#dr pepper chocolate cake
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Dr. Pepper Chocolate Cake
#dr pepper chocolate cake#dr pepper#chocolate#cake#sheet cake#kids#american#summer#birthday#recipe#dessertfortwo
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Stuffed want more
#feed me#stuff my belly#stuffer#chubby#feedeerism#feebie#stuffed feedee#fries#healthy eating#dessert#cheeseburger#cake#dinner#lunch#chocolate#pepperoni pizza#dr pepper
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all the toons of toonville USA quickly gathered for my funeral. this was the first death that toonville had ever had within its borders, so the processions were brief and crass. many of them did not know what had happened to me, and arrived jovial with gifts and favors to share with one another.
a whole line of red and blue convertibles filled the one lane street that led to my body. since everyone in town knew each other, they engaged in bright lively conversation about all the sweet memories they had of me. my birthday, my bris, my several rushed visits to the toon hospital were all discussed among the townsfolk who shared their popping candies and hot sodas that they had prepared for the celebration.
Cowboy Frito and Juliet Juniper (one of toonvilles hottest couples) brought a boquet of my favorite treats in apparent memory of me. Dr Lollipop and his beau Beauty Bee were especially excited to witness my body, flayed and broken, as they had never seen one before. Fashionista Frida Frizzlemeister was dressed from head to toe in the most dazzling outfit she had, with a black and white photograph of my own head featured as the centerpiece to her famously glitzy bouquet.
gathered in thousands of seats surrounding my thick, red, plastic coffin, the show was finally on the road. despite being delayed a half hour (the felt arms of the pallbearer made it difficult to actually get the dang thing near my ready grave!), the mood was light, as everyone in attendance were best friends. scattered lines of conversation quickly concluded as Pastor Paisley cleared his throat to begin his eulogy- at least he tried! pranks were all the rage in toonville, and who else but Scoots McBuzz would spit a hot wad of greasegum right at him. Paisley, experienced from his many sunday school classes over the years, grabbed his toupee and ducked down-causing the gum to stick right onto my fisher price brand tomb.
a long pause filled the air, followed by bright laughter at such a farce. in fact, all of toonville decided to cover my final resting place in bits of chewed paper, bottlecaps, smile stickers (the lowest form of their complex currency) and all kinds of knick knacks while hollering with laughter. and what could cap off such a good time like a hearty meal? Chef Al LaRonge had prepared a veritable feast for the hungry attendees, who stuffed their mouths with gooey, cheesy pizza, hot pepper patties and classic peanut butter chocolate superbars.
as the sun set, Mayor Megamouth of toonville declared their first funeral a complete success and thanked everyone for being a part of such a touching event. "he knew every one of you, and would have loved to know he caused such a record turnout among the toontopians!" after cheery "hip, hip, hooray!" and a final goodbye towards my flesh, the now urine-soaked coffin was marched straight into the freshly built mausoleum, the only gravesite to be found in the brand new toonville boneyard.
given the limited use of the land, it was eventually folded into the soda treatment plant. over time, my final resting place became stained with the colors and smell of sarsaparilla, caramel, and beetroot. the foundation eventually buckled beneath the sagging heft of the pop-drenched wood that surrounded my now bleached bones on the fourth of july, the sounds of creaking and splintering masked underneath the no-expenses-spared fireworks show. shapes of cakes and pies filled the air as my remains were carried out to the stinking sea.
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Standard Operating Procedures 1.04 (Eddie Munson x Store Manager!Reader)
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader
Summary: The summer is ending, school is about to start, the seasons are changing...and so are things between you and Eddie.
Previous Part: Corrective Action
Warnings/Themes: AU where the Upside Down doesn't terrorize Hawkins. Reader works at the Claire's at StarCourt. Eddie works at TapeWorld. Mutual Pining and Slow Burn, Fluff, Food/Eating, Talks about the Future, Romantic Tension/Sexual Tension
You can find my masterlist here for more featuring our resident Store Manager and all of my other writing.
Please do not interact if you are not 18+.
Enjoy!
---
Eddie had always had a sweet tooth.
His mom swore, up and down, that her only craving had been for Zebra Cakes when she was pregnant with him.
His favorite food as a baby had been mashed peaches.
And now he was sure his body was chemically composed of more Dr. Pepper than water.
So it should have been no big surprise that he was so attracted to you.
Ahem.
So it should have been no big surprise that he would have planned a snack cake taste test extravaganza for your usual Sunday Not-a-Date Date.
You'd revealed early on that your grandparents were both "in the sugar business."
"My grandpa," you told him once as you walked through the mall window shopping on your lunch. "Worked the chocolate chip line at the Maurice Lenell bakery."
"Are those the fancy cookie tins--"
"That they sell at Christmas? Yes."
"Wayne always gets one with his holiday bonus," Eddie reminisced. "The pinwheel ones with the red sugar on the outside are my favorite."
"And my grandma worked at the Hostess factory," you continued. "She always always brought home boxes of rejects. I probably would have been too shy to make friends at school if they hadn't flocked to me for baked goods."
Because of this though, you had never fraternized with the enemy, as Eddie so dramatically put it: Little Debbie.
"And now," his gaze turned dark and mischievous as he threw open the doors to the van. "You shall feel the full power of the dark side."
He outdid himself, truly.
Piles of snack cakes from the gas station, sorted into two neat little stacks, a little notebook for scorekeeping, and a 6-pack of Mountain Dew as a palette cleanser.
“You keep saying,” he said as you settled in amongst the pillows and blankets he’d set up in the back so you’d both have a cozy spot to snack. The radio was softly playing in the background. It was nice. “That you wanted to drink the water in the mall fountains. Did you know that Mountain Dew is the closest you’re gonna get?”
You’d both run garbage late one Wednesday night and thrown coins into the fountain on your way back to your stores. And that’s when you’d revealed your deepest darkest secret.
“Because they’ll both probably kill me in the end?” You joked.
“No, because Bromine is in both.”
“Ok nerd.” You snorted.
“Not…a nerd,” he shoved you as he plopped down beside you. “But I did this project for chemistry class last year. On Mountain Dew. And how it gets that color. And it’s also how they keep the fountain water clean. Or pool water? I can’t remember exactly right now.”
“Ok nerd.”
“I’m sorry,” he clutched his hand over his heart. “My lady wanted to taste only the finest of fountain water. And I deliver her the closest thing and am openly mocked? Twice?”
You stuck your tongue out at him and slapped his shoulder, then asked what the rubric was for the taste test.
And then you snacked til you made yourselves sick and did what you always did, balanced conversation and companionable silence.
That was a new thing. The silence.
Not for the two of you, but for Eddie.
He wasn't used to silence, he was used to loud music, noises and raucous laughter and adventure--real or fantasy--with his friends, but since the two of you started hanging out, he was getting used to the silence a little more. Enjoying it. Savoring it. Looking forward to it.
The anticipation of waiting for something wonderful--thoughts or observations or confessions--coming of your mouth made him feel warm inside.
Eddie had pondered your friendship earlier in the day as you'd run in to let him know you couldn't take lunch together.
"There's this crazy long piercing line and I'm just running to get a slice of pizza and then going back up. I'm so sorry, I'll see you after work ok?"
Your energy was frantic and your words faster than lightspeed, but your eyes were filled with concern and care for him. The little hitch of your eyebrows and the extra pause you took so you made sure that he understood that you weren't ditching him you just...couldn't do lunch and didn't want to leave him hanging.
