#gnm snippets

[ginger-and-mint]

i would love to see grayson & elliott trying to care for each other's party hangovers while also being absolutely thrashed themselves!!

thank you for the prompt, anon! ^^ cw for alcohol and allusions to alcohol abuse

---

"Here. Drink this."

A glass of water was placed into Grayson's hands. He groaned and brought it up to his face, pressing the cold, wet surface against the pounding of his headache.

There was a soft snort of amusement. "Stop nuzzling that glass, Ives. You look like a fucking wreck."

"Yeah, well, I feel like a wreck." Grayson lowered the glass from his face and peered at it blearily. His stomach was swirling, and just the thought of swallowing anything caused acid to rise in his throat. "Ugh, Creator's blood, I -- I dunno if I can drink anything, Ell. I feel like I'm gonna throw up."

"If you were going to throw up, you would have already. Just take slow sips."

Grayson looked over at Elliott. He was by the sink, sipping at his own glass of water and clearing up some of the debris from the drunken snacks they’d made when they’d finally gotten home the previous night. It looked like an awful lot of activity to Grayson, who was feeling so terrible that he’d barely made it from the bed to the couch. "You drank way more than me last night. How come you're not hungover?"

"Oh, I am."

"Yeah? Then why aren't you over here dying like me?"

"Because I'm used to it." Elliott turned his head to give Grayson a dry and slightly rueful look, and for the first time, Grayson noticed that there was a sort of glazed heaviness around his eyes. It was subtle, but it was there.

“Oh.” Grayson glanced back down at his glass. “Right.”

Elliott came back over to the couch, ruffling Grayson’s hair as he passed. “Go on. Slow sips. You’ll feel better soon, trust me.”

[quester8888]

History Repeats Itself - SHOULD I VACCINATE FOR COVID 19?

Deja Vu

The 1976 Swine Flu Epidemic

History Repeats Itself

“Those who don't know history are doomed to repeat it.” Edmund Burke This could be the most important information you read during this time of the Corona / COVID -19 pandemic. What we are going through today with COVID 19 is an almost identical replay to the 1976 Swine Flu epidemic in America. The New York Times went so far as to dub the whole affair a “fiasco.” Let this snippet of history guide you to make the right decisions when you are faced with this question; SHOULD I VACCINATE FOR COVID 19? https://thegnmsolution.com/swine-flu-history-repeats-itself/ © The GNM Solution 495 West Georgia St, 3880, V6B 3Z3, Vancouver, BC, Canada 7788077745 | Privacy Policy | Terms Read the full article

[ginger-and-mint]

Hi!! How about Ryder at work, trying to deal with coming down with the flu suddenly and having a whole day to manage? Thanks!! ✨

very good one, anon! thanks for the prompt!

---

Ryder had noticed it when he'd gotten up that morning -- the deep ache blooming in his bones and the fatigue that dragged at his limbs as he'd washed up and gotten dressed. But it hadn't been so bad. Nothing that wouldn't pass with a little tea and time to wake up, he'd thought.

But now that he was down at his desk, he wasn't so certain. The tea was hurting his throat with each swallow. He had a blank piece of paper in front of him, ready for planning out the day's tasks, but his head pounded every time he tried to organize his thoughts.

That's okay, he decided, pushing the paper aside. There was some mindless filing to take care of. He could just sit and do that until this ill feeling went away. He opened the top drawer of his desk, took out a vial of tonic for headaches, and drank it. Surely that would help.

It didn't. As Ryder shuffled through papers, the headache only got worse. At some point, it grew so severe that he slumped over his desk and rested his head on his arms, thinking that maybe he could close his eyes until the worst of it had passed. The next thing he knew, he was waking up to the sound of someone calling his name.

"...Ryder? Ryder?"

Ryder raised his head, barely stifling a groan as his temples pounded. He blinked, taking in the sight of his apprentice, standing a few feet away and staring at him with big, concerned eyes.

"Oh. Grayson." Creator, his voice sounded terrible, all thick and hoarse. "I... didn't hear you come in."

"Yeah, I mean... you were passed out on your desk, so...." Grayson combed a hand through his hair nervously. "Are you feeling okay? You look... pretty awful, to be honest."

Ryder paused. He wanted to reassure Grayson, to say it was nothing. But the problem was, he did feel quite awful...

"I mean it, Ryder. You're, like, shivering." Grayson grabbed a blanket from a nearby shelf and brought it over, shaking it out so he could drape it around Ryder's shoulders. "Oh, man. You definitely have a fever. I swear I can feel the heat coming off you. You really shouldn't be at work."

Ryder sighed deeply, wincing as his throat twinged. "I... suppose you're right."

"You should go upstairs and get some sleep. We don't even have to close the Soothing Room. If anyone stops by, I can handle it. Do you need anything? Water, maybe?"

"No... thank you. I'll get some upstairs." Ryder dragged himself to his feet. "No need for back room tasks today, just look after the front. You'll remember to--?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll dim the lights before I go for the night. I got this, Ryder. Don't worry." Grayson patted Ryder's arm as he trudged by on his way to the stairs. "Just get some rest, okay?"

[ginger-and-mint]

Maybe Grayson with some fever induced nightmares? I hope that's not too harsh ❤️‍🩹 –thatstoomuchsoup

awww not at all, I love it! thank you soup!

---

“...wake up, Ives, come on. Grayson? Wake up. Grayson?”

The sound of his own name pierced the veil of Grayson’s dreams. He jerked awake, gasping and thrashing, but even waking up wasn’t enough to save him. Grasping tendrils had ensnared his arms and legs, and he could feel blood soaked into his hair.

“Hey, hey...” Hands founds his shoulders, pressing him back into the softness of the bed. He realized that the things pulling at his limbs were blankets and that he was soaked in sweat, not blood. The hands gripped his shoulders more tightly, holding him steady. “It’s alright. You’re okay.”

Grayson sucked down a ragged breath. Shocks of pain burned at the edges of his body. He felt too hot, or maybe too cold. “E... Elliott?”

“Yes, it’s me.” Elliott’s hand felt wonderfully cool as it pressed against Grayson’s forehead. “Shit. The fever’s come back. You’re burning up.”

Grayson shivered and groaned. “I... I had a... a bad dream...”

“Obviously. You practically kicked me off the bed. Here...” The mattress creaked as Elliott shifted away. There was the sound of swishing water, and then a damp cloth was laid over Grayson’s forehead. “That should help.”

