#me trying to remember if having key words in the posts will make them show up in the tags

[doughma]

some time ago i got tagged in the twst ask meme w/e and me n my friend wanted to redo them since its been a year and our tastes have changed and, i have no where else to post this big ass blog post so dont look at me

Would you be a mer, a beastman, a fae, or a human? (or other!)

most of the time i like the human option cause its the default and what i would be if i got transported in and also human/non human is always top tier BUT i also played with the idea of my yuusona being a fae or more specifically the twst version of tinkerbell so id like either human or fae

Would you be at rsa or nrc?

NRC hands down, im too chaotic neutral for rsa i would go insane there i may look cute and very femme but the way i talk is anything but lady like and i dont wanna hear the gasps from rsa students when i tell them to fuck off

What dorm would you belong to?

tests gave me pomefiore which i absolutely accept, but i woudnt mind diasomnia either for the uniform lol but pomef with the poison potion makin love would be the most fun imo even if vil and i would butt heads all the time

What character(s) would you be best friends with?

imm just go down the list of every dorm Heartslabyul: tbh tbh, probs fucking none of them MAYBE DEUCE but honestly all their first impressions i would just avoid the whole ass dorm all together

Savanaclaw: all of them, idc i see fluffy ears and tails and im already making my way over to try and get them to agree and let me pet them I WILL DO ANYTHING TO SHOVE LEONAS EAR INTO MY FUCKING MOUTH also im a women so its already in my favour with them, ruggie would be easy to befriend because its in his dna to be submissive to women and we both love doughnuts, leonas gonna take some work but MY BOY I PROMISE THIGH AND TITTY PILLOW IF YOU LET ME PLAY WITH YOUR EARS AND HAIR PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE IM BEGGING JUST ONE CHANCE- and oourgh jacks so cute and big and would have the best reactions because hes tsun i cant help but wanna pet and tease him i OUGGRHU

Octavinelle: azulu, MAYBE maybe floyd maybe maybe! maybe tweels! maybe! it really fucking depends because ill give they a pass for chapter 3 because theyre fish people and my burning curiosity would make me forgive them just to be able to ask them questions about being mer folk and maybe try to ask if i could touch them while theyre fish people LIKE LISTEN I JUST LIKE TOUCHING FISH OKAY???? I LIKE THE SLIMEY FEEL IM SO DAMN CURIOUS AND IM DYING TO TOUCH AN OCTOPUS my personal need and love for fish would win over their wrong doings, that one voice clip of THEY WERE THE BEST TRIO AROUND what about the people they murdered WHAT MURDERS???? is how i feel about them

Scarabia: none. chapter 4 would have ended differently if i was there and it would have been violent. kalims also too sunshine boy for my tastes even if i would humor him if he talked to me but i would just find it too exhausting to deal with on a personal level

Pomefiore: rook! i love my fucking hunter mans! i love how weird and passionate he is and i wanna hear all the gossip i KNOW HE KNOWS AND HEARS and i wouldnt judge him for being a fanboy because honestly same lol i got that obsessive trait in me too bbgirl i understand show me more pictures of neiges knee caps i would love to see it vils a maybe but honestly, even if i wish to pull him into a deep kiss and then choke him out i dont really see the two of us getting along

Ignihyde: oh both of them easily, orthos the cutest baby brother and i would love to hug and care for him and tell him all kinds of praise and HES SO CUTE HES THE BABIEST AND NEEDS TO BE PROTECTED idia because were both reclusive gamers and i wouldnt care to hang out with him irl he can hmu on the twst discord and we can vc game together hed be the best gaming buddy

Diasomnia: i dont care for silver im sorry, hes so pretty but he has the personality of someone i would just look over and forget he was even there sebek LOL sebby my sebz,,, mr sebster,,,,, emotionally i love that stupid fucking croc, realistically? the moment hes too loud, im already leaving the room and judging from a distance lilia is my gamer bbfy #2 i love grandpa bat sm UGH hes so cute and small god i wanna hold and HE WOULD FUCKING LET ME i think my talk of calling myself mommy would amuse him malleus is a funny case tbh! his horns and whole demeanor would interest me and im walking over to ask if i can touch his horns also begging crying PLEASE LET ME TOUCH THEM his little gaogao kun would be a fun topic because i love tamagotchi and i would want one lol and wed probs let them met up and play with each other :]

What character(s) would you hate?

Ace. hes a cunt idc tho like respect ig because he doesnt care hes an asshole and doesnt change so like you do you ig? but i would hate him! like from the moment he made fun of you for not knowing the seven it was already over, i would have started a fight right then and there with him and thrown hands I COULD FUCKING TAKE ACE HONESTLY EVEN AS A GIRL hes all bark and if you start to get physically it would throw him off at first and thats more than enough time to get at least one punch to his face, hes deff the type that likes to bully out of affection but im someone who fucking hates that so it would never work out even if we had a decent first impression

epel, sorry hime it just aint happening i LOVE my cute shit and anything i find cute and he would react poorly to our first meeting and me calling him a cutie pie and im not here for people who have over reactions to the most nothing of anything like if you have personal problems with those kinds of things, thats a YOU problem and you need to work on that yourself and not snap at people you just fucking met, id forgive him if he apologized but i still wouldnt wanna get close to him and would still side eye him scarabia, chapter 4 just ruined it honestly like jamil, i dont care how fucking hot you are the canon ruined you for me. gods tho hes so fucking hot and it sucks I WOULD HAVE FORGIVEN HIM IF HE APOLOGIZED IN CANON BUT NOOOOOOOOOOOO- i also dont hate kalim but IM TOO FUCKING TIRED FOR HIS CHARA TYPE OKAY

What character(s) would you date?

i still kinda like the idea of dating rook because i do like the idea of someone being obsessed with me, but on the other hand my jealous hand....... rooks a man of love for everyone and i respect that but i wouldnt be able to truly handle it if im being honest IM SORRY ROOK I LOVE YOU AND I LOVE YOUR HUNTER PERSONALITY AND THE THRILL OF THE HUNT BUT I WANT A MAN THATS ONLY GONNA LOOK AT ME AND I KNOW I CANT FUCKING COMPETE WITH VIL OF ALL PEOPLE WAHHHHHHHHHHHH leona is honestly a chara i didnt expect to love as much as i do now because it hit hard how compatible we are- also hes a leo and aquarius can get along well with leos an- but um in my obsessive au writing for leona he really is my fucking type god do i wanna just take a nap with him and gently brush his hair and take care of him and LEONA IF YOURE LOOKING FOR A NEW MOMMY IM RIGHT FUCKING HERE MY THIGHS ARE FAT AS FUCK ugh i just love a man thats pathetic and depressed it makes me wanna give them the motherly tender love they need and fix them OR make them worse depends on how im feelin atm i also kinda feel id be a good or okay match for azul idunno? hes also kinda pathetic but in the cute way i wanna squish his face and coo at him and then violently shove my tongue down his throat, hes also someone who needs tender love and im here to provide it I ALSO WOULD BE DOWN TO FUCK AN OCTOPUS its on the bucket list idia but only because we fit the image couple thats tall skinny dark punk dude with his thick high femme pink gf, im the EXCUSE YOU HE ASK FOR NO PICKLES gf and in my monster fuckers dreams, malleus lilia and sebek are also on the list because PLEASE ITS ON THE BUCKET LIST I NEED TO FUCK SOMEONE NON HUMAN BECAUSE I GO BACK TO MY WORLD PLEASE-

What would floyd’s nickname be for you?

maybe frilled shark lol, i dress cute but im also elusive when i wanna be and dont like to personally share info about myself and not much is know about frilled sharks, im also bite first ask questions later WILL STAB AS A WARNING

and rook’s?

mademoiselle gaieté, or mademoiselle merriment is still absolutely it, im forever gonna have laughing as my talking filler/quirk its just apart of who i am as a person and how i talk i cant help it

What twst character(s) are you most like? (personality-wise)

floyd still, we are both moody bitches and can change at a drop of a hat tho im better at controlling it and getting over it without having a reaction at the other person, as long as they leave me alone for at least five mins i tend to get over it nicely if you leave me alone for a bit and let me calm myself down instead of bugging me more about it or continue to poke at me cause then im gonna get mad and violent also a little like leona with being stubborn as a person and not wanting to change and being a lazy fucking cat like bitch lol i took a test once and got trey so, do with that info as you will

Which subject(s) do you think you would excel at?

normal stuff probs math or art, but which one i would be doing my best at because i want to? potionology because it SOUNDS FUCKING COOL MAN IT SOUNDS LIEK SM FUN TO BE A LITTLE WITCHY GIRLY WITH MY WITTLE CAULDREN MAKING SOME POTIONS and because i also want to bark for crewel papa

What club would you join?

im still forever on the board games club man it just sounds like fun and i only wanna do clubs that is fun also azululu and idia are there so its a fun club with some people id be friends with so even more fun!!!! another fun one imo would be science club since theres all the new magical flowers this world has and potion making??? it would be fun to experiment and learn new things tho clubs i personally was in during my school days were art club and the recycle club

How do you think you would survive in twisted wonderland/what would your life be like in general?

i still personally think i would be okay, like im alive, tho emotionally? depends really. i think i probs would be a little more aloof and standoffish being taken away from my family and brother and would be a little worried about my brothers mental state with me being suddenly gone that it might make me crack a little when im alone at night like a bitch might cry herself to sleep and be more snappy with random students talking or bothering me but im also very used to being alone in life, at work, at school, so being the only girl might cause me to be alone further so i dont think it would bother me that much and id be able to handle it fairly well tho i might end up clinging to a teacher or crowley lol like after school im just gonna go hang out with crewel to see if he needs help with anything like IM A LONELY LITTLE PUPPY PAPA PLEASE LET ME DO SOMETHING WAHHHHHHHHHHH and tbh i probs would end up in the science club because of him kdfngfdjkgnjkfd i used to be an assistant teacher for a pharmacy class during covid and helped teach the students that were ready for iv making while he dealt with the new students so i wouldnt mind helping out the teachers with paper work and grading since its sometime ive done and enjoyed but overall maybe a little lonely life until i find friends but not anything i wouldnt be able to handle, and im not above whining to crowley for stuff since i am now in his care lol

[optional!] What would your unique magic be?

still probs anything that would freeze or petrify the people i use it on lmao a UM that would make people leave me alone is perfect imo my brother likes to joke that i am a ice queen so its fitting

[ninii-winchester]

What’s a girl gotta do

Pairing: S1! Sam Winchester X Reader

Word count : 1.7k

Warnings : heavily based on s1 ep3 (Dead in the water), mentions of drowning, fluff, no Jess au.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

Y/n was driving to Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin. An eighteen year old girl went swimming into the lake but never came back, no body found. She figured it might be her thing. She was driving to her destination but she saw a very familiar car parked outside a diner. It was the infamous black Chevy Impala. She should've know he'd be here. She parked her car right beside it and got out of the. She watched Dean walk out of the diner with the car keys in his hands.

"As soon as I saw this beauty I knew an ugly Winchester would be around as well." She commented leaning against baby.

"Y/n/n." Dean exclaimed opening his arms for her to jump in. Y/n hugged her best friend. "What are you doing here?" He asked pulling apart.

"Same as you. You're going to Lake Monitoc too?" She replied. "Sophie Carlton I'm guessing?" he nodded.

The diner door opened again and Sam walked out. The tall boy watched Dean talking a woman, her face was hidden by Dean's broad shoulders. Sam rolled his eyes as he approached his brother but froze when he saw who he actually was talking to.

"Sammy?" Y/n questioned as he appeared behind Dean. She pulled him in for a hug and he blushed slightly. "I thought you were at Stanford?" She exclaimed.

"Yeah i was but we're looking for dad, now." He replied with a tight smile. "And it's Sam." He added remembering she called him, 'Sammy.'

"Is it now, Sammy?" She teased making Dean laugh out loud and he blushed furiously.

Y/n had been Dean's best friend since they were thirteen. They met each other when Dean was hunting with John and Y/n was with her father but she got separated from him. The Winchesters found her, helped her reunite with her father. Dean and Y/n clicked immediately, finding friends your age as a hunter was a difficult task, so the two of them jumped at the opportunity to become friends.

They visited each other frequently, Y/n played with nine year old Sam and was always friendly with him. As they grew up, Sam quickly developed a crush on the older girl. He was blush immensely when she would ruffle his hair or tell him he looked cute. It wasn't often a pretty nineteen year old girl noticed fifteen year old boy, even if she didn't mean it romantically, Sam basked in her attention.

Every time he watched his older brother drag her away for a hunt or even to show her something cool, he felt disappointed, he thought that someday his older brother will sweep her off her feet and she'd be much more interested in him rather than a little boy like Sam.

For years Sam thought he never stood a chance with his older brother in the picture, he thought his brother might feel something for her and he didn't want to break his brother's heart. But his doubts were cleared when Dean once kissed Y/n to get rid of his latest hook up, but he pulled away yelling,

"Never let me do that again. Ew you're like my sister."

Sam thought Y/n might feel something for Dean, thinking he's older and probably a better choice. But after watching her beat his brother into a pulp for the stunt he pulled, Sam felt relieved that it was all platonic. Even then he didn't think he'd ever get the chance to be with her. He thought he'd always be four years behind.

Then, Sam left for Stanford, cutting off ties with his father and brother. He never thought he'd get to see her again. Seeing her again made him feel giddy, the butterflies in his stomach were doing summersaults.

"Alright folks, you can catch up later we have a case to work." Dean said walking towards the drivers side.

"Let me drive." Y/n said to her best friend before he could deny she shot her best puppy dog eyes.

"Good try but no." Dean said getting in the car.

"Fine. SHOTGUN!!!" She stuck her tongue out at Sam before opening the passenger's side door and getting. Sam shook his head with a smile gracing his lips. He wouldn't have fought with her to sit in the front seat, hell he would've fought Dean to let her drive if she'd asked him to. She's got him wrapped around her finger and doesn't even know it.

Sam got into the confined backseat, struggling a bit to fit his long legs in the small space. Y/n placed her get over the dashboard as Dean drove to their destination.

"Hey feet off the dash." Dean remarked tapped her calf, shooting her a glare, one she was immune to. "Y/n/n I will cut your hair in your sleep." He threatened knowing how much loved and cared for her hair. Sam thought she had really pretty hair. And it smelled so good all the time.

Y/n rolled her eyes before pulling her feet off the dashboard, letting out a huge sigh.

"Oh man, what's a girl gotta do to be loved around here." She spoke dramatically. She grinned at Sam in view mirror, "what do you think, Sammy?" She asked him and his face turned red.

She enjoyed watching him get all flustered and squirmy when she teased him. She thought Sam was cute, not in a chubby little boy kind way, but cute in a charming way. She like his smile, and that messy mop of hair on his head. She wondered how it would feel to run her hands through them.

"How about shutting up, sweetheart?" Dean quipped watching the interaction between his best friend and his little brother.

Dean knows his brother is whipped for Y/n and she has talked his ear off, gushing over his brother. He's all for them being together, in fact he's rooting for them. But if he has to sit through their miserable attempts at flirting or giving each other sickeningly irritating heart eyes when the other isn't looking. He will throw up.

The trio soon arrived at the victim's house. They talked to the vics brother finding out that his sister was a varsity swimmer and it was impossible for her to drown. They asked Will a few more questions before heading to the police station.

After talking to the Sherrif they found out that they didn't find anything in the water, which could've done that, dam is falling apart so the lake won't be here any longer, since they're not getting any money to fix it.

After Will Carlton was found dead, the trio did alot more digging around for a while and found out, that Sherrif and Bill Carlton had a friend named Peter Sweeney who disappeared years back. It become clear that Jake and Bill had a hand in his disappearance. They found Peter's bike buried in Jake's backyard.

It took a while before Jake confessed, that he and Bill accidentally pushed Peter in the lake and they let him drown, so there's no body to salt and burn to put the vengeful spirit to rest.

It all happened too fast when Lucas was being pulled into to the lake, it was Peter. He wanted  Jake to suffer, watch all his loved ones die, just like he did to Bill. Just like, how Peter's mother felt when he disappeared.

They heard Andrea call out for her son, it only took Y/n and Dean a second to jump in the water to save him. The two kept looking for Lucas but he was nowhere to be found. Sam held Andrea back from jumping into the water.

Jake walked into the lake willingly, hoping Peter would take him instead of his grandson and in hopes that after getting his revenge he'd leave his family alone. Y/n felt something pulling her under the water and she felt herself drowning. She could make out a shadow, which looked like a pale little boy. But then suddenly, it let her go.

Dean came above surface with Lucas in his arms. Sam helped the two up and Andrea hugged her son close to her chest. The brothers looked at lake, Y/n should've come up by now. Peter took Jake, it should've been over. But Y/n fell unconscious under the water, intaking too much water in her body and unable to swim back up. Sam immediately jumped in the water to search for her.

"SAM." Dean yelled as he watched his brother jump into the water.

A few minutes later Sam surfaced ashore with Y/n in his arms. He laid her on the wooden dock and knelt beside her, his heart pounding. She was unconscious and not breathing. He quickly tilted her head back, pinched her nose, and covered her mouth with his, giving two rescue breaths. Then, he placed his hands on the center of her chest and began chest compressions. A few seconds later Y/n shot up with a loud gasp, coughing out water as she sat up.

"Oh god." She wheezed holding her head. "Is Lucas okay?" She asked looking at the little boy. His mother nodded in acknowledgement.

"You okay, Y/n/n?" Dean asked kneeling beside her.

Before she could reply Sam grabbed her by her neck and pulled her in for a harsh kiss. He kissed her like his life depended on it. His lips moved against her with fervour, his heart was hammering against his ribcage. She kissed him with equal force, her hands grasping at his damp hair. He rested his forehead on hers as he pulled away.

"Don't you dare scare me like that, ever again." He breathed heavily, his chest puffing with each breath.

"Drown!!" She chirped with a grin on her face. Sam looked at her, confusing lacing his handsome face. "A girl's gotta drown to be loved around here." She added with a giggle. Dean barked out a laugh at her stupid comment.

"I hate you so much." Sam rolled his eyes but had a huge smile on his face. Sam gently brushed a strand of hair from Y/n's face, and she smiled up at him, eyes sparkling with happiness. They leaned in for another soft, lingering kiss, sealing their new beginning.

[norrizzandpia]

i think this would suit lando but you being down and lando comes over later at night and takes you the park like two little kids, i can just imagine lando being a big kid at the park lmao

I’m going to need someone to love me like the fictional lando i write abt 24/7

We Can Be Kids For Right Now (LN4)

Summary: When her week has tried to suffocate her, Lando turns up at her door and forces her to remember just how worthy she truly is.

Warnings: mentions of heavy anxiety attacks, anxiety in general, language

Note: a draft bc im wrecked rn from this trip im on im so tried lol… I hate that I have to start saying this but I do not condone the reposting of my work without proper crediting or permission. If you wish to post my works elsewhere, it needs to be ran by me first by messages over Tumblr. If found that you have taken my works without my knowledge, I will report you and get my posts taken down from your blog.

Y/n never truly realized she did it until Lando, but when the man started to get close to her, he brought it to her attention that she so easily isolated herself when she started struggling. Even the smallest inconvenience and she shut down, something that irritated the hell out of Lando. Nevertheless, he loved her and the way she dealt with her emotions was something he knew she just needed to work on.

However, the problem they couldn’t get past was her ability to tell him when she was struggling. There were only so many times when he could see it written all over her face.

His comments urging her to open up to him when she was having a hard time dealing with it on her own bounced around in her head as she clutched her phone in her hands, his contact picture brightening her screen. His smile beamed back at her, almost coaxing her into tapping the call button, but her thumb hesitated. It wasn’t that she was afraid of telling him, it was that she was uncomfortable with her own emotions. Uncomfortable of leaning into them. Growing up, she was never given that ability, her parents not having the full capacity to address them head on. She never thought it truly affected her until Lando. She started realizing that he never gave her a problem to be scared, but she still was.

Her thumb had a mind of its own, though. Thankfully. And the ringing tone met her ears before she could even know what was happening. His picking up happened before she could even begin to think about hanging up the phone.

“Baby!” His cheery voice rang through the quiet room and warmed her tender heart. “What’s up? Why are you up so late? Do you want a sweet treat again?” He giggled, his TV pausing in the background.

She was silent. Her mind raced as she tried to make the split second decision of telling him or not. Though, in her silence, he began formulating an answer.

“Y/n…” He whispered, blankets rustling as she imagined him sitting up on his couch.

“Lan,” She said brokenly, albeit with an effort of trying to sound strong.

Keys rustling and his rushed, “I’m on my way, baby,” were her response.

—

Lando knew where the spare key was. It was one of the first things he asked the location of after they first said I love you. Y/n would always laugh at that memory. What she was expecting after the three words were shared was a small kiss or a hug maybe, but no, he had asked her where her spare key was. When she showed him and he very clearly took a mental note of it, she asked him what was so important about it.

“I’m your boyfriend and we’re in love. I should know where the spare key is, baby.” He had said to her so nonchalantly, as if it was societally normal to have that thought process. She just shook her head at him and took the kiss she wanted for herself. He wasn’t going to do it anyway, too entranced in the image of her spare key under her doormat. He was shenanigans bundled into one person. She loved it.

His rapping on the door pulled her from her memories. She drudged over, taking a deep breath before opening the door. He stood there in his pajamas, puffer coat thrown over haphazardly, and stared at her sympathetically. He shuffled in, arm rounding around her shoulders as he kissed her head, “Hard day?”

She sighed, “Hard week.”

He led her to the couch. The layout of her apartment was memorized in his head. “What happened?”

“I just-” She picked at her fingernails and the anxiety she usually felt when Lando asked about her worries began bubbling up. Maybe it was growth, but she thought he’s already here, isn’t he? Might as well lean on him.

So, she did. Literally and figuratively.

Lando squeezed her body as her side laid on his and she started reliving the low moments of the past few days. “Everything has gone wrong this week. I just can’t seem to win and I can’t make anyone happy.”

Tears filled her eyes and a frown appeared on her face. She cried into his shoulder when he pushed her body further into it.

Lando sat with her for a moment, rubbing her back. “That’s not true, Y/n. You make a lot of people happy. You make me really happy.”