Even when everything was falling apart around you, you cared to make sure he understood.
It was nice.
And it wasn't just you. But it was nicer when it was you.
He didn't get a lot of understanding like that. Especially not in Hawkins where his last name and his appearance caused everyone's hackles to raise a little. And even the people who did want him around...well it was hit or miss if they decided to stick around.
But since working at StarCourt, things had been different. He had a boss and coworkers who liked him, inside jokes with people who worked at other stores. He had you. He wasn't Eddie The Freak Munson. He was Eddie from TapeWorld. And Eddie from TapeWorld seemed to help people warm up to Eddie Munson.
What a weird concept. People wanting him around. Coming to StarCourt and being around people who accepted him and valued him...understood him. He'd only felt that way with Hellfire...and with Corroded Coffin.
People were good and people liked him. A sweeter treat than all the Hostess in the world.
It had been a few months now; a few months of an actual job, a consistent crush friend, and everything seeming to look up for him. Give or take a few minor hiccups but...he was feeling good.
And school was starting soon, maybe this would be the year the tide turned? No more waiting for the future to finally happen for him; he was making things happen for himself.
It might finally be his year...
"So," he leaned over, into your personal space, and fished a folded piece of paper from his back pocket. "Kyle gave me this thing yesterday."
"Oh yeah?" Your eyebrows raised in curiosity as you happily munched on a sugary treat.
He'd spiraled a little bit when he'd been handed the sheet. Three little words at the top.
Schedule Change Request.
Way back at the beginning of summer, after the initial shock that he'd gotten the job at TapeWorld, he figured he was just counting his days until he was fired and that the start of the school year would have been the final nail in the coffin if he made it that far.
Instead Kyle was...asking him to stay.
"I’m probably not gonna be able to give you as many hours with school,” he sighed. “Which is a real bummer. But I’ll put you on as much as I can."
"You're not kicking me out?" Eddie asked, shocked.
"What? Are you nuts? Ed, you're like...my best guy! I need you here. Selling those guitars, getting those sales bonuses. And because you're my buddy. So make sure you put your for-sure days off on there...you know I'm gonna forget.”
He explained it all to you, which led to you cackling loudly.
"Oh my God," you laughed. "Eddie!"
"What? I know it's silly."
"No, I'm not laughing because of that," you began. "My first position at Claire's had been a summer job too and I seriously thought that I was gonna get fired once school was back in session."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah. And it's a real thing because no one tells you that you're done when summer's over. You're gonna see come Christmas, Kyle will have to hire seasonal associates--and hey, ok...seriously if Gareth or Dave come asking for a job...it might seem fun...but don't--and he'll have to make sure they have end dates on their paperwork otherwise it's a whole thing."
You went on and on about helping your old manager with paperwork and you'd forgotten to put an end date as you were filling everything out. And then someone's mom came to complain at the end of the season when their kid was let go.
"And she kept screaming and screaming. And that's why I have a strict parent policy at work. Even though I'm the reason that got so fucked up; trial by fire. Jen was pissed."
Eddie reached out and unwrapped your hand from the Sno-Ball that you had crushed as you told the story. He adored it when you got so animated, but the poor little pastry was now just a mess of crumbs and frosting and marshmallow goo on your fingers and now his as he plucked the half-destroyed treat from your grasp.
And the thing was...
The thing was, Eddie wasn't...he was decidedly not smooth. He was gross. He was a gross boy. He hacked loogies and did spit handshakes with the guys all the time. He had no five second rule when it came to food dropped on the floor; it was an optical inspection and then usually straight down the gullet.
He could be romantic and seductive if he wanted to be; he could charm the...ahem...pants off some people if the need arose. And he had.
But that wasn't this.
This was a caught up in the moment of having a good time with his friend and doing what he would have done if one of his buddies crushed a snack cake. He'd be his usual gross self and expect them to groan and screech and laugh at him. Boys will be boys and all.
This was a too little too late moment of realization as he, Eddie Munson, lacking the foresight of having napkins in the van for this little snack cake taste test since he usually wiped his honey-bun-icing slick hands on his jeans after he unhinged his jaw and shoved it in on mornings when he was running late, saw no other way to clean sweet frosting off your hand except to lick it off your thumb.
The van suddenly got smaller and hotter as his tongue traveled up the pad of your finger, over the ridge of each joint and to the center of your palm. His eyes traveled up to meet yours as he flicked the sweetness off of you, and his breath hitched when he saw the way your eyes widened.
How was he supposed to deal with this? How was he supposed to handle this epic potential fuck up right here? How was he supposed to stop his brain--and maybe some other parts of him--from wanting to take the hand that gently held your wrist and pull you closer so he could kiss the sugar from your lips and not just...
Lick it off your hand.
Jesus, he was an idiot.
Caught between a rock and a hard dick.
Hard place. Fuck.
But that was the conundrum right? Because Eddie did want to kiss you; he enjoyed kissing...a lot actually, and it would be...nice if all of these dates were actual dates so that he could just kiss you and squeeze you and all of the nice things that came with...having someone who liked you back. So he didn't have to shoot Kyle a dirty look every time he teased "have a nice lunch with your girlfriend" knowing fully well that it was exactly what Eddie wanted.
He'd heard the spiel many times when Kyle had come back from his own lunch and then stood over Eddie as the younger man unpacked shipments, and told him, flat out, hands on his hips "you just need to ask her out man I'm getting sick of this."
And the guys had teased him a bunch.
And Wayne kept asking when you were coming around again.
Well this could be it.
A horrible start to asking a girl out on a date but wouldn't that be a funny story, and Eddie really did like a funny story.
This is. This is the moment.
Eddie opened his mouth to say something and so did you. You both backed down from actually saying anything. Eddie's hand tightened on your wrist and he was sure he could feel your heart beating faster. And was that you leaning a little closer to him? And did your eyes look at his mouth as he licked over the seam of his lips really quickly for courage.
He opened his mouth again...
Courage. He could do it. This was gonna be his year, and you were gonna be his girl.
...and then slammed the broken remains of the SnoBall in.
Quite literally slammed, shoved, fingers flailing as he tried to smoosh the chocolate cake and pink-coated marshmallow and remnants of frosting inside.
He let go of your wrist and then backed away from you as far as he could.
Idiot.
You let out a nervous laugh and looked down at your messy hand. You tried to use a discarded wrapper to clean yourself up when Eddie just...pulled off the flannel that he'd layered on to help wipe you off instead.
Like he probably should have done in the first place.
You didn't say anything, just smiled gently at him, like you always did. Always patient. Always forgiving of his mistakes.
What had you even been talking about before?
Oh...right.
"Note to self," he muttered around the SnoBall. "Never becoming a manager."
Your eyes crinkled a little as your smile got bigger and you grabbed onto the front of his shirt and shook him a little.
"Save yourself!"
The rest of your evening went by unremarkably.
You both got too hyped up on sweets and Mountain Dew, ran a few circles around the van in the StarCourt parking lot, headbanging and screaming, after Eddie threw on a tape he said the two of you could dance to. Then to Dairy Queen where you soaked up all the sugar with chili cheese dogs.
An otherwise normal Sunday for the two of you.
Mishap forgotten.
Nerves forgotten.
Misplaced feelings...forgotten.
For now.
