because Grim didn't believe his own advice, anyway. Trey was just too nice...

Another person that tried to kill you with kindness was good old Kalim. He once literally almost drowned you in a heap of presents, but luckily, Grim jumped to your rescue and pulled you out of the mountain of presents by your neck. Kalim apologised profusely afterwards when you landed in the infirmary for a minor concussion after one of the boxes had hit your head at a bad angle. Of course, no one could be angry at him, and you forgave him immediately. And even Grim couldn't convince you to hold a grudge against Kalim.

However, he knew that there was something off about Jamil; that poor boy was troubled right from the start, which shouldn't be a strange thing in an academy for villains. Sadly, Jamil's troubles backfired on Grim when you offered to help with daily errands. You admired the Scarabia vice dorm leader's hard work and tireless energy, although there were times when you noticed the bag under his eyes and the dullness of his eyes. Seeing your friend like that awoke your parental instincts, and no one could stop you in that state — not even a whining cat baby.

Vil also often pulled you aside to fix your hair and clothes, especially to remove all the cat hair that often stuck to your blazer. And what Grim despised especially was the shampoo that Vil gave to you, insisting that you try it out. Somehow, Grim was allergic to something inside that shampoo — and he was sure that Vil must have done this intentionally! Luckily, Grim was able to convince you to stop using the shampoo, for his wellbeing.

Despite the many defeats that Grim had to suffer through, he also experienced quite many successes too, starting from the aforementioned incidents with the first-years. Luckily for him, a few of the students were rather awkward around you — such as Riddle. The usually so strict and frightening dorm leader became unusually quiet when you came to visit Ace and Deuce. These two loved your visits since your presence as an outsider always lessened the intensity of Riddle's punishments. Much to Riddle's dismay, he never could really get closer to you because of his position of superiority when it came to your two best friends, Ace and Deuce.

Another student who had it even worse than Riddle was Idia, who didn't dare to dream up what a personal meeting with you could be like. The two of you had never exchanged a word, safe for that one time you asked him how Ortho was. Talking about Ortho, not even he could fix his brother's reluctance when it came to talking to you. Idia preferred to watch you over his monitors. Sadly, there was an inherent fear of messing up that prevented Idia from approaching you, asking a casual 'wassup' before continuing on his merry way.

And that's why the Ignihyde dorm leader envied a certain extroverted Heartslabyul student so much. Cater always had been talented at chatting people up, making him perhaps one of the biggest threats in Grim's eyes. Cater was such a master at conversation that Grim wasn't able to keep up most of the time: one second, the third-year was asking you about your alchemy exams, the other he had already managed to make you agree to a study date. By then, that one brain cell in the cat's mind hadn't even finished comprehending that Cater had already posted a selfie with the three of you.

And let's not forget about Rook, who was a champion at talking, too. Although he was much more of a shady character than carefree and trustworthy Cater. Also, he was something of a sly fox. Just looking away one second during an uneventful walk through the woods could cause you to disappear, whisked away by a certain hunter. And it wasn't as if you minded the eccentric blond and his antics — no, you found him funny somehow? But... if Grim were to insist more on the watchful eyes that haunted you at night, you would probably listen to him.

But the school was full of dangerous individuals like that. And sadly for Grim, there were three of these that always banded together to torture him. These were none other than the infamous Azul, Jade, and Floyd — the combination of names never failing to instill fear into the hearts of many students. Grim, too, would almost always faint whenever Floyd managed to snatch him away from you during an inconspicuous walk. Azul would order Floyd to squeeze him as tightly as if he were wringing a lemon for the last drop of juice. And every time you would voice your concern about Grim's wellbeing, Jade would assure you that it was just one of Floyd's friendly hugs. At the end, Grim would have to witness as Azul invited you to a free dinner at the Mostro Lounge.

Another dangerous predator that roamed school grounds was a certain lion beastman, only that he didn't do much roaming and instead preferred to nap beneath a shady tree. Leona was a strange case in Grim's book... because this time, you were the one who liked to seek him out most of the times. You were strangely fascinated by his uncaring attitude and thus liked to bother him. Leona never shooed you away though, unless you were particularly bothersome that day, and sometimes even let you play with his ears. The sight always made Grim hiss and growl at you, wanting to be the one whose ears were being played with.

Someone else who enjoyed sleeping in your presence was... drumroll — Silver! This one was especially bad in Grim's eyes with how smart he played his tactics with you. This sly boy would, whenever he sat next to you coincidentally or not, fall asleep in just a few seconds of having sat down. The worst of all was that, no matter how much Grim pawed at his sleeve and tried to wake him up, Silver wouldn't budge until you had to get up and leave. 'Oh, he's so adorable asleep!' you would squeal with his head on your shoulder. And every time, Grim would frown and wish that it was him you said this about.

But! Silver was nothing compared to Malleus, the worst of the worst — the epitome of Grim's biggest fear. Malleus, that smart bugger, only appeared at night when Grim was too tired to focus his whole attention on ruining your love life. Well, you have to give him credit. And in that moment of weakness (his second worst fatal flaw aside from his gluttony), Malleus would appear in your front yard and lure you out with those green fire flies, as Grim always complained. And he would be left behind, asleep and helpless to protect you from the fae's mischief.

Well, in reality, it never really was any mischief. Malleus simply appeared for a few minutes and spewed a few words of wisdom before disappearing again. Similar to this case, perhaps Grim misinterpreted a lot of the boys' affection towards you, or perhaps you simply were too oblivious? It didn't matter which was the truth, Grim still didn't want to lose you, as he had to admit eventually.

"(Y/n)?" Grim called out when he felt fingers running through his fur. The drowsiness in his eyes was soon replaced by confusion as he sat up. "Why are you still here? Shouldn't you be with that tall horned dude out there?" Then he briefly paused and crossed his arms. "Not that I care!"

A smile grew on your lips at his defensiveness. "Well, you had a nightmare, so I stayed in here," you explained softly, even laughing when he brightened up noticeably. "I'm sure Malleus will manage on his own for tonight."

"Yeah! Exactly right!" Grim jumped up and threw himself at you. "You care about me more than the others," he muttered quietly while sliding down into your lap, satisfied.

The last echoes of your chuckles faded away into the silence of the night. The two of you spent a moment in silence, simply enjoying each other's presence.

Eventually, you couldn't take it anymore and broke the peace by whispering, "Thank you, Grim."

"What for?" He perked up in confusion to look up at you with big, adorable eyes.

The smile on your lips returned upon seeing him tilt his head to the side cutely. Your heart squeezed happily when he extended his left paw to nudge your arm. You opened your mouth, but you couldn't formulate all the thoughts rushing to you all at once. It was a storm of contentedness and serenity that befell you, overwhelming you.

"I'm happy you're here with me. I'm happy that you care for me," you explained after a while of silence.

The cat's eyes grew larger at your words, and he seemed genuinely surprised yet delighted upon comprehending what you had just said. Then, suddenly, his smile turned into a scowl, and he pushed you away from him. "Ew, I don't care for you! What made you think that?" he howled loudly and crossed his arms.

Amused, you dragged your fingers across his head, which quickly got him to calm down again. "The constant growling whenever any other student is around us, the way you tried to attack Floyd the other day..."

"Okay..." Grim admitted, pouting. "Maybe I do care a little bit..."

"That's alright, Grim. I love you, too."

Grim nuzzled into your hand happily. "More than the other boys, right?"

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #reader insert #y/n #twisted wonderland grim #twst grim #jack howl #malleus draconia #lilia vanrouge #ruggie bucchi #trey clover #cater diamond #gender neutral reader

[nico-di-genova]

In My Mind, You are Safe

A/N: What was meant to be a one chapter drabble has spiraled out of my control and now become a fic that requires timelines and setting. Anyway, enjoy part 2 from Lawrence's POV. Registered AO3 Users can read here, if they want! :)

Lawrence thought the worst sound he could hear was that of his son’s tears – the frightened sobs when he called after his bike accident and apologized first before even explaining what had happened. He thought it would be the hitch in Lance’s breath when he asked what to do, what he should do. In reality, the worst sound is the absence of it.

He finds himself missing the simplicity of two broken wrists. Now, Lance has broken ribs, a fractured skull, a jagged line of angry red stitching that runs from lower sternum to his hip. It all makes a broken toe look juvenile. Lawrence feels stupid for even panicking over hairline fractures and a two-week recovery time. He feel stupid for putting a six year old in an unpredictable machine in the first place and letting him grow an appetite for it.

Lance’s mother pushed for golfing, tennis, swimming even at one point. Lawrence should have listened.

Lance still cannot breathe on his own, and Lawrence is already forgetting the natural sound of it – instead he has grown familiar with the steady beep of a heart monitor and the snoring habits of Fernando Alonso.

The man is curled over in a chair he is two days away from establishing residency in, head resting alongside Lance’s bruised thigh, finger looped through his son’s limp pinkie. It is a sight that Lawrence wishes wasn’t familiar. A sight that forces him to confront the truth of their relationship, not that they were doing a phenomenal job at hiding it in the first place.

Lance only smiles, genuinely smiles, at things he cares about – that he’s deemed worthy of expending the energy on. Chloe’s dog, Chloe, his mother, good food, the first snow fall in Montreal that promises decent skiing and now apparently Formula 1 veteran, Fernando Alonso. Lawrence knows his son, knows he is a bad liar because his tell is written in the very core of him. He’s spent too many years and too many billions trying to make Lance smile the way Fernando has so easily managed it.

But now Lance smiles at nothing, and Lawrence finds he doesn’t mind if Fernando beats him to it. He just wants his son back.

“His, um, his eyebrows. I think they twitched today,” he tells the nurse when he comes to check Lance’s vitals.

“They could have,” the nurse says, not dismissive, but not validating to Lawrence’s optimism either. He lifts Lance’s sheets to inspect the healing along Lance’s stomach and disturbs Fernando from his sleep in the process. Bandages and gauze are peeled away with careful fingers and then there is the sight of Lance’s mutilated abdomen, just as gruesome as the night they first wheeled him out of surgery. Pink skin, still raw and angry and raised against the stitching holding him together. Skin yellowing around the cut, only marginally better than the dark bruising that was once there. It is the visible reminder that the steering column of Lance’s car, a car Lawrence had given him and deemed safe, nearly took him away for good.

“His neurological activity has been improving since we took him off the sedatives,” the nurse says, when he glances at Lawrence and seems to see the guilt. It is meant as a piece of good fortune, instead it reminds Lawrence of the medically induced coma they are working to ease Lance out of. The coma he was in to prevent seizures caused by the swelling on his brain. Because he’d hit the wall at a top speed of nearly 200 KPH and his helmet had done an admirable job of keeping him together but could only manage so much.  

“So when can the tube be removed?” Fernando asks, wiping at the sleep crusted at the corners of his eyes. He looks annoyed to be woken, like he was having a particularly wonderful dream. Lawrence envies his ability to sleep at all.

“We’re not there yet.”

Fernando grumbles something in Spanish. The nurse, unfortunately, is fluent, “If you want him to keep breathing, then yes.”

“Is choking him. He would hate it.”

“Well, he’s not really in a position to make requests.”

A strange position for both Lance and Lawrence to be in. The first instance where money does not hold sway, other than affording Lance the luxury of a private suite and all the comforts that can be provided while he remains unconscious and unmoving. It also secures a lounge that neither Fernando nor Lawrence have made much use of. Other than to make cheap cups of coffee from the Keurig and complain about the taste.

“Breakfast?” Fernando asks, once the nurse deems Lance safe and unchanged, leaving both men to sit awkwardly with Lance being the divide between them.

Lawrence shrugs, “Sure.”

“Shit coffee?”

“Is there anything else?

“Shit tea I think.”

Lawrence laughs, dry and humorless, “Coffee’s fine.”

If you put enough milk in it, it’s almost drinkable. But Lawrence doesn’t actually care about the taste, it’s more the caffeine he needs – or, more accurately, the sleep he is fighting. There is a fear in him that if he closes his eyes Lance will somehow stop breathing for good in his absence. Like he’s only still here because Lawrence’s unwavering control is willing him to be, and not the ventilator.

“You sleep yet?” Fernando asks when he returns with two steaming styrofoam cups of joe, offering one to Lawrence with the milk already added. Fourteen days is a long time to get to know someone when you’re both tied to an unconscious twenty-five year old.

Lawrence shakes his head and sips from the coffee gratefully, it’s clear he’s been here too long because the sludge has begun to go down easier. “No, not yet. Didn’t want him to wake up alone.”

It’s clear from Lance’s condition that he will not be alert anytime soon, but Lawrence doesn’t want to risk it. He hadn’t been there after Spain, had only gotten to the hospital two days later when Lance was already post-op and loopy from the pain meds.

“Hi dad,” he’d slurred, “I’m all good now.” He’d proceeded to try to give Lawrence two thumbs up, but the casts they’d cemented his wrists in were clunky and his body uncoordinated. Lawrence had spent the flight speaking with Lance’s doctor, discussing everything from cost to recovery plan. Everything had been clinical and controlled until he was faced with the sight of Lance, disheveled and clad in a hospital gown half hanging off one shoulder, that made it all hit him like a freight truck.

He can’t miss being here when Lance wakes up, not again. He had his assistant bring him his laptop and any pressing work, has Fernando bring him coffee, has his wife bring him changes of clothes and the occasional cup of decent espresso, and he sometimes dozes off in the straight-backed chair, but waking up with a crick in his neck and pain in his back is enough to keep him fighting against it. He knows it’s all starting to take a toll though. When he goes to the bathroom he is faced with the sight of a man who sits just outside of death’s door, hollow-eyed and sunken-cheeked. Sometimes he thinks Lance might be waiting there with him, it’s not always easy to chalk that up to sleep deprivation.  

“I will watch him,” Fernando says, sipping from his coffee, “Wake you up if anything changes.”

“No, no. I’m okay.”

“You will end up in a hospital bed beside him soon,” Fernando shrugs, like he’s unbothered by the thought, “If you do not rest.”

He’s right, Lawrence knows it, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Besides, he is not the only one who has found it impossible to leave Lance’s side. It’s race day in Hungary and Fernando isn’t in a car. Both of the Aston drivers have been replaced by their reserves, morale in the garage has reached an all-time low. Fernando isn’t in the headspace to race though, so Lawrence doesn’t press it. He doesn’t need two drivers on life support.