“Mmm...” The coolness slowly trickled into Grayson’s skin, quelling the fire of his fever as it went. “S’better...”

“Good. Go back to sleep.” The bedsprings creaked again, and Grayson felt Elliott's arms gently pull him into an embrace. “No more nightmares, okay? Just rest.”

[ginger-and-mint]

For the three words if you're still doing them: vacations, music, shyness? ;3;

Anon, my apologies if you’re not someone who follows my writing, but your words reminded me so much of one of my OCs that I’m going to base this prompt around them!

For those who aren’t familiar with my characters -- I have an OC named Si who is a song-mage (that is, they can cast magic by singing), but they come to live at a school for digestive-mages (i.e. mages who cast magic by eating food.)

Every now and then, they take trips back to the song-mage school in their hometown of Tideway. These trips are technically work-related, but are more like vacations for Si, since they get to see their family and old friends and indulge in a lot of things that they miss -- such as good music, beach afternoons, and fresh seafood!

Of course, having been at a di-mage school for so long, the first time Si goes back to Tideway, they’re going to realize that they’ve gotten a little too used to indulgence thanks to their time among the di-mages. The first time they go out to eat with their old friends, they might wind up overdoing it on fresh seafood, eating in a haze of thoughtless happiness until suddenly they feel their tummy twinging and pulsing from how stuffed it’s gotten.

Back at OSM, this wouldn’t be a problem. The school is full of tonics that ease digestion, soft places to relax with a full belly, and of course, Ryder with his soothing rubs. But here -- among friends who know Si as a song-mage who used to eat like a bird -- they would actually be a little uncharacteristically embarrassed! They might even try to hide how overfull they are, hunching over a bit so the swell of their belly doesn’t show and trying to talk over any telltale rumbles.

Luckily, their desire for some TLC would eventually outweigh their shyness. After a little good-natured teasing, Si’s friends would shepherd them home, making sure they’re all settled with some tea and maybe an antacid before leaving them to sleep it off.

[ginger-and-mint]

[Gentle tummy touch] "Woah, what the hell is going on in there?"

“Beats me,” Grayson groaned, squirming slightly as Kara’s thumb rubbed a gentle circle over the tender swell under his ribs. “Ugh, careful....”

Kara winced as another unhappy gurgle curled through her friend’s insides. “Sounds like everything you ate for that spell is just having it out in your poor tummy,” she said sympathetically. “Come on, Ives, let’s get you lying down.”

[send a prompt for a five-sentence fic]

[ginger-and-mint]

Request: Person A is sleeping and Person B wakes up with a sore stomach and can't stop burping. This wakes up A who gives B cuddles and belly rubs, causing them to burp until they feel better and the two fall asleep together. Thank you :)

Generic A+B Placeholder Version: Here Confused? Read this!

- - -

Over the sound of water running from the tap, a fretful voice reached Ryder’s ears: “Are you sure you’re okay?”

He laughed gently through a mouthful of toothpaste. “I’m just fine, Si. I’ve already told you I am.”

“It’s just—well, with how much you ate, I don’t know how you could possibly be comfortable!”

Ryder leaned over to spit into the sink, and admittedly felt a grumbly twinge as his heavy stomach protested the movement. He put one hand on it, cupping the other under the water to rinse his mouth.

“I’m staying with you tonight,” added Si insistently.

“I had assumed that,” said Ryder, amused. “Last I saw, you were already in my bed.”

He came out of the bathroom to see that Si was indeed burrowed under the covers. Their soft brown eyes peered over the edge of the blanket, wide with concern.

“Maybe you should take a tonic,” they said. “I know you said you’re feeling fine, but your tummy has been making the most awful sounds. My goodness, I can hear it from over here!”

Ryder smoothed his hands over his grumbling belly. It felt firm and rounded out under his pajama shirt, and just touching it made him huff a little. But he dismissed Si’s concerns lightly. “Oh, it does that all the time. This is nothing I can’t handle, Si, it’s nothing unusual. I fill myself up like this every few weeks. It’s practice. I’ve got to keep my capacity up. It’s like you singing scales.”

“Me singing scales doesn’t make my tummy gurgle all night long.” Si made a face, and then let out a resigned breath. “Oh, whatever. Let me hug you a little? I promise I’ll stop fretting.”

“You are just too much sometimes.” Ryder’s voice was stern, but he knew Si would hear the undertone of affection in it. He climbed into bed, chuckling as they curled around him like a grasping vine. He smoothed a hand over their hair before twisting around to switch off the lamp.

- - -

It took Ryder awhile to fall asleep. He hated to admit it, but his stomach was bothering him a little. Every time he felt himself start to slip away, a sudden cramp of discomfort would jolt him back awake. Si was sleeping peacefully, and had been for awhile, by the time he finally managed to drift off.

It was still dark when he woke again. He had the sense that he’d been sleeping fitfully. The blankets around him were twisted and rumpled. Si was curled up over on their side of the bed, evidently driven away by all the tossing and turning.

A sharp pain in his stomach made Ryder bite his lip. He tried to roll onto his side and was rewarded with an even sharper stab of pain and a low gurgle. Pressure surged in his chest, and a soft burp pressed its way up.

Something wasn’t agreeing with him, clearly. He felt extraordinarily bloated, even worse than he’d been earlier, his stomach so swollen and rounded that any movement made his sides feel like they might split. Another unhappy gurgle curled through his insides, coalesced into a bubble of air, and squeezed up his throat before he could stifle it.

The sound was horribly loud in the quiet room. On the other side of the bed, Si stirred and murmured something unintelligible.

Ryder didn’t trust himself to move. He closed his eyes against the swelling feeling inside him, trying to hold it down. He really didn’t want to wake them.

Too late, evidently.

“Hey….” Si’s voice was thick with sleep. “Everything all right?”

“Um.” Ryder let out a soft breath. Saying he was fine would be a lie, but this certainly wasn’t something Si needed to trouble themselves over.

“You feeling okay?” Si squirmed closer. The movement jostled Ryder’s stomach, and he let out a short groan followed by another strained belch.

“Ooh, are you burpy?” One of Si’s hands, searching in the dark, found Ryder’s cheek and stroked over it softly. “I told you you’d done a number on yourself. Your poor tummy.”

“It’s… just a little upset….” Ryder murmured. He couldn’t quite bite back a gasp as Si’s fingers found his tender sides. The touch sent another aching gurgle through his insides, and he grunted with discomfort.