For some reason, his comment shot fear through her body and she pulled from him. Her eyes looked anywhere other than his and the irrational idea of an expectation Lando had set for her that she did not believe in herself to meet took control of whatever plan she had to open up to him.

Lando saw it in her eyes, how distant they got. He knew this was bound to happen. It had been too easy. She had opened up to him without that much restraint and he expected a moment to come where her walls rebuilt themselves.

He just wanted her to let him in.

His hands took her face, “You deserve me. You will not let me down. You could never let me down.” He said, knowing exactly what was running through her mind.

“Y/n, look at me.” He tilted his head to meet her eyes and forced her to keep his stare, “I love you. That will never change.”

She cried harder, “I can’t even open up to you, Lan. I’m not even a good employee at a job I’m overqualified for. Yesterday, I handed in that presentation to my boss that I had been working on for weeks and when I presented it to the board of all fucking people, there was a grammatical error on one of the slides. I had confused ‘your’ and ‘you are’, Lan. It was embarrassing. They laughed and joked about it after. I can’t even fucking do my job. And I upset my mum on Wednesday. I hung up on her during an argument and now she isn’t talking to me. I’m being condemned, Lan. I can’t fucking breathe. My dad’s texting me, telling me how disrespectful I had been, but nobody hears about the parts where she called me an irresponsible adult and ridiculed me for taking a job that didn’t make me that much. Nobody wants to hear my side of the story, the part where she was so grossly unsupportive. Then, I had to cancel on Cameron on Tuesday again because I’m so fucking tired and so fucking busy. She got mad at me and now we’re in this fight because I’ve neglected our friendship. I’m a shit friend, a shit daughter, a shit worker, and it’s so obvious I’m a shit girlfriend. I can’t fucking do anything right.”

By the end of her rant, she was breathless and Lando could see she was talking herself into an anxiety attack. Her hurtful words toward herself needed to be dealt with, but he needed to stop the panic seeping into her skin.

He took her hand and kissed her head, “Come with me, my love.”

She kept crying as he led her to his car, his arm wrapped around her body securely as he whispered words of reassurance in her ear. He reminded her of how strong she was, of how much he loved her and admired her for everything she was. How wrong she was about everything she had convinced herself of.

When he softly laid her in the passenger seat, he kneeled down and kissed her shoulder, brushing her hair off the skin lightly. He looked up at her with deep green eyes filled with safety, “Don’t listen to your mind right now, baby. It’s only telling you lies.”

He lightly closed the door, running around the car to slip into the driver’s seat. When he turned the engine on, his hand settled on her thigh and began rubbing softly. He backed down and drove down the road, toward a small park at the end of her street. It was quick, maybe a minute or two, and Y/n was still crying when they parked, but it subsided momentarily when she saw where they were.

“Why are we at the park?” Lando grabbed her hand and kissed the knuckles.

He laid his cheek down on the back of her palm, murmuring, “Because it’ll be fun to be kids for right now. Not have to think about what you’re going through. We can address that later.”

A sigh of relief left her chest. The moment he had given her an opportunity to run away from it all, even for a few minutes, she almost began to feel as though she would find peace.

He always knew exactly what to do.

She gathered herself, wiping away the tears and smoothing down her hair as Lando walked back to her door, opening it and offering his hand as help for her to get out of the car. She took it. She always would. The cold air hit her body and she shivered. Lando was immediate in offering her his coat.

She shook her head, “No, I’m okay for right now.” She was just now realizing how she hadn’t gone outside in days. The cold air made her feel alive again.

Lando’s hand continued to clutch hers as they took steps toward the large structure. When she let go of his, he tensed, but he relaxed when he saw her wandering over to the slides.

She climbed up the ladder, him following behind, and found herself sat in the entryway of the whirling slide.

“Wait, wait!” Lando yelped before she could push herself down. Her head whipped around to meet his eyes.

She smiled and her body warmed when his found a seat behind her, his body consuming her and his hands wrapping around the low point of her waist. His ear right beside her ear, he kissed the top of the skin, “Now, you can go. We can go down faster, no? Seeing as I go fast for a living.”

His questionable logic made her laugh before he was pushing them off and the two were turning fast around the corner of the yellow tube. Her giggling ensued with the way he jostled them around on purpose to make the slide more exhilarating for two twenty-four year olds. And in the heat of the moment, seeing her hair float in the air and a carefree smile on her face, Lando wished she could see herself the way he did. She was superb, unbelievable. She held the strength and courage of someone so commendable. She was kind even when she had seen things and experienced trauma so young that should’ve, understandably so, made her bitter. She was merciful even when she shouldn’t be and she loved Lando in a way he had only ever dreamed of. The way she treated him, the gentleness she approached him with, was something he knew he could never let go of. She was beautiful in so many other ways than just her appearance. She was deeply beautiful and he wished she could just understand that.

When they reached the end, their bodies stopping abruptly right at the edge, Y/n laid her head back against his shoulder. He kissed her temple, “Fun?”

She nodded with a smile, “Somehow, you did make it faster.”

He shot her a look, as if to question why she didn’t believe him in the first place. He pushed her off him, sprinting to the swings and screaming for her to follow him.

“Lando! Be quiet! You’ll wake up the entire neighborhood!” She whisper-yelled at him, laughing as she ran after him.

He threw himself in the seat and began swinging his legs, no doubt gaining momentum but beckoning her over for help nonetheless.

She stood behind him, bracing herself firmly on the ground as she pushed his heavy body up off the ground. When he would meet her back on the ground, he’d lean back so his back would almost come crashing into her front. It made her laugh.

“Lando!” He couldn’t see her, but he knew how radiant she must’ve been looking. Even in his head, he continued to fall in love with her.

She kept pushing him until her arms got tired and she flopped away from him, onto the ground, in a heap of heavy breaths. When he didn’t feel her small hands on his back anymore, he jumped off the swing and joined her on the ground.

It didn’t matter how cold it was or how dirty it inevitably was, they were together and Y/n’s smile lingered on her pretty face.

Lando’s hand laced with hers in between their bodies as he softly whispered, “You’re not a shit daughter, your parents don’t know what they have and they’re too emotionally immature to realize that. You’re not a shit friend, Cameron knows that, you’re just struggling and that’s okay. You’re not a shit worker, you’re actually heavily valuable to your boss and the people around you. They’ve all told you that. And Y/n, look at me,” She turned her head to meet his meaningful ones, “You are not a shit girlfriend. You are the complete opposite. You are everything I’ve ever wanted and could ever ask for. You have no idea how in love with you I am. It’s even hard for me to understand sometimes. There is no one I have ever loved, love, or will love more than you. You are the most important thing to me, so please stop talking about yourself in this way and believing in something that has never been true.”

Everything about the moment is gentle. From the way his thumb caressed her skin to the enunciation of every word that came from his mouth, he made it clear how much love prospers for her within him every day and every minute.

She turned on her side and took his cheek in her hand, “Thank you for helping me, Lan.”

His hand squeezed her waist, “Of course, my love. You’re my favorite.”

She felt her heart blush, if that’s even possible. Maybe her face was the one blushing? She didn’t know. The way Lando looked at her as if she started life itself made her mind feel fuzzy.

Fuzzy enough to realize he was right. She wasn’t a failure or a horrible person. She was a human who made mistakes and many people loved her in spite of it. Lando being one of them.

He loved her in a way she had always craved. She both needed and wanted him. So did he. They were the beginning and end of everything for the other. It showed well that night as they held each other on the concrete of that park. It showed well because, at one am on a random Saturday, Lando had dropped everything he has doing the moment he heard the anguish in her voice. It showed well because Lando’s clear words made Y/n realize he wanted her and no one else. There was no one else like her, no one to ever replace her. Not that he would ever want that anyway. She was completely unique in the most precious way and maybe… just maybe… she was beginning to realize that too.

[clawsdevour]

heyyy congrats !could I ask for lasagna, and go bowling? Thank you!

wasted speech

wc: 0.8k content warning: post-timeskip, reader is drunk, fluff, confession, tsukishima x f!reader, not proofread

-> lasagna : tsukishima kei -> go bowling : scenario where reader cant get over their ex and chara takes them to the club to take reader's mind off their ex (one sided trope!) ⏝ ི 𝄞 ྀ . * a/n: was kinda hard to plot this out but hopefully it isn't the worst thing you've read...

. ♪⃝ ✳︎ . 𓏸

“I just can’t get over him,” you told your best friend over the phone in congested sniffles.

Hearing a sigh on the otherend was all he needed to tell you that he’s not the best with words and comforting others, especially on the phone. The silence put on speaker was enough to remind you of your ex once more.

“Look.. how about we go out so you can forget about him. You’ve been cooped up in your house crying over him for days, you need to remember to enjoy life” Tsukishima groans out, trying his best to uplift your emotions that have been the same for days.

Processing his logical approach to consolidate you, you can’t help but feel ashamed now that you think about. You’ve been sobbing over a bum ass ex for days! You need to get out there and become a new person.

“O-okay.. Are you gonna pick me up?” wiping the tears off your warm red cheeks.

“Yeah, how about in twenty?” responding with a nod before hanging up the phone to get ready.

Getting up from your comfortable bed with a loud but suppressed groan, body almost limp from all the crying as you stood on two feet. Staring back at your multicolored closet, you chose whatever caught your eye first. That was.. Until you changed your mind and started rummaging for the perfect dress.

The skin tight black dress that showed just enough cleavage that could drive a man wild, was the one and only dress that made you feel confident that night. Sucking your curves in with it’s compact fabric that snatched your waist, even making you gasp when you looked at yourself in the mirror.

‘Okay.. thirteen minutes left ‘till Tsukki picks me up,’ you thought to yourself as you pondered what to do next to look absolutely stunning the moment you walk out your house. That’s right, makeup. You’ve been crying your eyes out for days on end, making you feel like the most disheveled person in the world.

Just a tad of makeup is gonna elevate your confidence and even your appearance. Quickly trying to compact all the steps into your look before you hear your door bell ring and echo down the hallway, you threw your shoes on and took your purse with you.

“Tsukki! Sorry you had to wait a bit..” opening the door almost out of breath as you were still getting that one heel on.

“Eh- you’re fine.. Are you ready to go?” looking down at your frantic complexion as you made sure you had everything you needed. Eyes mainly goggling at your gorgeous appearance you managed to throw together in twenty minutes.

“Yeah, well at least I think so” letting out a little laugh as you lead him out of the doorway to lock the front of your house.

At the club, you felt so overstimulated as you haven’t gone clubbing in a while. You knew you were gonna be okay as long as you had Tsukishima at your side.

“I don’t know if I can do this..” you yelled into Tsukishima’s ear with a worried expression displayed on your face. The overwhelming music and disco lights are making you feel compelled to turn back and leave.

Tsukishima’s unable to hear what you’ve got to say, but that look on your face sparks his concern as he takes your wrist to drag you to the corner where the music was less loud. Sitting down on the cold stool, the gloominess washes upon your face as you lose all confidence. Ordering a drink of his own and your favorite to sip on before turning his head to you.

“What did you say earlier?” raising his voice over the music.

“I don’t think I can do this!” yelling back, eyes averting at the refreshing usual placed in front of you while you stirred the contents around with the little stick provided before shoving it all back with one big gulp.

“Another one please,” sliding the bottom of the glass over to the bartender.

At this point, Tsukishima’s trying to talk you out of drinking even more contents of alcohol as you kept ordering more on his tab. You just wanted to block yourself from thinking about your ex, the atmosphere just wasn’t helping as you thought it would.

Just when you were about to swipe the drink from the table, Tsukishima reaches for it first. Making a disgusted face at him in a daze, he’s completely changed the expression on his face seeing become so intoxicated from the alcohol.

“You need to stop. It breaks me everytime I see you talk about him..” eyebrows furrowed laced with glossy eyes.

“He’s not the one and we both know it.. Let’s just say, I care. Deep down I.. I like you okay. Now let’s just get you home, you’re completely wasted” standing up from his seat, tense from the words he just said.

Grabbing you by your arm to help you stand up, still slumpt into your stool as his speech processed through your mind.

“Wait– what did you just say!?”

masterlist here | 1k event here

[kremlin]

after many years my old company has finally allowed people back into the office, haha, not to go to work, no no, solely to collect their belongings from their desks. i picked up my stuff and remembered what a psycho i was about my office back then, let me show you..

i set up an old VT-420 on a side of my desk to read my email on (to flex my computer dick) which is unfortunately a bit too yellowed now for me to post exposed but hilariously enough i did take the chance to fix the faulty RS-232 chip in it and i no longer get a bunch of keystrokes interpreted as ŸŸŸŸs randomly. the fix was great too, instead of having to throw the whole thing out like you'd need to today, i literally just had to pull the PTH chip out of its socket, didn't even need to desolder. nor throw the old one out. i blasted it with a blowtorch for about half a second and it's fine now.

(it is amber by the way, which is the best color)

the keyboard is another story, i think a lot of like, entry-level vintage computing people get this concept that every old keyboard is some treasure, and boy let me tell you, some of them make you want throw up, like the vt420's:

you'll have to take my word that the typing experience is pure ass, but if you look at this fucker for more than two seconds your blood pressure will start to raise. and i'm not just talking about the euro return key. where is the super key? and what is going on left of 'a'? did they decide to solve the age-old "caps lock vs ctrl" debate by putting both of them there (??) what the fuck is going on north of the arrow keys?!?! and even further north, 'help' is funny enough on its own, the fact its next to DO, a truly existentially puzzling key, makes it that much better. why is DO so wide?? why are there so many F keys? and apparantly 20 F keys wasn't enough, they had to go on and invent "PF" keys above the numpad. and it doesn't stop there..

the pre-USB world was pretty nuts, but most keyboards still had sane connectors like DE-9's, PS/2, DINs, etc, but not this one

it uses, a, uh, looks like an ethernet cable. weird. but look closer. six pins. AND, big honking square to key it specifically and make it incompatible with the very-similar already-existing 6P6C specification (why?) anyways, that's enough of this crap, moving on

this is the keyboard for my lisp machine, the famous "space cadet keyboard", i get so many fucking emails about this keyboard, christ almighty. people trying to buy it from me, it's a shame, the machines don't boot without them so seperating them to satisfy reddit guy wish fulfillment breaks my heart. it's a lot better. it's from an era where a good computer would set you back half a million and the hardware reflects it. honeywell made it, it's "solid state" insofar as that makes sense for a keyboard, uses the hall effect. there weren't any rats at my office but just in case i seem to have taped something to the underside:

lol. now for accouterments to cover those hideous eggshell white walls:

in order, openbsd, you know it baby, middle is a weird polish promo for the holy mountain, the last thing was a joke whose meaning has been lost to time. chicken and turkey!

i seemed to have been working on some very bizarre electronics projects, personal, during my workday:

god, what the fuck was this?

oh, duh, it's bort's hat. (??)

some reading materials. K&R C is a first edition, somewhat rare. the 9front manuals:

classic, natch. and a huge gear that's clapped

that's it. that's my office apparently.

[denwritesandcries]

Lose on losing Dogs – S.S

Pairing: shauna shipman x fem!reader

Summary: There she is. The first person you met when you moved into the neighborhood. Your first friend, your first crush, your first kiss and your first heartbreak. Your first grief is very much alive and looking at you in the eye now.

or, shauna comes back.

Word count: 1,2k.

Content: post-crash, angst, reunion, reader and shauna had something going on, hurt/barely any comfort, the consequences of the accident, traumatized teenagers.

Note: They’re both broken and traumatized your honor.

English is not my first language.

Nineteen months. Five hundred and seventy-nine days.

It's been 19 months, 2 weeks and 7 hours since you've last seen Shauna. Since you've seen any Yellowjacket, actually. Since the crash.

Now you're standing outside her room, staring at the door silently like an idiot after showing up at her parents' house wearing pajama bottoms and looking just as much of a mess as they do. Damn.

Her mother looked at you with so much relief when she saw you on her porch that she just rushed you inside immediately, looking like she might cry at any moment because “you’re the first person to come see her who isn’t one of those tv parasites." And well, you didn't say anything. What could you say? Last time you saw her was at her daughter's funeral.

Shauna is back, you think.

You've finished school, graduated. Left town. Started college. You got your own life now and still there wasn't a single day where you haven't thought about her. Remembering her. Mourning her.

And now she's back. Alive.

It still doesn't feel real, even though it is. You just have to open the door so you can see it for yourself. Why can't you open the door?

“Mom,” comes her voice from inside the room, probably having sensed your footsteps prowling the hallway, “I told you to leave me alone.”

The sound is so strange and yet so familiar that it makes you choke on air, feeling your eyes sting from the tears you've been holding back since climbing the stairs. Without wasting another minute, you step forward and open the door, not realizing what you're doing until your sweaty hand turns the handle.

The first thing you notice is that the room is cold, the curtains are closed, one of the dressers is visibly dusty as if no one has been there for a long time. A room inhabited by a ghost. The last thing you notice is the bundle of blankets in the middle of the bed, with a mess of brown hair scattered around the edge, and a barely touched plate of food on the desk.

Clearing your throat, you take a deep breath. “Shauna,” you call.

You see the exact moment she registers your voice and freezes, even though you can't see her face.

She remains still and curled up and you shift your weight from one foot to the other, nervous and embarrassed. Maybe she doesn't want to see you. What made you think that you of all people would be the one she wanted to come visit her after coming back from the dead and a freaking accident? You can still remember the screams and hurtful words directed at you the last time you two saw each other. Maybe it would have been better if you hadn't come.

“Shauna,” you try again, sounding as desperately as you feel, “It’s me. I came to see you— To see how you are.”

'Liar', replies a voice – very similar to Shauna's on that fateful night, the night before the crash – 'if you really wanted to see me or know how I was doing, you would have come the day the plane landed, like everyone else did.’

I was in another city, you think. Shauna spent weeks in the hospital. Nobody let me see her. They didn't let me see any of them. I came as soon as I heard that she had been discharged and returned home.

‘And yet you woke up and spent hours walking in circles around your childhood bedroom, car keys in your hand. You almost left.’

You startle when the pile of blankets suddenly moves again, revealing the shape hidden beneath them and then you're finally face to face. Shauna Shipman. Your Shauna. The first person you met when you moved into the neighborhood. Your first friend, your first crush, your first kiss and your first heartbreak. Your first grief is very much alive and looking at you in the eye right now.

She faces you in a way that is impossible to avoid. God, she seems so thin, hair wildly messed up, big, deep brown eyes with dark circles beneath them, pupils so glassy it hurts to look at it, and Shauna looks lost, kneeling in the middle of the bed, like it's impossible to believe that you could be there.

Shauna calls your name, sounding so incredulous and so incredibly sad that being two feet away from her seems absurd and you cross the room in a blink, sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching out to pull her against you, before thinking better and deciding to grab her hands instead. She shudders.

“You came,” Shauna says. Her voice sounds hoarse and worn, you imagine she hasn't used it much at home or in the hospital. “I didn’t think you would come.”

You can feel scars on her hands as your fingers move to rub circles over the skin, and a brief glance makes you aware of old, yellowed bruises on her wrists.

“I did,” your voice breaks. “Of course I did.”

She seems completely different from that girl you were in love with and dumped you so long ago. The aloof, almost cold girl you argued with when you caught her fucking Jeff in a car when you were walking home from a stupid high school party. This sure doesn't look like the girl who screamed “What, do you think we're girlfriend and boyfriend or somethin'? I've never said we were exclusive!” when you tearfully told her you loved her the night before the whole disaster happened.

But her eyes are the same. Intense, painful, hazy. And still difficult to decipher completely. That's what makes you hug her back when her lips tremble and she launches herself against you in a thrust that throws you back a little. She melts and sinks into your touch like she wants to be a part of you, just like she used to do before.

“It was horrible,” she groans against your neck.

Shauna cries. She cries badly. She cries ugly and loud, tears wetting your neck and shirt incessantly, as if she has desperately needed it for a long time. She clings to your shoulders as if you were her lifeline. She's sniffling and whimpering like a child.

You hold her silently, having no idea what to say, running your hand gently down her back to calm her and trying to ignore the fact that you can feel her spine and ribs through the old sleep shirt she wears.

You also have no idea how many hours have passed before her crying subsides to silent sniffles, but when you look out the window you can tell that it's already night outside, even with the curtains closed. It doesn't matter, you would hold her forever if Shauna asked, especially if she continued trembling like that.

The room is completely dark and silent when she finally speaks again.

“Jackie's dead.” She mumbles, voice completely defeated, zoned out as if she weren't really here.

“Oh, Shauna,” you mumble back, feeling your own tears spill as well. “I know. Everyone is dead.”

Everyone is dead, but she is still here.

You squeeze her as tight as you can in your arms, as if you can stop her from disappearing again. Shauna whimpers against you and sniffles harder, her nails on your shoulders scratch and draw some blood, the sound of her crying filling the room again even with her face hidden in your chest. You kiss her forehead and she keeps crying, but she's still here so everything is fine.

At least enough to not give up completely.

[lunaviee]

can i request where reader cant go to their match and they got angry which makes them say the word "i shouldve invite *ex's name*, she wouldve come." and reader reaction can be up to you! with rin and maybe chigiri? thank you so much and please stay hydrate! sending loves <33

OHHH MYYY GODDD ANONNN……..

the way i gasped so loud when i saw this OMGOMG

okay so, idk if you’re wanting PURE ANGST for this but like i’ll add fluff at the end anyway bc the more the merrier😇😁😁

OKAY SO UMM..i’m a procrastinator, it’s no secret. so uhh chigiris will be posted when i remember to work on it, sorry😭

“are you serious?” “you’re..kidding, right?”

chigiri hyoma and rin itoshi x reader (seperate) click here for chigiri’s

tags/warnings: angst to comfort, swearing, arguing, NOT PROOFREAD…

synopsis: if he’s so insistent on you being there to support him, why doesn’t he do the same?

a/n: i am SO SORRY this took so long </3 i got busy but this request is soo..chefs kiss i hope i did it justice😓

RIN ITOSHI—

the faint mumbles from the tv filled rin’s apartment as you made a quick snack to eat, knowing your boyfriend should be home any minute. you sat down on the couch to eat, turning the tv volume up as background noise while you looked out the window. it faced a gorgeous view of your city, along with a nice view of the sunset.

after some time, you were back in the kitchen to clean up a bit.