“I’m okay for now.”

Fernando shrugs again, and then drops it. He is not the sort to hold someone’s hand and coax them into doing something. Lawrence thinks that’s maybe why Lance might like him. His son has always been stubborn, always pushed against those who try to guide him, or those who try to tell him he’s somewhere he does not belong. Lawrence has learned he performs best under pressure, when he has something to prove, which was why he had wanted Fernando as their second driver to begin with. The downside to Lance’s unwavering drive is that he often ignored the limit, pushed where he shouldn’t, took risks that were unneeded, and then ended up paying the price for his mistakes.

Silverstone wasn’t Lance’s first crash, it was just the first where he hadn’t managed to get out on his own. At first Lawrence hadn’t been all too worried. In the small span of time where he’d known Lance had gone off, but the cameras hadn’t found him yet, he’d been disappointed, frustrated because they both, Lance and Fernando, had been doing so well. Fernando was pushing, ignoring team orders, but Lance was responding, defending, winning. It had felt, at first, like a confirmation of all that Lawrence knew to be true. That Lance was good, great even, he just needed a fire lit under his ass and something to work for.

And then the cameras found him.

‘Stroll is in the wall!’

‘Lance? Lance are you alright? Lance. Respond. Confirm you’re alright.’

The silence had stretched on, the crackle in Lawrence’s headphones sending a chill down his spine. Lance’s race engineer had radioed him again and again, but each time the empty crackle only seemed to grow in length.

‘Lance, confirm you are alright. Confirm.’ It stopped becoming a question, but a hopeful demand.

Lawrence had watched as Fernando stumbled out of his own car, barely waiting until the vehicle had stopped moving before he was sprinting across the gravel toward where Lance’s car was crumpled against the wall. There was smoke, flames breaking out at the rear end. He turned away when Fernando pulled Lance from the wreckage, had seen the flash of blood spreading rapidly across the green of Lance’s suit and knew there would be no response.

He hasn’t thanked Fernando for saving his son, hasn’t forgiven him for the crash either. They speak around it in the same way they speak around Fernando’s finger around Lance’s pinkie. It is becoming harder as the days stretch on, harder to ignore the desperate way Fernando looks at Lance sometimes, like he is willing him back into consciousness with the same force he pulled him from the car with.

“His mother is coming by today,” he says instead, pointedly ignoring how Fernando is sipping from his coffee with one hand and holding Lance with the other.

“How long?”

“She hasn’t said, probably no more than an hour.”

Claire can’t stand to see Lance like this. Singapore had been bad enough for her, this has been her worst nightmare. She visits Lance in short bursts, where she can ensure he is still breathing, even if it’s not of his own will yet. They don’t speak, in the same way he and Fernando hardly do, too much tension that threatens to boil over and they don’t want any of it to land on Lance. People in comas can sometimes hear what’s going on around them, at least that is what Lawrence has been told, so they all play nice in hopes it will mean the kid will come back to them faster.

Claire visits, Fernando leaves. Claire leaves, Fernando returns. Lawrence sits immovable through it all and Lance remains unchanged. A system.

“I will go, text me when I can come back?”

Lawrence nods. He ignores the way Fernando casts one last look at Lance, the longing, the worry, the guilt that is imbedded there. He is mad at Fernando in the same way he is mad at himself, he blames Fernando for causing the crash, blames himself for putting Lance in the car, like they were both responsible for Lance being here in the first place. But Lance has broken two wrists biking, ruptured his eardrum wakeboarding, sprained his ankle snowboarding, and he’d returned to all of those sports without pause afterward. If time could be reversed, neither he nor Fernando could have kept Lance out of that car. Because Lance is stubborn, it’s who he is. He doesn’t give up, even when the odds are stacked against him, and that’s how Lawrence knows he will wake up. He has unwavering faith.

———————————-

“We should have cards,” Fernando says, two days later, when they’re both sitting in silence watching the third rerun of Jumanji on the tv. “Or that game, the hippo one, something to do.”

“Hungry hippos?” “That one, yes.”

Lawrence knows it, knows Lance and Chloe used to play it because he can still remember the chaotic noise of it – Lance’s frustrated yells when he lost. It used to give him a headache.

The sparsely used lounge, it turns out, has a deck of cards stored in a cabinet. Lawrence finds it when he’s searching for spare sugar for his third cup of coffee that day, since they’d exhausted the packets stocked at the coffee bar.

“Do you have a 2?” Fernando asks, leaning forward in his chair, propping his chin on one hand and his large collection of cards in the other.

“Go fish.”  

Fernando groans, reaches out to grab a card from where they’ve balanced them on Lance’s knee. There’s four threes spread across his thigh and four sixes along his calf, both of them are Lawrence’s wins.

“You have a four?”

Annoyed, Fernando resignedly passes the card over Lance’s body.

—————————

On day seventeen, Lawrence sleeps. It is not entirely his choice, but rather his body’s refusal to operate any further without rest. He stands to go to the bathroom, and when he does the room spins. Fernando catches him, guides him to the couch in the lounge.

When he wakes up there’s a blanket thrown over him and a stiff pillow beneath his head. It is dark out, Lawrence is thrown by the lack of light because it had been distinctly morning when he had gone to pee. It takes him a moment to get his bearings, to wipe the sleep from his eyes and blink until the room comes into focus.

Distantly, he can still hear the steady beep of the heart monitor, the hiss of the ventilator, the sounds that reassure him Lance did not give up while Lawrence slept soundly. It is only comforting for a moment, until he remembers the dream he had in which Lance was screaming for help and Lawrence could not reach him. The way he kept trying to claw his way through debris and rubble to reach his son, but the screams only seemed to grow further and further away until they tapered off into whimpers and then into the crushing sound of silence.

He stumbles from the couch, pulling the twisted blanket from his body as he goes, and only breathes when Lance is in his sight once more.

In the dark, the shadows of his face seems more prominent, the paleness of his skin more ghostly. Lance doesn’t tan, he goes from white to burned in the span of a few hours, but he is not normally the color of a piece of paper either. It’s eerie, discomforting, makes Lawrence think of his choked off screams from the dream.  

Fernando seems to have also lost his battle with sleep, the man is passed out once more with his head pillowed on Lance’s bed. His hand rests around Lance’s wrist, an upgrade from the pinkie, fingers resting along the kid’s pulse point.

Lawrence, for the first time, truly tries to take stock of his son’s injuries. He studies the bruising on his face, the swelling that has gone down and been replaced with bruised eyes and tender skin. The yellowing marks around his neck that continue below the line of his hospital gown. The two splinted fingers of his right hand that Fernando has been so careful to avoid. It’s better than it had been, easier to look at, but still makes Lawrence taste bile at the back of his throat.

‘He’s lucky to have survived at all,’ he’d overheard one of the nurses say while Lance was still confined to the ICU. He’d been on the phone with Claire and had to physically hold himself back from saying something nasty. But he supposes, now that he really looks at Lance, they hadn’t been wrong. A skull fracture, major blunt force trauma, the g-forces he’d sustained to his body in the crash, it is a miracle he’s even still here.

Lawrence feels suddenly grateful, to God, or to Fernando, he isn’t sure which.

“Lance?” he whispers, like the boy will suddenly open his eyes. Like he’s a child asleep in his bed and Lawrence can rouse him with a gentle shake to his shoulder and a kiss to his temple. Like it’s an early morning where he can pull a groggy Lance from his bed and bring him to the track before the dew has even dried from the grass, watch him do laps in a kart that still sits on the side of too big for him.

Lance doesn’t wake up, but Lawrence is almost positive he sees his finger’s twitch, curling instinctively in his sleep. He doesn’t miss that it’s fingers from the hand Fernando is clinging to, the same pinkie the Spaniard had made his lifeline.

———————————

The next morning he proposes Fernando return to racing. Media day starts in Belgium tomorrow and they could have Fernando there in time if he left within the hour.

“No,” Fernando states, not even considering, not even bothering to have emotion in his voice.

Lawrence grinds his teeth, “We can’t keep making excuses, Fernando. There’s money tied-up in this, my money. You have a contract-.”

“And? Fuck your money. I do not care about your money, or the sponsors. Have Felipe race the rest of the season. I will not go.”

Lawrence is standing at the foot of Lance’s bed, arms crossed, anger beginning to course through him. Fernando, relaxed in his chair, with his hand around his son’s wrist looks right at home. Lawrence thinks of those same hands pulling Lance from his burning car, those hands pressing forcefully to Lance’s wound, blood coating his gloves and soaking through to his fingers. He thinks of Lance holding those hands, kissing them, knowing them because Lance has idolized Fernando since he was a child and Lawrence knows the look he gives Fernando now is not that of an awed fan but that of someone who has grown into something more.

“What are you,” Lawrence finds himself blurting out, asking not because he really wants to know, but because he needs to, “to him, what are you?”

Fernando looks at him, blinks, shrugs, “I do not know.”

The resigned honesty of it makes him even angrier.

“But more than teammates?” He demands, “More than a mentor? I know my son, Fernando, do not lie to me.” Lance once dated a girl who he was convinced he was going to marry. Took her to races, to dinners, to birthdays and parties and every family event he could conceivably sneak her into. He’d looked at her with the same wide-eyed wonder Lawrence sometimes caught him looking at Fernando with, like he couldn’t believe they would settle for someone like him. Like he was only worth settling for.  

“More, yes,” Fernando concedes, but doesn’t expand.

“He loves you, I think,” Lawrence says, because he has never seen Lance look at anyone, since that girl, the way he looks at the man.  

Fernando finally looks sad then, face falling, eyes filling with that familiar guilt.

“I know.”

“He’s almost half your age.”

“I know,” the guilt deepens. He finally drops Lance’s wrist, pulls away and keeps his hands curled in his lap, like he realizes this is finally the moment Lawrence stops ignoring the truth of them.

Lawrence thinks about asking him to leave, knows he could force him to go to Belgium if he wanted, bring out terms like ‘breach of contract’ and ‘lawsuit’, but Lawrence is not a cruel man, especially not where Lance is concerned. He allowed that girl into their lives, into his own birthday party that was meant only to be for close family, all because Lance had asked. And when they’d broken up, he’d put Lance back together – let him cry and scream and throw the belongings of his room around until there was no more energy left in the kid and then he’d sat Lance down and told him it would all be okay. He kept saying that. Through Formula 3 when Lance would win and still not feel like it was enough because the other boys would say he bought the trophy. When he hit Formula 1 and would go to his driver’s room instead of the media pen after a race because the tears wouldn’t stop flowing and his own frustration at himself became too much. Lawrence would be there, he would always be there. But Fernando was here now too, and he guessed that counted for something.

He uncrosses his arms, drops the fight because he’s tired and the room is too small for such arguments, “You stay now, and you better mean it.”

Fernando swallows, nods, “Okay.”

Felipe and Stoffel race in Spa on Sunday.

——————————

By week four, Lawrence is beginning to lose it. He’s become immune to the antiseptic smell of the hospital, the bland taste of the cafeteria food, the beeping of machinery that keeps Lance alive. It all becomes background noise, until he’s numb to it all, just existing. The coffee doesn’t taste bad anymore, it tastes like nothing at all.

He watches Jumanji for the sixth time and finds that the film is growing on him.

Fernando has not left.

“So how did it start?” Lawrence asks one night. He’s twirling hospital spaghetti on a fork, picking at hamburger meat listlessly with the metal prongs.

Fernando slurps one of the noodles, “Me and him?” he asks, pointing to Lance with his own silverware.

Lawrence nods. He has gone past avoiding the topic to wanting to understand it.

“Um,” Fernando starts, “Bahrain, I think.”

“This year?”

“No, uh, last.”

So when Fernando had sang Lance’s praises to the cameras. Lawrence had assumed that was all for show. He’d been warned of the drivers poor sportsmanship, his un-teammate-like behavior.

“So you weren’t trying to impress me?”

“No I was,” Fernando admits, “wanted you to think you had gotten your money’s worth at first.”

Fernando had not come cheap, but he still wasn’t as much as Newey was shaping up to be. He’d taken a good chunk from Lawrence, but not enough that he would seem like a bad investment so early on. He maybe had been laying the groundwork for a contract extension, if the car proved to be a challenger.

“So when did it-?”

“Become serious? Summer break.”

Lawrence thinks he remembers that, Lance mentioning something about a yacht, his voice lilting with obvious joy over the phone. You could hear when Lance smiled, his voice changing with the shape of it. They’d had lunch a few days later and there was an obvious mark on Lance’s neck, something he kept trying to hide with a hand when he would lean an elbow on the table and rest his neck against his palm. Lawrence didn’t care to know about his son’s sex life, in the same way he cared little about Chloe’s, he cared only that both of his kids were happy. And at the time, Lance had seemed to be. He hadn’t questioned it past that, even when he'd seen Fernando’s name pop up as a text notification on Lance’s phone and seen the way Lance blushed over his salmon and orzo.

“And you’ve talked about it, you and him? About the future? He’s young, Fernando. He can make his own choices, yes, but I don’t know if he’s thinking in the long-term yet, not really.”

He doesn’t meant to imply Fernando is old, but they’ve both been twenty-five, both known how it seems like you are weathered and just beginning all at once. Like you have the answers, you just haven’t figured out where to apply them yet.

Fernando bites at another noodle, “Yes, we have talked. Some. But it’s not- we are not- I don’t know.”

“Serious?”

“Maybe.”

“But you’re here. You don’t have to be.”

“It’s serious enough for this. I need to be here, when he wakes up, not racing circles. I would be no good in the car right now. My head is-“ he motions vaguely in the air with his fork, a piece of tomato soaked hamburger falls off of it and plops onto the white linens of Lance’s sheets. Lawrence understands that. Can respect it even. He also maybe isn’t the one to judge a relationship. Not with a divorce under his belt and his own wife younger than him. He just has the inherent need to make sure Lance is safe, cared for. He’s had the same need since he first held Chloe in his arms and realized what it was to be a father.

Fernando picks up the hamburger, drops if back onto his own plate, but the red stain it leaves behind stays.

————————

Twenty-nine days after Lance’s crash Lawrence is returning from making his daily Keurig coffee, stirring the milk into the sludge with a stir stick when he looks up to see Lance blinking back at him.

The cup falls from his hands, splatters against the linoleum and spreads in a puddle across the floor. Specks of it land on his dress pants, some of it on his hands, he hardly notices the burn of it. Lance, bleary-eyed and groggy stares at him, blinks slowly.