“Oh my goodness. What is going on in there?” Si nestled their cheek against Ryder’s chest and rubbed gently over the grumbling swell of his belly. Ryder felt something working its way up and turned his head away so he could belch again. A little flurry of softer burps followed, and he struggled to catch his breath.

“Si,” he murmured, “go back to—urp—sleep. It’s nothing, just a little—urp—a little stomach trouble… I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, sure, keep talking…” Si’s voice held a teasing curl of affection. They pressed gently on Ryder’s side, giggling as he burped again. “You’ve done a number on yourself and you know it. Just listen to you!”

Ryder sighed. “I guess I—urp—may have…”

“You know you did.” A soft laugh, low in Si’s throat, swelled into a rich hum, and Ryder closed his eyes.

In the quiet of the room, their voice moved with slow, sure confidence through a repeating song, riding the crests of long notes that fluttered to a close as softly and sweetly as the brush of an eyelash. Ryder recognized this song—it was a spell to numb pain—and he felt a flicker of fondness for Si, mustering the energy to cast in the middle of the night like this, solely for his benefit. He relaxed, helpless in the warm hold of their magic and their love, as they sang to him and rubbed broad, gentle circles over his belly.

By the time Si’s voice faded to silence, Ryder’s insides felt quiet and he was nearly asleep again. He grunted drowsily as Si gave his stomach a gentle pat.

“Your tummy doesn’t feel so tight anymore,” they said.

“No, it doesn’t.” Ryder pressed his chin down against the soft strands of their hair and wrapped an arm over their back, tugging them tighter against his chest.

They made a sound of delight and snuggled in close. “I’m settling your tummy and you’re initiating cuddles? What kind of backwards world is this?”

“Hmm.” Ryder smiled into the dark. “Maybe you’re dreaming.”

Si giggled. “A good dream then. I like it. Well—except for the part where you were in pain. I didn’t like that at all.” They poked Ryder’s side gently. “I hope you’ll be more careful about what you eat right before bed.”

“I probably won’t.” Ryder chuckled at their indignant snort. “I’m a di-mage, Si, this is just part of it.”

“Huh! Well, you’d better thank your lucky stars you got a sweet little song-mage like me to look after you.”

“I do,” Ryder said, feeling a little spark of warmth as they pressed their soft cheek even tighter against his neck. “I really, really do.”

[ginger-and-mint]

Request: Can I make a request for an A and B story with A stuffing themself with a lot of something really heavy and they get into that really dazed and sleepy state while B tries to figure out how to handle it?

Generic A+B Placeholder Version: Here Confused? Read this!

- - -

“Urghhhhhh….”

Ryder, who was doing his customary after-dinner washing of that morning’s coffee mug, glanced over his shoulder to where Si had collapsed onto his couch. “Was that a good groan or a bad groan?”

All he got in response was another low sound. Hmm. He dried his hands on the appropriate tea towel and went to investigate.

Si was sunken back into cushions, eyes half-closed, one hand rubbing slowly over their belly. They shifted slightly as Ryder approached, letting out another little moan that slowly formed itself into words: “Ryder… you cannot even imagine… how full I feel right now.”

Ryder smiled crookedly. “Oh, I think I might be able to imagine it.”

“No. No, you cannot imagine how it feels to have what I’m confident was an entire bushel of potatoes packed into a stomach that’s usually satisfied with a cup of fish soup and a few vegetable scraps.”

That made Ryder laugh. He joined his poor stuffed friend on the couch, taking care not to jostle them. “As much as I hate to point it out, you very well could have eaten fewer than three servings of potato casserole.”

“Could I have?” Si moaned dramatically. “I don’t know. It’s all a blur. I’m having a…. a starch-fueled out-of-body experience. Don’t even know if I’m real.”

“Is that so?”

“I know this can’t be real, at least.” Si patted their belly, which was swollen out into a firm round curve, small but still very noticeable on their narrow frame. “Oooh, look at it, look how big it is… Is that really part of my body?”

“Hard to tell for sure,” said Ryder teasingly. He reached over and placed a hand against Si’s swollen belly, which felt plenty real to him. “You may simply be hiding a giant potato under your shirt.”

“I—urp—oh dear—” Si covered their mouth belatedly as Ryder’s gentle touch pressed out a bit of air. “I could believe that my stomach is one massive potato at the moment. Nghh.” They squirmed as Ryder began to rub wide, soothing circles. “Oooh, keep doing that! Feels so good....”

Ryder obligingly continued with the rubbing, smiling fondly as Si melted into his touch. Soft, contented noises escaped them as Ryder pressed his fingers into their stretched-out sides and circled his thumb gently over the tight fullness in their upper belly. They seemed to be nearly falling asleep when suddenly their eyes flew back open. “Do you—do you di-mages eat like this all the time?”

Ryder chuckled. “More or less.”

“How… how do you survive?”

“We take lots of naps.” Ryder put an arm around Si’s shoulders and gave them a quick squeeze. “Speaking of which, perhaps it’s time to get you to bed.”

Si groaned, letting their head fall against Ryder. “Can I stay with you tonight?”

“I don’t think you’d make it much further than my room. Come on.” Ryder patted their arm. “I’ll help you.”

Getting Si on their feet was no easy task. They resisted the first few attempts to budge them, and when they finally stood up, it was with a heavy sigh and a loud groan. “Ooh, my stomach….”

“Do you want a tonic?” Ryder asked, taking their elbow to steady them.

Si made a face. “Bleh. No.”

“Better a tonic than a stomachache.”

“I’m not in pain, it’s just….” They pressed a hand over their rounded crest of their stomach, looking a little cross-eyed. “Just that my tummy feels ready to explode.”

Ryder slid an arm around their waist and splayed a supportive hand over their belly, as though he could hold in the heaviness of everything they’d eaten. “I fully believe in your ability to refrain from exploding on your way to bed.”

Si groaned and arched their back a little, pressing into Ryder’s touch. “Mmm, don’t move your hand and maybe I’ll be all right…” they mumbled, and they covered Ryder’s fingers with their own before allowing themselves be steered off to bed.

[ginger-and-mint]

"I'm not leaving until you *at least* take a bite."

Grayson coughed and groaned, blinking blearily up at the mug of chicken soup Kara was brandishing. “Kara,” he mumbled petulantly, “I just wanna sleep.”

“You haven’t eaten anything in over twenty-four hours,” Kara insisted. “How do you expect your body to fight off whatever nasty bug you’ve got if you’re not giving it the nutrition it needs?”