---
Next Part: Standard Operating Procedures 1.05
#store manager verse#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fluff#Eddie munson fic#stranger things fic#stranger things Eddie munson#Eddie munson headcanons#eddie munson imagines
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♡My Safe Foods♡
Fruits
watermelon
peaches
strawberries
cantaloupe
blackberries
raspberries
pineapple
pomegranate
kiwi
cherries
grapefruit
guava
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Veggies
sweet potato
radishes
lettuce
cucumber
eggplant
peppers
tomato
corn
zucchini
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Meals
spinach + feta omelet
low cal pancakes (should I post the recipe?)
low fat yogurt (vanilla is my fav)
low fat cottage cheese
rice + beans
boiled egg + white rice
pb&j oatmeal
steak + eggs
8 pc chick fil a nuggs
shrimp
cucumber sushi + miso soup
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Drinks
low fat choc milk + ovaltine (pls don't judge)
strawberry + almond milk smoothie
matcha
green tea
0 sugar cranberry juice
stevia + lemon water (tastes like lemonade)
diet coke/dr pepper
black iced coffee
sugar free vitamin water
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Other
strawberry popsicle (outshine)
popcorn
low sugar strawberry jam
konjac jelly
sugar free jello
meringues
zero sugar twizzlers
fiber one brownie
quest birthday cake bar (it's 200 cal which is kinda high but it's so good and soo filling with lots of protein)
rice cakes
pickles
pepperoni
zero sugar chocolate syrup (this can also be added to milk but ovaltine has more vitamines)
*note: feel free to come back to this list bc I'll probably add more. I have some recipes and more tips if u want.
#ed but not sheeran#i wanna be thinner#thin$po#tw ana shit#mealspo#ana y mia#tw disordered eating#i need to lose this weight#ana shit#ed di3t#safefood#ana safe food#disordered eating thoughts#weight loss
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and I hope it gets to you on some Pacific wind - Lockwood x Reader
will you love me like you loved me in the January rain? will you love me like you loved me and I'll never ask for more.
and I never minded being on my own,
then something broke in me and I wanted to go home
to be where you are
but even closer to you, you seem so very far
and now I'm reaching out with every note I sing
and I hope it gets to you on some Pacific wind
wraps itself around you and whispers in your ear
tells you that I miss you and I wish that you were here
I didn't choose this town. I dream of getting out. There's just one who could make me stay...all my days.
MASTERLIST | TAGLIST
part 1: I Can See You
a/n: WOOOO almost a month since my last fic (tl;dr got terribly sick, got my a level results, scholarship apps, trying to decide what I wanted to do with my life until I remembered, oh, right, I hate doing that, so now its back to fic writing) anywaysss watched miss peregrines home for peculiar children while i was sick and omg. the end credits song??? deCEASED. anyways heres a fic inspired by that song which you should definitely listen to and i definitely wont cry if you dont cbnjvfkjva bye going to get chocolate cakee
warnings/tropes: reader (unexpectedly) missing lockwood desperately after moving away, pining for someone w every fiber of your being, handling grief (NO major character death tho), angst, no happy ending :/// but some snippets of humour!
word count: 6.3k! (my longest fic yet!)
"You won't believe what they're doing at Fittes."
She slid into a seat at Portland Row's kitchen table, oblivious to the fact that she had just stolen George's seat. George glared at Lockwood for a minute, who looked appropriately sympathetic yet slightly distracted, before picking another seat.
"Hi Y/N, how nice to see you. Again. For the third time this week. Please, make yourself at home."
"Oh, Georgie, you're so sweet." She was too distraught to pick up on George's sarcastic tone or his eye roll, though Lockwood spared him an apologetic glance. She slammed a letter onto the table, upsetting the salt and pepper shakers, which Lockwood started curiously scanning. "Unlike my daft supervisors."
There was always a flurry of activity whenever she visited Portland Row. She somehow always had so much to say, and she had to say it within the first five minutes of her being there. That usually meant Portland Row's own activities would come to a brief halt, but her news was more often than not too entertaining to incite many grievances from the inhabitants.
After their joint case involving Winkman, Lucy and George had felt the air shift between them, in a way they couldn't quite put their finger on. Something had obviously happened, especially since she had started stopping by Portland Row. They'd exchange a few obligatory insults, share the highlights of their week, and somehow not bite each other's faces off. Over time, the insults faded into the background, but they still threw in the occasional jab when things started seeming too friendly. Why they were still pretending to get into tiffs when Lockwood had slipped her a spare key was completely lost on George and Lucy.
One unfortunate consequence was they became stuck in this weird limbo. Neither friends nor enemies, but something more rather than in between. And yet, some part of them always hesitated, and so they remained as the two singular, lonely entities they had always been. That wasn't to say they didn't have it in their hearts to feel appropriately outraged for the other when the circumstances called for it.
"Layoffs?”
"Layoffs!"
"What the hell are they laying you off for?"
"Exactly! Never mind that my team has the lowest mortality rate, or that we've never caused destruction worth any more than 500 pounds - no offence, Lockwood."
"Er, yes. At least they're giving you a decent severance package."
Apparently, that wasn't the right thing to say, and this time the egg cups went down as well.
"Overrated ass agency with fuck ass headquarters in the middle of London that I never wanted to spend the rest of my career at anyway, fuck Fittes bitch fucking Rotwell's wannabe-“
"What about Kipps?"
Her face twisted and the others braced for impact a third time. "If they don't put his head on the chopping block, I will-"
After a few cups of tea and a few more rounds of nonsensically excessive swearing, she had finally gotten her disappointment under control.
"Maybe a little rapier practice will take your mind off things?"
She pulled a face. "But my shoulder's so tired."
"Your shoulder's been tired for three weeks now. If your break goes on any longer you'll forget everything I've taught you about grips."
"Aw. Oh no."
"Yes, yes, you're very funny."
"What a tragedy."
"You could at least try to pretend like you care."
"I care! I so care. Of course I care. I've got the hottest instructor this side of the Thames."
"Only on this side of the Thames?"
"Yeah, 'cause he's also a dork ass loser who wears confetti-coloured socks."
Still, she joined him in the basement for a little bit of practice, just to refresh her memory. After that, they tried to venture into some basic lunges, which was where things started going downhill again.
"It's no use." She drove her rapier into the stand and started pulling her wrist brace off, despite Lockwood's deflating encouragement. She sat propped up against the wall, frustratedly combing through her sticky hair. "I'm hopeless at this. Maybe Fittes did know what they were doing when they laid me off."
Lockwood sighed. He put away his own rapier and joined her on the floor. "You're not the only employee they've dismissed. You just got...unlucky."
"Now I feel worse."
"My point is, things will start looking up once you move on." He fiddled with her wrist brace. hesitating. "You do know what to do next, don't you?"
She sighed. "I'll start sending out applications tomorrow. There's this agency in Canterbury I've worked with before. Maybe they'll consider having me full-time."
If she notices Lockwood being mildly taken aback, she doesn't remark on it. He manages some strangled response of approval, and their rapier practice session ends there. It's too late for her to return home by then, so they wash up and get ready for bed. It's clear the day has taken a sizeable chunk out of her when she almost immediately falls half-asleep. Lockwood worries over their conversation in the basement. He glances at her relaxed face. Yeah, she was probably still awake.
"Y/N. Y/N."
"Mm."
"You awake?"
"Mhm."