“Lance,” Lawrence sobs. Lance’s eyebrows furrow, the movement so startling because he has been without any for so long that Lawrence cannot help the strangled sound that escapes him. The noise pulls Fernando from his sleep, he lifts his head from the bed and looks from Lawrence to Lance before letting out a cry of his own.

Lance lifts a lethargic hand to the tubing at his mouth, tries to pull it out with muddled fingers.

“Aye, no,” Fernando panics, pulling Lance’s finger away and trapping them in his own grip, “We’ll get someone, we take it out now, yes?”

Lance nods, makes a choked sound around the polyvinyl. His fingers curl around Fernando’s hand, gripping, responding to the touch. Lawrence can’t stop looking at the movement as he stumbles for the call button beside Lance’s bed. He can’t stop shaking. “It’s okay, you’re okay,” Fernando soothes, brushing Lance’s hair back from his forehead in an intimately calming gesture.

Lance’s panicked breathing through his nose worsens. He looks from Fernando to Lawrence with ever-widening eyes.

“You’re okay, son,” Lawrence tries, kneeling beside Lance’s bed and pressing a firm hand to his shoulder when Lance tries to rise against the wires and tubing keeping him down.

The coffee soaks into the knee of his pants. Lance chokes again.

“You’re okay,” they both repeat, hoping that it will be true.  

#strollonso #strollonso fic #probably so many medical inaccuracies but whatever ya know #google was my friend but also probably lied to me at points #lance stroll #fernando alonso #my fic

[fellow-anime-weeb927]

I am back :D (the anon who recently asked you about the idea of reader being mother to the 6 sons in mashle)

I just that the necklaces would probably annulate the magic of the owner too, but reader doesn't really care about it since nobody in her family had magic before (if we don't count the sons). But, since it's a familiar relic (or something like that), naturally her sons also would have their own four necklaces at some point. Neither of them use them, it's not beneficial for them, but they do keep it with them since they see it as being closer to their mother. I also thought about how the smallest area in which the necklaces work would be around the core of the necklaces, to protect it from being destroyed by magic.

I'm sure at least some of them (especially Domina) would be jealous of Mash for being a lackmagic, at some point, since they think about it as the fact that Mash resembles their mother the most (no matter how their mother looks physically). Pops would be so weirded out when four necklaces appeared in Mash's hand in the period of 1 year (I think it would be better if they didn't appeare at the same time?) And Mash would have 0 idea about why or from where (at first he thought that Pops was the responsible for it). I think it would also be convenient that the necklaces wouldn't break forever unless all four are broken in the spam of a certain amount of time. If the time passed, but other necklaces wouldn't be destroyed, the broken would be repaired by itself. I imagine the necklaces being just a square with a beautiful pattern inside and a chain holding it by one of the edges (with a time of hook of the edge?) and since it's a familiar relic, it would probably have more antique style (baroque? Or maybe the renaissance?). The sons would probably treasure it deeply, especially since when their mother fell into a coma. Also, because of the background of the reader (the mother) I believe that the necklaces would only left their owner to lift them. Also, the more damage the owner receives the deeper the necklaces (the core/the square) will go into the owners skin (where the heart is located) as if to protect them better, since if the necklaces break (the four of them in the certain amount of time) the owner either dies or suffers a lot of damage. It doesn't burn or anything, tho.

Since Doom is the nicest of the siblings (not counting Mash and Domina's change in behavior) I would say it's because he's the oldest and has been with their mother the longest. I also believe they (the sons) would visit their mother, no matter if she's already in the coma or not. Epidem would be so obsessed with his pudding because mother "introduced" it to him, idk. Fanim would definitely enjoy the freedom so much because his mother always talked about it and how they always should be free (he got his own version of freedom but nvm). Delisaster likes to party so much because mother said that you never know what will happen next and if there's will be food on the table tomorrow (because of how bad her background is) so they should enjoy their lives at the fullest while they can (she would try to somehow ignore that she married a power hungry man, but it was for her own best). Domina would anticipate the day mother wakes up because all his older brothers told him about how kind and nice and beautiful mother is. Mash wouldn't even know about the existence of his mother (spoilers ahead) since he just randomly disappeared from there. If mother wakes up the day of the eclipse without a clue of what is going on (her husband trying to hunt down their youngest son just to take his heart and be immortal), first of all, all the sons that would be there at that time (depending on when exactly mother wakes up, but we'll take the time after they fought the first four visionaries, but before Dot, Finn and the gang arrived there to fight) would be delightful and shocked (imagine Innocent zero manipulating them to do the horrible things they did because "It will wake up mother") that mother finally woke up. Reader would try to get their head around what is going on and how much time passed while the four of them are sitting or rather standing around her bed where she was laying for all this time. Imagine if when Doom is fighting Mash, Doom says something like "You came in the perfect time, mother just woke up" while Mash doesn't have the slightest idea who this "mother" is. While they're fighting Doom explains a bit more and Mash is just like 🧍‍♀️. If Domina sees her when he there or if he hears Innocent zero talk about her awakening while fighting him he would be so shocked and probably feel slightly betrayed because "what do you mean she wakes up when I'm no longer welcome there?" Mother would definitely not know about how Mash disappeared from the 'house' or how Innocent zero abandoned Domina. I also can guess that she wouldn't be arrested alongside Innocent and the four sons, and rather the Bureau of Magic would let her free like Domina, since she was in a coma for like 15 years and didn't know what was happening exactly (I'm 100% sure Domina would convince them somehow, doesn't matter the fact that she passed out into a coma only after giving birth to 6 sons. He probably asked the boy who used magnetic magic and had a twin for a favor (since his dad is the head of the Bureau of Magic? I think)). And so she would have time to get to know Domina and maybe Mash more?

That's it for now, I will come back >:) Also, can I be '🎨 anon' ?

Woah :O long Mashle rant, I like it picasso✨👍🏻

Very interesting about the necklaces, I can already imagine how pretty they would look👀✨

This does fit the original manga very well hello?? You even managed to make it seem like it actually happened in the past omfg-

Props to you 🎨 anon🛐

(maybe I should make an anon list just in case hehe-)

#mashle x reader #mashle magic and muscles x reader #innocent zero #innocent zero x reader #mashle innocent zero #mashle innocent zero x reader

[deebrisbyfish]

Happy Thanksgiving... for those who celebrate it. As far as Thanksgiving goes, I honestly don't care all that much about it. The core narrative is, historically, based on a LOT of BS. The basic messages are all good, but for some reason always require painfully uncomfortable forced, family meals that have RARELY went well. It is, to me, basically just the starter pistol for Christmas. I watch the parade and wonder who all the new celebrities are. The awkward meal happens, then we watch Charlie Brown and a Miracle on 34th Street and usually decorate the tree that night. This year, I wanted to do a strip for Thanksgiving but wanted to avoid the negative stuff. So for me, that's the parade and the food coma. Ta-Da!!!

#thanksgiving #balloon #balloons #parade #macys #macys thanksgiving day parade #thanksgiving parade #thanksgiving dinner #dr pepper #dr pepper zero #mascot #mascots #christmas #christmas sweater #puppy

[tiredwitchplant]

Everything You Need to Know About Fruits and Veggies: Apples

Apple (Malus domestica)

*Poisonous *Medical *Culinary *Feminine

Folks Names: Fruits of the Gods, Fruit of the Underworld, Silver Branch, The Silver Bough, Tree of Love

Planet: Venus

Element: Water

Deities: Venus, Dionysus, Olwen, Apollo, Hera, Athena, Aphrodite, Diana, Zeus, Iduna

Abilities: Love, Healing, Garden Magic, Immortality, Spiritual Development, Opening the Door Between Realms, Manifestation, Abundance, Hexing

Why Poisonous?:The seeds within apples contain chemical compounds that cause cyanide poisoning. Mild symptoms include: anxiety, headaches, dizziness, and confusion, while acute poisoning can cause high blood pressure, paralysis, coma or death. Do not consume a large amount of apple seeds at once.

Characteristics: The tree is small and deciduous, reaching 3 to 12 m tall, with a broad twiggy crown. The blossoms are produced during the spring while the fruit itself is matured in the autumn. The flowers are white with pink tinge that fades over time.

History: Originated in Central Asia with its ancestor plant, Malus sieversii which is a wild apple native to southern Kazakhstan. In the bible, it was used a symbol of temptation as it was the fruit that tempted Adam and Eve to be thrown out of the Garden of Eden. It is also known as a symbol of immortality, health, vitality, love and fertility by many religions. In Wicca, you cut an apple through its core to reveal the five-pointed pentagram that represents the four natural elements plus Spirit. It has been written that witches would use apples to hex and poison their victims, while the tree itself is sacred to Druids. The druids believed it was one of only two tress that would support their beloved mistletoes. On the Twelfth Night tradition, Pagans would sing to the tree, hoisting cheerful mug of wassail to drive wassail demons and coax out an abundant harvest for the Earth. It is also said that unicorns love to dwell in apple orchards and love the taste of the fruit. Before eating an apple, one must rub it to remove demon or evil spirits that maybe hiding inside.

How to Grow An Apple Tree:

Easy to Grow? No

Rating: Moderate/Expert

Seeds Accessible: Yes

How to Grow an Apple Tree

Video Guide

Where to Buy Seeds

Magical Properties:

On August 13th, Diana’s Festival in Greece (Venus’ in Rome) was celebrated where a ritual meal was prepared with apples still hanging on their boughs.

Wiccan altars are piled high on Samhain for apple is considered the food of the dead

Their blossoms can be used for love spells, sachets, brew and incenses

Can be used for love divinations by cutting the apple into two and counting the number of seeds

Banish illness by rubbing the apple on you and burying it

Eating an apple can help you gain immortality through wisdom

The wood of the tree can be made into charms for longevity

Apple wood makes for excellent magical wands, especially for emotional magic

Rubbing an apple peel on your forehead can waken your third eye, allowing your intuition to develop

Eating an apple or drinking apple tea can fill you with trust and abundance

Medical Usage:

Apple blossoms and the fruit are full of fiber, vitamins A and C, and quercetin, an antioxidant believed to help prevent cancer

Placing crushed apple leaves on a wound can prevent infection

Can lower the chance of chronic conditions such as diabetes, heart disease and promote weight loss and brain health

May help reduce airway inflammation related to allergic asthma

Sources

#witchblr #witch community #witchcraft #green witch #paganblr #occulltism #plants and herbs #nature #herbalist #medicinal herbs #herbalism #kitchen witch #witch tips #fruit #apple seeds #witches #beginner witch #baby witch #witch resources #botany #botanical #witch blog #witches of tumblr #apple tree #tree #offerings #pagan wicca #wicca

[canonmisogynyvictimstournament]

PROPAGANDA

KATHERINA MINOLA (THE TAMING OF THE SHREW) (CW: Domestic Abuse)

1.) We had to read this for English my senior year. I got so mad at the way she’s treated. She’s the titular “shrew” of the play. She has to be married off before her younger sister can get married, because that makes sense.

Then the most dogshit man imaginable comes along, and everybody thinks they’re perfect. He literally gaslights her and denies her food and water.

Fuck Petruchio and Katherine Minola deserved better!

2.) Literally the whole play is about how she is so awful that the main guy needs to change her entire personality, which he does as a challenge not because he likes her, and then proceeds to her abuse her for the rest of the play. Yet, he is portrayed as the hero, not a villain and she is shown to have “improved” at the end. People will say, oh it’s open to interpretation, it can be played different ways, it’s satire, but i don’t find abuse funny and there is a distinct lack of commentary in the play to count as satire imo. Taming of the Shrew is a tragedy not a comedy, I will die on this hill. Kate deserves better!

3.) The title isn’t joking, ya’ll. She literally gets broken like a rebellious feral animal and it’s treated as a happy ending.

CORDELIA CHASE (BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER/ANGEL THE SERIES) (CW: Pregnancy)

1.) (downs an entire bottle of vodka and slams it back on the table) SO. CORDY. Cordy started off as a supporting character in Buffy the Vampire Slayer. At the start she was your typical high school mean girl character, but as the show went on we got to see more depth to her character: her insecurities, her courage, her capacity for incredible acts of kindness. Then after the third season she moved into the show’s spin off, Angel, where from the beginning she was basically the show’s secondary protagonist. Her and Angel were the two mainstays of the show’s main cast, she gets the most episodes centered on her out of all the characters aside from Angel (and yes, I’ve checked), and we really got to see her grow from a very shallow and self-centered and kind of mean person to a true hero who was prepared to give up any chance at a normal life to fight the good fight while still never losing the basic core of her character. There were some… questionable moments like the episode where she gets mystically pregnant with demon babies and things got a bit iffy like halfway through season 3 where the writers seemed to run out of ideas for what to do with her outside of sticking her in this romance drama/love triangle situation with the main character but overall, pretty good stuff right? THEN SEASON 4 HAPPENED. In season 4 she gets stripped of literally all agency and spends pretty much the entire season possessed by an evil higher power, and while possessed she sleeps with Angel’s teenage son (who BY THE WAY she had helped raise as a baby before he got speed-grown-up into a teenager it was a whole thing don’t worry about it) and gets pregnant with like. the physical manifestation of the higher power that’s possessing her. it’s about as bad and stupid as it sounds and also is like the third time cordy’s got mystically pregnant in this show and like the fourth mystical pregnancy storyline overall (you will be hearing more on that note in other submissions I’m so sorry). after giving birth she goes into a coma, in which she remains for the rest of season 4 and the first half of season 5. SPEAKING OF WHICH DON’T THINK SEASON 5 IS GETTING OFF SCOT FREE HERE. yeah so in season 5 the show just FULLY starts trying to erase cordy’s existence. she gets mentioned ONCE in the first episode and then never again until halfway through the season where she wakes up, helps out Angel for a bit and encourages him in his fight against evil, and then goes quietly into that good night and dies so it can be all sad and tragic. I’d call it the worst fridging of all time but even THAT feels generous because the whole point of fridging is killing off a female character so a man can be sad, and after Cordy dies basically no one’s even sad about it because the show immediately goes back to pretending she never existed. she is not mentioned ONCE in the two episodes after she dies. in the whole stretch of time between her death and the end of the season she gets mentioned exactly four times. again, I counted. anyway the fun twist to all of this is that all of this happened because the actress who played cordy got pregnant before season 4 and joss whedon was so pissed off about this affecting his plans for the show that he decided to completely fuck over her character and then fire her and write her out of the show. so cordy’s a victim of both writing AND real life misogyny!! good times!!