*click*

the jingling of keys indicated rin was home, a tad later that usual but you payed no mind to it.

“hey,” you smiled, “welcome home, how was practice?” arms wrapping around his neck as he set his bag down, taking his shoes off. his arm snaked around your waist to pull you closer to him, planting a kiss on your temple.

“eh, same as always. those lukewarm lunatics don’t know what they’re doing”

you hummed in response, rin pulling away from you to look you in the eye. he spoke again. “we have a game in a few days. you’re going, right?” it sounded more like a demand than a question.

“oh uh about that” you broke eye contact, a twinge of nervousness tainted your face. “i was given an extra shift at work so i’ll be swamped, i don’t think i’ll be able to make it, sorry”

his before softened gaze now pierced right through you, full of annoyance. “really? i thought you’d want to come to my games.” his arms left your torso and flopped to his side, lower back resting on the counter.

“i do! i always do..rin you know this, i go to your games when i can but lately i’ve just been more busy an-” you rambled.

he cut you off, “quit the excuses.”

“excuse me?” you replied, shocked at how his silver tongue was so quick to interrupt you.

“i get it. you’re busy. you don’t have to make up these half-baked excuses and try to make me feel better.” he moved from the counter, straightening his back and showing his full height, looking down on you as if you were less than him at that moment.

“excuses? rin, what the hell are you talking about? i’m being serious.” confusion swirled in your mind, what was up with him??

“you know, i never had these problems with *ex’s name*. she was always happy to come to my games. no excuses, no lies. every game, she was there. why can’t you be like that?” rin’s venom stained words singed into your brain, glints of annoyance pooled in his eyes. a twinge of guilt settled in his gut the minute those words spilled out of his mouth, but he payed no mind to it.

“what?” your eyes widened in disbelief, “are you fucking serious?”

how could he say that? sure, rin was petty and used bitter language when he was upset, but comparing you to his ex? that was a new low, even for him. after all of the crap you two talked about when mentioning both of your exes in the past, you’d assume he’d want absolutely nothing to do with her. right?

“why wouldn’t i be?” not once did his gaze leave your figure, was he serious? “she actually took my career seriously.”

you were beyond shocked, eyes narrowing as your brows knitted together. “invite her then.” you retorted. “maybe i will, maybe then i’ll have someone who actually supports me there.” he scoffed.

his words made your blood boil, eye twitching before you spoke again, “get out.” you gritted through your teeth, fingers fiddling with the hem of your (his) sweater as to not lose your cool.

“what?” he scoffed, not expecting such a response (he really should have, what was he thinking??)

“did i fucking stutter? or is your skull too thick to hear what i have to say. get. out.”

the strikers face further scrunched, yet not moving an inch. “this is my apartment. if you’re upset, then leave.” he brushed past you without a single regret as to what he had said, not entirely believing you’d actually leave, where else did you have to go?

“fine then.” you slipped your shoes on while dialing a number on your phone before slamming the door, leaving the rin to sit with his thoughts. you had much, much more to say, but the thought of having to stay in the same vicinity as you made your stomach churn.

who did you call? why, your best friend of course, who else would you trust with this information. sure, rin’s teammates weren’t bad people to open up to, but you needed someone who could understand your feelings through angry sobs and incoherent mumbles.

it was only a matter of time before you were sat on yours friends bed, angry tears burning your cheeks as you rambled on about how dumb your boyfriend was.

“break up with him” your friend mumbled, only half joking. “me personally, i wouldn’t stay with a man, nah, a BOY who brings up his ex when he’s mad..”

you lifted your head from the tear stained pillow to meet your friend’s gaze. “yeah but……ugh i hate when you’re right” your sentence ending with a laugh

“i’m kidding..kind of” she sneered “either way, screw him, ghost his ass until he comes crying at your doorstep”

“what??” you shot up from your position, now almost on top of your friend. she was faced you, a more serious expression painting her face

“seriously though, you shouldn’t have to deal with that shit [n/n], he has the be the one to apologize.” you nodded in response, good thing your friend had a bit more common sense than you did in that moment.

“yeah, you’re right, thanks”

“any time, now do you wanna stay here or are you good to go home?”

“i’ll stay here and bug you more”

“okay then” she laughed out, the two of you now laying on the bed on your backs, staring at the ceiling

• { time skip - two days later } •

the radio silence that came from rin was like torture, did he not care? not a single text or phone call, not even a message given from one of his teammates. it was hard to stay positive.

sure, he deserved the silent treatment, but he was your boyfriend. his company single-handedly made your days better. being separated because of a fight that he didn’t want to resolve was stupid.

your friend tried taking you out today to get your mind off of the situation. it was going well, up until you walked into your favorite cafe.

you were met with a face you were too familiar with. rin’s. his eyes widened in disbelief and he twitched, almost as if he was about to run after you. and so you and your friend took one good look at him and immediately left. if the argument was going to be resolved, it wasn’t going to be in a public cafe.

your friend pushed you by the shoulders as you both shuffled out of the doors, you pulling out your phone to find another place to go to at the same time.

“shit.” was the only thing that rin had managed to mutter out as he saw the two of you running away from the cafe. it’s not that he wanted to avoid you. it’s that he was ashamed. he was scared that nothing he would say would amount to enough of an apology for what he said.

rin was scared that this was the end of you two. his worst fears of losing the one person he knew loved and understood him were coming true and is was his fault. the past few days were filled with doubt and regret, his teammates even noticing his practices were depleting.

the rest of the day came and went, your friend dropped you off back at your apartment where you collapsed on the couch, left with your thoughts once again. you were about to just pass out on your couch and ditch work the next morning, like you have been for the past few days.

that was until you heard a frantic knock on your door, jolting you awake. your worried expression dropped to one of annoyance and bitterness; it was rin. but, he looked different. his usually blank expression was now one of exhaustion and hurt.

he’d been..crying?

your eyes widened in confusion, you opened your mouth to tell him to leave before he cut you off.

“i’m sorry” he blurted out

he was looking down to you, except it was much different than before. rin looked desperate, his eye contact only further confirmed it.

he reached his hand out to place it on your shoulder, hesitating. you opened the door to let him in, sitting on the edge of your couch next to each other.

“i’m so sorry [name].”

“i know.”

“it was stupid, you mean so much to me and i..i ruined it.”

“i know.”

“please, you don’t need to forgive me now i just…”

he paused. rin’s head moved to look at the ground.

“i just need to know you won’t leave me. you can ignore me for as long as you’d like and i’d understand. but just…please i need you back” he begged, small tears brimming at his eyes, what a rare sight to see.

silence fell between the two of you, but it wasn’t like the comfortable silences you’ve shared before. it was tense and awkward.

“okay” your voice was barely above a whisper, “i won’t leave you, i think we both know that” you say with a smile.

rin looked back up at you, eyes wide, full of hope and relief.

“but listen i…” the moonlight only further highlighted just how much the two of you had been crying

“it’s gonna take some time. that was really fucked up, you know that?”

“yeah..yeah i know. i’m sorry. you’re nothing like her i-”

“i know.”

the two of you were now looking at each other, faces flushed from crying and relief. the silence was comfortable again.

“let’s just..go to sleep, yeah? we can talk about it in the morning, i think we both could discuss better afterwards” you offered, leaning closer to the armrest of your couch as you were too tired to go to your bed

rin hummed back in response, laying on your chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist. your hands found their way to his hair, heartbeats practically synchronizing.

“you know..i’m still not going to your game” you whispered, peeking one eye open to watch your boyfriend. he smiled, “i know” a laugh spilled out of his mouth before you both fell asleep.

[jolalibrary]

x. oh, just to be with you

javier peña x f!reader | chapter ten of late night texts

summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

chapter warnings: we're back to texts and phone calls. sorrowful!javi, two idiots pining for one another. fluff. flirting. continuous romcom vibes. falling in love. idiots in love. pls don't be mad at me ✨ wordcount: 3k.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

He's aware of everything. 

How the porch creaks when he steps on it, the way the back door doesn’t quite meet the frame unless it’s locked. How the wind is knocking something else, far across the tall grass and fence posts.

Right now, his focus is on how his curtains don’t quite close. That they're letting the thinnest crack of moonlight cascade through his room. How the smallest luminescent slither keeps dancing in the breeze, yet it still lands perfectly on the propped-up photo strip on his dresser, highlighting the two of you, as though he hadn't committed them to memory. 

He can’t remember the last time someone had managed to slide around his walls—bypass his common sense and begin weaving themselves into him. Javi also can't remember the last time he wanted something more than a win.

Then came you.

Not that he complains that you're the exception. He'll never complain when it comes to you. 

Having people close has never been his issue. It’s letting himself fall that he’s forever found hard. He can be a lover who makes a night all about the other; he can be a protector, shielding and doing what is needed. 

It’s the parts after when he feels he clams up. A portion of him constantly weighing up risks, calculating the damage he could cause—either by a choice he could make or others—long before the city that housed Escobar. 

Javi knew his reluctance had stemmed from before he left Laredo, but it was now carved somewhere deeper in him. Something you managed to find with relative ease and cut out of him as if it was nothing. 

All smiles. All radiance and fucking beauty, with a laugh that could make his lips curl even if his bones are aching and his muscles are tired. 

If he closes his eyes, he can almost convince himself that he’s back there, in the hotel room. Because even if you’d never been here, your room is full of him. 

His bag of spilt-out clothes from your time together, slowly letting the scent of your perfume seep out across the room. Your jacket, hung on the closet handle, and the photos and sign you made on his dresser, all perfectly in sight. 

you have nice handwriting  I did try my best, sometimes I get lazy and letters blur together more.  I like how you wrote baby Does this mean I’ve got the whole set now? Cause you like how I say it, how I write it, how I mouth it. 

Even when he had known you’d needed to get some sleep, Javi had desperately wanted to beg you to stay up. Sending back a text here or there, already missing you so much more than he was sure he could handle. 

He felt lovesick. Like the singer in all those songs that make people either stare at a loved one or bite back tears because they lost theirs. Suddenly relating to a sea of them he’s heard on the radio in the kitchen or hummed in the back of his pop’s throat. 

Javi had been happy to see his pops, somewhat surprised he even came out of the house to greet him. But, as soon as his eyes landed on him, he became suddenly more aware of his old man’s age. Noticing the lines on his face, the ones that tell a thousand stories—not all of them he’s sure he’s heard. Curling into the hug he’d barely reciprocated before, unsure how to form the words to thank him for convincing him to go. 

Naturally, he asks about you. 

It’s more of an interrogation if he’s honest. He shows the photos, the ones now on his dresser, watching his pop smile as he continues to answer the array of questions, until he yawns for the tenth time in the space of five minutes.  

“You should get some sleep, Pop.” 

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead, Javi. Tell me more about your lady.”

Your lady. 

Those two words stand out as if they’ve been illuminated in bulbs, twinkling and shimmering. 

now youre back in reality you sure about us  Never been more sure about anything, baby.  just wanted to check  You’re beginning to sound like me, worrying.  left a mark on me  Think that’s fair, you’ve left a lot on me too. Especially my chest.  

“Tomorrow. Promise. The drive took it out of me.” 

But Javi isn’t tired. 

Somehow, he had suspected he wouldn’t be the moment he watched you leave.

For longer than he cares to number, he's struggled with it. Had developed an unhealthy live-able balance of it when he was working, something he managed to keep as a prize in his return. 

Now, it’s different.

There’s an edge to it. As though he's now having to pay back the stolen sleep he enjoyed when he had been lay with you. When he slept with ease and not struggle. Leaving him feeling now like he’s in a lull, a dream. All aware, not in a daze anymore, noticing things he had never given much attention to before his trip out of town. 

You had been so warm, so soft. His fingers gliding up and down your side, soothing you as much as it was him. But, you slept with ease. Falling almost instantly once you'd stopped talking, a little jolt and a soft sigh punctuating it.

Fuck, he misses you.

Thumb and index pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes clenched shut. Unsure how he's supposed to manage, and cope, until the next chance he gets to see you.

Till he gets to hold you in his arms, stare at your smile as it grows across your face or feels the light tap of your hand when he’s teasing you...

Something ugly curls inside of him. At first, soaked in sadness, before it shakes itself and burns bright with annoyance. Irritation. Anger at how unfair it all is. 

How is it, after all, he’s given up—he’s fallen for the one person not even in his state? A person he had to say goodbye to hours ago, for reasons out of his or their control. 

He almost snorts, unsure if it’s due to the tiredness or the reality that after all he’s faced, life would continue to be cruel and deal him such a hand. Tempted to get up, kick off the sheets and pull out the crossword from before he left town.

Javi doesn't. Instead, he closes his eyes, shaking his head—to no one but himself. Because he can't do them without you now. A promise, one given with ease.

He hears the whisper of the wind, the rustle of the trees. Something needling at him that if he wasn't so broken, this would be the perfect amount of quiet to fall asleep to.

Now, it's not the loud of a Colombian city he misses now. It's how your leg slides over his, how your breaths feel on his chest—how you twitch, ever so slightly, as you first fall asleep. 

But, it’s the quiet as to why he hears his phone vibrate, practically darting out of bed, knowing it can only be you. 

why aren’t you asleep?

Because I can't sleep without you. Apparently.

I miss you too. 

I really hate this. I even miss you digging your knee into my hip. 

told you that you’d miss it once it was gone

I feel like telling you that you’re right will mean your head will inflate.

youre right

One day, right?

if I could make that tomorrow I would

You really missing me that much? 

not enough words in the world to describe how much, baby 

Gonna make me cry. 

dont cry I can’t wipe them from here 

So not wise for me to tell you I cried the entire flight home. 

did the person you sit next to seem to mind 

They didn’t say anything until we landed. Then promptly told me that I deserved better. 

so they thought you were broken up with 

I think I may have led her to believe that from the amount I was crying. 

fuck you like me a lot 

I like you a regular, normal amount. 

I don’t think I like you a normal regular amount 

That’s the tiredness talking. 

you know it isnt 

I feel the same. I really miss you. 

I miss you too but you should try to sleep you have work tomorrow 

Okay, but so do you! 

ill be fixing a shed or a pen baby you have to deal with people 

go to sleep and then tomorrow we can call as planned 

You’d told him that you suspected the first day would be the hardest.

Not the goodbye (and that had been fucking painful) but the following day when they were apart. 

Javi hates that you’re right. 

It twists inside of him how much he loathes it—grateful that he gets to push some of his anger into repairing the side of the shed. Hammer meeting nail, again and again. Each time with more fury than is needed, only worrying after whether he’s done more damage to the shed post than pre. 

"Mijo."

He doesn't find a judgemental look, but one filled with sympathy.

His pop not quizzing him, just handing him a beer. A cold one, droplets descending down the can, sliding across his palm and down his wrist—attempting to soothe the boiling blood in his veins. 

“It’ll get easier.” His pop tugs his hat down, shielding his eyes, before staring off into the distance. “When me and your mama first began, we couldn’t see each other all the time either.” 

Letting out a sigh, Javi grinds his teeth. A sea of biting comments lathered on his tongue, all set to pounce, to poison. 

Instead, he kicks the ground, swallowing most of them back. “She wasn’t hundreds of miles away, though.” 

“No,” his Pop says, clapping his hand on his back—both for comfort and likely stability. “But we didn’t have landlines, or tha' other thing you do on y’phone. The tapping."

The tapping.

He doesn't snort, even if it sits at the back of his throat. Burying it in the liquid that slides down his throat with ease.

"Come on, ‘need to head into town, and my truck is acting up.” 

Javi doesn’t question it, why he’s the one sliding into the passenger seat of his own truck. 

If he’d thought about it, he’d have asked why the truck was acting up or why Pop was driving instead of him. But he doesn’t—didn’t. Just let it happen, staring off as the shades of grass pass him by, fingers playing with the cap on the can, twisting and twisting it. 

To fill the silence, he rolls the edges of the can around in his hands. Crunching the sides every now and again, making him wince from the noise. 

Then, he finds himself staring at the fingerprints left in the dust from you touching his dash—eyes catching sight of a hair grip on the floor near his boot. 

He’s rolling it in his fingers when they’re back on the road, silence smothering them until he watches his pop turn on the radio. As soon as it springs to life, it becomes desperate to try and cut through it. The broadcaster mumbles about heavy rain and increased traffic, but he’s lost in a sorrow of sadness all cast by the spell of a good week to care. The fog around him making it hard to see the wood through the trees, never mind the hope through the misery. 

“Dios mio. More trucks passing through now since the bridge opened. Y’noticed, mijo? So many.”

“Hmm.” 

Eyes fixed on the grip, the one more worn on one side than the other—imagining your face, the night when he’d watched you take them out, face fresh, one of his tees on your frame. 

Then, because the world isn’t cruel enough, the song changes. The radio playing a game with him now, as well as everything else, as he lifts his head, trying to focus on the road. Hearing the soft thud of his pop’s fingers on the steering wheel, his jaw tightened as the lyrics washed over him. Faintly hearing you humming along with the chorus.

Because he heard the song in the diner with you. 

Heard it on the radio one afternoon, then again in the bowling alley—how it wrapped its tune around the two of you. 

“Heard our song today,” he says, fingers massaging his temple.

He's thankful his pop said he had plans, the quietness settling over the rest of the ranch.

Before he met you, he dreaded the nights he was left alone. His thoughts gearing up, ready to pounce. The minor differences he could have made if he took a step back and stared at the facts, how he should have noticed how deep the corruption was—how much Colombia was taking from him, bit by bit. 

Now, he tries not to grin when his pop says he’s going out.

When he’s left alone, allowed full reign to talk as loud as he wants to you—rather than being huddled near the phone, whispering like a teenager. 

“Our song?” 

“Yeah.” 

Javi can practically hear you smirk. “And how does that go, charmer?” 

He’s not a singer. Not by a long shot, but he does his best. Humming the tune at first, softly singing the words from the chorus until he trails off.

You snort, before you try to muffle it in a cough. 

“You tricked me.” 

“Maybe. But, just because I wanted to hear you sing.” 

Smirking, he pulls the phone from his ear—shaking his head—before replacing it back to hear you add:

“You have a beautiful voice.” 

“Fuck you, baby.”  

Your laugh rips from you, hurtling down the phone right to his soul—making fireworks explode in his chest and warmth kiss his nerves. 

Because now he can imagine what you look like. Likely head thrown back, eyes closed—nose scrunched a little as your hands grip onto something for leverage. 

And it was beautiful. You’re beautiful—your laugh and your smile. Something he feels he should have said long before now. He’s about to rectify that, when he hears it merge into a sniffle—veering into tears and half-suppressed swallows before a noticeable little sob breaks through—as his throat dries instantly, closing. 

Turning, he places his palm on the fall as he tries to keep his chest from tightening. The knot in his chest, the one he suspects is tied to you in some way, constricts, pulling taught around his lungs.  

“I—I miss….”

You sniffle again, louder. “I've been looking forward to this all day,” you whisper, voice catching, words struggling to fall as sweetly as they usually do. “But, is it bad for me to say that phone calls aren’t the same now I’ve had the chance to be with you in person?”

Leaning his forehead against the kitchen wall, Javi wipes his chin. “Took the words outta my mouth, baby.”

He hears you chuckle, almost both heavily and heavenly, before you ask about his day. 

He rambles because it’s easy too. You listen, lapping up every single thing. Hearing about his trip to town, his pop making jokes—trying, desperately, to crack through the mist that had descended. 

���How was yours?” 

Then you sigh, all tight. You tell him about Aish and her interview, before your voice softens as you begin whispering about the prep you’re doing for your interview. He’s about to comfort you, when you continue about the asshole you work alongside has been taken out for lunch by your boss and that you snagged your favourite pair of tights on a desk.

“But, enough about that—guess what I’m wearing?”

Smiling, he bites down on his knuckle, Javi lifting his head, groaning as he tries to think. “All of your clothes at once? Anything else might short-circuit my brain.” 

“Won’t tell you then.” 

“No. Please. Tell me, baby.” 

He hears you move, and is almost sure he can hear you swallow. “You realise that you’re missing something, Javier?” 

Fuck, the way you say his name. How it drips from your tongue. Laced in lust and swirling down the phone line to his brain. 

He quickly tries to think of his washing, the piles he made—the attempted sorting. And it hits him. His eyes widened, head half-lifting, feeling his eye twitch. 

“Fuck—“

“Yes. I’m sat in that. And underwear, of course.” 

“Hermosa…”

His throat is dry, painfully so. Mind arranging an image of you from the days he spent with you. And fuck. 

“Wasn’t sure this shade of pink was my colour, but I was wrong.” 

Jutting his jaw, he closes his eyes—picturing the sight of you. The underwear he’d had the chance to peel off of you, the way it set against your skin—now, accompanied by his shirt on your arms. The buttons are likely undone, showing off more skin than he can currently process thinking about. 

“It’s nice on my skin,” you whisper, all honeyed. “Be better on my floor.” 

Clenching his fist, he bites his lip. “Baby…” 

“Maybe I’ll show you one day.” 

Snorting, he traces his teeth with his tongue. “You better. Now, tell me about the underwear.” 

“Only if you can answer six across. Clue: now.” 

Mouth parting, his jaw rolls to the side, eyes picking a spot on the wall. Thinking. And thinking. 

“Want an extra clue?” 

“An extra? You're spoiling me.” 

He hears you giggle, low and in your throat. “It’s an Italian word. And, ‘I want to see you… blank—“ 

His eyes flick up, a smile spreading. “Pronto.” 

“Correct,” you reply. “Seven words, silenced. You did this to me when you had your mouth on my—“

“Shushed,” he says quickly, fist clenching, trying to stare at the mark on the wall again, and not let the image of you populate in his head. 

“You okay, baby?” 

Gritting his teeth, he sighs. “You’re devious, you know that?” 

“I think it’s your shirt. It’s making me… flirty.” 

Grinning, he turns on the spot, back against the wall—head tilting up, eyes closing. “I miss you.” 

“I miss you too….” your tone softer, frayed at the edges. “I’m kinda glad I stole your shirt.” 

“Me too. Means I get to see you to steal it back from you.” 