"I just wanted to tell you that...I was perfectly serious that time. When I said you could come work for me. In case you were wondering. Y/N?"
She doesn't respond, and after a few minutes, her breathing evens out again. He isn't sure if she's heard her, and is even less sure why she's doing everything in her power to stay away from Lockwood & Co.
One cold, January morning, she had been at the Archives with Lockwood & Co. where they were doing some research on their latest joint case. By the time that January morning had turned into a chilly January afternoon, George was telling Lockwood off for leaving one of the maps behind at Portland Row. Naturally, Lockwood was sent to fetch the missing materials, who, not-so-naturally, enlisted her help.
As reluctant as she may have appeared to join Lockwood on this errand, she rested her buzzing head against the soothing, cold glass of the cab gratefully. She had been a little distracted all morning; working at a slower pace, fiddling with the large volumes disinterestedly, staring off into space. She was simultaneously irritated and relieved that Lockwood had noticed. She stared out at the foggy streets of London with her own foggy eyes, trying to make sense of the day.
She had decided to wait on their front porch while Lockwood nipped in to get the papers. While waiting, a sharp rap on their tin awning startled her. Peering up at the sky, she watched the first raindrops of that January shower land in Portland Row's garden. Soon enough, it started to pour generously. The delicate, almost curious winter daffodils drooped their heads under the violent force that was the rain coming down in sheets. In the grey of the clouds and the streets, their yellow petals made her dream of something half-happy.
Tentatively, she walked down the path and stepped into the garden. And then another step. And then another. She was frolicking in the rain for the first time in her life, and there was no one around to stop her.
She felt the rain pause, and turned to see Lockwood holding an umbrella over the two of them. She wrapped her fingers around his on the handle and, with a bit of difficulty, closed the umbrella over their heads. It was only a matter of seconds before the heavy raindrops started weighing his coat down and flattening his otherwise perfectly coiffed hair. She watched the hues of curiosity and amusement shift in his eyes, all of them tinged with the mauve of love. She watched him love her wholly, unabashedly, asking for nothing.
She felt sorry for ruining Lockwood's nice clothes only for a moment, before throwing her arms around his neck, clutching him a little stronger than what was strictly necessary. Papers forgotten, rain soaken, daffodils smitten…she never wanted it to end.
And that was when her life started to fall apart. Being laid off by Fittes had drastically changed their dynamic, and hardly for the better. It was no longer banter from one agent to another - it was one agent and the bad habit he had picked up over the months, one he didn't seem too keen on kicking anytime soon. She didn't ask to stay, and he didn't ask her to leave. And so she spent the rest of her days of unemployment at Portland Row, helping out however she could, filling out and mailing her applications.
Which brought her to her next problem - letters of recommendation.
She was sitting at the kitchen table, reading through the advertisements in the newspaper while nervously shredding its bottom corner. She didn't even look up when Lockwood placed her mug of tea in front of her. He shifted it right on top of the ad she was picking apart.
"Oh. Thanks."
"How's the job search going?"
"Not good." She sighed. "A lot of them require a letter of recommendation."
He slid into the seat next to hers, resting his chin on the back of the chair. "I'll write you a letter of recommendation."
"From my previous employer."
"So? Go over to Fittes and ask for one."
"I don't know," she said, disintegrating the final scraps of newspaper. "Seems a little awkward to go back there after they laid me off."
Lockwood took a look at his watch. "I've got a client meeting at 2, so we should leave after breakfast."
He was already climbing out of his chair and talking to George about the stove misbehaving again by the time her brain caught up. "Hang on, we?"
Lockwood seemed to very conveniently not hear her. "Y/N, if you're not going to drink your tea, we should leave now."
She crammed the last of her toast into her mouth while shrugging her coat on, and joined him outside where he was counting out some coins in his hand.
"Should be just enough for the two of us."
"Just enough for what?"
"The bus. Lovely day, isn't it?"
The trip to Fittes was one of the worst she'd had in her life. She almost felt ashamed for getting laid off and was driving herself crazy obsessing over it. Halfway through she felt a warmth settle over her hand, and glanced down to see Lockwood's palm covering her own. He was looking out the window as if nothing had even happened, and she was looking at him. She couldn't quite tear her eyes away from the sight.
When they reached, she went up to the customer service counter while Lockwood hung back. He looked around the first-floor lobby languidly, watching everyone hurry about their da- hang on, was that Barnes coming out of a conference room?
Lockwood smiled at him while Barnes averted his gaze and started walking out a little faster. Yes, that was most definitely Barnes. He started walking towards him and was just about to call out when he was interrupted by a slightly heated voice coming from the customer service counter.
"What do you mean you don't offer letters of recommendation?!"
A few days after they were almost-but-not-really kicked out of the Fittes headquarters, she and Lockwood were in the library reshelving some books a little before lunchtime. George and Lucy were in the kitchen, so for a while all that could be heard was the smooth sounds of books being pulled off and being put onto the shelves. Lockwood glanced at her and cleared his throat, forcefully injecting a certain nonchalance into his voice.
"I was talking to Barnes the other day."
"Hmm?"
"I think I managed to convince him that we're a big enough agency now to need health insurance."
"Health insurance? Well, don't tell George, or he'll fling himself off the roof at the first chance."
Lockwood stifled a laugh, turning it into a cough though his voice was still comically strained. "Don't go giving him any ideas, now."
They continued rearranging the books in silence until he steeled himself enough to pick up the conversation again.
"So, what I wanted to say was...if you wanted to join Lockwood & Co... you wouldn't have to worry about your mother. Not anymore."
She paused her shelving and frowned at him. "Why do you want me to join Lockwood & Co. so badly?"
"I think you'd be...a valuable member of our team."
So close, yet so far from the few words she wanted to hear. Please join us, Y/N. Forget about all these other agencies. I'd miss you more than I could bear if you left. Go on. Say it.
"Is that all?"
"I...I suppose."
She turned back to their task, disappointed. "I've been wanting to leave London for a while now. To get out, explore...see what's out there."
He stilled for a moment, before bowing his head regretfully. "I see."
Ask me to stay. Please.
They were sitting cross-legged in the garden on Lockwood's coat, the winter daffodils now resting their tired heads on their knees. She squinted up at the sky, now that the rain had come down to a light drizzle.
"My mum never let me go out in the rain." She smiled bitterly at him. "The rest of my friends would go out into the street in their...raincoats...wellingtons...and I'd watch them from the kitchen window. She always said I'd fall sick. And I'd always think...how terrible would it really be if I did?"
She stared at the ground and tried very hard not to cry. "I was a kid. I just...I just wanted a bit of fun." She pressed a shaky hand to her eyes, then dragged it up to her forehead. "And now, all I want..."
The silence filled in for the words she didn't say.
"I never thought I'd miss that."
She glanced at his face anxiously, trying to gauge his reaction. In a way, she mused, Lockwood, and whatever this was, was not all that dissimilar from the rain. It was some wish for a sickness for a fleeting moment of peace. A fleeting moment of being wanted.
He blinked away the raindrops weighing on his eyelashes. "You won't have to. She'll be alright."
"How do you know?"
He stared at a limp daffodil, whose head was being cradled by the bend of his knee, and sighed. "I don't. But some things you just have to...believe."
"I'm sick of believing."
"Then I'll believe for you."
She never knew what it was like to have someone hold onto faith when she couldn't. To have someone hold her up when her knees were buckling under her, to do what she wasn't strong enough to do herself. She cleared her throat, suddenly embarrassed.