“Ugh,” Grayson grumbled, but he obligingly hauled himself into a sitting position to accept the mug, and when he took the first sip, Kara could tell from the tremor of relaxation that ran through him that the warm soup was doing the poor guy some good.

[send a prompt for a five sentence fic]

[ginger-and-mint]

((this one wasn’t a request, just extra silliness)

Generic A+B Placeholder Version: Here Confused? Read this!

- - -

“Someone looks awfully sleepy over there.”

Ryder blinked and sat up straighter at his desk. “Hmm? Do I?”

“I know your sleepy face when I see it.” Si grinned at him as they grabbed a chair by its back and dragged it around to sit next to him. “What have you done to yourself?”

“Done to myself?” Ryder gave them a look. “Nothing at all. I have done an awful lot of paperwork this morning, so I’ll admit to being rather fried.”

“I don’t think that’s it….” Si leaned in close and wrapped an arm around Ryder’s waist. Their fingers felt gently at his side. “Hmm, just as I suspected.”

Ryder shifted in his seat. “I haven’t–” he bit back a soft groan as Si prodded a little more forcefully “–got a clue what you’re talking about.”

“Really? What’s this?” With their other hand, Si delivered a gentle pat to the broad, firm curve lying just under Ryder’s ribs.

That earned them a glare, which they grinned back at with mischievous satisfaction.

“Let’s review the evidence,” they continued, giggling. “One sleepy Ryder, one swollen tummy,  and – aha!” They reached out and snatched a cloth-lined wicker basket that had been sitting on the end of Ryder’s desk. “A basket that once held six bread rolls and now contains only crumbs.”

“Hmph. How do you know it was six?”

“Because I just ran into Kara outside your tent and she told me she’d given you half a dozen fresh-baked rolls an hour ago, and…” They made a show of glancing around the room. “I see zero rolls now.”

Ryder snorted, and then stifled another groan as Si’s hand stroked gently down the front of his bowed-out belly. “Maybe I put half of them on the kitchen counter for later.”

Si laughed aloud. “Absolutely not. The Ryder I know does not put fresh bread on the kitchen counter when he could put it in his tummy. Also–” their thumb rubbed a deep circle into the tightest part of Ryder’s belly, causing him to finally groan aloud and let out a soft belch “–this feels like about six bread rolls, I’d say.”

Ryder sighed, relaxing into Si’s touch as they pressed their palm supportively over his heavy stomach. “You are awfully rascally today, aren’t you?”

“What can I say? You bring out the worst in me.” Si planted a quick kiss on Ryder’s cheek, then laughed as his stomach grumbled softly under their hand. “Maybe you should take a nap.”

“Maybe I should.” Ryder gave Si’s hand a squeeze before shrugging their hold away. He let out a long, slow breath before standing up, and Si could’ve sworn they heard a quiet sloshing sound. “But not entirely because of my stomach, mind you. I wouldn’t nap if I weren’t so drained from all that paperwork.”

Si chuckled. “Whatever you say, bread boy. Whatever you say.”

[ginger-and-mint]

Request: Character A has a rather sensitive tummy but they happen to be best friends with Character B who enjoys a big party every now and again! The two of them are enjoying a night of festivities and A is slowly starting to feel achy and unwell, but they’re reluctant to pull B away since B is usually kind of serious and they’re enjoying seeing them have so much fun! Finally though it gets to be too much and either A caves or B notices anyways. C; Rubs and cuddles ensue!

Generic A+B Placeholder Version: Here Confused? Read this!

- - -

It was the sausage bites that did Si in. Up until that stupid little tray came around the room, they’d felt perfectly fine. More than fine, even. The food was good, the drink was better, and best of all, Ryder was having a blast. It was such a special treat to see that man kick up his heels for once and let his usual serious reserve melt away.

So when Ryder had gripped Si’s arm—a little harder than he normally did, they noticed—and insisted they had to try the sausage bites, which were so good, one of the best things the kitchens sent up—well, Si could not resist humoring him and taking a handful.

In all fairness, the sausage bites were delicious. It was just that they were also greasy, and that Si’s stomach was already very full of a heavy dinner, a number of drinks, and a more party snacks than they’d been able to keep track of. A stretched-out sensation pulsed above their navel as they swallowed the last scrap of sausage, and they placed a hand on it gingerly. Their tummy felt a little like a balloon, taut and rather rounder than they were used to. But it wasn’t so bad.

The first sign of real trouble didn’t come until ten minutes later, when a cramping sensation suddenly gripped their stomach. They winced and shifted from foot to foot, hoping maybe it had just been tough bit of meat or a spot of grease going down. But the seed of discomfort only grew, twisting and churning until it was hard to focus on the lengthy story Ryder’s friend was telling through all the fuss their tummy was making.

They reached for Ryder’s hand as soon as a break arose in the conversaion. “Hey—”

“Would you hold this for a moment?” Ryder asked, passing them his glass. “Want to get another plate of snacks. Oh, and wait here for me, will you? I see Cornelia across the room, I don’t think I’ve introduced the two of you yet—you’ll like her, Si, you really will.”

He was so enthusiastic, so full of life. Si just couldn’t bring themselves to ruin his mood.

“Go on,” they said with a smile, taking the glass and swallowing the rest of their words. Their tummy gurgled ominously in repsonse.

The ache got steadily worse. Si could feel themselves growing restless, falling silent in conversations. Standing up straight became a struggle. They crossed their arms over their chest, hunching their shoulders and trying to keep a little light pressure where the pain was worst, but it only did so much good. Finally, they admitted defeat and slipped away to a beanbag that had been shoved into a quiet corner.

Sitting down helped a little, but no position could relieve the achy pressure of all the food they had eaten. It really had been too much. Back in Tideway, they were known for eating like a bird—snacking on fruit and nuts, having tiny meals that somehow sustained their boundless energy. Oppendorff, with all its rich foods and indulgent banquets, was a whole different world.

These di-mages, they thought ruefully, they’re going to be the death of me, aren’t they? Under their hands, their tummy grumbled its mournful agreement.

Oh, it hurt. Si bit their lip as they pressed their hands against the sore curve of it, flinching at the vicious squeezing sensation they got in return. Pressure rose up and tightened their throat, like they needed to burp, but nothing came out. Instead they swallowed heavily, clutching at their stomach as it bubbled and groaned.