2.) OH SO MANY THINGS they menaced by giving her terrible hair cuts, making her seem like she’d get together with the guy she loves (and who loves her back) but instead she was killed and when she was brought back, she got possessed by an evil entity who used her body to give birth to itself. afterwards she was in a long coma and died. her character was so throughoutly assassinated

3.) She got demonically pregnant TWICE - there was this real sense of a womb/ability to get pregnant as like, a place for evil to get in. She got positioned as femme fatale and evil mother. The actress basically got fired for being pregnant, and when she agreed to come back for a single final episode she specifically said they could do anything but kill off the character. Guess what happened

#polls #round 5 #week 10 #new #cw domestic abuse #cw pregnancy

[aloneinthehellfire]

In Love And Grief

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: El Hopper was unsure to her older sister’s behaviour. After the fall of Hawkins, you had been avoiding everyone, and they knew it was because of Eddie. His death had shaken your core. But El never truly understood until she caught a glimpse of how powerful grief really is.

request for @omgyoufoundnemostuff (who literally created this whole idea and it’s amazing)

Warnings: grief, mentions of death, pain and tears my loves

Word count: 5k (I got emotionally invested)

[A/N: this is pure sadness i apologise and i also apologise if it's bad cause i couldn't physically see what i was writing through my tears]

IN LOVE AND GRIEF

“Why are you so sad?”

El had been open to new experiences ever since leaving the lab, realising more and more of how it felt to truly be human. She was learning of things she would never understand locked in a bare room.

But one thing she truly couldn’t understand, was the power of grief.

She felt sad, of course. Max was in a coma, one El wasn’t sure she could pull her out of. But it wasn’t grief necessarily.

She had felt it when Hopper was claimed dead, something chipped at her heart, but she had always been open about her feelings. Joyce, Jonathan, and Will had all been there for her, listening and offering advice. So when she got him back, she was more than ecstatic to say the least.

But then there was you.

When Hopper had died, she had seen your sadness. She had been with you through it, caring for eachother as you both lost a father.

But when he came back, surprising you both at the cabin, that sadness never left your heart. And El couldn’t bear to see you like that. So, she started asking questions.

“Why is Y/n so sad?” El asks, looking to her boyfriend as he slips on his shoes, ready to return home after a long day with her in the cabin.

“Huh?” He whips his head up, frowning.

“Y/n.” She repeats, biting her bottom lip. “She doesn’t speak to me.”

“She’s…” Mike tries to find the right words, standing. “She’s just grieving, I guess. Eddie was her boyfriend. Look, I really need to get home before my mom freaks out but if you need me, just call, okay?”

He gives her a quick peck on her forehead before rushing out the door and leaving her sat in her own confusion.

Grieving. That’s what Mike had said. But surely you would be feeling better? After all, it had been months since Eddie’s death.

So many questions blurred through her mind, leaving a gnawing feeling in her stomach. She hated that you were hurting. And she wanted to understand, so that you didn’t feel alone anymore.

Once the front door closed, El quickly rushed out to greet Hopper, accepting the bags of groceries and helping him carry them to the kitchen.

“Thanks, kid.” Hopper smiles, setting out the food on the counter. He grabbed some plates out and couldn’t risk glancing at the door opposite the kitchen space, something unreadable in his expression. “Your sister been out of her room today?”

“No.” El shakes her head, frowning, “Why doesn’t she join us anymore?”

Hopper sighs, setting aside one of the plates. It was something he did regularly now, dishing out your food and bringing it to your room instead of having you sit at the table with the rest of them.

When he doesn’t answer, El prompts him more. “Is it because of Eddie? Because… because she lost him?”

Setting down the cutlery in his hand, he turns back to her and offers a thin smile. “She’ll be fine, okay? Nothing a little space won’t take care of.”

“But-”

“It’s better to stay out of it, kid.” He dismisses, pulling out something from the bag, “Hey, look. I got Eggos.”

El simply smiles before he turns his back, her eyes drifting to your bedroom door. Hopper told her to leave it alone, and usually she would listen. But you were her sister. And if you’ve taught her anything, it’s that sisters stick together.

“Why are you so sad?”

You sit up in your bed, slipping the headphones from your ears and resting them around your neck. El must have knocked, but you were too busy drowning out your thoughts to hear her.

“What do you mean?” You ask softly as she joins you on the bed, a worried frown on her face.

“Is it because of Eddie?”

Once his name left her lips, you felt your mouth go dry, and it all came rushing back. The laughs, the grins. The tears… the death.

“Yes.” You finally reply with a whisper, bringing your knees to your chest and willing the tears to stay away.

“Hopper said that you’ll be fine.” El relays, resting a hand on your shoulder and you let out a breathy laugh.

“That’s because Hopper doesn’t understand.” You sigh, attempting a brief smile at your sister.

“Why not?” She questions and you shrug.

“Because he didn’t know him like I did.”

Hopper made it very clear that he didn’t like Eddie Munson.

From the very first day of Freshman year, you had come home rambling about a new friend you made. You were over-excited to say the least, expressing how you found someone who liked the same music and was just as weird as you were. And Hopper rejoiced in that, knowing you struggled to make friends. Until he found out it was a boy.

Now, he tried his best to be patient, only being as involved as you would let him. But not after a few good rants to Joyce where she ultimately put him in his place and gave advice he would be dumb not to take. Joyce was always right.

It wasn’t until he learned of who this friend was that Hopper started to really have a problem.

Munson was a family name that he wasn’t exactly fond of. There were always reports of criminal activity marked around that name, stemming from robbery to possible suspects in murder. He knew Wayne Munson, a brother to said criminal, and found the man really just kept to himself. But he couldn’t help having low expectations of the younger boy.

The first time you had invited Eddie around was the first time you had seen your dad act strange. Eddie didn’t live too far from the trailer you lived in at the time, practically a five minute walk between homes, so the idea of having him for dinner wasn’t out of place.

Your dad had been cold and quiet, insisting on your door being open at least three inches when you and Eddie were doing homework. He made sure to always just be there, and when you questioned it, he simply glared and walked away. You were surprised Eddie even stayed your friend after that.

By your Senior year, you and Eddie were closer than ever. You and he formed the Hellfire Club, bringing out your combined joy of DnD and reaching out to kids that didn’t fit in. It meant Eddie visited more often, having to come to your cabin since moving out of the trailer.

And Hopper didn’t like that one bit. Maybe it was because El had just joined your small family, and Hopper was adamant on keeping her a secret. You knew about everything that had happened in Hawkins, the demogorgons and alternate dimensions. None of which you ever told Eddie. In reality, you just wanted to pretend like it never happened. You and Hopper had fought frequently that year.

“Why can’t you just leave us alone?” You ask, exasperated. Your dad had thrown Eddie out after ‘sitting too close’ with him on your bed and you were bound to be angry at him. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I trust you!” Hopper yelled, but you didn’t flinch. “It’s him I don’t trust!”

“Eddie is a good guy!” You insisted and he scoffed, moving away to grab a beer from the fridge. “You just won’t give him a chance!”

“Trust me, I know boys like that.” He laughs coldly, leaning against the counter after taking a long sip. “They want one thing and one thing only. Don’t think I’m stupid, I know exactly what you two have been doing.”

You scrunch your face before letting out a harsh breath. “It’s not like that. And you’re not stopping me from seeing him. He...”

“Hm?” Hopper raises his eyebrows, crossing his arms and tilting his head at you.

“He’s my boyfriend.” You say, raising your chin and looking your dad in the eye.

You expected him to shout, to send you to your room and ban you from ever contacting Eddie again. Instead, to your surprise, he just laughed.

“Yeah, right.” Hopper grabbed his beer and walked to his chair.

“I’m not lying.” You frown, following him and stepping in front of the TV, making him groan.

“Come on, can you-” He starts, but you just fold your arms and stare at him. “Look, kid, I don’t care what he said or what you think he said. I’ve been through the high school sweetheart thing before and let me tell you this… you might think it’s forever, but you’re really just fooling around and he will be on to the next girl after graduation.”

Your eyes fill with tears and Hopper’s face drops.

“Shit.” He mutters, setting down his drink.

Before he can say anything else, you’re already storming off, slamming your bedroom door shut and he sighs, rubbing his face. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees El pop her head around her door and widen her eyes in confusion. Hopper knew he hadn’t handled the situation well, but he just wanted to protect you.

After that, Hopper was still convinced you and Eddie were nothing more than a fling. And when Eddie ended up not graduating with you that year, he had figured you’d grow out of him and move on with your life.

But your dad severely underestimated your feelings for Eddie Munson.

“You loved him?” El asks and you quickly nod, wiping a stray tear that fell down.

“I still do.” You shrug, and she thinks for a moment before bringing her head up to meet your eyes.

“Can I… see?”

“What?” You frown and she reaches out to hold your hand.

“I can go through memories, see the Eddie you knew.” She explains and your breath hitches.

“I don’t know…”

“Please.” El squeezes your hand and you sigh.

“Okay.” Finally agreeing, El shuffles to sit in front of you, crossing her legs.

She points to the radio on your bedside table and you hesitantly reach over to find an empty station, turning up the static until your sister nodded. Her eyes drifted around your room and you follow her gaze, watching as it landed on something that made your heart wrench. You lean across and pluck it from the table, handing it to her without another thought.

As she looks down at the black and white bandana, she takes a breath and looks back up.

“This will be kind of weird.” She says and you raise an eyebrow. “I have to go into your mind.”

“Of course you do.” You breathe out, watching as she ties the bandana around her eyes.

“Think of him.” She instructs quietly.

Her hands reach out and you catch them in yours. After a moment, you close your eyes and feel your mind start to drift to thoughts of Eddie. His hair, his rings, his smile.

And then, as you sit there with those memories, El finds them. And it was like she brought him to life again.

1981

You sat down in your last class of the day, fiddling with your jacket as the other Freshman students piled into their seats. You had chosen a spot at the very back, adamant on keeping to yourself. High school so far was as you expected; lonely.

Maybe it was because you were the daughter to the chief of police. Or maybe you just didn’t have the correct people skills. But everyone else here seemed to know exactly who they were friends with, and you hadn’t talked to another person since arriving.

The class was starting just as the door to the room swung open, the teacher rolling their eyes and ushering them inside. You kept your head down, doodling on the front page of your notebook. It started off as a flower but slowly grew into a hell-bent demon breathing fire. You had no clue why, either.

As the teacher started to drone about atoms, you hear a small cough next to you and you lift your head up to meet a pair of big brown eyes.

“Hey, do you have a pencil I can borrow?” He asks and for a moment, you don’t register what he’s saying. “And, uh… paper?”

“Sure.” You say hesitantly, ripping a page from your notebook and sliding it over with a sharpened pencil.

“Thank you.” The boy said breathlessly.

For the next few minutes, you couldn’t really focus on the class. Because you felt your eyes drifting to the boy next to you. The brunette had curly hair, falling just below his ears which implied he was growing it out. He wore a ring on his left hand that glinted against the fluorescent lights anytime he shifted in his seat. His ripped jeans and worn out long sleeved tee almost reflected your own dark outfit and you couldn’t help but think that if you were to make any friends in this place, you’d want it to be him.

So, as another minute ticked by, you made your move.

“I like your shirt.” You say quietly, eyes on the teacher to avoid being caught.

“Hm?” The boy looks at you with wide eyes, clearly surprised as to why you were speaking to him.

“Your shirt.” You repeat, risking a glance at him with a small smile. “Black Sabbath? So cool.”

You could see his wide grin from the corner of your eye as you continued shading in your sketch, the lesson long forgotten now. The teacher didn’t seem overly bothered about their students paying attention anyway since a group of boys in front of you hadn’t stopped talking since the lesson began.

“You know Black Sabbath?” He questions and you nod into your hand, elbow rested on the table.

“Yeah.” You shrug, “Last year, their lead singer bit a bat’s head off on stage. It was so-”

“Metal.” He finishes and you stop your sketch, looking at him. His eyes were searching yours, looking for answers, trying to figure you out.

“Definitely.” You grinned.

That day had been the day you met your best friend, your soulmate. You never spent time apart, not really. And as the years progressed, you only became closer.

1983

After everything that had happened at the beginning of the month, the only thing you had yearned for was normality. Demogorgons, superpowers, alternate dimensions. All of it was swarming around in your mind, poisoning your nightmares. You just wanted to forget any of it happened. To feel safe.

“Hey, look what I found.”

Eddie pulls something from under his bed, holding it up in victory before popping his head back into view, grinning.

“Wow.” You respond, slowly nodding. “It’s… wow.”

Eddie sends you a glare before jumping back onto the bed, the springs of the mattress reacting and causing you to jostle a bit. He slipped the found ring onto his finger, the silver joining his other ring as a pair and you tilt your head.

“See? They’re a set.” He smiles and you shake your head in amusement. “Okay, so, there’s meant to be three but two will do. I mean, I could...”

As Eddie rambles on about the rings he bought when he was a kid, your mind kept drifting back to the demogorgon you had fought in Jonathan Byers’ house. In the end, fire had been the only thing to take it. You couldn’t stop replaying the image in your mind, the flames dancing along pale grey skin.

“Earth to Y/n?” Eddie’s hand waves in front of your face and you snap back into the present, raising your head.

“Huh?”

Your best friend shuffled closer to you, dipping his head to meet your eyes. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah.” You attempt a smile, shrugging it off, “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Hm, yeah, don’t believe that for a second.” He narrows his eyes before suddenly grabbing your face, causing you to widen your eyes in surprise as he pulls you closer so your foreheads rested against eachother. “Tell me all your secrets.”

You couldn’t help the giggle that slipped from your mouth, causing his cheeks to dimple at the sound.

“Okay, okay!” You swat his hands away, still smiling. “God, you’re so weird.”

“Please, we wouldn’t be friends if I was normal.” He retorted and you laugh, nodding. “Seriously, whatever’s going on… you can tell me.”

“I…” You sigh, fingers fiddling with a loose piece of thread on his jeans, “I guess I’ve just been feeling a little overwhelmed, lately.”