"You don't have to do that."
"Someone's got to do it. I'll do it for you."
It was around this point that Lockwood suddenly started getting a lot busier. He somehow never had the time to stay in the same room as her for longer than a minute, and any short passing conversations they shared felt stunted. Other than a cursory smile when they passed each other in the hallways, Lockwood seemed further to her than ever, with his cool demeanour that was somehow forever occupied with matters greater and more important than her.
After a few days of struggling with her applications on her own, Lucy suggested that she pay a visit to DEPRAC for a letter of recommendation. Thankfully, her request for the letter was successful, but her joy was short-lived, barely lasting the bus ride home.
She watched the hopelessly in love couples on the bus whisper to each other, hold hands or even just enjoy each other's company in silence. There was a guy with his hair styled in an unnervingly familiar way. It triggered a sick image of Lockwood sitting on this very bus, next to a girl with lazily attractive eyes and hair prettier than hers could ever be. It made her feel nauseous.
When she returned to Portland Row, she walked around the seemingly empty house, perplexed, until she finally found the three of them pouring over a large book in the library. Lockwood was fiddling with the shirt sleeves folded at his elbows and was the first to glance up as she gently pushed the door open.
"Hey," she smiled at them faintly, avoiding Lockwood's gaze, trying to keep the worry gnawing at her synapses at bay. She stepped inside,
leaning over the huge book, tracing the letters with her eyes interestedly.
"Is that the -"
Lockwood slammed the book shut, cutting her off and sending Lucy into a coughing fit over the dust it released.
"Y/N! Find your way to DEPRAC alright?"
It was a heavy book, she kept repeating to herself, of course it was going to take quite an effort to close it. However, from the way his forearms flexed aggressively as he stuffed the book back into its cloth cover, she wasn't entirely convinced.
"...yes. I took the bus."
"Lovely weather we're having, isn't it?" The three of them exchanged a look while Lockwood firmly tucked the book in. The grey skies peeking through the curtains looked hardly lovely. George finally caved, glaring at Lockwood.
"We were just finalising our plan for next week's case."
"I used to draw up mission plans for my team at Fittes. Maybe I could -"
"I think we're fine." Lockwood crossed his arms, his expression unnaturally surly and his jaw set in a way that gave her a sinking feeling. George threw the book at him, who only barely managed to catch it at the last second.
"Told you we should have waited for her."
Unfortunately, matters refused to ease up over the next week. And so she somehow learned to live without him. One morning, she decided to get an early start to the day since she was going to be accompanying Lucy to the DEPRAC headquarters to submit some company paperwork. She paused at the foot of the stairs when she heard a bit of a ruckus in the kitchen, followed by some soft swearing. She crept towards the kitchen to see Lockwood scrambling to gather up an upturned first aid kit while a dark red patch swelled on his socks, still in the same attire as when he left for a solo case the previous evening.
He looked at her furiously, trying to hide his injured ankle behind the kitchen table. He seemed to become further incensed by her helping to set the first aid kit right. "Leave it. I can do it on my own."
"I'm only trying to help! Don't look at me like that, you got yourself hurt in the first place."
He spoke emphatically through gritted teeth. "I don't need your help."
"Lockwood, your sock is nearly soaked through with blood. So shut up."
Maybe the blood loss was starting to catch up to him, but for once, Lockwood did as he was told. He certainly wasn't happy about it, but he allowed her to peel back his sock and wince at the sight of the wound. As she cleaned and dressed the injury, she couldn't help but be reminded of old times when they would snap at each other, her more than him, whenever they were within ten feet of the other. It was almost nostalgic but slightly worrying to be back to square one.
When he could hold himself back no longer, he pried the bandage roll out of her hands with an unexpected gentleness, shakily winding it messily around his ankle. When he was done, she put it away with the first aid kit, and when she returned, his nose was buried in the day's paper, once again as distant as an island.
Soon after that, George and Lucy joined them for breakfast, and George almost immediately picked up on
"Lucy, George won't leave me alone!"
"Lockwood's a pent-up git that never says what he feels!"
Lucy gave them a sidelong glance. "...right. Y/N, ready to -?"
Eyes watering, she chugged the last of her tea and clambered out of her chair, but Lockwood beat her to it. He folded the newspaper sharply, and straightened from his seat, albeit a tad unsteadily.
"No need. I'll come with you, Luce." She and Lucy exchanged a glance, and she slowly sunk back down into her seat. Lucy took in the ectoplasm on his trainers, his slightly charred shirt and the purple under his eyes.
"Are you sure? You look a little...tired."
"I've been out all night. One more trip isn't going to kill me." He patted Lucy firmly on the shoulder, his grip looking a little painful as he swayed imperceptibly, voice trailing off as he started shuffling towards the door.
His limp was unmistakable now, but the three of them knew better than to question him when he was in a mood like this, with his uneven voice and rough words dangerously close to becoming slurred. "Come now," he was saying, "let's not bother Y/N with Lockwood & Co. matters." His shifty eyes finally settled on her for the first time that morning, but she didn't like the brooding spite behind them. "Not when she has all these important applications to fill out."
The silence that followed prickled uncomfortably. Lucy scoffed and stepped out, Lockwood following her determinedly. There was some muffled argument in the hallway, then the sound of the front door opening and closing, and then silence once more. She stared at the dregs of her tea stonily, hating the way her face burned with shame. When she finally looked up, George had left, but there was a sympathy jammy dodger within reach.
It was getting dangerously close to half an hour in the rain, yet still the heavens beat down on them ruthlessly. They had retired to the front steps just outside the awning, now almost completely drenched. She shuffled her feet nervously, trying to scrounge up some warmth, while the rain flowed down Lockwood's nose freely. He was staring at the rich dark earth at his feet, like he had forgotten where he was, his coat long forgotten. She stood up and jabbed him between the shoulder blades sharply, making him snap his head up.
"It's getting cold. I'm going inside." Lockwood blinked, raindrops decorating an eyelash or two, and nodded after a moment. She sighed impatiently.
"Don't you want to come inside too?"
"...I'm not cold."
"No, but you'll fall sick if you stay out any longer."
He rubbed his face wearily, his back muscles shifting mechanically under his translucent shirt. "I'll be alright."
She bristled instinctively. The raindrops somehow got even louder as they pelted the tin awning. "I'm serious, Lockwood."
"So am I."
"Then come inside before you catch something awful."
"I'll come inside when I want to."
The torrential downpour continued unabated, viciously attacking their home's exterior. The rapping of the raindrops against the tin rung in her ears like anger.
"Why must you be so stubborn?"
He finally looked up to meet her eyes, his own filled with a despair she had rarely seen. "I want to be alone."
It was the night of the big case that Lockwood & Co. had been preparing for for a week now, but two of its three members had come down with the most awful stomach bug she had seen. Apparently, there was something off with Arif's doughnuts that day, and now Lucy and George were down with food poisoning. She was in her room, listening to Lockwood wear down the floorboards outside her room with all his pacing. Finally, he stopped in front of her door, and after a moment, gave a short knock.
"Come in."
He opened the door to reveal a fully decked-out Lockwood extensively decorated with flares and lavender. She raised her eyebrows.
"Wow. That is...wow."
"George and Lucy are down with food poisoning," he began impatiently, "and I could really use an extra pair of eyes." He softened his stance at the critical look in her eye, taking on a more apologetic demeanour. "...please."