They tried singing a little healing spell under their breath, but their stomach was aching so much that the magic wouldn’t come. There was nothing to be done but wait out the pain. They really hadn’t wanted to, but maybe they were going to have to leave the party early and go lie in bed….

A familiar voice cut through their thoughts. “Si?”

Si quickly took their hands off their belly and shoved them behind their back. “Oh! Hey, Ryder.”

Their friend crouched down next to them, his eyes a little unfocused but still full of sweet, warm, adorable concern. “Are you all right?”

“Course I am. I’m doing great.”

“I don’t think you are. You look like you’re in pain.”

“Uh, I mean… I guess I… I’ve kinda got a tummyache.” They grinned weakly. “You di-mages are killing me with all this food. I’ll be fine, though, I promise! Go back and join the party.”

Ryder looked deeply offended. “Si. I am a soother.”

“I know you are, dear, you never stop talking abou—”

“Then don’t insult me by presuming I would ever leave you to sit here by yourself in pain.” Ryder reached out and placed a hand against the side Si’s belly. They flinched a little—it was still pretty weird to them how casually di-mages touched each other there—but quickly relaxed into the touch as Ryder’s fingers stroked up over the tender flesh, sending a little curl of relief through the sharp ache.

“You feel very bloated,” he concluded, and then added in a softer voice, “Poor thing. Come on, let’s take you somewhere quiet.”

Si shook their head. “Seriously Ryder, I’ll be all right. I mean, I don’t feel very good but I can just go to my room and—” their voice quivered a little with discomfort as Ryder took their elbow and lifted them to their feet “—l-lie down, or something. I don’t want you to miss out on your party!”

“Don’t be silly. I can party any day.”

Si frowned at him. “Um, no you can’t. You can, on the other hand, hang out with me literally any day of the—”

“Be quiet and come along,” said Ryder, in a tone that brooked no argument, and Si felt a little dizzy with affection as they were shepherded down the hallway, past the back areas of the Soothing Room, and up the short flight of steps to Ryder’s apartment.

“Couch,” Ryder told them, pointing. “Do you feel nauseous at all?”

“No. Just… kinda like I’ve eaten ten pounds of molten rock.” Si sank onto the couch and folded both hands over their belly.

“Did you eat something that didn’t agree with you, or just too much?”

“Ughhh. Both, probably.” They smirked bemusedly at the little vial Ryder held as he joined them on the couch. “Is this one of your magic medicines?”

“It’s called tonic, thanks very much. And it works.” Ryder tried to remove the stopper, but his fingers fumbled over the vial and nearly dropped it. Si had to snatch it out of his hands and open it themselves.

“You are so drunk,” they giggled, and then moaned at the twinge of discomfort brought on by the movement.

Ryder snorted reproachfully. “You are a master of hyperbole, as always. I’m scarcely tipsy.”

“Well, I’m gonna—” Si interrupted themselves with another strained sound that didn’t quite manage to be a burp “—buy you a bottle of wine for this.”

“You’ll do no such thing. Stop fussing, drink your tonic, and lie down.”

Si groaned at the idea of putting anything else in their stomach, but the tonic was only a mouthful of liquid and it tasted pleasantly minty. After it was down, Ryder helped Si settle onto their back, so that their head was resting in his lap. With one hand, he gently unfastened their hair from the elastic and smoothed it out. With the other, he reached down and began to deftly stroke the sides of their swollen stomach.

“Ughhh.” Si squirmed in his hold. “Please don’t press too hard.”

“You’ve got air trapped in your belly, Si. It needs to come out.”

“I’m not trying to hold it in! It just—it feels stuck.”

Ryder’s fingers began patting, gently but firmly, slowly moving from Si’s sides up and over the crest of their belly. A sound like water bubbling through a rusty pipe squeezed through Si’s insides, and then suddenly they let out a burp so big it almost hurt their throat.

“Oh my goodness,” they gasped, partly from shock and partly from relief. “That was… disgusting.”

“That was necessary.” Ryder’s voice held a gentle teasing note. He rubbed his fingers into another grumbly place on Si’s belly, chuckling as they got out few more soft belches. “We di-mages are not known for our elegance.”

“Ugh.” Si closed their eyes. “Thank the—urp—thank the Creator I was born a song-mage.”

“And yet you ended up here in Oppendorff anyway.” Ryder switched from his patting motion to rubbing broad, gentle circles, and Si hummed softly with how good it felt. The sharp pains in their tummy were gone now that the air was out, and Ryder’s warm hands were helping their belly relax around the heaviness that remained.

Several long, peaceful minutes passed that way—the two of them pressed together on the couch, Ryder administering his gentle touches and Si sinking deeper and deeper into him. Everything was soft and warm, and Si could hear nothing except the occasional grumbles of their own stomach and the steady sounds of Ryder’s breathing.

“Bet the party’s gone and died without you there,” they mumbled eventually. Their eyelids were starting to feel heavy.

“I had more important things to attend to.” Ryder’s fingers moved softly over Si’s hair. “I’d rather be here.”

They made a quiet happy sound. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“You tell me often enough.” The hand on Si’s tummy came to a rest, lying warmly on the fullness under their ribs. The grumbling had settled, and nothing stirred under Ryder’s fingers as he gave the slight bulge a gentle pat. “Feeling better?”

“Much.” A little yawn played over Si’s lips. “Hope you don’t mind if I… fall asleep right….”

They never finished the sentence.

[ginger-and-mint]

Ryder eats something that really doesnt agree, maybe a spell goes pear shaped or he gets a recipe a little off. He has to spend the rest of the day working despite feeling very sickly and trying to present himself as normal to everyone else, while nauseous and stuffed. Eventually cant handle it anymore and .. hm, emeto or soothing? not sure how mean to be hehe

This took me longer than planned – I loved this prompt and wanted to wait until I had the chance to spend some time and make it good! Please enjoy~

The trouble, as it so often did, all boiled down to bad luck and poor timing

It’d been late on Wednesday night when Ryder had noticed one of the big tonic-brewing pots leaking white smoke from its seams. He’d checked the magic-containment sigil inscribed into its base and found it cracked right down the middle, catastrophically failed from overuse.

The repair would’ve been simple for a scribe-mage. Had there been more time, Ryder would’ve called on the spellshop downtown and had someone come up to fix it. But RAMA was expecting an order of tonic by the end of the week and working a whole day with only one pot in operation wasn’t going to cut it.