“Off me.” 

It comes out quickly—purposefully chosen, spilt. 

Frowning, he opens his eyes. “What?” 

“Off me. You’ll have to steal it from my body.” 

Grasping the phone, breathing through his nose, letting out a murmured, “Fuck, baby,” under his breath.  

AN: for all those wondering if they'll be together in person again, they will. i am a happily-ever-after kind of writer unless otherwise stated. but it was so important to me that they had a magical week, and then returned to their lives.

[abibliophobiaa]

I'm bad at giving prompts because I never know what authors would be inspired by, so I'm going to give you vague ideas and you can pick whatever parts suit your fancy. I know you'll write something cool no matter what :)

Soulmates, but only one party knows they're soulmates

Eddie insecure of his scars

Walking in the woods

"Don't you know I care about you?"

Some innocent cuddling or handholding

did you look for me?

i ended up going with eddie being insecure about his scars and the anniversary of one year post S4. eddie munson x f!reader. warnings: drinking to the point of intoxication; eddie becomes physically ill - throw up mention; wound description, scar mention; smut, but the vague, sort of poetic kind. formatting is also kind of weird because i did not use google docs and…it shows. (3.5k words)

He’d told you he’d be going out with Steve. Wanted to get out and spend time with him on the day Vecna almost took everything from you. He’d left with a kiss brushed against your forehead in the night, his hands lingering over the dip of your hip, cooing softly to ease the tiredness from your form as you shifted and raised yourself up onto your elbows in bed, palms brushing against your eyes to bring some life back into them. 

“Just going out for a little while,” he promised, thumbing at the curve of your jaw. Wiggled your chin until you smiled. “You worked all day. Please get some sleep, okay?”

“I love you,” you’d mumbled, face pushing back into the endless comforters lining your shared bed. 

“I love you too, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon, okay?” 

And you should have known. Should have been more awake to argue with him to stay home. To stay here. Should have anticipated what an absolutely terrible idea that had been. Not when you’d known what he’d experienced. Not when you still remembered that day so vividly. The call from one of the kids—them crying that something had happened, just as the world beneath you had rocked endlessly.

An earthquake, you’d been told. 

Eddie had been hurt. Badly. The kind of hurt that had you fumbling with your keys in the ignition of your car. Cursing and slamming your fist against the steering wheel when you’d lost grip of them and they clattered onto the floor to taunt you. The kind of hurt where you’d gotten a flash of him as he’d been thrown onto a gurney shortly after you’d arrived, someone already there balancing on the edge of the table doing chest compressions until they could get him into a room, because his heart had stopped. 

A whole minute. For a minute, you’d lost him. All of you had.

For a minute, Eddie had left the world, lingering somewhere away from his body. Away from you. Nearly gone. And then…not. He’d come back and had been immediately hooked up to endless machines and taken in for surgery. Surgeries that had seemingly lasted for hours, your feet carrying you back and forth in an endless back and forth line you hardly cared about potentially leaving a burn mark in the carpet. 

After that it had been days of touch and go. Months of healing, tending to his scars, watching him adjust to the way he looked in the aftermath of it all. He pretended to be okay. You knew that. Watched him hide behind smiles, behind a joke, behind doing the things he’d done before. Watched him strum away on his guitar at band practices, stand in front of rooms of people suddenly intrigued by the boy who had been cleared of rumored murder charges, the boy who had defeated death and came back.

A “Freak”—yet this time, one of their own making.

He carried on with the kids as usual, too. Started up Dungeons and Dragons meetings, began growing the group. Invited the girls, invited Robin, Steve and yourself. You always clung to the outskirts, watching him do what he did, watching him try and make sense of the world after the unimaginable. Putting his best foot and face forward, if only to protect those around him from the monsters who roamed his dreams at night, with endless teeth and flapping wings.

So no—no, it comes as no surprise when later at three in the morning you receive a phone call from Robin. The motherly figure of the small trio that had gathered that evening. She’s short and concise in speech, oddly enough for her, in her explanation of what’s gone on. Eddie drank…and quite a bit, from the way she describes it.

Exactly like a year ago, you fumble with your keys in your car, slam your palm against the steering wheel when they drop near your feet, and eventually peel out of the parking lot of your apartment complex.

He’s out on a lounge chair in Steve’s backyard when you find him. When Steve opens the door and apologizes. Says he didn’t realize Eddie must have drank before even arriving, and then offered him more on top of it. Your hand curls around Steve’s shoulder, grimace settling into place as you walk out onto the patio, eyes searching for the familiar form of the man who stole your heart two years ago now. The man who is lost now in his mind, swirling around a drain, staring up at a starry sky.

“Hey, handsome.”

Your chest flutters as he turns his head over the side of the chair, his flushed cheeks tugging upward with the silliest smile that spans his features, body gravitating to yours as it always does, flailing limbs and all. His dimples practically strain from it, though he nearly falls off the chair upon doing so, hand slapping against the ground to keep himself steady.

“Careful there,” you sigh, stepping closer into his proximity, gesturing to the small space on the chair near his hip. At his nod, you settle down, grimacing as he loops his arms around your waist and presses his forehead into your neck. Eddie on a normal day is a big fan of cuddling. Drunk Eddie’s favorite pastime is cuddling. “How about we get out of here? I’ll drive you home and we can get ready for bed?”

“I was just trying to forget.”

It’s like a hammer coming down to pulverize your heart. The quiet tremor of his voice, the sharp inhale of breath, the moisture on your collar bone. But you grant him that safety of your comfort, instead. Curl your hand around his ringed fingers and help him to his feet, quiet and careful as you lead him through Steve’s home, mindful of the sharp corners he bumps and sways into.

Steve’s there at the passenger door to help ease Eddie down inside, a sad frown set in place as he claps his friend on the shoulder and wishes you both a good night. Robin reminds you to call if you need anything else, and blows Eddie a kiss, both waving as you pull away from the Harrington home and head back to the place you share with Eddie, certain you have a long night still ahead.

—

The night is long, as you expect it to be. Getting Eddie into bed is one thing. His hands rest on your shoulders as you help him out of his jeans, his gangly thighs tangling in the material, nearly sending him careening backward into your shared mattress. He strips out of his shirt next, insistent that it’s too hot in the room. And for a spring day, with the windows already gently parted, you’ve needed to put on a hoodie to block out the chill in the air. But you watch him undress all the same, his back falling against the plush pillows beneath, a loud exhale spilling from his lips.

“I’m going to go get you some water and some pain relievers, okay?” Moving to make your way toward the bedroom door, Eddie’s fingers snatch yours before you can go any further. Chocolate brown eyes lift to meet your face, beckoning you back onto the mattress beside him, grunting as he throws himself on top of your chest, arms tangling in the fabric of your hoodie. “Eddie, you really need to drink some water. I’m serious.”

“I’m sorry for upsetting you,” he mumbles.

“Eddie, I’m not—”

“I can see it in your eyes. I know you.”

“I was worried, that’s all. I promise.”

“I’m sorry.” And there it is again. That lightning bolt to your chest. That feeling of anguish that rattles you deep within your bones. “I haven’t slept in days. I needed…”

Days. He’s gone days and you’ve been too busy with work to see it. Guilt drops like an anchor in the pit of your stomach, grief joining it there. Pity—for the man pressing close to your body, shame swallowing him whole, suffocating him. Fingers reach out to untangle the strands of dark curls on the back of his head, running through each coil, patting them into place. He sighs and sinks further into the mattress, and eventually stills, the sound of your heartbeat lulling him into sleep.

Hours later, you wake to the sound of retching in the adjoining bathroom. Eddie’s groans of displeasure echo off the tiled walls. Careful to not startle him, your feet drop down to hit the carpet beside your bed and carry you across the short distance between the bedroom and softly parted bathroom door where yellow light spills out into the hallway.

“Eddie?”

You catch him swishing mouthwash around puffy cheeks. He spits into the sink and glances your way. Eyes red-rimmed and tired. The sort of tired not even the best night of sleep could take away. No words are spoken as you step into the bathroom further, as you run your fingers along the side of his chest. Against the curve of his cheek, where new stubble has grown in since he’s last shaved.

“You been up long?” you ask, even though the fear of the answer has you weary. He nods, but at least he seems more aware of his surroundings now. More himself, despite his haggard form. “You should hop in the shower. It’ll make you feel better. While you do that I’ll make you the waffles you like. Strawberries and all.”

It’s a silent parting. You slip away from his side with a squeeze of his hip and a brush of your lips against the corner of his lips, making your way down the short hall to your shared living room and connecting kitchen. It’s small, but it’s yours. Has been for months now. After a serious conversation with Wayne, about how Eddie was struggling even if he hid it well, you’d all come to the agreed upon conclusion that he needed space away from the rest of the chaos of Hawkins. Away from those who still sneer at him in supermarkets, or shout out false accusations in parking lots.

Murderer. Freak. Killer. Psycho. Names thrown around, barbed wire and daggers, aimed at the man who had done nothing wrong.

It doesn’t matter Hopper had his name cleared shortly after the events that occurred that horrible week. Those who hated Eddie Munson hated him long ago. Chrissy and the other’s deaths were just further ammunition to leverage their ill intent.

Your apartment at least grants him the peace of safety and solace of quiet. On the edge of town, away from prying eyes, and close enough to both your jobs. The other renters in the complex leave you both be, despite a few noise complaints you’ve made about the rowdier tenants just above your bedroom, and it works for the time being. Until you can save up for something new; something you can grow in, grow old in.

Humming to yourself, you begin unloading the things you’ll need from the fridge. Pausing only to pet your presently purring orange kitten, dubbed Frodo by your boyfriend, when you notice that the apartment is still quiet.

There’s no water running.

The bathroom door is still open. Just as you left it. Slowly, so slowly, you walk over to the door, breath catching at the sight of Eddie standing in front of the mirror, fingers tracing over scars. Over the patch of skin over his heart, where it’s the worst, over grooves and ridges of what once was smooth flesh. Trails his fingers lower, to the marks along his abdomen, on his arms. The movements still along his cheek, over the divots you’ve kissed numerous times now. Remember the day you saw him when his eyes first opened in the hospital, and he’d asked you how bad it was.

“Still handsome as ever,” you’d promised, and you’d meant it.

Still mean it now as you knock on the doorframe, jolting him from his slow perusal of his frame. “Are you okay? Didn’t hear the water running.”

“‘M fine,” he says, kicking off his sweatpants for emphasis.

Turns then toward the knob in the shower and sets the water to run hot, fingers lingering under the stream to test the temperature. You open your mouth to speak but he slips out of the bathroom and into your bedroom for a moment. Out the corner of your eye, you watch him retrieve the tablets you left on the bedside table. He swallows them down with a swish of water from the glass laid out, and then returns to your side, where the water now steams up the bathroom mirror.

“Right…I’ll…uh,” you mumble, slipping out from around him into the hallway.

He slowly closes the door, leaving it only slightly open now, and you walk down the hallway. Frodo’s yellow eyes meet yours, and your resolve hardens, feet propelling you back from whence you came. Inhaling deeply, you shuffle inside, calling out into the open space that you’re coming in.

This part, you don’t think about. You strip off your leggings and hoodie with ease. Toss your underwear in a pile with his. He’s quiet as you enter. Those dark eyes of his roam your form, though their usual appreciative and amorous affection is replaced by a hollowness unfamiliar to Eddie’s usually spirited features.

“You’re far away from me right now,” you say softly.

Eddie lifts his head, tangles of wet curls falling loose around his shoulders, rivulets of water trailing down his cheeks like freshly fallen tears. “A lot on my mind, sweetheart. You know…sometimes I forget they’re there.” He gestures vaguely to his chest, waving a hand in front of himself. “And then I catch myself in a damn mirror, and it’s like I’m there all over again. In that fucking dimension, laying on the damn floor, waiting for it all to just…stop.”

“Eddie…”

“It’s hard to not believe you’re a monster like people think you are, when you look in the mirror and might as well be.”

Your hands cup his cheeks, forehead against his. Bodies slick with water, inches apart. More space than you like between you. “You are not a monster, Eddie Munson. You have never been. It’s not in your nature.”

Arms slowly twine around your form. A face against your shoulder, hair brushing your shoulders, his body flush with yours. That distance, that crevice, sews shut in an instant. Comfort comes in the form of his palm along your lower back, in the form of your lips against his shoulder, palms against the middle of his shoulders, holding him tight as the cries of a broken man fill your bathroom. As rain begins to splatter against the window, crystalline shards like diamonds rolling down the pane, the rumble of thunder drowning the blood racing in your ears.

He draws back with a deep exhale, the remnants of his tears visible in the red rims surrounding his eyes. In the shaky inhale, the hiccup that shudders in his chest. Fingers slide up across his chest, over his shoulders, the side of his neck, his cheek. He cradles your palm there, over the space you brush with your gentle thumb. Kisses the inside of your wrist, whispering how much he loves you.

An idea forms.

The hand resting on your face is lowered in the space between the two of you. Your hand flips his palm upward. The fingers on your opposite hand trail his callus scored palms. Tease at the yellowy skin there, at the marks that reveal countless hours of practices. Of time spent honing his craft, trying to make something of himself, trying to be the best at it.

“I love these hands,” you tell him idly. More to yourself, maybe. But he lifts his head all the same. Looks into your eyes as you meet his, the water warm against your back. “They make beautiful music. Music that I’m sure will change the world some day. They write songs. Beautiful songs that mean something. And they write stories. For those kids who absolutely love and look up to you.”

You trail your fingers up along the inside of his forearm. Over the tattoos there. Along his bicep, where you pause. “These arms are pretty great, too.”

“Yeah?” He chuckles at that, and you nod.

“They fix cars and…we know that’s helped me out of many tricky situations.”

Like last week, when you’d had an issue with your car starting and he’d been able to fix it before you were ever late for your shift.

“But they also give the best hugs,” you sigh, sliding up against his chest, relishing in the feeling of them caging you in close. Tight. “They feel like home. Safe. Like nothing could touch me, as long as I’m right here.”

He squeezes you tightly, and you know it’s his way of reassuring you that as long as he has breath in his lungs, you’ll always have somewhere to run to. The safe space in the cradle of his body, a place that he knows you fit perfectly into.

“Don’t even get me started on your cheeks,” you laugh, tipping your head back to press a loud kiss to both of them.

Eddie’s nose wrinkles. “My cheeks?”

“Don’t make fun. They’re adorable. Bite me,” you grumble, pinching at one of them for emphasis. “Really, the whole face is adorable.”

His forehead rests against yours, eyes dark in the dimly lit room, the room growing darker by the minute from the storm rolling in outside. They shift downward as you rest your palm over his abdomen, gliding upward slowly, along scarred flesh, over the parts of him he hates most, until you stop over his sternum.

Over the rapid thrum of his heart.

“I love this heart the most. Because despite everything, it’s kind and loving and warm. And for a minute that day it had stopped and I thought I’d lost everything.” He kisses your forehead as you heave a sob, as your breath chokes off at the memory of him lying on that hospital bed, eyes closed, swathed in bandages, uncertain if he’d ever wake up again even though the doctors reassured you he would. “But then you came back. You came back to us. To me.”

He sniffles, thumbing at your lower lash line as you continue, “And I know you hate this body some days. But I love it. I love it because it’s beautiful and it holds your soul, and…I-I—”

“I love you.” He cradles the back of your head and kisses you.

Once. Twice. Three times.

For each word. Each a promise. Each a swear.

Never to be parted again.

—

He lays against you in silence. His head on your chest, his thighs a tangle with yours, a hand around your hip to keep you close. Bare chests covered only by thin bedsheets. In white linen draped along thighs. You’re not sure what time it is, but time doesn’t exist here. Not right now. Not with him quietly slumbering at last after five days of running from the demons in his mind.

Safe, at last, in the circle of your arms.

Safe and sound, you tell him quietly, fingers combing through his hair.

Safe and sound with you. Here, in this apartment, in your home, where no one can touch you.

Vecna is gone. The kids are okay. Your friends are fine. The world is whole again. The monsters are gone.

He doesn’t have to run anymore.

There will be days like these. The hard ones. More to come in the years that will surely follow. But now, right now, there’s only peace.

And later—later he wakes and kisses you slowly. Softly.

Languid.

Perfect presses of plush lips against skin. He asks you a question. You nod, and he slides the blanket away from your form, baring you to him. Later there’s heat that builds and grows as he trails along the curve of your neck. Over the swell of your collar bone. The valley between your breasts. He divides his attention between your breasts, teasing nips and taunting brushes of tongue and teeth against sensitive skin. Quiet murmurs of praises from his softly parted lips, and peals of pleasure from yours. Fingers knot in hair as he trails lower, as the heat of his tongue glides through the honey of your center, as fingers pull you closer and closer to a precipice. Pulls you nearer as you plummet, planting a kiss against your forehead.

He’s quiet as he rolls over you. As your hand reaches down between the two of you and guides him to where you crave to feel him. Suddenly it’s the comfort of being so full of him that robs you of air. The familiar roll of his hips against yours, fingers bracing one of your thighs over his hips. The slow drag of him; in and out, in and out torturously so, stars bursting behind your vision with each breathless thrust.

Your fracture around him like dozens of stars visible through your bedroom window.

He holds you until sunrise. His chest rising and falling against yours, both of you content and sated.

Cheeks warm, skin warmer.

Tangled as two people could ever be.

And it’s a new day. One neither of you will take for granted.

——

xoxo love you all.

[twstfanblog]

*~Toddler Chronicles-3rd Years PT.1~*

A/N: I have no excuses. I've just been hoarding my writing and trying to stack finished stories and post them out when I have depressive episodes—just to make sure I have something for you all! So anyhow, I hope you guys enjoy this part. The series is going to be so full of cute baby shenanigans that you'll have a toothache. Thank you again to @bun-lapin for letting me use their wonderful OCs! They are so fun to chew on... Word Count: 6.3K Pairings: Alluded Ruggie/Leona Warnings: Needles, Children, Me typing out a country accent, Google translate french

Starter, Pt 1

Ruggie had only felt fear so strongly he could taste it twice in his life. The first was when he was five and awoke in his hut with his grandma nowhere in sight. The second was when he was twelve and a drunk man had gripped at his arm to the point it bruised him for days.

And now he can say he's tasted fear three times. The third being he realized the second prince of the Savanna had been turned into a four-year-old and was missing. Anyone left in Savanaclaw that weekend morning was out and searching, using every nose and ear in the dorm to hunt down their missing leader.

Ruggie had to stop after an hour, his panicked breathing pulling in the scent of his search party more than the sandy flora he was looking for. He stood to the side, his head in his hands while his thoughts raced on what could have befallen the defenseless toddler that a pack couldn't find him.

“Ruggie!”

He looks up, not even trying to hide the tears pooling in his eyes. A rhino beastman, a third-year who heard Leona was missing and the pure distress in Ruggie’s voice quickly helped mobilize the dorm, stood before him. He shook his head, “We've searched the gardens side to side, we've got teams combing the woods. The school and coliseum are next for the beta teams, but we haven’t found anything.”

Ruggie’s sigh was ragged, dropping his head back down to grip at his hair in frustration. Dropping to the ground in a squat as he started to rock in a self-soothing motion. 

The third-year sighed along with him, folding his arms as he looked out to the campus, “The ‘Emergency Protocol’ for a lost member is normally Rook…but you said he was four, too, right?”

“Yeah…”

“...” He tilted his head, a questioning sneer showing his teeth, “Why are they four?”

“If I fucking knew, do you think I would be five steps away from a heart attack?”

“Okay…geeze…” The third-year turns around hearing someone call his name. With a nod to them, he turns back to Ruggie, “Cool your head. You know Leona best and you're in charge when he's not available. If anyone could figure out where he went it'll be you.”

As the other beastman left, Ruggie was left to calm himself. Once he could breathe without the laborious tug of his own nerves, he really thought. Leona had very key areas he went to, all secluded away from others as he was always more comfortable alone. But those areas were also easily accessible, a factor that the possibly scared four-year-old no doubt didn't care for.

Away from others, carefully hidden, familiar…

Ruggie’s eyes snapped open, jumping from his position and bolting back to the empty dorm. His hands braced against one of the open-air window sills, hopping through it with ease as he sprinted into the faux savanna their dorm resided in.

In his first year, before they had started their situationship deal, Ruggie remembers waking up in the middle of the night. Nothing serious, just thirsty, so he left his room. But on his way to the kitchen, he saw Leona outside of the dorm's walls and walking into the fields of scattered vegetation and rocks. Ruggie never asked where he was going, but that memory was enough to tell him Leona had more places to hide than he thought.

Tracking Leona became almost laughably easy once he was far enough from the dorm, after a while the only smell was Leona in the magically sterile lands. A scent he followed to a small cave, the opening semi-hidden from view by a large rock resting in front of the opening and the amount of weeds growing from the top. Brushing the strands of grass aside he bit his tongue to hold in the urge to bark out laughs at the scene before him.

It was a pretty sweet setup, by Ruggie’s standards. A large rug had been laid out on the ground, softening the area while also keeping the dirt trapped underneath it. There was a low table at the center of space, the remnants of a quick meal by way of multiple snack wrappers and an empty juice bottle. But the best thing was the ‘bed’. A pile of old blankets and pillows all pressed into the corner, a tiny mass with reddish brown hair swimming in a daishiki resting on it. As always, Leona slept with his back to the entrance, laying in a curled up ball with his tail laid out behind him.

Ruggie stepped into the area as slowly as he could. Yeah, Leona was four, but he was still Leona. And Ruggie did not want to see what the potentially scared toddler could do to him in an enclosed space. He couldn't stop the swear he mutters, seeing a single tiny ear suddenly flick around and point toward him. He sunk to his knees, hands held up in a motion of surrender as Leona slowly woke up, “Hey…hey there, bud. You ok?”

The kid turned, a big green eye full of distrust peering at Ruggie as if daring him to move. Before long Leona had moved to fully face Ruggie, sniffing the air a few times before narrowing his eyes and wrinkling his nose, “You smell like the sheets in that room…”

Nodding, Ruggie tries to walk on his knees, one step for every few seconds to not startle the toddler, “Yeah. I do your laundry, it smells like me sometimes. I'm Ruggie, I…I take care of you here.”