"But I don't even know how to use a rapier."
"Not much room for one, anyway. It's a two-room cottage."
She toyed with the idea of saying no. The idea of watching the hope in his eyes flicker out, of watching him go do the job...alone...without anyone's help...without anyone to help him if he got injured, or worse-
"Fine. I'll meet you downstairs in two minutes."
The cab was waiting for them by the time she was hurrying down the stairs, and she flipped through the summarised research report on the way there. She winced at the circled deduction that the Visitor was likely a Fetch, which Lockwood picked up on.
"Is something wrong?"
"...no." With some difficulty, she tore her eyes away from the report and closed the file. In all her years of experience, Fetches were the one Visitor that she still struggled with. It didn't help that her encounters with them had been few and far between. She glanced at Lockwood, who was staring out the window coolly as if barely nonplussed by the anticipation of coming face-to-face with one of the most dangerous Visitor types.
The taxi driver was quite a bit intimidated by Lockwood's superfluous attire, and so refused to go any further than the foot of the hill at the top of which the cottage was located. As they lugged their equipment up the hill, she felt her frustration towards Lockwood swell and swell until it finally reached a breaking point. She dropped the duffel bag she was carrying with a clatter, making Lockwood stop and turn around to face her.
"What's wrong?"
"Why have you been so off lately?"
His features hardened and his jaw set like it had so many times before. "It's nothing."
"It's not nothing. Obviously."
He stared at her hard, before dropping his own duffel bag. The tension over the past two weeks had clearly come to a head and it was happening right there on the hill in near-darkness. "I thought we were a team."
"We are."
"Well, it sure as hell doesn't feel like it."
"I just want to be independent."
"No, you don’t. You want to be alone."
“That's not true!” She hesitated. "That's not fair." At that moment, she felt so terribly small and insignificant, in a way she hadn't felt since having a particularly cruel supervisor in her first year of being an agent. Her eyes prickled unpleasantly, and she was suddenly engulfed with memories about that January shower. Oh, no, she thought. He was never going to hold her like that again.
She shook her head as if trying to shake some sense into herself. "I don't...I don't want to be a burden. I can do this on my own."
"You want to do this on your own."
"How could you possibly think that?"
“All I see is someone too scared to stick their neck out for something real for once in their life."
“What's that supposed to mean?"
"I don't think you know what you're running from!"
She looked around in despair as if searching for some way to make him understand. "I'm not running from anything."
He stepped closer to her, and it was all she could manage to not burst into tears with his face twisted something ugly with hurt.
"You're running from me."
I'm not, she wants to say, but the words get caught in her throat. The silence rings out harshly between the two of them until Lockwood picks up his bag and resumes the trek uphill. After a moment or two, she follows him.
When they reach inside, they go through the motions of setting up their chains and investigating the areas of the Visitor's appearance, the way they've done hundreds of times before. Eventually, they split up and pace their corresponding rooms, the malaise growing stronger in the air by the minute.
After an hour or so, she felt it. A prickling in the hairs at the back of her neck. Waves of nausea washed over her and she felt paralysed by fear. She knew that when she turned, she'd be faced with something too terrible to comprehend. But she's too weak to brave seeing something so terrible, and so she doesn't turn. At that moment, she unravelled, and covered her eyes with her hands like a child, gasping with sobs that she struggled to suppress.
Suddenly, the cold breathing down her neck was replaced by intense heat as the hiss of a flare eating through a Visitor filled her ears. She felt rough hands desperately clutching her wrists and peeked through her fingers to meet Lockwood's panic-stricken gaze. Panic-stricken over her. His eyes shifted to the Visitor behind her and lobbed another flare at it in the nick of time.
She started creeping along the walls, running her hands over every nook and cranny until she came across a picture frame radiating strong feelings of anxiety. She scrambled for the iron still folded in her pocket and threw it over the frame. The Visitor instantly evaporated, leaving Lockwood staring at the corner it had just been occupying with a haunted look in his eyes. When he had regained proper control of his senses, he turned to her.
"I didn't know-"
"I thought I'd be able to manage it, okay?" She avoided his gaze. "I'm sorry. Can we just go h- go back now?"
The ride back was somehow even quieter than the ride there, both of them burdened by thoughts that would clearly never see the light of day. He paused at the hat stand near the front door while she shrugged her coat off.
"Y/N-"
"I think I'll go to bed now. Goodnight, Lockwood."
She cut past him brusquely, heading straight for her room, though it would be many hours before the buzzing in her head quieted enough for her to fall asleep. As she got undressed, her mind drifted back to when Lockwood was standing right in front of her, holding her wrists with a long-forgotten gentleness, and the close shave with the Fetch. Too close of a shave. Tonight could never happen again. She had to make sure of it.
Over the next few days, their relationship returned to being suspiciously amicable. Perhaps it wasn't as glaringly obvious to the others with the distraction of their stomach bug, but George's squint at her when she handed him a glass of water was enough to see that he was onto them.
She had been in the basement polishing their iron chains when Lockwood knocked on the door. She put the chains down for a moment as he pulled out a minimalistic envelope.
"This just came for you in the mail."
It had the address of one of the agencies she had applied to written on it. She nervously ripped it open and started scanning the contents before she remembered where she was. She looked at Lockwood, who had a cool expression of polite curiosity.
"So? Did you get it?"
"They want me to start next week." Lockwood's lips curved into a half-smile, and it was the first smile he'd given her in weeks that reached his eyes.
"That's...that's amazing. You deserve it. That is, if you're going to accept it."
"It's a rather decent offer. Think it would be quite a shame to pass it up. Don't you?"
He gave a slight pause. "Of course. Yes."
"...but?"
He shook his head and gave a short laugh. "It's...it's silly." He was staring at a patch of grease on the floor which he was very focused on rubbing out with his shoe. "I've known you for...for as long as Lockwood & Co.'s been around." He looked up from the floor to meet her gaze, his eyes open and honest.
"I don't know if I can do this without you."
She looks into his flighty brown eyes and drinks in as much as she can of him. Next week, she'll be in a different town, at a new job, meeting new people until he becomes just a distant memory, some dream she had once upon a time, and she'd be freed from her shackles of longing. But now, in his eyes she sees the two of them spinning round and round, forever together in a January shower in some universe.
"I should start packing."
Her goodbyes were fairly uneventful. They exchanged promises to write, to keep in touch. Lucy and George waved her off from their front door. Lockwood didn't come down from his room. Now she was in her new home, miles away from any feelings that may have tethered her from Portland Row, and all that was left to do was sit and wait and try to forget.
Except. Except.
Here she was, lying on her bed with an all too familiar weight on her chest. Those feelings she had promised to bury with the winter daffodils were here - travelled miles to plague her mind with restless thoughts of which nothing could ever come. How was it that all this distance only made her crave Lockwood even more? He stained her mind and hung from her lips like a broken promise, like an unheard prayer. It was there when she woke up, it was there when she went to sleep, it laid next to her and embraced her like a lover till she couldn't breathe.
Three months later, she still hasn't moved on and has almost entirely given up on any hope for sleep. She replays her memories of him like a tired VCR, and every night the image grows fainter and fainter. What, exactly, did his voice sound like? Did he have dimples? He had a scar on his collarbone, she was fairly sure. But how did he get it? She waits for the sky to light up for those few short hours after her work for the day, but be it day or night, the sadness remains.