“Everything okay at home?” Eddie frowns, taking your hand in his and you quickly nod.

“Yeah, yeah, of course. It’s just…” You tighten your lips. You couldn’t tell him what really happened. He didn’t deserve to be dragged into that mess. “School, you know? I-I’m pretty sure I’m falling behind.”

It wasn’t a lie. Since Will’s disappearance, you had been all over the place trying to help your friends that you hadn’t been focusing on school work. Your usual A’s and B’s had plummeted dramatically.

“Well that won’t do.” Eddie says, straightening and leaning over the edge of the bed to pull back up a few books laying on the floor. “We better get started.”

“What?” You let out a breathy laugh as he opens a textbook, looking up at you.

“We’re gonna study. Together.” He smiles, shrugging as if it didn’t bother him at all.

You watch as he picks up the pencil marking the page like a bookmark, slipping it behind one ear as he searched for the unit you were studying. A smile tugged at your lips.

Eddie always stuck by your side and never once complained about it. Every part of you adored this boy. You wouldn’t admit it before, but those butterflies in your stomach meant more than just gratitude. And that feeling in your chest would hold one of your favourite memories to come.

Because, as you stared at the boy in front of you, you knew this night was different.

That was the night you realised you were falling in love.

1984

The Winter Formal wasn’t an occasion you had looked forward to.

After volunteering at the middle school, you came to realise that these dances didn’t take your fancy. From the decorations to the music, you didn’t ever expect to have fun.

Standing at the side with Nancy, you took a sip of your drink and watched as your friend continued staring at a boy in a suit not far from you and you giggled.

“What?” She asks with a small smile.

“Just ask him to dance.” You say knowingly. And, with a sigh, she sends you a grateful smirk and walks over to him.

The smile didn’t leave your lips when you watched Nancy and Jonathan swaying to the music amongst all the other couples. They deserved it after the roller-coaster of a term you had.

It wasn’t until you felt a pat on your shoulder that your night improved miraculously. Because, stood in front of you in a suit that surely shouldn’t look that incredible on him, was Eddie Munson.

“Eddie?” You laugh as he shrugs shyly, soon adopting a grin as he leans on the table.

“Couldn’t let you deal with this torture by yourself, now, could I?” He says nonchalantly and you shake your head.

“Well, I’m really glad you’re here.” You smile. You didn’t miss the way he took in your appearance, eyes scanning over you. But not in the way most boys did. It was like he was taking in every little detail of your outfit, a shine in his eyes.

“You look amazing.” He says breathlessly and you couldn’t help the blush that crept onto your cheeks.

It had been a little over a year since you realised you were in love with your best friend. But, in that time, you’ve had to deal with the Upside Down and every little thing that came with it. You didn’t want to ruin what you and he had, especially since Eddie was the only thing in your life that made you feel safe.

“Not so bad yourself.” You reply, bumping his shoulder playfully and he straightens, pretending to adjust his tie.

“Oh, this old thing?” He jokes and you smile as he leans into you. “Wayne let me borrow it so please don’t let me spill anything.”

“I got you.” You assure and he toasts an imaginary drink to you.

For the majority of the night, you both stand by the table chatting for what seems like hours in the best kind of way. The music changed, people moving around you, but it didn’t matter.

“So…” Eddie pouts, resting his hand on his chin as he looks up at you from the table. You raise an amused brow and his eyes drift to the dance floor behind you. “Wanna dance?”

You struggle with words and just stare at him. Never did you imagine that Eddie would be willingly asking you to dance with him.

“I… what?” You say, dumbfounded and he chuckles, stepping towards you.

Making it as dramatic as he could, he graciously bows before extending his hand that no held three rings, looking up with a grin. “May I have this honour?”

You look at him with a purse of your lips, trying to hide the smile pushing its way to the surface. “You’re most definitely a weirdo, Eddie Munson.”

He laughs at your comment but is pleasantly surprised when you take his hand and start pulling him to the dance floor.

“But you’re my weirdo.” You say, and you had never seen Eddie’s face light up as much as it did in that moment.

As you held onto eachother, gently swaying to the music, you felt safe in his arms once again, like it was only you two in the room. Your heart beat faster with every touch until you gently pull away and look up at him.

His eyes searched yours one hand letting go of your waist and gently cupping your cheek. No words were needed to be spoken, no second thoughts. Everything you needed to know was in the way you both slowly leant in to eachother, barely daring to breathe.

It was a kiss you’d never forget. Not when it was meant to be.

1985

The Battle of Starcourt had been the worst day of your life.

Coming out of the burning building to find Joyce and El crying into eachother’s arms, you immediately knew what had happened. Even after his promise, your dad had died saving the lives of this town.

For the rest of the summer, you and El had been mourning. And you had to admit, having a little sister was one of the best things to happen to you. And after losing Hopper, you needed that little piece of family to survive.

It was Joyce that first suggested you move with them to California. She had taken you and El into her care, welcoming you to the Byers family, for which you were entirely grateful. Initially, the idea of moving was the worst idea in your mind. You didn’t want to leave your friends, the kids. You didn’t want to leave Eddie.

In fact, you only left Hawkins because Eddie convinced you to.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Eddie smiled at you, fingers brushing away a loose strand of hair covering your face. “It’s okay, remember?”

“I hate this.” You mutter, resting your forehead against his.

Around you, the others were loading the last of the boxes into the van and starting their goodbyes. You were leaving with the Byers to go live in California. And now you had to say goodbye.

“We’ll call as much as you want.” Eddie soothes and you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer. “This doesn’t have to be goodbye.”

“It’s not.” You say, pulling back to look at his doe-like eyes. “But I don’t know when I’ll be back. I mean…”

Your eyes drifted to the envelope still grasped tightly in your hand and Eddie nods, sighing.

Hopper had left you and El letters before he died. You weren’t sure when he had written them. El’s letter held words of what he wanted to say to her when Mike started hanging around more. But yours… yours seem to have been written a long time ago.

He had talked about your mom, how she died when you were young. Then about Sarah, the sister you lost. And with all that grief you both shared, he talked about how, when you were of age, he wanted you to live your own life. He wanted you to go further than he ever had, to take the leap, to get into the college of your dreams. And you did that.

Which meant that California was the first stop in living out Hopper’s dreams for you.

“I’ll come visit.” Eddie suddenly announces and you furrow your brows.

“Eds…” You knew he didn’t have the money. Hell, to even afford a plan ticket, he’d have to be working more hours than he should.

“I know.” He mumbles into your hair, placing a kiss.

“Sweetie?” Joyce’s voice makes you turn your head to where she stood, sympathetically smiling, “We’re leaving in five minutes.”

“I’ll be right there.” You promise and she nods, sending a brief smile to your boyfriend before walking over and joining the goodbyes.

“You did it.” Eddie grins and you raise an eyebrow. “You’re getting the hell out of Hawkins.”

“Yeah.” You breathe, stepping back. You shove the letter into your back pocket and feel your hand brush against something. You widen your eyes. “Oh, right!”

Eddie sends an amused frown your way as you grab the object and hold out your hand.

“I got this for you.” You say just as you uncurl your hand, Eddie’s eyes widening as he tenderly picks up the blue ring from your palm. “So you don’t forget me. Plus, your other hand was looking a little bare so I thought I’d start the collection off.”

He slips the ring onto his right hand before grinning that smile that made your heart flutter. He pulls you in for a deep kiss, hand cupping your cheek, another on your waist. You wished you could just stay like this.

“How could I ever forget you when you’re the best thing in my life?” Eddie says once your lips are free, stroking your cheek. “You’re my forever.”

You let out a breathy laugh, tears threatening your eyes just as Joyce calls out for you.

Rather than speak, you give him one last kiss, a squeeze of your hand, before pulling away and walking towards the car, Jonathan already waiting with a sad smile.

The last thing you saw as you pulled away was Eddie’s smile, his precious wave, as you disappeared into the distance, heart aching.

You couldn’t wait to see him again.

1986

Sat in the back of the van, you all fell into a sort of silence once you passed the Hawkins sign.

Your home town was covered in a thick cloud of smoke, families packing up and leaving. The vines wrapped across the buildings made your breath hitch.

You had been shot at and chased, desperately trying to find your sister after she had been taken away. And ever since then, you’ve had to deal with the Upside Down even after you thought you had heard the last of it.

After all you had been through, you just wanted to be home again. But this didn’t feel like your home.

Clutching El’s hand, you see the Wheeler house roll into view, sharing smiles with Mike and Will. Argyle parked up and once the van doors slid open, you were greeted with smiles you thought you’d never see again.

It was a mess of hugs, your path leading you towards Robin and Steve as you all rejoiced. The three of you had been inseparable last year after being condemned to slinging ice creams for the summer.

Pulling away, you look at all the happy faces, a smile on your face. Your eyes glanced over to the boy standing not far from the group, hugging his torso. Your smile faded.

When Dustin raised his head and met your eyes, you frown.

Walking over, you shake your head. “Are you okay?”

Dustin swallows some form of guilt, shifting. You notice the silence that waved across the group, some sharing equal looks of confusion, others of sadness. Why?

Then, with a weight on your chest, you looked around once again, hoping to find that familiar grin. You had been told the party had joined the Hellfire Club. Surely they would have told him you were coming back?

“Where’s Eddie?” You ask with a small voice, your eyes looking back at Dustin. And when his face drops, so does your stomach.

He had been gently about it, pulling you aside and explaining everything that happened. From Chrissy all the way to the bats. It didn’t take long for the tears to stream down your cheeks, Dustin sharing in your hurt.

“He wanted you to have this.” Dustin sniffled, reaching into his pocket and revealing something in his palm. A choked sob left your lips.

You take the blue ring, gently stroking the surface of it and squeezing your eyes shut.

It felt like your heart had been shattered to a million little pieces.

The memories come to an end and you open your eyes, noticing your sister’s face bore matching tear stained cheeks.

Her grip on your hand was tight, her breathing heavy. You find a tissue by the side of your bed and gently wipe away the blood on her upper lip.

“You’re my forever.”

You freeze, heart pounding.

El pulls away the bandana, setting it down on the bed, as she looks up at you.

“How did you…” You shake your head. Those words…

She carefully reaches out and taps the blue ring on your right hand, smiling as she clutches her chest. El felt your pain; she had just lived it through your memories. She knew know.

“He’s still here.” El nods quietly, placing her hand over your heart as tears spill from your eyes. “And here.”

She gently taps your forehead before you pull her into a hug, squeezing your eyes shut. Once you hear the door open, however, you pull away.

“Everything alright in here?” Hopper asks, walking into the room and immediately noticing how you were desperately trying to wipe away the warm tears from your face. “Honey, what’s going on?”

He quickly crosses the room and sits beside you, pulling you into a hug. You softly cry into his shirt and he just holds you there, kissing the top of your head. When you don’t reply, his eyes drift to the girl in front of him.

“El? What happened?”

“Love.” El says quietly, stroking the fabric of the black and white bandana in her hands.

Hopper frowns. “Love?”

“She loved him.” El explains with a shaky breath. “Her heart was full of love. But he’s gone. And it’s broken now.”

Hopper glances between you and El, eyes drifting to the blood soaked tissue as he connects the pieces. He quickly pulls El into the hug, holding you both with a soft frown. He never knew how wrong he was about you and Eddie until it was too late.

El understood that grief now, the pure agony you felt knowing that the one you loved was gone forever.

And now, knowing how it felt, she swore to help you through it. In love and grief.

#stranger things 4 #stranger things #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #fanfic #stranger things reader insert #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #robin buckley #dustin henderson #st4 #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie stranger things #eddie x y/n #eddie #eddie x reader

[tropes-and-tales-archives]

Whistle Down the Wind, Chapter Ten

Word Count: 4503

TW:  Idiots in love, angst, smut (PiV, protected). 18+ only.

AN:  Part of a series.  The series masterlist here.

You were late.  Again.

To be fair, though, it wasn’t your fault this time.  When your plane landed at LaGuardia, it ended up taxiing for forty minutes until it found an available gate, and then you had to sprint to baggage claim.  And then you had to find a taxi, and when you did, traffic was so bad that the driver shot into New Jersey and took I-95 to get to Staten Island.

It didn’t matter, as long as you got there eventually.  Sometimes you had to take the long way round.

********

It was a subdued Thanksgiving, which suited Sonny just fine.  Theresa’s daughters, since the divorce, had to split their holidays between their parents, so they were with their father.  Theresa herself had opted to stay in Connecticut and host her own wine-based, solo Thanksgiving for herself.  Gina and her latest boyfriend had stopped in for a quick dinner but had left to go to his family’s house on the other end of the island.  Bella and her baby – a little girl named Moira – were taking a nap upstairs in her childhood bedroom, exhausted by the baby’s awful sleep schedule.  That left Sonny parents and Tommy in the living room, watching the football game and dozing off from their respective turkey comas.

Sonny was so exhausted that he was having trouble sleeping.  It had been an awful year.  He had an undercover assignment with a men’s shelter that left him shaken to his core about the thin possibility of redemption for lost souls.

His sergeant had also been gunned down and killed.  They never replaced him, though, so SVU was running perpetually short-handed.  He rarely had time off, he never had time to recover from one case to the next, and his commanding officer seemed pretty cavalier about the mental wellness of her detectives.

If he ever needed his best friend, it was now, but he respected your choice to move to L.A.

He kept in touch with you, of course.  He called and texted, and the two of you had a few video chat sessions.  You showed him your cramped little apartment a few blocks from the ocean, and once you had a chat from London, where you were working on a limited episode run for a streaming service. 

He loved seeing you, but it left him heart-sore.  Seeing you on the screen of his laptop could not compare to the genuine article.

He held back a lot of his work struggles.  He didn’t tell you how lonely he was, how much he missed his friend.  He didn’t want to make you regret your choice.  All the same, you seemed to sense when he was at his lowest, because a new playlist always seemed to appear for him to bolster his flagging spirits.

The best playlists, though, were the ones he was able to buy after you started your stint on the west coast.  You got work – first with the limited run series, then with a bare-bones action film, then with a larger film.  You scored a documentary, and the haunting piano and string-based score was nominated at some film festivals.  Sonny bought every soundtrack and score that had your name on it. 

He set up a news alert for your name and got some traffic.  The best was a profile about new up-and-comers.  It was a group shot of everyone in the piece, but he was able to crop everyone else out on his computer.  You looked amazing in it:  hair down and styled, in a chic tuxedo tailored to your form, with a slight smile on your face.