Leona did not look pleased in the slightest that Ruggie was getting closer, but made no move past the adorable sneer, “Where's here? If you're trying to get money you picked the wrong kid.”

Ruggie didn't know if that was the inkling of something terribly sad or if Leona was actively threatening him and he didn't care to find out. He chuckles, one-half hobble of a step makeing Leona tense up, his poker face pinching together as he struggles to hold it together. Ruggie takes two knee steps back.

“I'm not dangerous. Hell, I think you'd wipe the floor with me anyway. I haven't had breakfast yet.”

Leona eased, his face slowly morphing into a pout and placing his tiny hands onto his stomach as he looked to the side, “I haven't either…”

Ruggie chuckles, eyes looking to the table and the empty wrappers, “You haven't?” He snorts at the little growl of a huff Leona lets out. He turns back to the kid, his smile turning soft as he held a hand out, “How about we get out of here and I make you some food? You can call Kipaji and we can go from there…”

“Kifaji…?”

Name dropping the aid was the right move, Leona's eyes lighting up at the familiar name before he schools his expression again. He wrings the edge of the now oversized sleep shirt in a show of nervousness. Sniffing the air, Leona wasn't able to smell anything pointing toward malice from the hyena. If anything it calmed him in a sense, the scent of something sweet with the earthy smell of dandelions, the same smell clinging to the fibers of the room he woke up in. 

Ruggie kept his hand outstretched, breathing in relief when Leona finally walked closer and grabbed at his fingers with both of his hands. the sophomore stands, his scrawny hand wrapping securely around one of Leona's, “Let's get you a good meal then. You're so tiny; I gotta make sure you're well-fed!”

Leona pouts, following as the older boy guides them out of the little sanctuary, “I'm not that small for my age…”

Epel sighed, placing two plates down in front of the toddlers, “Here. Some nice and filling breakfast. Y'all want somethin’ to drink?”

Vil looked up, the long sleeves of his button-up pajamas neatly cuffed to allow his hands to be free of the fabric. He tilted his head, purple eyes curious, “You talk weird…Can I have peach juice?” he looked to his plate, smiling as he took notice of the gold swirls along the rim.

“...” Epel sighed, quirking his lip as he rolled his eyes. He couldn't smack the little bugger across the back of his head, he was four, he was going to say whatever was on his mind. 

While Vil started to eat his breakfast, buttered toast and cut-up fruit just as he had requested, Rook was pouting, poking at his food in mild confusion.

“Rook?” The child snaps up, looking to Epel at the sound of his name, “Ya okay bud? Do ya not like ya food?”

“...” Rook pouted, eyebrows pinching together before he turned to Vil. He patted Vil on his shoulder, calling him to lean closer to whisper into his ear.

Vil hummed, nodding and swallowing his food before looking at Epel, “You got his food wrong.”

“Ah…how!?” Epel gestured to the bell pepper omelet on Rook's plate, “You said he wanted eggs and bell pepper! Did he want them raw!?”

“Don't yell at me!” Vil huffed, his tiny nose scrunched up as he slapped his hand to the table, “He told me you made it weird. You're the big kid, you should know what little kids need.”

Epel rolled his eyes so hard he nearly fell. Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose to calm himself down before speaking to Rook, “What's wrong with it? What'd ah get wrong?”

Rook only looked at him confused, blinking a few times before mumbling a few words to Vil. The other blonde perked up again, swallowing his food before he responded in stilted Florian. Epel watched the back and forth, eyes following and wondering why…they were speaking in the other other language…

Vil nodded after a while, turning to Epel, “You made it wrong.”

“What did ah make wrong?” How could such a cute kid be so annoying in this small amount of time?

Sighing, Vil gestured to the omelet on Rook's plate, the other child finally picking at the food to eat it in tiny bites, “His food! You made it wrong!”

Epel gestured to the plate almost in a hysterical fashion, “Ya said he wanted eggs and peppers!?”

The pout Vil pulls is cute, Epel can't lie. But the glare he gave him was all too familiar to the disapproving stare of his 18-year-old self, “That's what he said he wanted! That…Rook, qu'est-ce que tu voulais?” *

“Shakshuka! Mon papa le fait pour moi, mon frère et ma sœur. Il n'y a pas des tomates…”

Nodding, Vil passed over a few chunks of his fruit medley to Rook, turning to glare at Epel, “You forgot the tomatoes.”

Sighing once again, Epel braced against the table and leaned closer to Rook, “Lil guy, ‘ou're gonna need to communicate with me. What is Shakshuka?”

Rook blinked his two big green eyes, tilting his to side as he gave Epel a look of pure confusion.

Vil leaned past Rook, cupping his mouth with both hands to loudly whisper, “I don't think he knows Common yet…”

“...”

Oh, that…that was bad. Epel forgot that Rook was one of the younger third-years; most kids didn't start learning the worldly language of Common until they were around four or prepping to enter the school system. He could make the assumption that the other third-years had at least started their introductory lessons, allowing the school's translation charm to be properly activated for them still.

Epel looked to Vil, trying to keep himself from looking concerned, “Wait, why? He should at least know a few words by now?”

Another brief conversation in Florian between the toddlers, Vil turning to Epel, “He said his mommy said he wasn't getting lessons until he was five.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Epel breathed out. A new annoyance to this pile of nonsense that has become his school life.

Crewel sighed, leaned over his desk as though it was the only thing keeping him up. brushing his hair from his eyes he looked at the group of students and toddlers gathered in his homeroom. The toddlers all dressed in makeshift clothing of oversized shirts, socks, and magically resized shoes.

Riddle stood behind his two turned juniors, eyes watching them like a hawk. His gray pupils moving back and forth to make sure neither child was acting out. A helicopter guardian move that proved unnecessary since both children were sharing a chair and crowded against each other, looking with wide eyes at whatever was on Cater’s phone.

Ruggie stood still with a blank expression, for a second Crewel had feared that the Savanaclaw students hadn't managed to find Leona. Only to see tiny hands creep from behind Ruggie’s head to tug at the corners of his mouth. An equally tiny face peeking from Ruggie’s shoulder and demanding to know when he was going to be fed again.

Epel sat in a chair, eyes glaring straight ahead in purely concealed annoyance. In his lap was Vil, the toddler quietly whispering in a harsh tone as he held and picked at Epel's nails. Clearly scolding him for having dirt under his nails and the small nicks on his fingers. In contrast, Rook was comfortably seated on Epel's shoulders. The other child smiling and having fun messing with the freshman’s hair by running his hands through it and trying to pull it into pigtails.

Ortho was the calmest, Idia practically swimming in his standard hoodie from Ortho's arms. The junior's long hair had shortened dramatically, now a fluffy halo of blue flames compared to the tail it was before. He sat curled into Ortho's arms, his mouth covered by his hoodie sleeve as he nervously glanced around the room and chewed on the fabric.

The most contrasted pair were Malleus and Lilia. While Mallues stood on the ground, holding onto a folded over Sebek's hand and calm, Lilia…

Silver held the still hissing and yowling child by the arms and as far away from his body as possible. The long-haired bat fae was kicking and squirming, nearly fighting for his life to escape Silver's hold. Though from how he kept angling his head and biting into the fabric of the shirt, Crewel could only think it was also a demand to be freed from the prison called clothing.

Crewel groans, covering his face with both his hands. Soon Hui-Yan enters the room, looking annoyed as she tips her head toward Crewel in greeting, “I’ve alerted the other teachers, no one else seems to be affected so I believe it was just this group affected…”

“Uh…” Ruggie reached up, Finally pulling Leona's hands off of his face and moving to hold the toddler to his front, “So…I know they have these meetings every now and again. I help Leona make stuff for them sometimes. That's most likely where they got spelled or dosed…”

Riddle hummed, eyes still locked on his unbothered charges, “A potion makes the most sense…it would explain the delayed reaction more than a spell-Cater, don’t you dare open that message!” He reaches down, pulling the phone away from Cater’s little hands and ignoring his and Trey’s whining.

“...” Crewel sighed again, reminding himself that he had a bottle of scotch calling his name once this whole event was settled, “What potion even does this…? Bucchi, do you have any idea how they could have dosed?”

“Leona was making a big fuss last night on Malleus fuc-” He nearly bit his tongue, closing his mouth as nearly everyone’s eyes snapped to him, basically daring him to finish his sentence, “...He said Malleus messed up the drink mix he brought and it tasted bad…”

Silver sighed, trying his best to rework his hold on Lilia as the child managed to wiggle one of his arms free from his hand, “I remember…Kalim came over a day or so ago with various syrups and sodas…Malleus just said they were mixing things for fun but it must have been for this meeting- Ow.” He groaned frowning at the growling child digging his fangs into his hand, “Please, stop biting me…”

“I don’t think Kalim al Asim would bring anything that contained magical properties. So that leaves the Scarabia and the Diasomnia dorm as the prime location for a third-party to slip something into the beverage.” Ortho nodded at his reasoning, giving his brother a worried glance, “My most present concern is what could have done this. It was strong enough to effect full-blooded fae but weak enough to humans to ‘deage’ them  both to the same age.”

“...No?” Sebek spoke quietly, eyes glancing between Malleus in his arms and Lilia wrapped around Silver's arm and biting into his wrist, “They're…they're not. Waka-sama! Do you know how old you are?”

Malleus had only jumped a bit at the sudden volume increase that was Sebek’s voice before calming back down, “I'm forty…”

“...”

Crewel pinched the bridge of his nose, counting back in his head to calm his rising blood pressure. He grabbed his phone with one hand, texting Oster as he searched in his other coat pocket, “I’ll need to do some tests to determine what’s in their systems. Not to mention just making sure it’s not actively hurting them…”

Epel spoke up, Vil moving from his hands to poking and pulling at his face claiming he was going to get wrinkles if he kept glaring, “How are you gonna test it?”

“Blood sample.” Crewel then pulled what they could only conceive as the biggest-looking syringe any of them had ever seen. Silver and Sebek both only seeing one of such style in the valley since it seemed more modern needles weren’t so…comically terrifying.

…

Every child once in a relative calm had started to sob the second the syringe was brought out, each wailing and struggling to escape the room or their guardians' hold once they realized they were going to be stuck with the insanely scary needle.

Silver was fighting to keep Lilia from kicking him in the throat in his efforts to break free of his hold. Sebek wasn’t any better as Malleus whimpered and whined, the lights flickering the more distressed he became as the clouds darkened outside. Ruggie had Leona on his head, the child hissing and trying to tug Ruggie by the ears to demand he turn around to leave the room. Epel and Riddle had it the worst. Both of the smaller boys tried to strong-arm two wailing toddlers from flinging themselves to the ground.

Riddle yells, face red both from overexertion and rage, “Why do you have a sterile syringe in your coat pocket!?”

“Don’t you bark at me, Rosehearts! I’ll keep what I need to deal with you lot of rowdy puppies!” The teacher groaned, the sound of wailing children something he had no desire to ever hear. 

Hui-Yan was no better as the woman stood almost frozen beside him with her eyes jumping from one crying kid to the other. She leaned over, eyes glancing to Crewel���s phone to see what he had texted the other science teacher, “Is Oster bringing more syringes or are you going to draw from each of them?”

“... I'm not using the same needle on all of them Hui-Yan.”

“Okay.”

“Why would you think that?”

“I just assumed that’s what you’d do.”

“Why-”

“Um!”

Crewel and Hui-Yan look in surprise. The voice was squeakier but Idia was clearly the child to speak out. He was making direct eye contact, pulling his face from his sleeve and nodding his head.

“I can go first! To show them it’s not scary.”

“O-oh…Thank you, Idia…?” Both teachers glanced at each other, almost asking if they had heard the same thing. Idia as an 18-year-old was not brave, loud, nor as considerate as his toddler counterpart. While very helpful, it was simply jarring…

Crewel pulled out his crop, starting to cast a few spells on the syringe in hand, “Another teacher is coming with more supplies so I can safely get a sample from each of you. You’ll get one of those needles since I have this one for Malleus or Lilia. Modern syringes are made from steel which, if you puppies have been doing your science homework, is a mixture of iron and carbon.” He held up the syringe again, eye twitching at the increased wailing of the children, “I have a few vintage syringes that are still functional that were made with silver. A few cleaning spells and they’ll be safe to use for the fae…”

Oster bursts in, a bag slung over her shoulder as she huffed and puffed, “I’ve come with the items!”

“Perfect timing. Please prep the baby Shroud to draw blood and prep yourself to potentially fight several children…” Crewel pulled out the single-use bags of syringes, looking each over before he started to prep the second vintage syringe.

Rook peaked from under Epel's arm, watching as Idia let Ortho and Oster maneuver his jacket around to show his arm. He whimpered louder, watching the teacher wipe at the other boy's arm with a cotton ball that stained his skin orange, “Vous ne savez pas ce qu'est un tir? Ils font mal et font peur!” **

Idia looked down, eyebrows creased together in confusion, “Wha…?”

Ortho hums, gaining Idia’s attention, “He’s speaking Florian.”

“Oh…” Idia turned back to Rook, shaking his head at the terrified child, “I don’t speak Florian…”

“Scary! He’s saying shots are scary!” Vil wailed, struggling and twisting his arm in Epel’s hold while Rook started to do the same with his other side.

“Oh…Well. I get shots a lot, so I’m used to them.” Idia gains a fearful expression seeing both Oster and Crewel give the needles a final check over, “Yeah, it feels like a pinch but then you get a sucker!”

Malleus stopped his whimpering, shyly peaking from a fretting Sebek’s shoulder. He sniffled, looking over to Idia, “What…what is a sucker?”

“...A sucker?” Idia responded, looking just as confused. How did anyone not know what a sucker was…?

Sebek spoke up, patting Malleus on the back in an effort to calm him more, “It’s a confection; like the honey drops given out at the spring festival! Once you have the test done, you will receive a sucker as your payment for your bravery!”

“...” Malleus looked over to Crewel, the man realizing he was being watched and stiffly held the syringe up. Turning back to Sebek, Malleus nodded his head in a determined manner, “...I want a honey drop…”

“I will ensure you have as many honeydrops as you can stomach, Waka-sama!”

Two of the eight children pacified by the promise of candy, Riddle and Epel took notice and decided it was their best bet.

Riddle managed to kneel down, almost being pulled over by the two struggling toddlers, “Trey, Cater, you can have sweets if you both allow the nice teacher to get a blood test-”

Trey all but wept, the fight slowly leaving him after nearly two minutes of tugging against Riddle’s grip, “I want my moooooooom…!”

Vil cried out, much angrier and still fighting to be released from under Epel’s arm, “I want my lawyer!”

It took another five or so minutes for every child to be calmed and pricked. Trey demanded to call his mother and father once he had his blood drawn and his sucker firm in hand. Cater completely rejected the idea of candy, pitching an even bigger fit at the idea he would be force-fed the sucker after he had his blood taken. Riddle had to promise not only on his life but his favorite color that Cater would be the one allowed to pick what they all had for lunch that day.

Vil had nearly screamed himself hoarse when Crewel approached him with the needle, completely falling into tears on the ground and forcing Epel to fully console the child. It took a promise of as much frozen yogurt as he wanted for dessert and to swear he hadn't been kidnapped by crazy fans of his father. The other blonde toddler had helped Epel explain to Rook that they needed to take a bit of blood to make sure he was healthy. Though he didn't look happy about it, he gained his sucker by holding Vil's hand and closing both of his eyes tight.

Malleus had allowed Oster to stick him with the needle, hiding in Sebek's shoulder and whimpering. The first-year nearly making the woman break the needle off under the toddler's skin, yelling at her that she had taken enough blood when the sample had barely reached the first measurement mark. Lilia fought tooth and nail, never having seen a syringe and thinking it to be a weapon of sorts. It took both Silver and Hui-Yan distracting the child with the promised bright green sucker, allowing Crewel to gather his sample the moment Lilia had let his guard down, barely moving away to avoid razor-sharp baby teeth.

Leona refused and no promise of candy nor food nor any activity Ruggie could think up was accepted. In the end it took Ruggie holding the little prince in a body lock with both his legs and an arm. His last appendage helping Oster by holding Leona's arm still as he hissed and yowled. Once released the first thing the prince did was turn around and lunge at Ruggie, biting down hard on the hyena’s ear and had yet to let go.

Idia had watched it all, comfortable and snug in Ortho's arms with his star-covered bandaid and already blue sucker-stained mouth, “Bunch of babies…”

A botched potion was the answer. From the trace of ingredients found, Crewel and Oster were able to conclude the original potion was a magic reduction syrup. A rare concoction, but commonly prescribed for younger children with high levels of magic and no proper training. A potion that Oster had started to make once she and Crewel realized the children would possibly need it, Malleus mostly…

The main deviation was the substitution of moon crystals for moon petals. An ingredient commonly found in high-quality beauty creams for rejuvenating purposes. Both Crewel and Oster recognizing it from their own beauty night creams. Not harmful, but, it did manage to turn the recipients four. Luckily the potion would only last for a week or so, two tops.

Crewel had tasked Hui-Yan to do what she did best, hunting down students. Someone had planned to potentially poison multiple students and it was an act that would not slide, even by Night Raven standards. But, until the culprits were caught, there wasn't much any of them could do but make sure their new tiny charges were comfortable.

With promise of properly sized clothing and other necessities to be delivered, everyone took their respective toddlers back to their dorms.

Riddle sighed, a pouting Cater holding onto two of his fingers and a still sniffling Trey clutched in his free arm. Walking back to Heartslabyul was a chore and his workload would only grow as the days went on. While aid would be coming in the form physical items, Cater and Trey were pillars of the dorm, emotional support for many a student and Riddle's closest aids. He was aware he'd lose them once they went off to their internships, but to have it happen only a few weeks into this repeat year was cruel. Even if it was only for at most two weeks, Ace and Deuce were not ready for the task of filling their juniors roles yet…

As he entered the dorm's lounge area, he made eye contact with Ace. The redhead freshman sitting on a couch opposite Deuce while the other muttered quietly.

“Wow…they're still four, huh? I would have thought Crewel-Sensei would give them something to make them older again…” Ace stood from his seat, walking closer and raising an eyebrow. Both at Trey whining into Riddle's shoulder and the foul little pout Cater was giving him, “What's their deals?”

“Shots. Suffice to say, neither were too happy about it…” While he was able to guide Cater toward Ace, the smaller redhand's pout lessening when he was picked up, Trey had simply refused to detach from Riddle.

Deuce smiled soft, poking at Trey's back, “Hey, lil guy. Nothing to be afraid of, we're all pretty familiar with each other when you're older.”

Trey merely shook his head, not moving from Riddle's shoulder.

Sighing, Riddle did his best to shuffle Trey in hopes of moving his weight in his quickly tiring arms, “It was a very emotional morning for everyone. Maybe a nap is in order for them, at least until lunch…”

Ace takes notice of Cater in his arms. At the mention of lunch, the toddler seemed to be on the verge of tears the longer Riddle spoke on sleeping arrangements instead of the actual meal time.He bounced the toddler lightly in his arms, gaining his attention before doing a stage whisper to gain everyone's attention, “Hey. Why are you so mad?”

Cater puffed his cheeks out, sending a glare over to Riddle before whispering back to Ace in a harsh tone, “He lied about letting me pick lunch. He didn't say I could pick…”

Ace gasped, looking toward a confused Riddle scandalized, “Housewarden! Shame on you! Did you promise Cater could pick lunch? And you go back on your word? Shame! Jail! Jail for one thousand years!”

Deuce turned to Riddle, frowning himself at the slight, “Rosehearts-senpai…”

“I-! Cater is still allowed to pick lunch!? I didn't say he wasn't? I only gave the opinion that they should have a nap beforehand. It was a very busy morning.”

Cater’s demeanor changed, his eyes widen in amazement and moving away from curling against Ace, “You mean it? I can still pick what's for lunch?”

Riddle softened, smiling at the clearly excited toddler, “Of course you can, Cater-CATER, DON'T JUMP!”

Calm had fled quickly, Cater managing to slip out of Ace's relaxed hold and hit the ground running. His little legs zooming him out of the room before any of them realized he was running.

Deuce was the first to sprint after the child, “Diamond-Senpai! Where are you going!?”

“To pick lunch!”

Ace and Riddle rushed after them both, Riddle still carrying Trey in his tired arms, “Cater, lunch isn't for hours!”

Cater demanded to pick lunch, only then would he even entertain the idea of a nap. So Riddle, Ace, and Deuce all walked along the kitchen. Following behind a far too excited toddler as he looked around the curvy space looking for something to eat.

Trey had finally calmed down, pulling himself from Riddle's shoulder to look around the kitchen himself. Luckily he was distracted enough for Riddle to hand him off to Deuce, finally giving his arms a break.

Riddle watched from a stool, Deuce carrying and holding Trey up to cabinets and various items of the kitchen for closer looks. Ace was following behind Cater, laughing whenever the child opened a cabinet below only to be greeted with pots and pans instead of the food he was expecting.

But soon, Cater found actual food in the cabinets he could reach. The redheaded toddler proudly presenting an unopened jar of tomato sauce to Riddle, “This! I want this for lunch!”

Riddle looked at the jar, knowing the sauce was healthy enough but…, “Just the sauce?”

“Yes.”

“No. You're not just eating sauce for lunch.”

“...” Cater’s face started to flush, tears welling up in his eyes before he started to stomp his feet, “No! You said! You said I could pick! You promised!”

“I did promise, but sauce isn't lunch. You need to pick something else.”

“Nooooooo!” Cater had fallen back onto his bottom, shaking his head and nearly throwing the glass jar to the ground in fury before Ace kneeled down. The now older redhead trying to both calm and reason with the child.

“H-hey. It's ok. We can find something other than sauce for lunch-”

“NOOOOOOOOOO!”

Deuce had appeared, still holding Trey at an arms length while the toddler held out a box of dry spaghetti  pasta. Trey shook the box, gaining Cater’s focus before he shook it again.

“We can have sauce and noodles! Then you can have a lot of sauce with them.”

“...” Cater seemed to weigh his options, casting a pout at Riddle who remained seated in his chair but was unable to look at the upset toddler for long, “I want a lot of sauce on my noodles…”

“...” Riddle knew they had some chicken in the fridge, Trey had wanted to try to teach a few dorm members proper breading techniques, “Yes. A pasta is a wonderful idea for lunch. You're both very smart boys. Cater’s sauce will help make the perfect food for lunch.”