For years she had been so strong, so tough, so ready to do anything and to do it alone. Too independent to even work properly with his agency. But after meeting Lockwood, it all felt like a farce, like she had just been pretending and hoping and closing her eyes through as many horrors as she could handle until she finally reached her breaking point. Something had snapped in her soul - some ill-gotten desire to fasten herself to him from the moment she had kissed him after Winkman's. To have him be her home.
Even so, she still had a job to do, so she carried these feelings around with her. There was this one particular case where her team was tasked by the city council to clear out an old, abandoned mansion of any Visitors. She had been creeping through the third floor when she saw him standing there, in the shard of moonlight peeking through the rafters. Lockwood was standing mere feet in front of her, sleeves rolled up to his elbows without his coat, whole and uninjured.
"Lockwood!" She closed the distance between them. "What are you doing here?"
He turned to face her, smiling mildly as if she had done nothing more than greet her. Y/N, he was saying. His voice reverberated differently than what she was used to, but she put it down to the weird acoustics of the mansion.
Why did you leave me?
"...what?"
Why did you go away? You've made me sick with worry.
"I...I have?"
Day in, day out, you're all I think about.
"No...no, that can't be right. That's me, not you."
Are you sure? Think harder. What do you remember about me?
"I don't know, I don't know. Why are you doing this, Lockwood?" Something was very, very wrong. What was he of all people doing here, and why weren't his lips moving when he talked?
How can you be so in love with me if you can't even remember me?
I do! I do remember you! Please don't say I don't.
Why'd you leave me, Y/N?
"Wha...what? I didn't - no - I didn't mean to leave you-"
I wanted you to stay.
"Then you should have TOLD ME!"
But I did tell you.
It still hadn't fully clicked in her brain, but she gleaned enough to tell that this wasn't Lockwood. Some obscene bastardisation of him, perhaps, but nothing of any real substance. She walked back a few steps, keeping her eyes trained on him, and against her better judgement threw a flare at him. It hit the centre of his chest, which began to fizzle up and corrode away at the figment until there was nothing left but the dying embers reflected in her misty eyes. He had looked...so solid. So real. Real enough for her to believe. Oh god, how badly she wanted to believe.
That night, she had barely pulled off much of her excess gear before slumping into bed, which she did not leave for the next three days. Obviously, that hadn't been Lockwood, it was a Fetch. But it only had her memories to work off of. What was it that had happened that made her feel like he had told her to stay? She drove herself mad picking apart every interaction she had had with him since she was 13. What did she miss? Where was the mistake?
Maybe she was just hoping for a mistake.
I miss you. I wish you were here - not miles away in London, here, beside me. I wish it was you lodged in my chest instead of this acrid longing. I'm the one who can't do this without you. Please come back to me. I'm so tired of being strong. Please come save me. I need you here. I wish you were here. I wish you were here. I wish you were here.
TAGLIST: @mitskiswift99 @dangelnleif @elenianag080 @snoopyluver20 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @avdiobliss @ahead-fullofdreams @neewtmas @mischivana @houseoftwistedspirits
P.S. until I changed my mind at the very last minute this WAS going to have a happy ending I wrote it out and everything but then deleted and Grammarly won't let me ctrl z my way out of this :(((
#lockwood and co#lockwood and co netflix#lockwood netflix#anthony lockwood#anthony lockwood x lucy carlyle#anthony lockwood imagine#anthony lockwood angst#anthony lockwood x reader#florence and the machine#wish that you were here
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after, knowing they want to forget, you change the subject completely, talking and talking about nonsense until they feel better.
Jay and Will Halstead with Sarah Reese
Hi anon, thanks so much for the prompt! Hope you enjoy what I do with it. This is set in late season 3. Instead of Dr. Charles and Noah comforting Sarah after she pepper sprayed that patient we have the Halstead Brothers doing it.
“Why didn’t you call me? Sarah, I’m a police detective! I could’ve helped you if you didn’t feel safe at work.” Will didn’t bother knocking on Sarah’s front door when he heard Jay’s voice. Instead, he let himself in quietly and let the door fall shut with a click. After locking the door, Will went to the living room and leaned against one of the pillars leading to the open space. Sarah sat on the couch with his little brother. Her curls covered her face like a curtain, but the red-headed doctor could tell the woman was crying by the way she curled in on herself.
“Jay,” Will interjected quietly, stopping his brother from saying more. He moved closer until the couch was hitting the back of his legs. Then he dropped to sit beside his sister in everything but blood. “Stop. Drop the subject for tonight at least, okay?”
His younger brother looked like he wasn’t going to for a second, but then he folded his arms in a huff and leaned back against the cushions of the couch. Sarah sniffed and turned her head slightly so her wide, glassy brown eyes were on him.
“What did I just do? Is my career over?” She asked him in a broken, watery voice. Will wasn’t going to lie to her. He sighed and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. The same comforting arm he wrapped around her the day Mr. Brennen died. The day he adopted her as his little sister.
“It’s bad,” he squeezed her more tightly to him as if the hug could take away the blow of his words, “And I can’t say how bad. I’m sorry, Sarah.”
A sob bubbled out of her mouth, before she tried to muffle it with her mouth. Jay sat back up as Will squeezed her again. He rested a hand on her back, “Hey, have you eaten dinner yet?”
Sarah shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself. There was a beat of silence. The Halstead brothers shared a look over the brunette’s head. Then Will took the lifeline Jay was trying to offer. If Sarah wasn’t going to take it then he was going to take it for her.
“Why don’t we go out to dinner huh? Get your mind off of things and get some fresh air huh?” Sarah was already shaking her head before the red-headed doctor was even finished talking.
“I don’t want to be around anyone we know right now. Especially anyone from the hospital.” Her words were almost inaudible.
“We don’t have to be.” Jay told her, “Will and I, we know this mom-and-pop diner in Canaryville. We can go there. Comfort food and Ms. Bea makes the best chocolate cake south of the West Loop.”
When Sarah didn’t rise to the lure of her guilty pleasure of chocolate cake, Will jumped in to sweeten the offer a little bit, “Plus when she sees us, Ms. Bea always pinches our cheeks and talks about the baby pictures our mom use to show her. So you’d have some really good blackmail material if you wanted it.”
“I’d take the opportunity while we’re letting you have it. Because the offer won’t last,” Jay nudged her with a small smirk. A piss-poor attempt at a snort left Sarah’s mouth, as she wiped her mouth and nose with her sleeve.
“Okay, but only if I get two pieces of chocolate cake.”
#one chicago#chicago med#chicago pd#Sarah Reese#Will Halstead#Jay Halstead#felicitysmoaksx 2023 advent writing challenge#my writing
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For each of your OCs, what are their favourite foods and drinks?