Still, he missed you.  And on days like Thanksgiving, he felt your absence more keenly.

He sat with his parents and Tommy for a bit, half-heartedly watching the Lions play.  He wondered what you were doing.  Probably hanging out with your new friends, eating the authentic Mexican food you were always raving about.

He stood up abruptly and made his way down to the rec room in the basement.  Most holidays – and summers when you were in college – that’s where you and Sonny ended up.  It was your movie hub:  just the two of you curled up on the couch together, under his nonna’s scratchy acrylic crocheted blanket (because he cranked the air to an uncomfortable degree on purpose), watching a movie and ignoring the tension between the two of you.  Well, he knew it was tension now.  At the time, he had just thought it was him.

He sprawled out across the old couch and turned on the TV, flipping through the channels until he found something.  “Planes, Trains, and Automobiles.”  Sonny smiled.  It was one of your favorite movies, and he settled down and watched it.  If his mind wandered, it wandered back to your final week in the city.  Those few final days you had spent together, mostly in his bed (and in his shower and on his couch and once on his kitchen counter).  He replayed those moments over and over, but the details had grown hazy over time.  All he could vividly remember was the feeling of completion and contentment when you had fallen asleep beside him.

The movie was about halfway done when he heard people talking upstairs – laughter and little shrieks of joy.  He guessed that Moira was awake and his mother was cooing over her.  Or maybe Tommy and his dad were really getting into the Lions game.

He heard the basement door open and someone take a few tentative steps down the creaky stairs.  It must be time for dessert and coffee, but Sonny wasn’t hungry.

“I’ll be up in a bit, ma,” he called over the back of the couch, focused on the screen in front of him. 

“I’m not your ma, stretch,” a familiar voice replied in a teasing lilt, and he shot up into a sitting position just in time to see you descend the rest of the steps. ********

Your first thought was that you broke him.  He stared at you over the back of the couch so long without saying anything, you worried that he had died in place.

Your second thought, as you looked him over was, Christ, he looks exhausted.

Sonny was as handsome as ever.  His hair was a little greyer, but it made him hotter, in your opinion.  It was soft and tousled, unstyled – your favorite version of his hair.  His eyes were as blue as the ocean.

But he looked pale, and he had dark circles under his eyes, and the lines around his eyes were deeper than the last time you saw him.  You knew that his job wasn’t easy, and you knew from Bella that it had been more difficult than usual.  You worried that you hadn’t made things easier on him either.

He continued to stare at you, and your eyes flicked to the TV.  It was one of your favorite holiday movies, and you made a little cry of delight.  You walked around to the couch and made to sit down to watch, but Sonny shot to his feet and pulled you into a fierce hug.  He wrapped his long arms around you and squeezed you so hard you thought your ribs would break again. 

“You’re really here,” he muttered into your hair.

“I am,” you replied.  Your face was pressed against his chest, and you breathed him in.  He wore a cologne that always made you think of growing things – a sort of fresh, green smell that combined with his soap and his own body chemistry.  “I would have been here sooner, but traffic was a nightmare.”

He squeezed you to him for another moment, then pushed you away, his hands firmly placed on your upper arms.  “No one told me,” he said, looking you over.  “You didn’t tell me.”

“I wanted to surprise you.”  You suddenly felt shy underneath the scrutiny of his gaze, and you ducked your head.

He moved both of his hands to either side of your face.  “It’s the best surprise ever,” he declared, and he leaned down to place a gentle kiss on your lips.  You sighed and kissed him back.  You had missed him so much.

He tilted your head, deepening the kiss.  You felt him part his lips and run the tip of his tongue along your lower lip, but before you could open your mouth to him, the basement door swung open again.  A voice – Bella’s – yelled down that coffee and dessert were being served.

“And stop making out, you perverts,” she added for good measure, and you ignored her cackling laughter with all the dignity you could muster. 

********

Sonny sat across from you at the dining room table as everyone gathered for pumpkin pie and coffee.  You immediately scooped baby Moira from Bella’s arms, claiming that you had to make up for lost time.  The baby grabbed at your hair and tried to shove her chubby fist in your mouth.  She was completely enamored with you.

Baby Moira wasn’t the only one.  Sonny felt like he would never be able to look at you enough.  Your hair was just a shade messy – he knew it was from your cross-country flight, but it looked exactly like your usual post-sex hair, and it made him feel more turned on than he would usually like while sitting with his family at the dining room table. 

You were in relaxed jeans and a button-down flannel shirt, partially unbuttoned and revealing a lace-trimmed camisole underneath.  You looked completely comfortable, and maybe for the first time since Sonny met you – completely comfortable with yourself.  You had a relaxed air about you.  Maybe it was all the sunshine.  More likely, it was all those tamales that you raved about.

Bella dished out pie while Dom Senior poured mugs of coffee and passed them around.  Sonny’s mother went to the kitchen and came back a few minutes later bearing a plate of reheated leftovers.  She placed it in front of you with a smile.

“I’m sorry I was late,” you said with a rueful shrug.  “Our plane didn’t have a gate and it took forever to get here.”

His mother waved off your apology.  “We’re just glad you’re here.”

You tucked into your leftovers one handed, your other arm cradling the baby as she dozed off against you.  It made Sonny smile to see it.  You were always such a natural with his nieces – even this one who had just met you.

“How long are you staying?” Dom Senior asked. 

You chewed a forkful of stuffing and swallowed before you answered.  “I fly back on Sunday morning.”  Sonny felt his stomach drop.  You were only here for a few days, and it already felt like time was slipping away too quickly.

You glanced over at him and caught his gaze before you continued.  “I have a few more months on my sublet here in New York, but after that, I’m going to move back.”  You gave him a smile.  “I’ve made great connections, and I’ll probably have to travel back to L.A. more than I’d like, but plenty of composers and musicians live elsewhere.”

Bella scoffed and gestured to the window where an icy rain was pattering against the glass.  “You’re trading in warm weather and sunshine for this?”

“Aren’t you the one who gave me a list of reasons why L.A. was worse than New York?” you teased back.

“I just liked living vicariously through you,” she shot back.  “How many friends run into one of the Marvel Chrises on the way to the bathroom?”

You nodded and took another bite of stuffing.  “True.  But I can’t keep up with the people out there.  Too many diets and workouts.  Everyone assumes I’m a wannabe actress and critiques me accordingly.”  You scowled at your plate.  “One producer told me that I was a ‘New York five but an L.A. two,’ and that was after he realized I was there to score his garbage movie.”

Sonny felt a flare of hot anger to hear that some guy made you feel bad about yourself.  “You’re a Staten Island eleven,” he blurted, making the table erupt in laughter.  He felt his face growing red, and his dad reached over and clapped him hard on the back.

“Smooth, son,” he chuckled, but Sonny’s mom reached over from the other side and smacked her husband. 

“Like you ever did any better,” she teased.  Dom Senior snatched her hand as she tried to draw it back and kissed the back of it.

“I did good enough to get you,” he said with a wide grin, making Bella groan in embarrassment.  Sonny, though, could only watch you across the table.

********

Sonny’s family was old-fashioned, despite having a grandchild out of wedlock and a daughter who had recently divorced.  As such, you and Sonny put up what you hoped was a convincing charade about how he was going to drive you to a friend’s place where you were crashing for the next few days. 

The reality, of course, was that within seconds of returning to his apartment, he had you pressed against his door, the two of you kissing fiercely and pawing at each other like you were each drowning.  There were too many sensations and emotions:  the feel of his warm hands as they untucked your shirt and camisole to touch your back.  His mouth on yours, his lips impossibly soft.  His thigh, as it pressed between your own legs and parted them.

You reached down and tugged at his grey Henley, breaking the kiss long enough to pull it over his head, ruffling his hair even more.  You tossed it aside and then his mouth was back on you, kissing the sensitive spot at the junction of your neck and shoulder, sending chills through you.

“I missed you so much, doll,” he whispered against your neck.  His breath was hot and sent another tremor through you.

You ran your fingers through his hair.  “I missed you more,” you breathed back.

Sonny fumbled at your shirts.  His fingers scrabbled at your button-up, and he mumbled curses when he couldn’t get it undone fast enough.  When he did get it unbuttoned, he tried to pull it off of you, but your sleeves got caught and he cursed again as he unbuttoned the cuffs. 

You pushed him off of you so that you could handle it, so he shifted his attention to his own clothes.  He tugged his undershirt over his head, but slowed and then stopped completely to watch you as you removed your camisole.

You bent over and pulled your boots off, then straightened up to unbutton your jeans.  You looked up at Sonny and laughed at him.  His chest was rising and falling with his shuddering breaths, and his mouth hung slightly agape.

He moved swiftly to you.  He pressed you back against the door, latching his mouth on the pulse point.  You laid your hands on his bare chest and tugged on his sparse smattering of blond hair there.

Sonny’s hands drifted down to your hips and finished unzipping your jeans.  He unlatched his mouth from your neck and worked his way down, pushing your pants down over your hips, down you thighs.  His ran his warm palms over your bare legs before he pulled your jeans over your feet and tossed them aside.

He knelt in front of you, and you laid your hands on the top of his head.  You tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging it gently, trying to get him to stand back up.  He looked up at you, in just your underwear, while he was still half-clothed.

“You need to catch up, Dominick,” you said.  You loved the way his sunny blue eyes turned dark when you called him by his first name. 

Instead of responding to you, he slid an arm behind you, cupping your ass in his large hand and pulled your lower half towards him until his face was pressed into your lower belly.  You ran your nails over his scalp, drawing low groans from him that vibrated through you.  His hot breath made the throbbing between your legs increase almost painfully.  You felt dangerously close to losing your legs underneath you.

“S-Sonny,” you stuttered as he moved his mouth a fraction lower.  “I need you.”

“You have me,” he murmured against you.  He licked along the lace waistband of your panties, making your knees buckle just a bit. 

You tightened your grip on his hair, drawing another groan from him.  You felt almost dizzy with desire and had to press the back of your head against the door and take a few deep breaths to calm yourself.

“Sonny, we have plenty of time,” you told him in a strangled voice.  “But right now, I really need you.”

His other hand landed on your hip, tugging at the edge of your panties and pressing wet kisses on each new inch of exposed skin.  He didn’t reply, too focused on moving his mouth closer and closer to his target.

“Damnit, Dominick!” you yelled, and you pulled his hair hard enough to get his attention.  He looked up and shot you a wounded look, like a puppy that had been scolded, but whatever he saw on your face made him stand up and press the length of his body against yours.  You pulled his face to yours and kissed him breathlessly, without any art or ability.  Just his mouth with his soft lips against yours, tongues sliding against each other, breathing each other’s moans.

“I need you,” you repeated, panting against him.  He shifted his head back to the nook against your neck.  “Please.  I…I’ve waited for this for months.  I’ve missed you, Sonny.  So, so much.”  You wrapped your hand along the back of his neck, stroking between his hairline and the knobs of the top of his spine.  You felt rather than heard Sonny sniffling against you, and you felt the first tears when they hit your shoulder.

“I missed you too, doll,” he said.  “And it’s been a tough year.”  His voice was watery, and you tightened your grip around him, pulling him as tight as you could.  He took deep breaths against you as he tried to regain his composure, and once he was calmed, you took his face between both of your hands.  You forced him to face you, and you looked into his brilliant blue eyes, now rimmed and swollen from his tears.

“I love you, Dominick,” you said solemnly.  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you.”

He shook his head gently between your hands.  “I’m glad you went, doll.”  His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at you.  “I’d never want to hold you back.”

You couldn’t help but smile back at him – his namesake sunniness was contagious.  “I’m here now though.”

“You are.”  He reached down to grasp the back of your thighs, and you jumped up into his arms.  You bit back a moan at the sensation of him pressed against your core, and you wrapped your arms around his neck as he carried you into his bedroom and laid you down on the bed.

He stood at the foot of the bed and removed the rest of his clothes, and you wriggled out of your underwear so that when he crawled over you, you were both completely naked. 

You could feel the conflict in him – you knew that Sonny was gentle and probably wanted to take his time, but you also could feel how badly he missed you.  He settled on an uneven middle ground, pressing slow, wet kisses to you while his hands roved wildly over your form. 

His mouth drifted a lazy path from your mouth to your jaw and down your neck, across your collarbones and back to your mouth.  His hands wandered down your sides and up your front to cup first one breast and then the other.  He stroked your nipples until they were peaked and hard under his caresses. 

Spurred on by your moans and your squirming underneath him, his hand glided further down until it was pressed between your legs.  He slid a finger between your folds and groaned at how wet you were.  He pulled his head back to peer down at you, and your face felt red-hot.

“I told you I needed you,” you muttered at him, avoiding his gaze.

“I told you that you have me,” he replied thickly, and he pushed his finger into you slowly, making both of you moan.  Your face grew hotter, which didn’t seem humanly possible, as he stared down at you through half-lidded eyes.  He slid a second finger into you, then shifted his hand so that his thumb was circling your clit.

You huffed out a breath through your nose and tried to calm yourself, but you felt a liquid heat pooling deep in your belly, and you knew you weren’t going to last long. 

“Sonny, stop,” you whispered.  You felt him hesitate and pull his hand away from you.  You looked up and saw the question in his eyes.

“I want to…finish,” you stammered.  “With you, you know.  Inside me.”

He nodded and shifted his weight off of you to reach into his nightstand for a condom.  You used the moment to try and steady yourself again, squeezing your eyes shut as you heard him rip the wrapper.  Then you felt him stretch himself on top of you again, and you felt his hand cup your face, the thumb stroking your cheekbone.

“Hey, look at me,” he said softly.  You opened your eyes and looked up at him.  He gazed down at you as if you were the only other person in the world.

All the years of frustrated longing, all the other people you’d each been with, every conversation and glance laden with unrequited love – it all fell away when he looked at you like that.  You smiled at him and reached up to cup his own face in your palm, and he leaned into it, touch-starved.  After a moment, you simply nodded at him, and he reached down to line himself up with your entrance.

He pressed the tip of his erection into you with a groan, and you felt dangerously close to the edge.  He slid into you slowly – way too slowly.  His position on top of you made the angle shallow, and his length dragged along your sensitive clit as he pressed himself into your molten core. 