The praise was more than enough to dry Cater’s tears, the toddler holding the jar tight in his hands as he smiled.

Ace, Deuce and Cater walked around the kitchen, both of the freshmen taking turns lifting the toddler to see into the upper cabinets. Riddle sighed, a weight settling into his chest. Children were…so emotionally fragile. A part of him feared this was another avenue of his life that his upbringing failed to prepare him for. Feeling a tug on the top of his boots, the housewarden looked down to Trey, the once content toddler now looking unsure and back on the verge of tears,

“Can I call my mom now? You promised…”

“...” Brief panic gripped his heart, a bead of sweat forming at his temple before he smiled at Trey, “S-sure. Just one moment…”

Riddle pulled out his phone, looking at the personal content number of Mrs. Clover, a number that was routinely deleted and re-added before and after every school break. He gulped, clicking on the icon for a video call and waiting.

The line had rung only a few moments before a middle-aged woman with cropped black hair appeared on screen, she blinked at the camera with warm honey eyes before a wide smile took over her face, “Oh! Riddle, hello, lovely. How are you? You don’t normally call. Oh! While I have you on the line, can you tell Trey I tried to call him this morning but his phone kept going to voicemail?”

“...About that…” Riddle smiled nervously, making brief eye contact with a very excited looking Trey at the sound of his mother’s voice, “Something happened today and…Well…” Riddle turned his phone around, doing his best to keep Trey in frame of the camera.

The sound of pans falling from over the phone was loud and as disastrous as Riddle feared it to be. Instead, Trey beamed, waving with both his arms and bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Hi, mommy! I got shots today and was really brave!” Trey moved closer to the screen, holding up his unopened sucker for his mom to view, “I got a sucker. I think it’s strawberry. I can tell because it’s pink but still red. So it’s not cherry. I can tell!”

Riddle could hear how frazzled Mrs.Clover was, the woman stuttering over her words, “Oh, how amazing, Trey! You’ve gotten so good at telling flavors, haven’t you? Um…B-be a good boy for mommy and be nice to Riddle okay? He’s gonna look after you for a bit, okay?”

“Okay, mommy! I’ll be good!”

“Trey!”

Riddle and Trey looked over, Cater now on Deuce’s shoulders and looking into a cabinet with an expression of wonder, “There’s more pasta shapes in here!”

“I wanna see!” Trey had dashed over, only to stop and double back to wave to the camera one more time, “Bye, mommy!”

“Bye, sweetie~...” Once Trey had ran off, being picked up by Ace to look into the cabinet, Mrs.Clover whispered, “Riddle, what happened to my son?”

Riddle turned the camera back to himself, whispering low as to not gain anyone’s attention, “There was a situation involving a misbrewed potion being slipped to a group of juniors and Trey was unfortunately a part of it. Bloodwork was taken and there’s no harm being done from the potion. They’re simply…four for the next few weeks.”

Mrs.Clover stood with her mouth lightly agape, giving Riddle a hard stare that lasted so long her husband had called out to her in mild confusion and concern. She shook her head, blinking herself back before turning around. She said a few words that Riddle couldn’t make out before facing him again, “We’ll get our ducks in a row over here. By…By Sunday we should have everything all set to close down for the week to come help you boys out.”

“Mrs.Clover, I couldn’t possibly ask-”

“Well, you aren’t, I’m offering, Riddle. You said a group got turned right? You boys over there are still just kids. My husband and I will be there to take the load off of you from watching them. Plus, it’ll be nice you know? We missed so much of Trey’s childhood…It’s not permanent but it’d be nice to have more pictures of him from when he was small…”

“...” Riddle huffed, looking to the side, “That would be helpful…I will have plenty of paperwork to handle now that Trey and Cater are indisposed…”

“I’ll call you later tonight! I can help you get Trey settled into bed. You should think of calling Cater’s parents, too. Bye, Riddle. Talk more later, okay?”

“Understand. Farewell and a good afternoon to you Mrs.Clover.”

Once the call had ended, Riddle thought over her words. It may be helpful for the others dealing with toddlers to have a week break from tending to them. Humming under his breath, he sends a message to Ortho, wondering what the android though of the idea of alerting the turned junior’s families…

Translations!

*V: Rook, what did you want? R: My papa does it for me, my brother and my sister. There are no tomatoes

**R: Don't know what a shot is? They hurt and are scary!

[munsons-melody]

wednesday mornings

summary: you bring eddie breakfast without him asking

pairing: eddie x female!reader (newly established relationship)

word count: 1.7k

a/n: this happens in my st dr so i thought it'd be cute to write about it

masterlist

i do not consent to having any of my works republished, translated, or posted to any other site except here. if you see my works anywhere but tumblr, it has been republished without my knowledge, consent, or permission.

—

"wooo" you screamed as the crowd clapped, a smile growing on eddie's face as they had just finished the last song of their set

"thank you all, we're corroded coffin, goodnight!" eddie screamed into the mic as the rest of the band exited the stage, and you jumped out of your chair and followed the boys into the small green room that was directly behind the stage

"amazing show you guys!" you told them ecstatically, gareth sitting down on one of the faded leather couch, chugging water

"thank you thank you" jeff said, giving a slight bow causing gareth to laugh

you felt a pair of warm, calloused hands slide around your waist, and a kiss land on the side of your neck

"hi baby" eddie said, and you turned around to kiss him

you fixed his sweaty bangs that clung to his forehead, and gave him a smile "you smashed it babe, i am so so proud of you" you told him and he smiled, putting his head down

"coming from you, it means a lot y/n" eddie said, and he brought one of your hands up to his lips, kissing the back of your hand

you caught notice of his watch and remembered you had a curfew of 10:45 pm and you mentally groaned, not wanting to have to leave soon

"hey babe what time is it?" you asked and he checked his watch. "uhhh... 10:30" he said and you leaned your head back in annoyance

"ugh" you groaned and he laughed "c'mon babe i'll drive you home" eddie said with a laugh, letting go of your grasp and walking over to where his keys sat on the counter next to the partially rusted old mirror

"good job tonight boys!" you screamed towards them, eddie ushering you out of the room and into the small hallway toward the back door, leading to where eddie's van was parked

"seriously i'm telling you, one of these days some big record exec is going to come here and see you and you're going to get signed" you told him as he held the door open for you

"i hope so, i'm just glad someone believes in us" eddie said, helping you into the side of the van

eddie walked around to his side of the van, climbing in and starting to drive from the hideout to your house

"i hate that you have to leave so early babe" eddie sighed, lacing his fingers with yours as the radio played softly in the background

"i know" you said, looking down at your hands intertwined "but i need to stay in my dad's good side so i can keep coming to see your shows" you told him, fiddling with the ring on his right hand

“yeah and i need my good luck charm there with me” he said with a wink, as he turned into your neighborhood

“are you going straight home or are you going to stay out with the boys?” you questioned, grabbing your purse and putting the strap over your shoulder

“i think we’re going to hang out and stuff, but i’ll see you in the morning? are you driving yourself?” he asked you and you nodded

“yeah i am, try and sleep a little bit please, don’t party too much babe” you said, kissing his cheek

he moved his face to kiss you, and you kissed back, not wanting to let him go but you knew you needed to

“see you in the morning” he said and you kissed him one last time before hopping out of his van and shutting the door

looking through the rolled down window you blew him a kiss, which he pretended to catch and put to his heart

you smiled one last time before turning around and walking to your front door, and letting yourself inside

you looked back to see eddie watching intently to make sure you got in okay and you waved at him as he waved back, driving off into the distance

you shut the door behind you and said hello to your parents who were finishing up watching a movie

they said a hello back, asked if you had fun and you if course said yes, and you ran up to your room, ready to go to sleep

after a nice soothing shower, you cuddled into your bedsheets, ready to go to sleep

—

your alarmed blared, waking you up from your lovely slumber and you groaned, knowing you had to get up

you hated wednesday mornings since it was the middle of the week and it meant you had to keep waiting till the weekend to sleep in

shoving the blankets off you, you finally got up to get ready for the day

after applying the little bit of makeup you usually wore, fixed your hair in your normal way, and slipped on a t shirt and jeans, you felt ready for the day

you walked to your kitchen, starting to make your breakfast, opting for a bagel and cream cheese

you thought to yourself about eddie and how much fun last night was, and how excited you were to see him again and how he’d stop by your locker to see you first thing

then you realized eddie would probably be late since he was out late the night before. it was a usual habit of his to come in late on wednesday mornings due to him staying up late, sleeping through his alarms, then skipping breakfast to speed to school in order to try and make it to first period

i doubt he’s gonna eat this morning since he’s probably going to use all his time to keep sleeping you thought to yourself

you grabbed another bagel, toasting it, and cracking open and egg over the heated stove, choosing to make him an egg, ham, and cheese on a bagel

thank god he wasn’t a picky eater, more like a human garbage bin who would and can eat anything- except mushrooms which he disliked immensely

you quickly finished his bagel sandwich, wrapping it in tin foil and grabbed your backpack, starting to head out the door

“have a good day sweetie!” you heard your mom yell and you yelled a quick goodbye back before heading into your car

your drive to school was quick, only living a couple miles away, and before you knew it, you pulled into your normal parking spot

you looked around but couldn’t seem to find eddie’s van. you knew it, it was typical of him but you just hoped that he wouldn’t hurt himself by speeding to school.

you got out of your car and walked into the school and to your locker, the usual crowds of students already formed throughout the hallways

opening your locker, you switched your books to the ones you needed when you suddenly felt someone walk up behind you, hearing the familiar voice of your boyfriend ring out

“good morning” he simply said, leaning against the locker next to yours and you turned around in shock

“what are you doing here?” you questioned him and he looked confused

“uh i’m actually trying to pass this semester so i figured going to class is a nice start” he smugly said and you laughed

“no like i meant how come you’re early? normally on wednesday mornings you’re late since you accidentally sleep in from staying out with the boys” you explained and he nodded, rubbing his eye

“yeah luckily wayne got me out of bed and sent me on my way but not before i got any breakfast” he complained, and your eyes lit up

you shoved your books into your locker, freeing your hand and you took the wrapped tin foil and handed it to him

eddie looked at you with a confused smile as he started to open it

“you usually forget to eat on wednesdays because you’re late and i made you breakfast, i know you like bagel sandwiches so i made you one” you explained

eddie stopped unwrapping it, looking at you with wide eyes

“you made this for me?” he questioned and you nodded

“yeah of course, i didn’t want you to be hungry” you said sheepishly

eddie smiled and looked down at the bagel

“thank you” he said in a sincere tone before taking a bite out of the bagel and leaning his head back with a groan

“oh my GOD baby this is amazing!” he yelled, catching the attention of a couple bystanders

he scarfed down the bagel as you talked to him about everything and nothing

the warning bell rang, signaling there was 5 minutes before class started

you shut your locker, holding your books as eddie crumpled the tin foil in his hand. you watched as he tossed it across the hall into the trash can, making it in

“giving jason a run for his money i see” you joked, and eddie smiled

“yeah everyone knows i could beat him but i just can’t handle all that popularity, my schedules pretty booked as is” eddie said making you laugh as he wrapped his arm around you, walking you to your first class

he said goodbye, kissing your cheek before walking down the hallway

he thought to himself how much he loved you. how much he cared for you. and after your act of kindness this morning, it felt like his heart swelled a million times it’s normal size.

he genuinely couldn’t believe that someone as amazing like you truly cared for him, and even though it was as simple as making him breakfast when you realized he wouldn’t have any, it made him care for you even more (even though he didn’t think that was possible)

hell, tears pricked his eyes as he walked into his first period, thinking about you

as he sat in his seat, he wasn’t even phased by the fact that he wasn’t paying attention to whatever his teacher was saying, all he could think about was how lucky he was to have you in his life, and the potential idea of giving you the ring he loved to wear that you always seemed to fiddle with

and all he did the rest of class was figure out the best way to ask you to wear his ring

fin.

[cripplecharacters]

Hello. I am writing a character with intellectual disability, and I have found your posts about that really helpful. Thank you for taking the time to make them.

I am trying to do research and write him well, and I was hoping you could give me some advice on how to do that. My problem is that I would like to describe the way he speaks and the sound of his voice, but I'm not sure how to do that respectfully.

What I would like to describe is the way he takes a little longer to complete his sentences, needs more time than others do to plan what he's going to say, and pronounces some sounds a bit differently because of motor skills issues. I want to honor his unique voice and also help readers understand that he is noticeably disabled.

Are there any words or terms that would be really good/preferred to describe this sort of thing? And, on the other side, is there anything stereotypical or hurtful that should be avoided?

Thank you!

Hi!

I recommend our guide on writing speech disabilities!

In-dialogue, you can try showing him taking a break mid-sentence or using a lot of filler words/sounds to show that he's taking his time. You can spell them out in his speech, but I wouldn't overuse it - you can put more of them at the start, but later your readers will remember that that's how he talks, and occasional reminders should be enough.

It's important to remember that 1) ableists often mock the things I just mentioned, and 2) they're nonetheless real and real life people (me) talk with those patterns. I'd urge you to show them as just how he talks, not something that's inherently "annoying" or "child-like". Stray away from any sorts of infantilizing comparisons in general (that is, if he's not an actual child).

For him taking longer to plan what he is going to say, that's very real lol. How it shows (or doesn't show) will be very personal, I specifically tend to look up + fidget with my hands and people who know me can recognize that it means I'm trying to say something but need a moment (though strangers also often get it). But he can show it completely differently of course.

I don't think there's a consensus on what's the best way of "spelling out" someone's speech disability. My personal preference is leaving it out of the actual speech, but making it clear in the dialogue tags. It's also easier for readers who might have reading disabilities or not be native speakers of the language you write in. So you could make it clear there whether it's that he's slurring words, has a lisp, or stutters.

For terms, a lot of the accurate ones have also been used to mock how we talk. "Slow" would be the best example, "loud" would be there as well. A lot of us will talk slow, a lot will talk very loudly. I do the latter, and I know people who do both or neither. The key is to say it in a way that's neutral and not pass it off as some funny quirk or an outright gag. It's just a speech characteristic, the same way that someone could have a lower pitched voice, or speak very softly.

You can also show him struggling to follow the flow of the conversation. So sometimes it could be that he just loses the main topic and just asks what the discussion has been about (I do that all the time), or continues going on the subject that the other character(s) already moved on from.

Thanks for the ask and being thoughtful about it! I hope this helps

mod Sasza

[storiesforallfandoms]

not what it looks like ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 1812

request?: yes!

“Hi I was wondering if you could do one for colson, Where the r goes through his latest dm for a tik tok trend and it's megan flirting with him ,and so reader confront s him. They get into a huge fight like legit throwing stuff around the house ,and r stays in the guest bedroom but he wants to Apologize. So he finds the key ,and preferably make up with hot angry smut if your up for it. Thank you for your time - anon🪅”

description: in which she finds a suspicious message when she goes through his dms

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing, hints of cheating but no actual cheating has occurred, fighting and yelling (no actual yelling and throwing stuff tho sorry), rpf

masterlist (one, two, three)

You often found yourself wanting to try whatever couple’s trend was going around on TikTok, and Colson was always game. He liked how excited you got to show him, and how happy you were whenever e said yes to trying a trend. It was never anything you did to post online, you only did it for your own enjoyment. It was all innocent fun.

You thought this trend was going to be the same. Oh, how wrong you were.

Colson was basically expecting the question when he heard your phone go silent in the next room and your footsteps approaching. He turned to watch the doorway and smiled when you predictably appeared.

“Can I see your latest DM?” you asked.

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that the trend, or should I be worried about where this is coming from?”

“No! It’s a trend!” you assured him.

He laughed. “Okay. Here.”

He passed you his phone. You took it and sat on the couch next to him. He turned his attention back to the song he had been writing as he let you do whatever you wanted to do.

The trend you had seen was simple: someone asked their partner if they could see the last text message on their phone. It always went one of two ways: either the last text was something mundane or funny, or it was something incriminating. You had no fears about what could be on Colson’s phone, especially when he was so quick to pass it over to you. So you decided to look at his latest Instagram DM instead. You figured it would be funny to see what fans had been saying to him recently.

What you didn’t expect was for there to be a message from a verified account. An account that you knew.

Megan Fox.

But it wasn’t the account itself that brought you pause. It was the message preview.

“I had a great ti - ”

You clicked the message without a second thought. The full message read, “I had a great time yesterday. Let me know when you want to do it again!” The message was followed by a ink emoji and a smiling devil emoji.

Your mind was running a million miles a second. What could the message mean? Well, clearly it meant Megan and Colson had met up at some point the day before, and planned to meet again. You couldn’t remember what Colson had told you he was doing the day before, so you couldn’t think of what possible reason there was for them to be together. Especially something that would require a wink and devil emoji. Unless...

No. There was no way. Colson would never cheat on you. He loved you and he was loyal to you. You had no reason to doubt that.

At least, you didn’t until you saw Megan’s message.

You were having so much internal turmoil that you didn’t realize how long you had just been staring at Colson’s phone. He looked over to find you frozen and lightly nudged you with his shoulder.

“Is the last message that traumatizing?” he teased. When you didn’t respond, worry sunk in. “Babe, what’s wrong?”

You held the phone out to him. He took it and started reading the message that was still on the screen. “What does this mean?”

His face didn’t show any signs of panic or guilt. You figured that should be a good sign, right? He wasn’t acting as if you caught him in a lie or anything. But then again, he could just be having a very good poker face.

“We had her in a video yesterday,” he replied. “It was crazy. You’ll love it when you see it.”

You nodded, but your mind was still distant. Had he told you he was filming yesterday? Not that he had to tell you everything he ever did. You were both adults, you didn’t need to keep tabs on one another. But he usually told you about his video shoots, or anything to do with his music. You figured he would’ve told you about having Megan Fox in one of his videos especially. That was a huge deal.

He gave you a look. “Do you not believe me?”

“I didn’t say that,” you said.

“You didn’t say anything. Babe, why would I lie?”

You didn’t point out the obvious: that he’d lie because he’s cheating. But he read your expression and said, “I’m not cheating on you.”

“You wouldn’t tell me if you were,” you blurted.

Colson looked at you. A humorless chuckle escaped his lips. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you’d think I was cheating on you. I have never given you any reason to think I would, and now because of this one message that I already explained to you, you think I’m cheating?”

“Well what else am I supposed to think when I see a message on your phone from another woman saying she had a ‘great time yesterday’ and adding flirty emojis?”

Colson rolled his eyes and stood from the couch. You did the same, following him out of the room. “Where are you going?”

“Why? Are you afraid I have Megan hidden in the next room?”

“Okay, maybe I am overreacting, but can’t you see this from my point of view? You have a message from another woman saying you were together yesterday. That she wants to meet up with you again. How else am I supposed to take that?”

“You’re supposed to believe me because I’m telling you nothing fucking happened! We got Megan for a video shoot and the video had to do with her playing a crazy stalker. That’s why she sent the devil emoji. There is nothing between us!”

You stepped back at his raised tone. You felt a lump forming in your throat. Maybe you were being irrational. Maybe you should’ve taken the explanation that Colson gave you and believed him. But he didn’t need to yell at you like that. He had never yelled at you before, not even during past arguments.

You choked back the lump and said, “You can’t blame me for thinking the worst when I saw that message. It sounds flirty, like you two were together in an intimate scenario yesterday. And I know you’ve never given me any reason to think you’d cheat, but cheating isn’t an obvious thin, Colson! Cheaters don’t announce they’re cheating every time they leave the house. I’m sorry for accusing you, but you can’t blame me when I saw that message with no context, from a woman way more beautiful than I could ever be. Silly me for thinking you wouldn’t want to fuck Megan Fox of all people.”

You turned before he could say anything else and nearly ran up the stairs to your shared bedroom. Maybe you were childish for running to your room to escape an argument and cry, but now that you had voice your insecurities out loud, you needed to get away and allow your emotions to run free.

That was really what this was all about: your own insecurities. You had always been insecure about the women Colson was surrounded by. He was a famous rapper, he had gorgeous groupies throwing themselves at him at every show. He was linked with actresses and other female musicians that you found to be so much more beautiful than you. You were terrified of the day when he realized he could do so much better than you and broke up with you for one of the beautiful women he was surrounded by almost daily.

You were laid on your bed, the tears seeming to finally run out when you heard Colson’s footsteps approaching the room. You sat up and tried to wipe your face before he found you, but you were sure your attempts were for nothing. Your face was definitely puffy and tear stained beyond a quick fix. Colson stood in the doorway, looking at you with a hint of sadness in his eyes as well. You couldn’t look at him for long before you gaze dropped to your lap.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice so soft it was almost a whisper.

“No, baby, don’t be sorry,” he said. He walked over to sit on the bed next to you. “How long have you felt like this?”

“Like what?” you asked, even though you knew exactly what he meant.

“Like what you said about Megan being more beautiful than you. There’s no way that just suddenly came out of you just then.”

You sighed and shook your head. “I’ve felt it for...a long time.”

“Like how long?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. It just started happening. One second I didn’t care about anyone else in the world, and then the next I was seeing the way other women looked at you and how they talked about wanting you. Then I started to notice how beautiful they all were.”

He gently took your chin in his hand and made you look up at him. “But you’re beautiful.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, but I’m not Megan Fox.”

“I don’t give a fuck. Megan isn’t who I want. Neither are any of the women who try and throw themselves at me while I’m on tour, or any models or actresses or musicians ever. I want you. I’ve always wanted you, and only you. You are the most beautiful person in the world to me and no one will ever change that. I would never hurt you by sneaking around with someone else. You are my everything.”

Tears were starting to form in your eyes again. You leaned into Colson’s arms, burying your head in his chest so he wouldn’t see you crying again. He put his arms around you and held you to him, allowing you to go through whatever emotions you were feeling.

You had been stupid to think he was cheating. You knew that even in the moment. But, your mind was so clouded with the message from Megan and your own insecurities that you weren’t thinking clearly. You felt silly about it now, but you were glad to have talked it through with Colson and to have cleared the air.