Oh I'm so sorry this took so long
Kianna komori
Tiramisu
Strawberry Shortcake
Most desserts but not ones with lemon or lime
rice balls
Meatballs
Chicken strips and fries
Donuts
She also likes to try different foods but she will never eat snails or squid or frogs
Drinks
Dr Pepper
Sprite
Water
tea
Next is Sister Rosa
Spaghetti and meatballs
Fried fish with chips
Oranges
And literally anything that tastes good and isn't snails or frogs are octopus
Chili
Gumbo
Jambalaya
Drinks
Now this is an odd Factor since father Demaryius prefers his children to be healthy so she's mostly used to drinking milk or water and juice
But she does like Dr Pepper and strawberry boba
And sometimes liquor
Next is Father Demaryius
Jambalaya
Gumbo
Homemade spaghetti and meatballs
Cupcakes
Raw meat
Chocolate cake
Cherry pie
Fried chicken and mashed potatoes
Drinks
He's never really had much experience with different drinks but he does
The different drinks his children bring him
But if I had to say his favorite I would have to say
Chocolate milk
Strawberry milk
Boba
Dr Pepper
Sprite
Next is Ema
Fried Chicken
Dumplings
Fresh made fries
Fried fish
Cupcakes
Drinks
Boba
Water
Fanta
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Gooey Skillet Texas Sheet Cake Recipe
#gooey#chocolate#texas sheet cake#sheet cake#texas#skillet cake#recipe#pecan#nuts#dr pepper#american#cinnamon#frosting#kids#birthday#summer#thekitchn
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what I ate today!
morning :
at around 7:30 am today, I had…
2 apple cinnamon rice cakes - 100 cal together
1/2 tablespoon of mixed berry cream cheese - 25 cal
5 blackberries - 11 cal
lunch
at around 12:40 pm today, I had…
Lays Kettle Cooked Cheddar Jalapeno Chips - 180 cal
dinner:
at around 6:30 pm I had…
shrimp dish(?), homemade - ~250 cal
steamed mixed vegges with homemade sauce - ~100 cal
snacks:
throughout the day, I had…
4 peeps marshmallows - 80 cal
3 chocolate covered eggs - 140 cal
Dr. Pepper - 150 cal
Sprite - 140 cal
Cinnamon Raisin Bagel - 370 cal
1/2 tablespoon mixed berry cream cheese - 25 cal
overall:
roughly 1,620 cals today
another one way above my usual. I promise I do not usually eat this much 😭
going to start my 15 day fast tomorrow!! wish me luck
#4n@diary#3d but not sheeren#light as a feather#4n4blr#4nor3xia#4n4tips#4n4rexia#4n0rexic#4n4t1ps#4narex1a#4nerex1a#4norexia#4norexla#34t1ng d1s0rd3r#3ating d1sorder#lynnblogz♡‧₊˚
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#recipes#some vegan#chocolate#coconut#tofu#pineapple#pudding#fried rice#dr pepper#cake#chocolate chip#banana#peanut butter#cookie#oats#strawberry
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can I buy all coca-cola Pepsi sprite diet coke dr pepper mentos chocolate cake and chocolate milk for you and can I buy all chicken wings big Mac meal burger pizza beef chicken pork sausage and hot dogs bratwursts bacon turkey ground turkey recipes burrito taco beans soup Chinese and food Chinese for you
Yes
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Wow, that's a lot of kids, a couple more and you can create a sports team just with them :) Anyway I love all these headcannons for all these kids, they sound like lovable little gremlins. The monastery's gonna become a daycare centre at this rate, buttttttttttt whose born first, from oldest to youngest? Who babysits the kids, and do they get marinated in trauma-filled incidents like the rest of the ninja (*cough* lucina *cough* is she going to match the same levels of trauma lloyd's gone through? Doubt *cough*) And the most important questions: Favourite flavour of ice cream and are they a ice planet or a dairy dragon person?
Sora: Any particular reason you're rounding up so many kids to train?
Lloyd, tearing up: ...I needed enough players for a volleyball team
. . .
Of course they all have trauma, The Merge alone's already got them messed up, man.
I haven't smoothed out exact dates/years/details yet, but at the very least age order is: Lucina (by timeline technicality), Seven, Blythe, Camellia, Quinn/Finn, Blaire, Adrien, and Briar
During DR (yet subject to change), Lucina is 12, Seven is 10, Blythe is 9, Cam/Quinn/Finn are 8, Blaire is 5, Briar isn't born until a ways after, and I'm still not sure if Adrien (second Aftershock kid) is gonna be a thing, but if so he'd be adopted and is also older than Briar :d
Either way, more times than not, Seven and Blythe are the ones that tend to be put in charge. Lucina may technically be the leader, but she can't always be trusted to make...rational decisions snksnksnksnk
. . .
Lloyd: All right, to cool off after a long day of training, we're going to have a field trip for ice cream!
Kids: Yaaay!
Seven: Can we go to Ice Planet?!
Lloyd: You know that place got destroyed in the Merge. Dairy Dragon's all that's left.
Seven: Ugh. I just want a grape popsicle, then.
Lloyd: Ew. Anyone else?
Blythe: Can I get a coffee-flavored gelato?
Lloyd: Somehow, even worse. Next?
Camellia: Surprise me!!!
Lloyd: How ironically predictable. You're getting cake batter.
Camellia: Nice.
Quinn: Do they have the kind with Pop Rocks in it?? I want that!!!
Finn: I want a double scoop of cotton candy!!!!! No, triple!!!
Lloyd: I hear a sugar rush about to happen, and me regretting my life's choices. ...Blaire?
Blaire: I want chocolate.
Lloyd: Okay–
Blaire: But the kind with all the spices and peppers in it, like Dad gets :D
Lloyd: Good lord.
Briar: Can I get double peanut butter swirl please? 🥺
Lloyd: ...Briar, you're allergic to peanuts.
Briar: Can't you just revive me if I die? 🥺
Lloyd: No. That's not how that works.
Briar: Fine. I'll just have the continued curse of my existence reminded to me in the form of a cherry sundae, then.
Lloyd: *praying to grandpa* ...and you, Luci?
Lucina: ...I think I'm gonna go vanilla this time
Lloyd: *sigh of relief* That's my girl :')
#not lloyd judging children on their flavor choices lmao#ninjago ocs#next-gen jamboree#legacyverse#lloyd garmadon#oc: lucina lloyd#oc: seven borg#oc: blythe smith#oc: camellia marvell#oc: quinn smith-walker#oc: finn smith-walker#oc: blaire smith#oc: briar smith#oc: adrien cole#congrats ya finally got all nine out of me
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Ideas for them (BirthdayTale WIP)
- Asgore is a birthday cake
- Toriel is a birthday pie cake (searched it)
- Asriel is a cake pop
-Flowey is a sour candy rainbow belt (Idk you guys know it about it but i ADORE the candy)
- Alphys is a cheese flavoured ice cream
- Undyne is possibly a fizzy drink/ soda (like dr. Pepper?)
- Gaster is a cookies and cream flavoured ice cream
- Temmie is a chips inspired one (possibly will go with my fave chips)
- Nabstablok is a marshmellow with chocolate drizzles
- Mettaton is edible confetti with edible glitter (searched this too)
- Grillby is based off of all the birthday candles i had over the years
- Muffet is an ube flavoured Donut
- Sans is a cupcake
- Papyrus is a chocolate milkshake (I had them a couple of times during my birthdays)
Please please PLEASE! Drop ideas for other characters, will greatly be helpful!
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can I buy all coca-cola Pepsi sprite diet coke dr pepper mentos chocolate cake and chocolate milk for you and can I buy all chicken wings big Mac meal burger pizza beef chicken pork sausage and hot dogs bratwursts bacon turkey ground turkey recipes burrito taco beans soup Chinese and food Chinese for you
Is… is this a reference to something?? 😅😅 this is quite the list lol. But anyway, like always if anyone ever wants to buy me a meal, my cash-tag is still $RoseFinnigen :)
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