There was a di-mage equivalent to the containment spell. It wasn’t often used, and when Ryder dug it out of one of the ancient books sitting on his shelf, he realized why. The filling was an intimidating mix of rich dairy products, greasy fried foods, and citrus fruits – the perfect recipe for horrible indigestion. And the spell didn’t call for a small amount, either.

But Ryder hadn’t felt he had much of a choice. So he’d gone into the brewing room with an armload of food and shambled out some time later with a very full, very unhappy belly.

But the brewing pot was working again, and that was what mattered. The discomfort would fade in time.

Or so he’d thought. An hour later, Ryder still felt horribly sick.

He hunched over his desk a little as his stomach rumbled inside him, pushing up a soft, queasy burp. It had been gurgling almost continuously for the past ten minutes, its heavy, viscous contents churning sluggishly. All Ryder wanted was to slink off and be sick – or in lieu of that, to go upstairs, draw the curtains in his bedroom, and take a nice, long nap until his belly settled. But the day was still young, and the spell needed to run, and he had work to do….

“Ryder?” Grayson’s voice floated over from the main area of the room, where he was setting up materials for a researcher who was coming in to cast later. “This cooler thing isn’t working.  What should I do?”

“One moment.” Swallowing heavily, Ryder braced a hand on his desk and pushed himself to his feet. Standing up made him feel extremely nauseated – he had to clench his jaw against a wave of dizziness, and cold sweat broke out on his forehead.

His stomach sloshed and gurgled with each step, but he felt he managed to look relatively normal by the time he knelt next to where Grayson was working.  “Where’s this broken cooler?”

“Here.” Grayson held up the small metal bucket, designed to keep spell ingredients cold. “It won’t turn on.”

“Ah. They’re old. Sometimes they just need a good shake.” Ryder gave the little machine a thump and handed it back to Grayson as it whirred to life.

“Got it. Thanks.” Grayson set the cooler down, running a hand through his hair. “Um – Ryder, can I ask – are you feeling all right?”

Ryder couldn’t keep a stony frown from stealing over his face. “I suppose you can hear my stomach?”

“Uh. Yeah, kinda. Also, you just look sort of… bad. No offense.”

“Well, I’m in the middle of a challenging spell. But it’s nothing to be worried about.” Ryder’s frown deepened as his belly gurgled loudly. He had to stop himself from pressing a hand to the accompanying cramp. “I know it sounds bad, but it’s merely the ordinary inconveniences of being a di-mage.”

Grayson didn’t look convinced. “Maybe you should take some tonic?”

“Not needed. Don’t concern yourself with this, Grayson.” Ryder stood up, swallowing heavily against the lurch of his belly. “Just finish your work and then go get yourself some lunch.”

Back at his desk, Ryder wiped the sweat from his brow and tried to focus on paperwork. He managed a to do a little, but soon he was leaning back in his chair with his hands folded over his rolling stomach, breathing slowly.

There was no denying it – his nausea was getting worse and worse. As sick as he felt, as much as he longed to give his stomach the relief it was pleading for, he had to keep the spell down–

–and then his belly groaned and surged in a way that made him press a hand against his mouth. When he took his fingers away, they were clammy and trembling, and Ryder knew suddenly and clearly that his insides were going to have their way.

He lurched to his feet and walked stiffly out from his alcove. “Grayson? Would you keep an eye on things for a few minutes?”

“Uh, sure.” Grayson glanced up at him. “Are you–?”

Ryder didn’t hear the end of his question. He was already moving purposefully across the room, down the back hall, up the steps to his living quarters.

He had been planning to take care of things in a careful, controlled way – drink some water to dilute the magic before pressing his finger to the back of his tongue – but it was already too late for that. He could feel his stomach fighting to squeeze as he reached for the handle of his bathroom door.

He barely managed to fall on his knees before he was being very, very sick.

Vomiting up an active spell was never pleasant. But even with the intensity of the cramps, the easing of the pain his belly was so immense that Ryder sighed gratefully between retches. It almost felt good to cough up the last of it, to rid his insides of the last vestiges of that foulness. Afterwards, all he could do for a minute or two was sit huddled on the floor and breathe, basking in the warm fuzziness of relief.

He felt so much better.

Eventually, he rose and stumbled to the sink to rinse his mouth and splash some water on his face. He still felt shaky as he made his way back to the Soothing Room – throwing up always made him feel off – but it was still better than suffering through such a full, sick belly. At least he could focus on something other than how awful he felt this way. He’d have to figure out something else with the brewing pot, unfortunately, but that would sort itself out, surely…

He rounded the corner to his alcove and stopped short.

A mug of tea was sitting in the middle of his desk, steam curling lazily from its surface. The spicy scent of ginger hung in the air.

He glanced over his shoulder. The room was empty. The setup Grayson had been working on was completed, and his apprentice himself was nowhere to be seen.

"Huh!” Ryder murmured aloud. “I told him not to worry! But does he listen? No! Stubborn boy!”

He eased himself into his chair, raised the mug to his lips, and took a long draught. The tea settled in his belly, warm and soothing as a blanket.

I’ll have to have words with Grayson, Ryder thought, about how his refusal to listen to me will make him a wonderful soother someday, and he smiled as he took another sip.

[ginger-and-mint]

I really wanna see Kara help Malia with an overstuffed tummy 😮 maybe she's returning the favor from before?

“All right, almost there…” Kara released the arm she had looped under Malia’s shoulders and gently deposited her friend onto the common room sofa. “Try to get comfortable without jostling that tummy too much, huh?”

Malia sighed deeply as she sank back into the cushions. “Ooh, oh my goodness…. it’s such a relief to sit…!”

“I really don’t know how you managed to eat that much, Mal,” Kara chuckled as she settled on the sofa beside her. “I’d ask where you put it all, but it’s pretty obvious.” She reached over and patted Malia’s belly, which had swollen out into a rounded bulge.

Malia squirmed slightly under Kara’s touch. “Oooh. I do have some slight regrets about finishing off dessert. My tummy’s starting to ache…”

“Aww. Want me to make you some tea?”

Malia shook her head. “I’m not sure that would help. It’s not unsettled, really, it’s just… mmmm.” She closed her eyes as Kara’s thumb began rubbing gentle circles into the heavy pressure under her ribs. “Oh, that’s feels so nice…”

“I can keep doing it,” Kara offered, and smiled softly when Malia nodded. “You’re a real force of nature, you know that? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a tummy this tight. I thought you’d already gotten your capacity to where you wanted it!”