“What did you have Megan do you to that she sent you a devil emoji?” you asked when you finally were able to stop the tears and pull away from his chest.

“She tied me up and electrocuted me in a bathtub,” he responded.

You laughed. “What?!”

“I’m being dead serious. That’s just one scene. The whole video is her essentially just torturing me. She had a blast with it. I’m a little concerned that she’s so eager to do it again.”

You giggled and leaned into his embrace again. The two of you laid back on the bed as Colson recounted the shoot from the day before.

[cre8inghavoc]

What are friends for?

PT. 5

Status: ongoing!!

Updates: no set date.

WC: 3252

Pairing: megumi fushiguro x FEM!reader

Genre/Warnings:[18+] Characters are aged up. This story contains toxic boyfriend, cursing, name calling, self-doubt/hate, angst, breaking up, post-breakup, alcohol, drug use, drunk moments, new friends, dating!au, college!au, no curses!au, dark humour, dark jokes. SMAU.

RECAP:

"Okay... how do you know Megu-" Maki starts to ask before you interject.

"He was the one walking his dog when he saw my ex and I... you know," you explain, your voice trailing off.

"No way. That was him?" Maki's eyes widen in shock as realization dawns on her.

Confusion ripples through the group as they exchange glances, processing the revelation. Then, Maki's words sink in.

"The one that saved her from her toxic ex," she clarifies, her tone tinged with awe.

As you and Megumi are settled on the couch, a boy with pink hair approaches, radiating a gentle charm. His smile beams as he extends his hand for a hand shake.

"Hi, I'm Yuji Itadori. Nice to meet you!" His grin is infectious.

You stand to greet him properly, but a sudden dizziness overtakes you, blurring your vision. Itadori's grip steadies you, while Megumi rushes to help from behind. Concern fills the room, drawing Maki to your side.

"Are you okay, y/n?" Itadori asks, worried. 

"Forgot your pills, y/n?" Maki chimes in, her concern showing.

You gather yourself, "I'm alright, thanks. And no, Maki, I didn't have time to grab them. We were in a rush..."

"Pills?" Megumi's curiosity peaks.

Maki explains, "She has anemia. Needs her iron supplements twice a day, or she feels a bit off. Guess standing up too fast caught up with her." She guides you back to the couch gently.

"Wait, rush to leave her house? What's going on?" Toge questions, his gaze shifting between you and Megumi.

Megumi meets Toge's eyes and explains, "I brought y/n home from the bar. She wasn't feeling well, and I didn't want her to go alone in an Uber, so I offered to take her. She fell asleep, and I was just watching TV when her ex showed up at the door. He was trying to win her back, I guess. He even threatened her, saying he'd make her life a 'living hell' if she didn't take him back." He scoffs at the memory. "What a piece of shit."

“What the fuck?!” The collective shock in the room is palpable as everyone reacts in unison, their eyes darting between you and Megumi.

"Y/n, are you alright? That's awful," Yuta expresses, genuine concern etched on his face as he moves to sit beside you, offering a comforting hug.

"Yeah, I'm okay, really! Thanks, everyone," you reassure them, feeling the warmth of your friends' concern as you lean into Yuta's embrace, appreciating his comforting presence.

As Megumi watches you and Yuta, a strange sensation grips his chest. Could it be jealousy? He's not familiar with such feelings, especially considering how you both recently just met, and Yuta being your best friend. Quickly masking his emotions, he returns to his usual expression, glancing up at Itadori. Itadori catches the subtle shift in Megumi's demeanour, and a knowing grin spreads across his face as he realizes Megumi's jealousy over Yuta's comforting gesture towards you. But he knows not to say anything.

"Wait, y/n!" Maki interrupts suddenly, as if recalling something crucial.

You turn to her, eyebrows raised in curiosity. "What's up?"

"I just remembered... you left your gym bag in my car a few months ago. I'm pretty sure your pills were always in there," Maki informs you.

"Oh, really? I thought I lost that bag at the gym a while ago! I just assumed someone took it," you chuckle at the revelation.

"It's probably still in the trunk. Want me to grab it for you?" Maki offers.

"Nah, I got it. Thanks, though!" you reply, flashing her a smile as you rise from the couch and head towards the door where Maki's keys hang on a hook.

"You want some company?" Megumi asks casually.

As everyone exchanges knowing looks and stifles smirks, Megumi catches on and rolls his eyes, realizing he's unwittingly walked into a situation.

"It’s okay Megs, I'll be back in a minute," you assure him, giggling as you step outside toward Maki's car.

Once you close the front door behind you, the others turn to Megumi with a mixture of surprise and amusement written on their faces.

"What's up with all the looks?" Megumi questions, irritation evident in his tone.

"Bro… she just called you Megs...!" Itadori practically shouts with excitement.

"Seriously, what the hell...?" Nobara is shocked that Megumi allowed you to call him that.

"I... so?" he stammers, trying to maintain composure, though the creeping redness on his cheeks gives him away.

"Megumi, are you hearing yourself right now?" Maki laughs.

"You never let anyone call you anything other than Megumi or Fushiguro," Nobara adds, smirking.

"Whatever," Megumi mutters in response.

Meanwhile, you've opened Maki’s truck and found your gym bag. Upon unzipping it, you uncover your forgotten sweatpants and gym top, prompting a laugh at your own forgetfulness. But then your fingers brush against something unexpected—a plastic bag tucked away in a hidden pouch inside the bag. Curiosity gets the best of you so you pull it out.

"Fuck…" you exhale softly, staring at the bag that holds memories from your past. It's a simple plastic bag, yet it conceals secrets that no one else knows except for your ex—the one who introduced you to it all. 

Your hand trembles slightly as you touch the familiar texture, revealing three edibles, each containing 35mg of marijuana, far more than what you used to take. It had started as a coping mechanism for your anxiety, at least that's what your ex made you believe… but then it gradually became a habit, an addiction.

"Shit... no," you whisper, the temptation resurfacing, the urge to indulge in the familiar sensation. You bite them bottom of your lip as you yearn for the euphoric feeling, the calmness, the escape from worry. But you know you can't. You've been clean for months, determined to break free from the cycle of addiction and pain. You can't give in, you can't do it… not again… You shouldn't. You can't. But fuck… with the bag in your hand, the struggle intensifies, the temptation almost impossible to resist… it's just so damn hard…

Your mind races with rationalisations, each one tempting you to give in to just one edible. Just one wouldn't hurt, right? You'll feel relaxed, sleep peacefully, and then dispose of the rest, never to touch it again. You've overcome it once before, so surely you can do it again... can you?

"Just maybe..." you murmur to yourself, feeling the weight of the decision as you unzip the plastic bag and reach for one of the edibles.

"one... and then I'll drift off to sleep," you convince yourself, raising the edible to your mouth, savouring the taste before you swallow it.

"Or maybe two... 35mg isn't enough," you reason, popping the second one into your mouth and swallowing it down.

"Y/n?" a voice calls out, pulling you from your reverie.

Startled, you hastily stash the plastic bag in your pocket, looking up to see Megumi approaching.

“Fuck… what am I doing..?” You think to yourself. 

"Hey, you okay? You were taking longer than expected. We got worried," he says, his concern evident in his tone.

Megumi's soft voice breaks through your thoughts. Damn it, why does he have to be so sweet all the time?

"Yeah, I'm fine!" you assure him with a smile, holding up the bottle of pills. "Just took a bit to find them, but I've got them now," you say, trying to sound casual.

He smiles back. "Good. Do you need me to get some water so you can take them?"

"No, it's okay. I already took them," you lie, the guilt gnawing at you for caving to something else instead.

"Oh, okay! Wanna head back inside?" he suggests.

"Yeah, of course!" you agree, closing the truck and locking Maki's car doors before walking alongside Megumi back to the front door.

"They put on a different movie and wanted to know if you wanted to watch with them," he informs you.

"Sounds great!" you reply, smiling as you enter the house with him. Everyone's faces light up as they see you both return, but they quickly turn their attention back to the movie.

"Want to watch with us?" Yuta offers, smiling at you.

You nod, and together you and Megumi make your way to the couch, with Toge on your left, Megumi on your right, and Itadori beside him. As you settle in, you feel a wave of relaxation wash over you, but hunger and thirst start to gnaw at you.

"Hey, do you guys have any snacks?" you ask, loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Yeah, we have a few! I'm hungry too. Want to grab something from the kitchen?" Itadori eagerly suggests, his smile widens.

"Yessss, please!!" you chime in eagerly, flashing a smile as you and Itadori make your way to the kitchen.

"I'm coming too!! I'm starving," Toge announces, joining you both. 

While Itadori busies himself with preparing snacks, Toge notices something off about you. His observational skills kick in, and he pulls you aside to the corner of the kitchen. You're taken aback—Toge has never done something like this before.

"What's wrong with you?" he asks, his gaze piercing.

"What—what do you mean?" you respond, your words slower than intended, a clear sign that the weed is starting to affect you.

"Y/n... First, you took forever to find your pills, then you came back extremely hungry, and the way you said 'yes, please'—way too enthusiastic and giddy. And now your eyes.. Bloodshot red" Toge trails off, his suspicions evident.

"I—" you start to protest, but Toge interrupts, his gaze unwavering.

"Y/n... are you high?" he asks bluntly, examining your expression closely.

Your mind races, and your face betrays your shock. How did he figure it out so easily? Sure, your eyes are red, but couldn't that just be because you're tired? It's 4:21 in the morning, after all—red eyes could be a natural occurrence...

"What—no! What the heck, Toge?" you retort, a hint of anger creeping into your tone, despite knowing deep down that he's right.

"What? Why are you getting mad?" Toge asks, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"I'm not mad," you respond, your voice tinged with frustration. 

"Toge, seriously, what are you trying to do?" you sigh, attempting to maintain your composure.

"Admit it, y/n..." he persists, his tone tinged with disappointment.

You find yourself at a loss for words, staring at him in silence. You don't want to lie, but admitting the truth feels embarrassing. Yet, deep down, you know he's already figured it out. There's no hiding it from Toge—he's too perceptive for that. And now, you're left with no other option but to stay silent. There's nothing you can do.

Your heart drops as you catch a glimpse of Toge’s hand pulling out a plastic bag from his sweater pocket. It's like everything freezes for a moment, and you're left grappling with a loop of emotions—surprise, relief, and a tinge of guilt all rolled into one. You glance up at Toge, and he's already looking at you, a silent exchange passing between you. It must have fallen out when you sat down on the couch.. That’s why he kept questioning you.

There's a strange kind of understanding in that moment, a connection forged by the shared weight of your secret. It's both comforting and unsettling, knowing that someone else knows, yet also feeling exposed in a way.

Without a word spoken, Toge slides the plastic bag back into his pocket, his expression giving nothing away but somehow offering a sense of reassurance. And in that quiet exchange, you find a sense of solidarity, knowing that you're not alone in your struggle.

He's wanting to say more, to offer guidance or support, but he knows now isn't the time. Not when you're already intoxicated. With a silent understanding between you, you both rejoin the group in the living room. As you settle back onto the couch beside Megumi, you catch the way he glances between you and Toge, a silent observer to the unspoken exchange that just transpired. 

Your head starts to spin faster, anxiety creeping in like a shadow. Paranoia sets in, knowing Toge won't say anything now, but the thought of him possibly bringing it up tomorrow sends shivers down your spine. You're not sure if you're ready to confront your struggles, to dive into how you got addicted and everything that entails. It's a topic you've always avoided, buried deep within yourself.

Yet, aside from the mental chaos, there's a strange sense of relief that it was Toge who found the bag, not Megumi. You can't quite put your finger on why, but somehow, you feel a little safer with Toge knowing. Perhaps it's because you trust his judgement, his understanding, more than anyone else's in this moment of vulnerability… or maybe it's because you don’t want someone you just met to think you’re crazy and weird… 

As you feel yourself drifting off to sleep, your head leans unconsciously against Megumi's shoulder. He tenses up for a moment, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. Normally not one for displays of affection, he finds himself unable to resist the urge to be close to you, especially when you're alone together. It's a strange feeling for him, one he's never experienced before.

Despite his usual aversion to physical contact and closeness with others, being near you feels different. There's a warmth and comfort that he can't deny, a pull towards you that he can't quite explain. In that moment, he longs to hold you close, to protect you from whatever troubles may come your way.

Megumi's face grows even redder as he notices everyone's smiles directed at him. The attention makes him feel even more self-conscious about his uncharacteristic display of affection. As the late night continues, Maki and Nobora decide to head up to Nobora's room to sleep, telling everyone goodnight, the atmosphere in the room shifts. Itadori announces his intention to head to his own room, leaving just you, Megumi, Yuta, and Toge downstairs.

With Yuta already peacefully asleep on the second couch, it's just Toge and Megumi who remain awake. Megumi tries his best to stay still, not wanting to disturb your sleep. Toge observes Megumi's tense posture and decides to offer some reassurance.

"Hey, Megumi, you can relax a bit. She's a deep sleeper; she won't wake up if you move," Toge advises softly, hoping to alleviate some of Megumi's apprehension.

Megumi meets Toge's gaze and exhales softly, feeling the tension release from his shoulders as he settles more comfortably with you resting on his shoulder. "Thanks," he murmurs gratefully.

Toge nods in acknowledgment before asking, "You gonna sleep?"

"Yeah... I just don't want to move and risk waking her up. Though I'd prefer her to sleep in my room; it's more comfortable," Megumi admits.

"And where are you gonna sleep?" Toge inquires further.

Megumi considers for a moment before replying, "I was thinking about the couch, but since you and Yuta are already sleeping here, I guess I'll sleep in Itadori's room."

Toge chuckles softly before suggesting, "No need for that. You can both sleep in your bed so you're both comfortable."

There's a flicker of nervousness in Megumi's eyes at the thought of sharing a bed with you, but Toge quickly reassures him. "I promise, she won't mind at all."

"Okay, I'll take her upstairs. Night." Megumi stands up, lifting you in his arms as he carries you up the stairs slowly. He reaches his bedroom door and places you gently on his bed, his dogs are fast asleep in their cozy beds near his own. After covering you with a blanket, he goes to close the door but spots Toge outside, knocking softly. Megumi pauses, noticing Toge waiting there.

“Hey, you good?” Megumi whispers to Toge with a bit of confusion.

"Yeah... I just... I know this might not be the best time to bring it up, and it would've been better if y/n came clean first, but..." Toge hesitates, his words trailing off.

"Come on, Toge. Spit it out. What is it?" Megumi's confusion grows.

Toge lets out a sigh before revealing the plastic bag from his pocket, mirroring the moment he showed you earlier in the kitchen. Megumi's gaze shifts to the item in the bag, revealing that it’s a edible inside. He looks back at Toge, still confused. Toge realizes Megumi hasn't quite caught on yet.

"It's y/n's. I saw it fall out of her pocket when she sat down on the couch after coming back from the car. Then I noticed her behavior..." Toge says, a little annoyed.

"What are you getting at?" Megumi questions him.

"She's high... I think she might have taken one or two, I'm not sure. But I didn't know what to do... and... I thought you, more than anyone else here, could help with this situation," he admits.

Megumi glances back at you, peacefully sleeping in his bed, and then back at Toge. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. "God, y/n. What are you doing?" he mumbles, a little exasperated, before turning his attention back to Toge. "Do you have any idea how long she's been taking them?"

"Didn't find out until today," Toge replies.

"Alright, thanks Toge for letting me know. I'll try to talk to her about it, but I don't want to scare her or make her uncomfortable," Megumi says, his concern evident.

"Please keep me updated if she says anything. I'm worried about her. She's been through a lot, and I’m not entirely surprised that she turned to drugs... I just hope it's only marijuana and nothing far worse," Toge adds, his voice filled with concern.

They exchange nods, and Toge slips the bag into Megumi’s hand before heading back downstairs. Megumi closes his bedroom door and sits on the edge of the bed, staring at the plastic bag in his hand. As you stir in bed and slowly open your eyes, you see Megumi sitting there.

“Meg-” You begin, but then notice what he's holding.

Damn it.

Megumi meets your gaze with a hint of concern in his eyes. He rises from the bed and approaches your side.

“Megumi… it’s not what it looks l-” You start to explain, but he interrupts you by gently cupping your face with his hand, silencing you with his thumb.

“Shh, it’s okay, angel,” he reassures you, locking eyes with you and tenderly stroking your bottom lip with his thumb.

Damn it, why is he always so understanding? You want him to yell, to tell you what you're doing is wrong and that you need to stop and fix it. But he doesn’t. He won’t.

"Why... why aren't you angry? Why aren't you yelling at me for this?" You ask, feeling a twinge of upset as you gaze into his eyes, tears threatening to spill.

"I understand you're struggling, and turning to drugs isn't the solution, angel. But I'll never raise my voice at you. You're not alone," he reassures you with sincerity.

"Why..." Your voice trembles with emotion. "Why are you so kind to me? You barely even know me..." you say, feeling a surge of sadness.

He holds your chin gently, tilting your head up to meet his gaze fully. A smirk plays on his lips, sending a shiver down your spine. He's so effortlessly attractive... his gaze alone stirs something deep within you, igniting a rush of desire. If only he knew the effect he has on you...

"And there's a lot you don't know about me, sweetheart."

You start to respond, but before you can utter a word, you watch in pure shock as he slowly brings his hand to his mouth, still locking eyes with you. With deliberate intent, he places your last edible on his tongue and swallows it. 

The way i’m screaming.

i have so many ideas i just don’t know which one to do or how to start it 😀

TAGLIST <3

@lavender-hvze , @xbarrjallenx , @atinymonbebestay , @1l-ynn , @chilichopsticks , @dr-fluff-meow, , @lostfracturess, @maya-maya-56, @ichorstainedskin

[taytjiefourie]

Show don't tell: Envy

Hey there, it's great to be back! It's been a while, but I'm excited to announce that I've got a brand new 'Show Don't Tell' blog post for you today. If you're looking to improve your creative writing skills and learn how to convey emotions and experiences in a more powerful way, then this post is for you. So let's dive right in!

Today we're diving into the fascinating world of envy and how to write it effectively in your creative writing. Envy is a complex emotion that can be tricky to capture in words, but don't worry, I've got you covered! And the best part is, this is just the beginning - I'll be covering other emotions too, so stay tuned for more writing tips and tricks coming your way.

First let's start off with a question: What is envy?

Envy is a tricky emotion that arises when we feel discontent or resentment towards someone else's success, qualities, or possessions. You may have experienced envy when you see someone who has something you really want but can't have. It can show up in many different ways, like feeling bitter or jealous towards that person, or even talking behind their back. Dealing with envy can be tough for everyone involved. But in creative writing, envy can be used to create interesting characters, develop a compelling plot, and explore themes like power, status, and ambition.

Now let's explore one of the most effective ways to portray envy in your characters - body language! By combining physical cues with sensory details, dialogue, actions, and setting, you can create a powerful depiction of this complex emotion. To help you get started, I've compiled a list of some of the most common signs of envy that you can incorporate into your writing.

Narrowing eyes

Glowering

Clenching fists

Grinding teeth

Tightening jaw

Gritting teeth

Curling lips

Sneering

Forced smile

Sarcastic laugh

Crossing arms

Legs defensively

Squinting eyes

Furrowing eyebrows

Turning away

Avoiding eye contact

Biting lip or Inner cheek

Looking down

Shifting gaze

Tensing muscles

Body posture

Fidgeting

Restless movements

Rolling eyes

Making snide comments

Slouching

Hunching shoulders

Breathing heavily

Hyperventilating

Swallowing hard

Gulping

Sweating

Clammy skin

Paling complexion

Blushing

Stiffening

Freezing in place

Trembling

Shaking

Sighing

Heavy exhalation

Scratching

Rubbing hands together

Tugging at clothing or jewelry

Blinking rapidly

Fluttering eyelashes

Holding breath

Exhaling sharply

Curling toes

Gripping surface with toes

Rubbing or scratching face

Rapidly tapping foot or fingers

Raising eyebrows

widening eyes

It's important to remember that some of these physical cues may not make sense on their own, but when you combine them with other cues, thoughts, and actions, you can create a powerful portrayal of envy. Keep in mind that envy is often accompanied by other negative emotions like anger, frustration, bitterness, and even resentment. Depending on your character's personality, shame may also play a role in their experience of envy. If shame is combined with envy instead of anger, then sadness or hurt may be more appropriate emotional responses. The key is to experiment and find what works best for your character and the story you're trying to tell.

Let me give you some examples of different characters and how they might show envy through their body language. First, let's take a proud and self-assured character. They wouldn't show their envy by hunching their shoulders or biting their lips. Instead, they might try to mask their feelings by exhaling deeply or swallowing their bitterness. They might use snide comments and sarcastic laughter to bring down the person they're envious of.

On the other hand, a nervous and shy character might be more on the timid side. They may feel ashamed of their envy and try to hide it by biting their lips, looking away, and hunching in on themselves. They may avoid eye contact and stare at the floor or wall.

Finally, a jittery and anxious character may be more obvious in showing their envy. They may tug at their clothes, tap their feet or fingers, and hyperventilate as they obsess over their feelings of envy. They may constantly look around to distract themselves, and even glare at the person they're envious of.

Remember, these are just examples and each character will show their envy in their own unique way. So, don't be afraid to experiment and find what works best for your characters.

Another way to convey envy is through sensory details, which can include what your character sees, hears, and physically feels. While this method may not be as detailed as using body language, it can still be effective, especially when combined with actions and dialogue.

The character's heart rate increases, causing their pulse to throb in their ears

Their throat tightens, making it difficult to swallow

Their mouth feels dry or bitter, as if they've just tasted something unpleasant

The character's skin flushes or grows hot with anger or jealousy

They may feel a knot in their stomach, or a feeling of queasiness

Their hands may feel clammy or sweaty with nervousness

They might feel a lump in their throat or a burning sensation in their chest

Their vision may become hazy or blurred, or their eyes might dart around the room

The character may experience a ringing in their ears, or a feeling of being trapped or suffocated

They may experience a sense of frustration or hopelessness, like they'll never be able to achieve what the other person has

The character may feel a sense of inadequacy, like they're not good enough or worthy of the success or possessions of others

They might feel a strong desire to possess what the other person has, like a physical ache or hunger

Their breathing might become shallow or rapid, as if they're struggling to catch their breath

The character may experience a tightening in their chest or a lump in their throat, as if they're on the verge of tears

They may feel a sense of rage or bitterness, like they've been cheated or wronged in some way.