You wanted to make it last, but every single sensation was too much:  the friction on you bundle of nerves where the two of you were joined.  His hot breath, panting praise in your ear.  The scent of his cologne and your perfume mingling along with the headier scent of sex. 

He was only halfway inside you, but it was too late.  You gasped his name once, and then shuddered underneath him with a whimper, your legs wrapping around him to pull the rest of him into you in one thrust.  He started to reply to you, but he growled instead as your sheath gripped him, your orgasm ripping through you.  You shut your eyes as you came, moaning his name over and over.  You were distantly aware of him cursing above you, and he gave a single thrust until he came too.

He collapsed on top of you completely, and his weight pressed you into the mattress.  He groaned again, in frustration this time.  You stroked his hair at the back of his head until you both recovered.  He lifted his head to looked down at you.

“I’m sorry,” you each said at the same time, and you both laughed.  He leaned down and kissed you firmly before he shifted his weight and pulled out of you.  He left the room for a moment to dispose of the condom, then he came back into the bedroom.  He laid down beside you, and you each turned on your sides to face each other.

“I’m sorry I came too quickly,” you said with a rueful grin.  “I was too worked up, I guess.”

He pinched your chin lightly between his fingers and kissed you again.  “It’s all well and good for girls,” he grumbled good-naturedly.  “But I didn’t last at all.  Now all my street cred it gone.”  You laughed at this, and he pretended to look angry.

“It’s your fault,” he continued.  “You set me off.”

“Well, I owe you then,” you replied.  You tried to look contrite.  “Since your street cred is gone and all that.”  You snuggled up against him, enjoying the feeling of his skin pressed against yours.  He wrapped a lanky arm around you and pulled you tighter.

You felt comfortably drowsy, the net effect of your flight, Ma Carisi’s dinner, and being back in Sonny’s bed.  He hummed above you contently, and you started to doze off until your cell phone chimed from the other room.  You roused a bit but settled back against him.

Then it chimed again, and a third time.

“You need to get that?” Sonny asked.  His voice rumbled through his chest.  “Your west coast boyfriend, maybe?”  You knew he was joking, but there was still a jealous undercurrent to his tone.

“There was no west coast boyfriend,” you murmured against him.  “Unless you count my detachable shower head.”

He snorted at this but you could feel the relief in him as he relaxed against you. 

Then his phone chimed, one after another after another.

“Is that Nicole?” you asked, only half-meanly.  He snorted again before he untangled from you and grabbed at his pants at the foot of the bed. 

“Be careful,” he said as he pulled his phone out of his pants pocket.  “If you say her name three times, she’ll turn up and haunt your house.”  You laughed at this and sat up.  You wound his blanket around yourself.  Sonny unlocked his phone.

“Is it work?” you asked.  You felt your stomach dip.  You wanted to stay in this little bubble with Sonny for the entire weekend.  A little sex bubble, maybe with the occasional movie and homemade pasta break.

He just chuckled in reply.  “No, it’s Bella.”  He held up his phone so that you could read the screen.  “She tried to text you and you didn’t reply.  Now she’s of the impression that you’re here with me, corrupting her chaste, virginal brother with your wanton ways.”  He typed out a reply, then turned off his phone and tossed it on the nightstand before lying back down.  He grabbed you around the waist and pulled you down beside him.

“What did you tell her?” you asked.

“The truth,” he said.  He kissed you chastely, then tilted his head to deepen the kiss.  He broke away to look down at you, and his blue eyes were glittering with unshed tears again.  “I told her that you’re home.”

#sonny carisi #sonny carisi imagine #sonny carisi x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfiction #tropes and tales

[somebodytookmyusername]

inspired by this post by @scoupsahoy

Eddie died. Max is in a coma. Lucas and Erica are traumatized. And Steve Harrington is crying in the cold tub bloody, dirty, and clutching Munson's battle vest.

It was one mistake. It was a lapse of judgement on Steve's part. He just got tired of being a babysitter once and look where it got him. He killed them, he was the reason they died. Max wasn't supposed to be in a coma. She was supposed to be alive making snarky remarks of how close they were from being dead or how Vecna deserved to get his ass whooped by a sawed off shotgun. She was supposed to be here, held by Lucas, held by Steve.

Eddie... he wasn't supposed to be involved in this. He wasn't supposed to be bait. He wasn't supposed to be a hero. He was supposed to be alive, to be with Dustin, to be with Hellfire. It was a lapse of judgement. It was the moment when Steve knew he'd lost a friend was when he took Eddie to his back and ran as fast as he could. He couldn't even care less about the vines. He just had to keep Eddie alive by some miracle. But he didn't. If... if only he'd run fast enough. Maybe if he didn't trip, maybe Eddie is still alive. Maybe Eddie would be back in his Uncle's arms again.

But for now, he sobbed for their loss.

----

“Steve, you need to eat.” Nancy gently cooed. He has been staying beside Max for almost a month now. Just alternating between sleeping and breaking down. The Party had took turns on leaving him some food, sometimes the containers would be empty, sometimes it hasn't been touched. Robin has been worried over Steve. He already lost his job at Family Video. He's already so thin. He never left Max's side unless he's sure she'd be safe but he's never gone longer than 2 hours no matter how much they force him to go home and take a nap.

Those hours, he'd go home take a freezing shower to calm his nerves and if he feels like it, he'd snatch an apple then hit the road to go to Eddie's headstone. He paid for the funeral, the casket, the service, everything. He felt responsible for not being able to save the only one person who genuinely thought Steve Harrington is a good person. The only person who showed that someone actually believes in him. For Eddie Munson, this is the least he can do. He'd left the jacket on his headstone, washed but not truly clean. Steve assumed Eddie would look at the bloodstains as ‘very metal.’

‘He always comes back.’ Dustin thought. Steve was great at bouncing back from the horrors of the Upside Down but not this time. He knows how Steve cared for all of them, and losing Max has been his breaking point. Dustin barely recognizes Steve anymore. The glassy, tired eyes, the thin line of his lips, the dark bags under his eyes, even his hair lost all it poof. If Steve Harrington was drained before, he's devoid of color now.

Robin tried to talk to him, to tell him that its alright. That he didn't have any fault in this. That he was also a victim too. Yet no matter how much she tried, Steve wasn't having any of it. It shocked her to her core with how much Steve blamed himself for everything. He never dived deep to any of his troubles but what he said was enough for Robin to know that his bestfriend is spiraling down and has always been trying to hide everything in a smile.

“Steve, Dustin needs a lift.” it's still one the responsibilities of his that he remembers to do. He just nodded softly and took his keys before nodding to Robin about Max. He hasn't talked after the whole incident, just quiet, thinking, hoping. Dustin babbled the whole ride about Suzie and school, the kid was careful not to let anything slip about Eddie or any of the Hellfire guys, specially some of Gareth's news about Uncle Wayne.

Steve hasn't talked to any adult, not even giving an alibi or a statement. The police figured he's too shocked to even talk, The Harrington's paid a hefty sum just to keep Steve of the newspaper and the rumors.

As soon as they went to Dustin's house, Steve was greeted by Claudia Henderson with a warm hug. it wasn't too much, but it wasn't formal either. Just like a warm hug from a mom seeing his new son's friend. He almost teared up by the gesture but he held it in. He nodded and almost walked back to his car before Claudia held his wrist gently and sat him down in one of their couches. He felt the couch sink as she sat beside him too.

“How are you doing, Steven?” if he answered the question, it would be the first conversation he's had after everything but maybe Claudia was the best person to start all over. His head hung low trying to hide how easily his eyes starts to water.

“I'm doing great, Mrs. Henderson” he said without even looking in her eye. He can get used to this. Just lying to keep everyone from knowing he's suffering because they don't deserve to know. They're already happy. He's just a liability waiting to happen.

“You’re an good child, Steven. I don't think I could see anyone taking care of Dustin like you do. But you have to take care of yourself too we know you're hurting too. Dustin knows.” she took his hand and held it. He couldn't take it anymore, the walls he'd put up for the past month has been breached. Steve let his tears fall has he tried to hide it with his free hand.

“I couldn't save them, they should've been here instead of me. I was supposed to be the one who dies. I was supposed to have it under control. I shouldn't have left them for a while.” his voice was hoarse as he said this. Claudia squeezed his hand and enveloped him in a warm hug as Steve cried on her shoulder. She knew he was suffering but she didn't know he blamed himself for everything let alone wished he'd be the one who dies. She let him sob while rubbing his back.

“You're a good person. They wouldn't make it out alive if it wasn't for you. Don't be too hard on yourself. You saved them, even Max.” she said as she held him. He tried stopping the tears from falling but he can't. He just sobbed quietly.

“Thank you.”

#so i placed claudia as the one who's gonna hold him #because one he's not that close with the Sinclairs #two he's not gonna go to Karen Wheeler for advice because holly and ted is there #three joyce and hopper back in cali #four he wouldn't put robin with the burden he's carrying because he thinks she doesn't deserve to know #im gonna make a second version where its gonna be lucas who talks to him. #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things 4 #steddie #fanfic #max mayfield #steve and dustin #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #jopper #joyce byers #claudia henderson #babysitter!steve

[quarantineddreamer]

hello hi! hope you're doin good! i was wondering, could you do prompt 2."things you said through your teeth" for RebelCaptain from the mini-fic ask game, pretty please?

Hello, hi --thank you so much for the ask!! This one got out of control a bit (I actively had to pull myself back from allowing it to totally spiral) so I don't think it classifies as a drabble anymore (oops), but I hope you like it! 😅💜

things you said through your teeth

When it comes to Cassian Andor, Jyn finds herself lying both to herself, and others, a lot... 

The day the medics decide it is time to try and wake Cassian from his coma, she is sitting on the floor just outside his room, back pressed against the cool wall, intermittently pulling her legs in so a passing rebel does not trip on them. 

Anxiety tickles at her insides, pressing at her nerves, forcing her muscles to twitch, trapping her in a useless cycle of fidgeting and tense, heavy sighs. She cannot seem to stop the memories that invade her mind… 

The half-smile he’d managed, even through extreme pain, when he’d come back for her, caught her eyes from the other end of a smoking blaster. 

Staring into his eyes on the elevator. She’d expected relief, to no longer care now that the mission was done–what else was there? But instead she had caught herself wishing for more time. Maybe there were some things still unfinished after all…

His arms around her on the beach, the odd wave of contentment that had washed over her…

Will he remember those moments too? How will he look at her when they finally see each other again? 

She tells herself it doesn’t matter, why should it? She tells herself her restlessness is merely a matter of concern for a friend. 

(Even if her heart is pounding the moment the medic appears to tell her he is awake, she can come see him if she wants…)

She is sitting across from Bodhi in the mess hall, watching Cassian’s figure retreat, studying the limp he tries to hide–the one that means he’s in more pain than usual today–reflecting on the serious expression that had remained fixed on his face all through their meal, the food on his plate that had been seemingly forgotten, barely more than a bite consumed.  

“Do you want to go after him?” Bodhi asks, eyes fixed on her nearly as intently as her own are fixed on Cassian. There is something to his gaze, another question that is going unspoken. 

“No,” Jyn says quickly, tearing her eyes from Cassian and returning them to her lunch. She picks up her fork and stabs at mystery meat with what could perhaps be defined as unusual intensity. “No, of course not. Why would I?”

Bodhi shrugs, “Seemed like you wanted to.”

“No,” she says again. The third time in less than a minute, as though she is running lines for a play, committing the act to memory–as though she will become more convincing with practice. “I don’t want to…”

“Get this,” Melshi raises his flask to his lips once more, cheeks a cheery pink as he laughs, “one of the new recruits made a pass at our very own Captain Andor today.”

Jyn stiffens, fingers tightening on her glass, eyes jumping to Cassian’s face.

He shakes his head at his friend, gives a small, good-natured smile. 

“Oooh really?” Han smirks, turning with interest. “Do tell.”

Jyn stands abruptly and every person seated around the fire raises their heads to look at her, confused. “I have an early morning,” she mutters, reaching for the nearest bottle and lifting it in acknowledgement to her companions. “Good night.”

She marches away, feeling the quiet, the curiosity that she leaves in her wake, settling over the group like a fine layer of dust. She ignores it, takes a swig of the liquor straight from the bottle as she traces her way down the dim hallway. Eventually, the sound of laughter and easy conversation returns, an echo that grows fainter and fainter with each desperate step she takes. 

“Jyn, wait!” Cassian’s voice calls after her, and she knows it is his hand she feels land on her shoulder and pull her around. 

Her core tightens as though preparing for a blow, an instinctive layer of armor that is enough of a reminder of self to borrow strength from. She raises her eyes to look at him, face carefully blank. “What do you need?” she asks, tone even, formal. 

For a moment she thinks she’s somehow hurt him, because his hand drops from her shoulder and his eyes hold a flicker of doubt. “I’m… I’m sorry about that,” he gestures at the fire behind, “back there…”

She ignores the acrobatics of her stomach, gives an unbothered shrug. “What about it?”

“I didn’t… I mean… Nothing happened. Between me and the woman Melshi mentioned.”

“It’s fine, I don’t care,” she says, jaw clenched tight, words barely making it past the lump in her throat. “Not my business.”

And she quickly turns and walks away, feels his eyes follow her into the dark…

There’s a knock at her door, soft but insistent, and Jyn sets aside the half-drunk bottle of liquor, regarding the shuttered entrance to her room from the steady surface of her bed. 

It’s only a few steps away, but right now it seems like hundreds, more than she truly wants to be bothered with. “Who is it?” she calls. “Can it wait till morning?”

There’s a pause, she thinks maybe the person has given up, or realized they knocked on the wrong door. “No,” Cassian says, voice muffled. 

She reaches under the mattress and pulls out a monitor, clicks it on to check the camera she had set up in the hallway to guard her room. He’s standing with his forehead pressed to the door, fist still resting where he had knocked. As she watches, he pushes himself away, takes a step back and fixes the barrier with a stare she cannot see enough to read the meaning of. 

Fine. Jyn hoists herself off the bed and slams her hand on the button to open the door, turning her back before she can see Cassian’s face and returning to her safe perch on the edge of her bed. 

He’s never been in her room before, she catches the intelligence officer in him stirring, eyes quickly scanning the area, absorbing what details there are to obtain from her few, scattered belongings. 

When he looks at her, she raises an eyebrow, challenging. “What?”