“Oh, I have. But there’s always a new limit to push, isn’t there? Being over-prepared never hurts.” A soft hiccup jolted up from her belly as Kara’s hand hit a grumbly spot, and she winced. “Oof. Not too much, anyway.”

Kara gave her tummy a soft pat. “I bet Ives would be willing help you out with this when he gets back. He’s better at helping with pain than me.”

“Oh, you’re doing just fine,” Malia sighed, and she leaned gently against Kara’s shoulder as her eyes drifted shut.

[ginger-and-mint]

The idea of Elliott stubbornly forcing down spicy food to "train" his system even though he knows it'll end in a killer stomach ache is just... *frantically fans self before swan diving out a glass window* Beautiful. If the mood ever strikes to write a lil drabble about that, that's something I would love to read. Please fuck up our poor grumpy little honey badger

GRUMPY LITTLE HONEY BADGER omg

There’s no way I could refuse you after that display, anon. One fucked up honey badger, coming up.

CW for nausea

“Are you crying, Vale?”

“No.” Elliott turned away from Tim’s broad grin to wipe his watering eyes on his sleeve. He silently cursed whatever unfathomable reflex it was that drove the human body to produce tears in response to a fucking flavor.

Tim laughed in his obnoxiously over-familiar way. “No, he says! You really can’t handle your spice! Even I don’t think it’s all that hot!” He slurped down another spoonful of the chili-laced stew, as if to illustrate his point.

Elliott ignored him and glanced at the clock. Ten minutes until he could leave this stupid practical session. He took a shallow breath, trying not to wince as the burning feeling in his mouth flared and the heavy ache in his stomach quivered.

“Heating spells aren’t going to be your thing, huh?” said Allison. She was smiling, but he wasn’t stupid enough to believe it was a friendly smile. “I guess we all have our weaknesses. Even you.”

“I’m sure I’ll manage,” he answered as coldly as he could with his tongue on fire.

“Well, don’t push yourself. It’s not often that everyone manages a new spell on the first day.”

That dig wasn’t even subtle. The other second-years had already seen the effects of their magic on the thermometers they were supposed to be heating. Elliott was the only one who hadn’t, and now Allison was taking her revenge for all the times he’d strolled into practical and flung out a brand-new spell it was nothing.

“The food was spicy,” said Sara mildly. She was sipping from a glass of milk, which she offered to Elliott. “Want some? It really helps.”

Elliott’s pride told him to refuse, but it was solidly overruled by the rest of him. He took the glass silently and gulped down its contents. The milk quenched the fire in his mouth a little, but only added to the curdled feeling in his stomach.

That was the worst part, he thought ten minutes later as he made his way down the back stairs. He could ignore a burning mouth, but it was hard to find his magic through that heavy unease in his guts. It was a nasty sensation, like his stomach was full of sludge, and it made him angry. Why should he feel so awful? He hadn’t even eaten very much!

Allison was obnoxious, but she was also right. Food intolerance was a weakness—a big weakness.

If there was one thing Elliott knew about weak things, it was that they could always be strengthened.

He took a detour towards the kitchens before heading back to his room.

- - -

The bowl of stew on his desk was a little more than the amount actually needed for a heating spell. There was no use in starting small, Elliott figured.

He could smell the spice rising from the bowl. It made his eyes tear up and prickled in his nose. His stomach, still half-full from earlier and less than happy about it, gurgled mournfully.

“Oh shut up,” Elliott muttered. He picked up the spoon and got to work.

It was easier here, without his obnoxious classmates staring at him. He could groan and swear as the burning sensation spread from his mouth and into his throat. He didn’t have to care when his eyes started watering and his nose began to run.

It was easier—but it was still pretty fucking difficult. He felt… nasty. There was no other word for the queasy, viscous pain that was growing inside him, incubating in the heat of his spice-filled belly like some kind of fucked-up parasite. The more he ate, the worse he felt. Still, he kept at it, forcing food into his increasingly upset stomach as though that were a completely sane thing to do.

He managed to get half the bowl down in one big push before he had to take a moment. His tongue burned—he took deep breaths through his mouth, trying to let the air cool it. He’d brought a pitcher of milk with him, but with the way his stomach was churning, he didn’t dare drink any.

A burp took him by surprise. It stuck strangely in his throat—like it wanted to tug his stomach contents up with it—and he pressed a hand against his mouth. His belly gurgled as it settled back into uneasy equilibrium.

“Ughhh, fuck,” he mumbled. Things were not going well in there, clearly. Maybe this was a bad idea….

No. This was what he needed to do. Either his body would would get used to the food or his mind would get used to the pain.

He pressed a hand against his belly and kept going.

Now he was really starting to get full. He could feel his stomach growing firm and grumbly under his fingers, and the nasty unease was maturing into a sick, swollen ache. Sweat broke out on his forehead, but he kept forcing stew down—bite after horrible bite until the bowl was finally empty.

He felt a brief flash of triumph before it was swept away by a tide of awful stomach pain.

He groaned and hunched over, one arm pressed tight into his churning, bloated belly. It hurt so much he could barely draw breath. A burp forced its way up his throat, and it was all he could do to choke back everything that wanted to come after it.

Fuck, this had been a mistake—a stupid fucking mistake—all he’d done was make himself sick! He was going to feel horrible for hours, and for what? He couldn’t cast. His thermometer was in his bag, and leaning down to get it out would cause his seething stomach to erupt, he was sure of it—

Then his gaze found the pitcher of milk and an idea germinated in his brain. In a fit of furious determination, he punched through the painful maelstrom in his belly to find the kernel of power inside him.

A tendril of steam rose from pitcher. Then the milk began to froth. The bubbles came faster and thicker until the the foam swelled up and spilled over the rim, coating his desk in steaming, frothy scum.

As the magic flowed out of Elliott, so did the fury. He sighed and slumped back in his chair, holding his cramping stomach and hiccuping as the dregs of the spell slipped away.

He had done it.

Never mind that he couldn’t stand up straight. Never mind that he nearly threw up twice just walking to his bed. He could cast heating spells—and damn good ones—and that was all the comfort he needed to curl up around his aching belly and sleep the sickness away.

[ginger-and-mint]

Oh oh oh, how do you feel about button popping? If you're cool with it, how about something involving Elliot and popping buttons?

So Elliott purposefully avoids wearing clothes with buttons because he reallyyy doesn’t like it if people can see that his stomach is swollen. (And it does swell. A lot.) I imagine he had one single mortifying public button-popping experience and after that—no buttons, never again.