Let's talk about actions - these are the little things your character can do to subtly hint at their envy. Depending on the genre of your story, you'll need to make sure these actions fit the setting. For example, if you're writing a medieval fantasy, your character can't obsessively stalk the person they envy on social media. However, they could still have a spy network or keep a close eye on any news about the person..

Making snide or sarcastic comments about the person they are envious of

Comparing themselves unfavorably to the person they are envious of

Trying to one-up the person they are envious of

Expressing disinterest or disdain for the thing or person that the other character possesses

Obsessively checking social media or other sources of information about the person they are envious of

Seeking validation or attention from others to compensate for their feelings of inadequacy

Gossiping or spreading rumors about the person they are envious of

Sabotaging the other person's success or progress in some way

Blaming external factors or the other person for their own lack of success

Becoming overly competitive or aggressive in order to prove themselves superior

Feeling physical discomfort, such as a tightness in the chest or stomach, sweating, or trembling

Withdrawing socially or avoiding situations where the other person will be present

Overcompensating by purchasing or acquiring similar items to the person they are envious of

Displaying a lack of interest or enthusiasm in the achievements or possessions of others, even if it is something they would normally appreciate

Seeking reassurance or validation from others that they are still valued and appreciated, despite not having what the other person has.

Alright, we've gone over body language, sensory details, and actions. Now, let's move on to dialogue!

Using dialogue is a great way to show envy in your character because it allows the reader to hear directly how they feel. Here are some examples of how you can use dialogue to show envy:

Sarcastic comments: A character who's envious might use sarcasm or snarky comments about the person they're jealous of. For instance, if a character is envious of their best friend's new relationship, they might say something like, "Oh, congratulations on finding your perfect match! Just don't forget about us single folks."

Backhanded compliments: A character who's envious might use compliments that are actually insults to the person they're jealous of. For example, if a character is envious of their neighbor's garden, they might say something like, "Your flowers look lovely, even if they're not as colorful as mine."

Constant comparisons: A character who's envious might constantly compare themselves to the person they're jealous of, pointing out their own shortcomings. For instance, if a character is envious of their coworker's popularity, they might say something like, "I'm happy for you that everyone likes you, but I'm just not as outgoing as you are."

Dismissive remarks: A character who's envious might try to downplay the achievements of the person they're jealous of. For example, if a character is envious of their friend's new car, they might say something like, "That's a nice car, but it's not as good as mine. I mean, I could have bought a luxury car too, but I don't need to show off."

Exaggerating their own achievements: A character who's envious might try to make themselves seem more impressive than they really are to compete with the person they're jealous of. For example, if a character is envious of their sibling's academic success, they might say something like, "You got an A? That's great, but I got straight As all through college and graduated with honors."

Let's move on to setting! The setting in a story can be a powerful tool to show a character's envy. By using the character's surroundings, you can highlight their feelings of inadequacy or frustration. For instance, if your character is envious of someone else's wealth or success, they may feel out of place or uncomfortable in a luxurious mansion or at a fancy dinner party.

Moreover, the setting can be used to create opportunities for the character to act on their envy. Suppose your character is envious of someone else's job or position, and they find themselves alone in the office after hours, they may jump at the chance to undermine that person or sabotage their success.

Lastly, the setting can be used to contrast the character's feelings of envy with their desires or aspirations. For example, if your character is envious of someone else's happy family life, they may feel out of place or isolated in a cozy, warm family gathering. Alternatively, if they are envious of someone else's freedom and independence, they may feel stifled in a strict, oppressive society.

Comparing living spaces: A character who is envious of someone else's wealth or success may feel uncomfortable or inferior when visiting their lavish mansion or apartment.

Events and gatherings: A character who is envious of someone else's social standing may feel out of place or jealous at fancy dinner parties or events.

Workplace: A character who is envious of someone else's job or position may act on their envy by undermining or sabotaging the other person's success.

Travel: A character who is envious of someone else's travels or adventures may feel jealous or resentful when visiting a destination that the other person has already been to.

Family gatherings: A character who is envious of someone else's happy family life may feel out of place or isolated at cozy family gatherings.

Oppressive society: A character who is envious of someone else's freedom and independence may feel stifled or resentful in a strict, oppressive society.

Display of wealth: A character who is envious of someone else's wealth may feel jealous or resentful when confronted with the other person's expensive possessions or lifestyle.

Great news, we're almost finished! We just have a few more topics to cover, and the one we're moving on to now is all about your character's point of view. This is where we get to explore their thoughts and internal dialogue, which can really bring their feelings to life. After all, nothing can reveal a character's emotions more than what's happening inside their mind.

Comparisons: A character's envy may be revealed through their tendency to compare themselves to others. They may often find themselves measuring their own achievements or possessions against those of others, feeling frustrated and inadequate when they don't measure up.

Resentment: A character may feel resentment towards others who have what they desire, leading them to become bitter and even hostile towards those individuals.

Self-Doubt: A character's envy may stem from a deep-seated sense of self-doubt or insecurity. They may believe that they are not good enough or worthy enough to achieve the success or possessions that they desire, leading to feelings of envy towards those who have what they want.

Fixation: A character may become fixated on the person or people they are envious of, constantly monitoring their social media or obsessing over their every move. This fixation may lead to a preoccupation with the other person's life and a sense of despair over their own.

Self-Pity: A character may feel sorry for themselves and their situation, particularly in comparison to others who seem to have everything they want. This may lead to feelings of resentment and bitterness towards those individuals.

Rationalization: A character may rationalize their feelings of envy, convincing themselves that the other person does not deserve their success or possessions. They may tell themselves that the other person had an unfair advantage or that they do not work as hard as they do.

Admiration: A character may feel envy towards someone while also admiring them for their success or possessions. This may create a sense of internal conflict within the character, as they struggle to reconcile their feelings of envy with their respect for the other person.

Here are some thoughts a character may have:

"Why does everyone else seem to have it so easy?"

"I wish I could have what they have."

"Why do they get all the attention and praise?"

"They don't deserve that success, I do."

"I hate feeling this way, but I just can't help being envious."

"If only I had their talent/looks/money, my life would be so much better."

"Why can't I catch a break like they do?"

"I can't stand seeing them with what I want."

"They don't appreciate how lucky they are to have what they have."

"Why do they always get everything they want while I'm left with nothing?"

You could use these relatively directly such as:

As she sat hunched over on her bed, the room around her dimly lit, she couldn't shake off the nagging feeling of inadequacy. Her mind kept wandering to a single thought: "Why does everyone else seem to have it so easy?" She opened up her phone and scrolled through her social media feed, bombarded with pictures of her friends laughing, traveling, and simply enjoying life. The world in those pictures seemed so far from her reality, and the weight of envy crept into her heart. She wished she could have what they have, that carefree life.

When it comes to conveying your character's feelings to your readers, their direct thoughts and internal dialogue can be a great tool. However, it's important to use it in moderation, as using it too much can lead to telling your readers how your character is feeling instead of showing them through actions and description. So, it's all about finding the right balance to ensure your readers can fully immerse themselves in your character's world and experiences.

Let's talk about metaphors and analogies now. They can be a powerful tool in your writing to convey a deeper meaning or to make a comparison more vivid and relatable. However, be cautious not to overuse them as it can shift your writing from showing to telling. Moreover, too many metaphors and analogies can also become overwhelming and irritating for your readers.

Metaphors and analogies can be used to show envy in a character by using comparisons to convey their feelings. For example, a character who is envious of someone else's success could be described as feeling like they are drowning in a sea of missed opportunities, while the other person is sailing smoothly on a luxury yacht. Or a character who is envious of someone else's beauty could be described as feeling like a withered flower compared to their radiant glow.

"Her envy was a green monster, gnawing away at her insides." (Metaphor)

"Watching her friend's success was like a knife twisting in her gut." (Analogy)

"He was like a dog with a bone, unable to let go of his envy and obsession with his colleague's success." (Simile)

"Envy was a heavy cloak draped over her shoulders, weighing her down with bitterness and resentment." (Metaphor)

"Her envy grew like a weed in her mind, choking out any other thoughts or feelings." (Analogy)

"He was a snake in the grass, secretly wishing for his rival's downfall." (Metaphor)

"Envy was a contagious disease, spreading through her heart and poisoning her relationships with others." (Metaphor)

"Watching others succeed was like a constant reminder of her own shortcomings and failures." (Analogy)

"Her envy was a fire that burned hot and bright, consuming her from the inside out." (Metaphor)

"He felt like a shadow, always lurking behind his more successful peers and longing for the spotlight." (Simile)

And a final take, let's combine some of these things to show an envious character:

Nal chewed on her lip, watching as Mark laughed with their boss. She exhaled a harsh breath and abruptly turned to her computer before they noticed her staring. Glaring at the screen, she felt envy burn through her body like a raging fire. She knew her work was better than Mark's; she had even received more responses from the public. But because Mark was the boss's favorite, he had received the promotion instead. Nal felt cheated and bitter, and couldn't help but wonder why she was always the employee that everyone left behind. Why was everyone else always the favorite, but not her? She smiled bitterly at her screen, contemplating typing up a resignation.

Hey there, hope you found the show don't tell guide to envy helpful! Let me know your thoughts, I always appreciate feedback. I have more guides like this on my page for you so be sure to check them out, from anger to happiness or sadness, they're all there. You can also find these posts more organized here!

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XX)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... A LOT of readers google what an "ostomy bag" is! Danny reestablishes his comfort with the Arabic numeral system!

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

The next time Diana comes to visit her charge, her gloves are blue. Her scrubs are a pale pink. She is given a new face mask, and a new hair net, and walks through the double doors without needing to be buzzed in.

Alright. Perhaps the boy is not genuinely “her charge”. Still, he is hers to protect and to keep; although her position is, officially, as security to the medical team working with their young patient, the medical team knows as well as she does that the boy does not genuinely intend harm.

Is he prone to outbursts? Perhaps, but very few of them are powered. It is entirely understandable too, according to the mental health professionals on board the Watchtower: trauma affects how well one comports oneself and how one interprets their environment. They may see things, hear things, or misunderstand things, and believe they are under threat. The circumstance makes for a great deal of residual fear and mistrust.

Diana was once raised amongst communities of women with few untouched by battle fatigue. She recognizes the signs of lost time and of reawoken fear. She understands what battle-weary warriors are truly fighting against.

A doctor and a nurse mumble a greeting as Diana passes by them. “Morning, Wonder Woman.”

“Good evening,” Diana returns, eyes crinkling. One nurse visibly glances out the window—and then smiles, sheepishly, having forgotten their location in space. Time zones on the Watchtower are often…flexible; Diana, however, has only just returned from her day job. “How is the patient?”

A doctor jerks their head towards the monitor. It is only ever left on if no one else is in the room; privacy is key to recovery. The active monitor means that the medical team has left him alone for now. “Take a look. You might have to go kid wrangling again, Ma’am.”

Alright. Diana obliges them.

On the monitor, in little stick-figure form, are three figures, all sitting or crowded around the room’s singular bed. Her patient sits in his little white gown, legs still as ever, as Impulse drapes himself across the bedspread, and Robin (ex-Robin? Third Robin? Doesn’t he have a new name now?) stands at the bedside.

The Speedster wiggles, mouthing out words she can’t hear without a microphone. Robin is focused on something in his hand—a tablet, perhaps? If Impulse is chattering into the air, then Robin is short on answers; her charge, in comparison, looks back and forth between them, likely unable to understand what the two are up to.

Diana’s mask catches her sigh. “Busy, are they?”

“Do you think you can hold the red one down long enough for a refresher on proper PPE usage?” the doctor begs. The question appears to be genuine. “They just zoomed in a little bit ago. We’ve been trying not to disturb them, but without masks and gloves…”

…Her charge was still at risk for possible contamination or infection, as they couldn’t get consistently accurate test results on his immune system. Diana hummed. She could see the problem.

“I shall. Buzz me in, if you will.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

The door clicks open. Diana strides through, unafraid of teenagers or similar ilk, and content with her position as designated scolder.

And, to his credit, the Robin at her charge’s bedside recognizes Diana’s lack of enthusiasm with the situation, and winces with artful precision. Silly boy— as if Diana would believe that any Bat would be ashamed of breaking a rule if they had already chosen to break it. She cannot help but be fond of each Bird’s eccentricities in their own ways. Robin hides the contraband food in his hand behind his back.

Impulse, however, hardly notices her approach, draped over her charge’s casts as he is—a whiteboard in his hand, furiously scribbling away at whatever attempt at communication he has decided to test today. Having met several male teenagers in her recent years, there is a decent chance he has been drawing genitalia as well.

Diana politely coughs into her mask. The gesture is entirely performative. Robin responds by hiding a separate can of energy drink—opened—on the side table behind him, in the hopes of hiding it from view.

Impulse, who failed to notice her arrival, continues to scribble. Occasionally there will be a burst of superspeed, but it will be in contained little bursts. He likely either wants to preserve the marker, or he is taking more care with his attempted art than usual.

Her charge looks up.

His eyes are still a concern—glazed with a green film, they jitter back and forth ever so slightly when he tries to focus on any one object in particular. He hasn’t indicated any discomfort with his eyesight, however, so it hasn’t been addressed beyond documentation.

The crack in his face—from two inches above his white, nebulous hairline and trailing down to his chin—is visible evidence of an injury or gouge of some sort, with new pink skin all around the edges as the only visible sign of inhuman levels of healing. Diana has seen a number of scars, and a number of healed, gaping wounds, but it is occasionally unsettling to set eyes on her charge and see the still-healing brain matter, skull, and inner sinus cavity through a viscous, green, not-quite-organic wound filling material.

There seems to be a consistent rate of healing, though. Diana can only hope that recovery is possible.

“Good afternoon,” Diana greets softly. Her charge’s discolored fingers flex as his face turns to look at her. “Are you well?”

His green-tinged lips part and then come together again. He’s not not paying attention—he listens very well, and has begun to use certain words in English to compensate for his need for communication. That being said, Diana has little idea what he is and is not capable of understanding.

Impulse, however, finally recognizes the newest occupant in the room. “Wonder Woman! Uh—we totally had permission to be here this time! Promise!!” he offers, immediately switching from someone gleeful to see her from someone remembering their misdeeds.

Diana is very lucky that her mask covers her fond smile. If it is her job to be stern today, she ought to live up to the task. “Did you, now?”

Impulse beams sheepishly, and rolls off of the casts of a bemused half-alien boy. “Yes! Remember last time when the nurses all said I could ‘come whenever’ and ‘bring a friend’ and—“

“You were asked to buzz in ahead of time and put on your protective gear?” Diana finishes, wry. Before she is able to scruff him appropriately, however, the superpowered boy is already gone and back—now with an askew hairnet, an upside-down surgical mask, and gloves a size too large for his hands.

“So I did that!” Impulse protests, the mask moving unnaturally over his face. “Look! All dressed up!”

It is a well-intended last minute effort. Alas, it would all be for naught. Diana scoops up a squawking speedster by the nape, and a now-blinded-by-a-misplaced-surgical-mask Robin, and trots them both back to larger medical.

“One moment!” Diana tosses back to her charge, who is, understandably, concerned.

Still. It takes Wonder Woman, two nurses, and a paraprofessional to successfully sanitize and gear up an uncooperative speedster. Robin sulks through the entire process, but capitulates to it with more grace.

Her charge’s green eyes shine and his fingers curl around his few personal possessions as Diana returns to him his companions; she wishes, so dearly, that she could ruffle his pale hair. “All done!”

The teenaged heroes sprawl across his bed just as casually as they had before—if better prepared for their environment. Robin largely gives her charge his space, careful not to impede where he isn’t wanted, but Impulse freely shares affection that her charge, at least, does not visibly deny.

Diana has her own routine to complete. She heads for the intravenous injection bags, pulls out a fresh one, and cracks the seal. After that, it’s shaking to mix the concoction and a fresh replacement.

Impulse grabs one of the toys off of her charge’s side table and brings it into his lap. The board is tilted, and all the slotted-in pieces fall out. He spends some time sorting them by shape, and then by color, until her charge lifts trembling fingers to pick them up, very carefully, one by one.

She’s impressed. His pincer grasp recovery has not been consistently smooth sailing. “Excellent work,” she praises.

Robin looks up from his tablet. Impulse looks back at her and beams. Her charge gives her a brief look, observes that she doesn’t need anything from him at the moment, and gets back to sorting the little pieces back into their allotted slot.

Impulse rests his chin on the steel arm bar of her charge’s cot. The pose seems…uncomfortable. “Hey, Tim. He got them all right.”

Timothy Robin taps away at his tablet—no doubt taking down documentation of his own. Diana can’t help but feel affection; every Bat and every Bird is so nosy, but if she wants to actually see those notes on her charge, she will have to press Batman for them with a reasonably-sized threat.

“Really?” Robin asks, eyes on the screen. “Do you think the pieces were matched based on color, or actual understanding of the numerical system?”

Diana looks down, line in her hand as she reconnects the intravenous bag. The toy in her charge’s lap is a mock clock face. Each of the numbers is printed onto the removable piece, in different cut-out shapes, and painted different colors.

The atmosphere changes. The air itself tastes different—something like electricity sparks on her tongue. And then it’s gone.

“No, he’s looking to put the clock face back in order, specifically,” Impulse confirms. Ah. Speedforce. Diana should have been able to recognize the feeling by now. “He’s kind of annoyed, actually. It’s like a baby toy.”

“Well, it is a baby toy.” Robin taps away.

“Yeah, that’s why it’s annoying. He knows he should be able to do it.”

Impulse buzzes again, and her charge hums, stuffing his flat hand between the board and the sheet until he can tip it over without grabbing at it. He repeats the same process, the only difficulty stemming from his shaking grip and his shaking eyes.

The urge to pull him close and pet his hair is understandable, Diana reminds herself, but not conducive to his long-term comfort. She smiles at him, as best as she can behind a surgical mask, and discreetly checks his drainage bags to see if they need replacing while she’s already close.

“All’s well,” she declares at last, finished with anything that isn’t social. Thankfully, having two teenagers in the room takes care of her charge’s most frequent issue—boredom. She claps her hands together, and her charge looks up at her, eyes vibrating. “Do you require anything?”

Her charge looks at her. Her charge looks at his friend. “Ouatair?” he tries to enunciate, tongue thick against the green-filled split in his hard palate. “Pleese?”

“Ithinkhewantssomewater,” Impulse rushes to translate, but Diana already knows this request. The water provided is chilled in a refrigerator, and it takes no time for her to find sanitized cup and straw—steel, so as to be safe when dropped, and relatively uncrushable, with a handle for simple gripping.

She presents it to him grip-first. His expression is grateful, and frustrated. No warrior wishes to be in the position of needing constant. Diana can understand the wish to do things on his own.

“Soon,” Diana offers, voice a whisper. “You’re already better off than before.”

Her charge grumbles into his cup. His tongue, half-green, finds the straw for him; he chomps down on the straw, slurps as loudly as he can, and sulks.

Teenagers. Diana finds herself unable to understand how Bruce has so many of them, and understands perfectly well how easy it is to take on a child in need and make them your own.

The cup goes back onto the side-table, half-empty.

“Hey,” Robin starts again. He puts his tablet to the side. The white board is pulled out of Impulse's hands and goes onto her charge's lap, and with only a little whining. “How’s this?”

Her charge mumbles something neutral. His eyebrows scrunch together, but he takes the offered blue marker from Impulse and lets the boy uncap it for him.

“Yeah, it’s more adult or whatever,” Impulse encourages. Her charge sticks out a green-mottled tongue, but takes the marker to the white board and writes. Robin peers over his shoulder to watch. “It’s just the alphabet. A, B, C, D~!”

Her charge hums the tune back to him, continuing seamlessly where Impulse left off. The teen hero beams.

Diana stills.

“Yeah, you got it!” Impulse encourages, and peeks over the edge of the board to see her charge hard at work. His letters are wobbly, certainly, and there are some that he misses, but the alphabet song is a longstanding English-language tradition. He know it. He knows it by rote.

“You missed the ampersand,” Impulse points out. Her charge scowls through the fissure in his face.

…There is no reason for Diana to get excited. Yet. Robin-the-former is already jotting down his own notes, pleased with his observations. There are many reasons and many ways this teenager might have picked up the song. J’onn famously picked up on Earth’s radiowaves before being transported to Earth; this could be further evidence that her charge has some connection to Earth, or it could be a connection to something more bizarre and unusual.

There is no shortage of unusual events these days.

And, of course, Diana runs out of things to do. She smooths down her charge’s blanket, which he hardly notices in his frustration. She refills his water. She is tempted to go grab her copy of The Art of War from her bag in the other room, which she has read before, but which she is rereading at behest of Bruce’s newest initiative: Tactical Book Club. She is optimistic about the opportunities for further education this will provide her comrades-in-arms, if not underwhelmed by the reading material. As long as the teenage heroes are in the room, Diana is obligated to remain with them, in the event that the danger level might…fluctuate. A book would give at least the semblance of privacy to the three.

Her charge makes a noise. “Hay!”

Diana looks up. In shaky hands, resting on his lap, he holds up a largely complete alphabet. There are one or two shaky letters—thorn, which is fairly common, and eth, perhaps less so—but otherwise carefully drawn, very neatly done.

“Excellently done,” Diana praises. The alphabet is a triumph of the physical work it takes to heal.

Her charge beams through his craggy face, buzzing with delight.

"I dunno," Impulse teases, upside down on her charge's legs. "They're kinda wonky."

The boy's face scrunches, smears the color away with a swipe of his arm, and draws something else.

The board shakes with his exertion as he lifts it back into place on his lap, and Diana allows herself to sigh, audibly; sure enough, as she had expected, there is a misshapen, blue, cartoon representation of a penis.

Robin full-on cackles with surprise, but Impulse falls of the bed with laughter.

Unfortunately, it is now Diana's job to figure out how to scold a teenager, and one who speaks no known language besides. Based on the resulting expressions she earns, Diana is unsure if the scolding works, but. Well.

...She tried.