For a moment he only stares at her, a stare that makes her skin itch and her face warm, her fingers curling into the palm of her hand. When he finally speaks, he speaks quietly, “I care. I don’t want you to think I have eyes for…” 

“Cassian,” Jyn cuts in, “it’s late. I already told you I’m okay just–”

Something changes in his expression, some hint of frustration making itself known, and a soft growl of exasperation escapes him. 

Before Jyn can open her mouth again, Cassian has stepped forward, taken her face in his hands and planted a firm kiss on her lips. “I only want you,” he breathes, forehead pressed to hers, a hand still holding the back of her head. “If you really don’t care, that’s fine, but I need you to know, to understand, that for me? You’re it. Alright?”

Jyn finds herself no longer capable of lying. To herself or to him. 

She pulls Cassian back to her. 

“Good morning, sunshines,” Bodhi says cheerfully as Jyn and Cassian approach the table, plates piled high with what passes for ‘breakfast food’ on base. “Cass, we missed you the rest of the night, you never came back. Where’d you wander off to?

Cassian steals a quick glance at Jyn, taking note of her disheveled hair, imagining his might appear equally unkempt. She gives a slight, secret smirk meant just for him. “Nowhere,” he tells Bodhi, through a smile that mirrors Jyn’s. 

When it comes to Cassian Andor, Jyn still finds herself lying to others from time to time, but she concludes that it is a practice that is much more enjoyable when shared. 

#rebelcaptain drabble #rebelcaptain #still gonna tag it that way just cause...idk it doesnt feel like a FULL fic #ask b anything #b writes #(im gonna keep taking these for a little bit cause they are definitely helping me with my chronic overthinking atm) #(you can click the title to access the prompt list!) #jyn x cassian

[evergreen-femme]

diarypost bc im too high to think abt anything else now

ok so. i fell in love with everyone i hooked up with back then. except the tgirls. they felt a little bit too real to even fully acknowledge. like i was so flimsy and fake and unreal that i couldn't even touch them without noticing my unrealness. i was deep deep deep in the closet. i wasn't a good guy. my boy costume was an ironic video game 4chan memer and not even a good one lmao. but he was also angry as fuck inside. he was a bad person tbh and im glad he's gone (said as i acknowledge and accept responsibility for the harm i did on other people back then).

but fuck. how am i supposed to continue like this? waking up from what feels like it had to be a fucking coma and im suddenly in my early 30s. i lost my whole fucking childhood and didn't know why. i could never figure any of my transness out until i stopped going to fucking 4chan for one. but there was so much. a girl mistaking me as a woman from behind in the food lion in 2016 and my heart fucking soaring. but i still couldn't acknowledge it or even think about it the boy disguise had become malignant. rotted over the core of me and completely obliterated my consciousness.

how do i wake up NOW and it feels like its already too late for everything i ever wanted? i mean i guess that would be a fitting punishment for how i was as a boy¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#diaryposting

[iamthekaijuking]

The God Children of Ana Chapter 12: Animam Agere

The death of the Locolichi king was celebrated by all and both Keshali and Locolichi were excited for the new future that would await them.

If only fate would be so kind.

The supercharged plagues the god children had kicked up during their meltdown gradually rained across the planet. While Queen Ana and her fleet were safe in orbit, the Locolichi and Keshali down below were not so lucky. All life on the planet became infected by the cocktail of pathogens. The sicknesses Poreskoro produced were all radioactive genetic degenerative diseases, and when mixed with the plagues of their siblings the most peculiar thing happened. As a result of the cesspool of filth and disease and the inability for cells to undergo apoptosis due to Poreskoro’s ailments, all life on the Locolichi homeworld degenerated and merged together to form cancerous mats.

It was not long after that the god children rose from their energy comas as well.

Between the disease ridden world below them and the tectonic apocalypse happening on their homeworld thanks to their destroyed moon, the Keshali aboard the fleet had given up hope. There was nowhere for them to go. But Ana had an idea. In the safety of a ship, she approached her children, and asked if they could open up a portal to somewhere where her people could thrive and begin anew. The god children complied and as they opened up a portal to a new solar system they said their goodbyes to their mother and told Ana they loved her. She lied and said she loved them too and asked for them to not follow for her people’s safety before she and her fleet disappeared beyond the veil.

The god children were finally alone and free together, and they decided to stay together. Echoes of the Locolichi king lived on in their bad relationship habits, but they tried their best to be somewhat functional.

Eventually they would have their own children, but much like their father did with them, they forbid their children from portaling to other universes. Any who tried were hunted down and dragged back. Some of the most powerful of their progeny managed to escape their grasp, but most didn’t and were stuck with their progenitors. Because nine individuals is not enough to establish a breeding population, eventually subsequent generations of their guardian offspring succumbed to inbreeding and became stunted monsters. Mindless and treated as food and playthings by their progenitors.

The god children could portal to other universes and explore new frontiers, and while they occasionally did so (much to the frustration of their progeny), they felt as though they had everything they’d need right where they were. And they stayed there, long since the cancerous mats across the world had grown and merged together, long since it had grown so much that it overtook the entire solar system, long after the core of their planet had cooled and their sun died, and long since entire biospheres had risen and fallen from the disease riddled galaxy of cancer.

The god children have remained there to this day.

First chapter, Previous chapter

———————————————-

Here it is! The final chapter of the God Children short story. For something meant to serve as a sort of introduction to the kind of stuff to expect from GUARDIANverse stories, this sure took a long time. Thank you for reading!

#children of ana #god children of ana #the god children of ana #GUARDIANverse

[digitaldoeslmk]

I made a bit too many apple "fritters" (apple rounds (or half rounds, sometimes coring is not perfect) coated in batter and pan cooked, anyone wants one? Apple is an old variety that goes perfect cooked (it's not overly sweet and you'd need to eat half your body weight to approach food coma)

I'm going to experiment with other fruit when it becomes available at the market

OOOOOH FOOD!!!

man i love fruit fritters, they are So Good TTATT darn it,, now you made me hungee!!!!

[phoenixyfriend]

Mace windu and anakin for the detailed character meme?

A more detailed character meme! Send me a character and I’ll answer…

Mace:

What I like about them: He's got this incredibly strong moral core, and despite his fanon reputation, he's amazingly understanding about the things that are genuinely difficult to understand and come to terms with. Mace understands anger and Falling, yes, has struggled with these things even, but he's come through as one of the strongest, fairest, most respected Jedi in the Order, and he is... honestly every time I think about him and Obi-Wan reacting to Depa waking up from her post-Fall coma, I'm just like [jennyslate-drunkhistory-im-like-SCREAM.gif] about their understanding and forgiveness and listen he gets such a bad rap for being 'stern and unyielding' but his actions in canon are all so positive and his fanon reputation is entirely built on The Specific Delivery that GLucas insisted on for all the actors in TPM and just. [scream] I love him.

What I dislike about them: The comic where he lets Palpatine have access to Anakin at 12. It's not canon anymore but I don't Like it.

Favourite moment: His immediate response to Anakin telling him about Sidious. There wasn't any doubt, he just fully believed this admittedly unstable subordinate, because even if Anakin lies a lot and everyone knows (see: Padme situation), he fully believes that Anakin wouldn't lie about something as important as this. Runner up is Mace complimenting R2D2 in TCW.

Least favourite moment: Uhhhhh I don't have a least favorite moment, so to speak? I do hate his character design in TCW and '03, it's... I know everyone's features are exaggerated for the animation designs, but for him it feels as though the features exaggerated for Mace were kind of um. Riding the line of racism.

A situation with this character that I want to see explored more: I wish for more scenes where he and Anakin are alone together. I want to see one or both of them in a slightly negative situation, like injury or illness, and the other having to handle that. Both directions are good, in different ways. More generally, I want to see more one-on-one interactions between Mace and younger Jedi. I want to see those character dynamics! Show me Mace with Depa or Aayla or Ahsoka!

An interesting AU for this character: I'm always down for those "Mace survives RotS" AUs, they can be so good.

A crossover: Not counting the obligatory "Mace and Nick Fury have to interact" MCU crossovers? Hmmmm put him in Twilight. Just to see what happens.

OTP (or OT3+ etc…. just… favourite ship): I don't really do a lot of Mace ships (just the time-travel one), but I really enjoy seeing Mace/Qui-Gon in fic.

Other ships? I did write Mace/Jaster recently for an event, and that was fun, but also funny since I'm open to Mace/Jango. I'm also, obviously, a fan of Mace/Anakin in a time-travel context.

BROTP: Depa (obviously) but also...

NOTP: I'm sorry but Ponds. The power/age difference bothers me and the character dynamic I imagine is much more Best Coworkers than anything romantic.

An assortment of headcanons! - Generally kept to short cuts and fades before he went with shaving. Not counting his padawan braid, I don't think he really experimented much with growing out his hair for braids or knots or locs. Googled a few haircuts for black men and I think a normal fade and 'the Duke' might be about the area I'd consider him in. Might have done some shorter locs (like two inches) or the like, but that's about it. - He 100% knows that Padme and Anakin are going at it like rabbits whenever they're in driving distance of each other. He does not know they're married, but he knows Padme's pregnant before Anakin does. - I want to say that he doesn't have any food allergies, but does have a topical allergy, like skin contact types? Maybe space eucalyptus.

Anakin:

What I like about them: Absolute disaster man. Wet cat energy. Gender as hell. Unhinged. So easy to save and push in a better direction. So easy to turn into a complete monster. Impossible to be boring.

What I dislike about them: Bro he killed babies.

Favourite moment: Bickering with Obi-Wan in the arena in AotC while not even noticing that Padme's being all competent behind him.

Least favourite moment: He murdered babies. So. The Tusken slaughter.

A situation with this character that I want to see explored more: Willing confession of the Tusken slaughter and submitting himself to the fallout without whining about it or continuing to try to justify it to himself.

An interesting AU for this character: I have dozens for him. Just. So many AUs about this lovable moron.

A crossover: Anakin commits a homicide in 1890s London and now Sherlock Holmes is trying to find him.

OTP (or OT3+ etc…. just… favourite ship): Rexanidala, slight bias to Rexwalker.

Other ships? So many??? Anifives, Lumakin, Windwalker, Codakin, Barrakin, Foxakin, Anakin/501st, Bokkin, Anakin/Organas, Obikin (if only as a reader)... the list goes on.

BROTP: Obi-Wan and Ahsoka, definitely.

NOTP: Despite my openness to Obikin as a reader, and it having sixteen years and raising from age nine and years parenting, I run into that shape of a block with An*soka, despite them having significantly less Messy Dynamic in all directions. Like. It exists! I see it! But I do not wish to read it. Just. Cannot brain it. I tried and it doesn't work for me.

An assortment of headcanons! - Fucking. Gender. - Develops a shellfish allergy around 20 - Likes spiced food (like Indian 'mixed spices', rather than 'burn your mouth' spicy) - Had a rage crush on Mace as a teenager that nobody is ever allowed to know about (it's not as good a secret as he thinks)

#star wars #mace windu #anakin skywalker #shipping #phoenix answers memes #the clone wars

[bellysoupset]

How would each of your characters react to realizing they accidentally overate during a group outing? (Separate scenarios or all together be that could be fun too)

Maybe the full, bloated feeling only hits them as they stand up from the table, or maybe they feel their clothes hug their belly uncomfortably while they're still sitting down.

Who gets embarrassed and tries to hide it? Who feels nauseous almost immediately? Who gets whiny and clingy because their stomach hurts? Who gets hit with a food coma? THE POSSIBILITIES HERE

Oh man this ask 🥵🥵

The answer is long.

Bella - gets pulled into a food coma and will.not.care. Bell has that Hot Girl characteristic where she's aware she's hot and she doesn't care to "mess it up". So she will unzip her pants, she will cup her food baby and make jokes, she will whine to Lucas and promptly fall asleep on his shoulder regardless of where they are and with whoever they are. It's very rare she gets queasy. The only occasion where I can see her seeing a little more quiet about feeling stuffed is if they're with Vin's parents, but that's about it.

Vince - Vin has an incredibly capacity, so it takes A While for him to be hit with the stuffed bloated up feeling. If it's just your regular ate-too-much tummyache he'll lean back and breathe through it until he can go somewhere more private to rub it. He enjoys the feeling. If it's with the core group he doesn't care, but he has manners and won't be burping in a restaurant (unless it's Fredo's, then it's whatever). However if it is because of lactose intolerance kicking in, then Vince goes from pleasantly stuffed to very frantic. He hates feeling crampy, they hit him straight in his emotional side, so he'll get sullen and get away from people as fast as he can.

Lucas - Luke also takes quite a lot of food to be stuffed up, but once he hits that "on my limit" feel? QUEASY. He gets so burpy and indigested, reflux hits practically immediately and he's hunched over, clammy, all the nine yards. He's whiny and he loves being taken care of, for small stuff such as this, and he'll whine to Bell especially, but to anyone willing to hear too. Belly rubs help, but mostly he needs to lie down and not think about food until it goes down.

Wendy - Wen had body issues back when and it hits her all over again when she puts herself in these situations. She hates being burpy and queasy around people because she ate too much, she feels like everyone is judging, like they can hear every single noise, her clothes are clinging to her... She gets very upset and very quiet, wanting to curl up and die. It's not the same as other types of nausea, it's specifically when it's tied to an ate-too-much tummyache.

Jonah - Jon isn't a talkative person by default and he's even less talkative when he's stuffed up. He'll burp shamelessly and he'll undo his pants and do whatever to make himself feel better, but there's none of the teasing quality that Vin and Bella possess, none of the whining. He's just a pragmatic guy and people can deal with it. If he's alone with Leo he gets a little more tactile and leans on tummy rubs, but even then he's not very vocal, just all appreciative little hums and getting knocked out.

Leo - He'll want to try and keep decorum in public. This boy is quiet and somewhat SHY, alright. Very much like Wen he feels like people are all looking at him and he gets very quiet and wanting to play it cool, no matter how crampy or bloated his belly is. If he starts to get nauseous he'll get restless and want to leave immediately, because he'd hate to make a mess (he gets nauseous pretty easily, Leo's tummy kinda hates him). If he's drunk then he's more shameless. He'll still get bloated and nauseous, all queasy, but he gets whiny and makes a point to ask for rubs - easily with Jon, a little more shyly with the others, but would still do it if he's tipsy enough.

#this was so hot to type lmao #myocs