I considered writing that incident for this prompt… but I’ve made the poor guy suffer enough lately, so here he is enjoying himself for once.

Some di-mages specifically trained their capacities. They filled themselves up with light but bulky foods, like lettuce and melon, with the idea that it would stretch out their stomach.

Elliott did not think much of that practice. He preferred to attempt challenging spells and let the filling make demands of his insides rather than wasting his time with useless food. Even so, he’d once developed his own strategy for capacity training—just because he’d been certain he could come up with something better than the ordinary method.

He didn’t use it often. But every now and again, it was helpful to assess the state of his stomach capacity.

Plus, it could be gratifying to see just how far he could go.

So that was how it came to be that Elliott was sitting in one of his favorite casting spots—on the floor against the foot of his bed—working his way through a bowl of rice.

He always started out with some kind of heavy grain—usually rice—which he would eat until the weight was almost unbearable, solid and tight in his stomach. Then he would switch to something soft and sweet—caramel pudding or blueberry cream, the kinds of things he could eat even when full to bursting—until he was almost sick from it. And then, finally, he would drink warm water to relax his stomach and fill up every last crevice. It was a good strategy, judging by how enormous his belly always was by the time he finished.

He had just begun to feel the edge of fullness when he suddenly became aware of a tightness over his stomach. He glanced down to see the buttons of his shirt beginning to pull slightly at the the fabric.

Elliott didn’t own many shirts with buttons. This one was old and a bit too small, and he’d only worn it today because everything else needed washing and he wasn’t planning to leave his room anyway.

He should’ve just taken the shirt off. That would’ve been the sensible thing to do. But Elliott looked down at those straining buttons—trying to limit him, trying to hold him back—and was filled with a furious, irrational urge to destroy them.

He could’ve done it in minutes with the water, but that would’ve felt like cheating. So he kept at it with the rice. Soon his stomach felt like a rock and he could barely catch his breath, but he kept going until finally, the button stretched over the crest of his belly went flying.

“Ha—!” Elliott breathed, and then winced “—ahh…”

He was not terribly comfortable. One of the remaining buttons was pressing hard into the tender spot just under his ribs, where all the food was currently sitting. He breathed for a moment, letting things settle. Then he reached for the caramel pudding.

The sweet taste gave him a little burst of stamina, and he ate steadily, belly rumbling helplessly as it slowly grew bigger and tighter. It was truly bloated now, pushing out as the rice settled and swelled inside him. When he was in the public eye, Elliott hated how round his stomach often got. Here, in the safety of his room, it made him feel powerful.

A nauseating cramp forced him to stop. He leaned back against the bed, sucking down a few careful breaths. A series of small, uncomfortable belches forced their way up, and he could feel more air inside him, caught in the aching depths of his packed stomach. He shifted slightly, trying to work it free.

The movement sent another button popping off. He sighed in momentary relief. But the one remaining button was the worst—the one pressing directly on his stomach. With the others gone, it was digging in harder than ever, making him feel like everything was being pushed back into his throat.

It had to go.

Elliott put one hand against the taut, curved side of his belly and picked up the water jug with the other. He drank, ignoring the sharp stabs of pain as his stomach struggled for room it didn’t have, until he broke off with a strained belch.

…Fuck, he was going to be sick.

He pressed a hand to his mouth. His churning stomach lurched—and the final button popped free.

The relief was massive and instant.

Elliott sank back against the bed, sighing as his nausea subsided and was replaced by a feeling of deep contentment. He pushed the fabric of the ruined shirt away from his belly, grinning slightly as his fingers brushed the frayed threads where the buttons had once been.

“Take that,” he mumbled, then hissed in pain as his stomach groaned unhappily.

He needed to lie down. Crawling into bed would’ve been the best thing, but he wasn’t sure he could stand up. So he settled gingerly on his side on his bedroom floor. He was too uncomfortable to sleep, but there was something relaxing about lying there, listening to soft gurgles of his own body and feeling the heavy weight in his stomach that reassured him—yes, you can do this, you are powerful, you can do anything….

Note: I’m not taking any new requests for the moment. Thanks for reading!

[ginger-and-mint]

Could you please write something with Brantley overeating and getting super hiccuppy/burpy? You’re the best!

Anon, you must be psychic, because I literally just wrote a scene like this last night for the beginning of the next chapter. :D But I’m happy to write more burpy Bram. Here you go!

Bramley didn’t notice how full his belly was getting until it churned up such an enormous burp that he dropped his fork in surprise. The sudden movement set off an achey twinge in his tummy that made him realize all at once—oof, he was stuffed.

Over in the kitchen, Kara raised her voice. “Shit, Bramley, that gave me a heart attack. I’ve never heard anyone burp so loud.”

He blushed. “Sorry.”

Kara shoved a lid onto the box she was packing with snacks and came over to the sitting area. “Are you all right? You eat a lit firework or something?”

“No, um….” He glanced down at the platter on his lap. “Just—hic—a lot of cake.”

Kara’s eyes widened when she saw that most of the dish now held nothing but crumbs. “Creator’s blood, Bram! I baked you that cake so that you could practice your cloaking spell, not eat it all in one sitting! Weren’t you full from dinner?”

“Yes. Hic—urrrp—oof, ‘scuse me.” Bramley patted his belly nervously, trying to settle things down in there. “I only meant to—hic—taste it. But it was—hic—so good!” He really shouldn’t have eaten this much, though. His belly was churning sluggishly. It gurgled under his hand and he let out a quiet burp.

“Of course it’s good! It’s my mother’s apple cake recipe. But I used a lot of sugar, Bram. Weren’t you just telling me the other day that sugary food upsets your tummy?”

“Um… yeah.” He winced as his heavy belly jumped with the force of another hiccup. “M’all right, though. Just a little—hic—gassy.”

“Pfft, all the more reason for me to leave then. I’m going to meet Malia in the library. Want to study with us?”

“No thanks. Don’t—urp—really feel like, um, standing up.” Bramley reached over and grabbed his textbook from the side table. “I can read here.”

“See you later then. Don’t explode while I’m gone.”

Then she left, and the common room was quiet and empty.

Bramley eyed the plate. There was still maybe a third of the cake left.

Nope. He had to restrain himself. He’d had more than enough to eat already.

He opened his book, squinted down at the page, and tried not to think about apples….

Hope you like it! :D I’m still taking requests until Sunday is over! Thanks to those who have sent something so far, I’ll try to get to them tonight or tomorrow. ^^