#<-- just in case someone has the tag block

[helenisaweirdo]

hatred.

oliver aiku x fem!reader, accidental pregnancy, aiku is an asshole at the beginning, reader is of age, angst to comfort, happy ending

a/n: the reason that barou is so close to reader is because reader went to the same high school as oliver did (as the soccer team manager), and in the light novel it’s canon that oliver and barou played against each other in high school. so barou and reader has met before.

———

november 2, 2018

the two lines on the small screen was like being mocked by your best friend behind your back.

you had begged, prayed, even did rituals hoping that this wouldn’t be the case. but your gut instantly dropped when the two lines made it’s way to the small screen on the stick. nonononononononono—! why? why did this have to happen to you? you placed one hand on your lower abdomen, rubbing it in circles.

you shouldn’t abort your child. they didn’t do anything wrong, and you were the one who told him about wanting to be a mother one day, after all. all those times that you had treated the small kids at his soccer games so kindly right in front of him…it was only to be expected of that he was the one to ultimately get you pregnant.

oliver aiku.

captain of the U20 team, infamous womanizer, and annoying handsome asshole. and the man who just single-handedly ruined your life.

you’re slipping off the cool metal of the white gold band on your left ring finger, throwing it onto the floor and sitting down next to it, hugging your knees and letting out choked sobs. was the darry ring just another act of purposeful hurt, too? oliver wasn’t someone to settle down for a family life, let alone get married, so was the darry ring just to earn your trust?

and your mind flashes to the night you both broke up. that snowy night, where you had slapped him straight across the face, when you had screamed at him for cheating on you with another girl. one of his ex flings that told you that they hooked up again…while he was still dating you.

but now that you think about it again, why was he so quiet that night? wouldn’t he usually try to explain himself or try to make peace between the two of you?

you shake your head, picking up the ring from the floor and staring at it once again. adorned with diamonds and my love for you, he had told you when he first gave it to you. it was all a lie, it must have been. otherwise he would have never cheated on you.

———

november 6, 2018

“i was wondering if…um…”

“yes?”

you’re staring at the woman in front of you. she’s gorgeous, you think. oliver would probably leave you for her in a heartbeat. anri teieri are the boldly written words on her name tag. “if i do this job, of you know, being the manager of blue lock and all. would it be likely that i’ll be able to see oliver aiku?”

you had deleted his contact, blocked his email, and blocked all of his social media accounts when you both broke up. you couldn’t remember any of his information, either. and oliver being oliver, he wasn’t an easy person to reach. you eventually came to the conclusion to attend online classes for your college and work at blue lock.

“well, yes, it’s practically a guarantee. he’s the captain of the U20 team, after all. but, Miss…” anri looks down at your stomach, eyebrows knitted together. “are you sure you’re in any condition to work? especially cleaning up after and cooking for teenage boys? i don’t want you to injure yourself, especially with a baby. you’re—how many months in?”

“im at 1 month. 6 weeks, to be exact. and its babies. im having twins.” you muttered. “its alright, it can help me practice cooking and cleaning for the kids. you know how children are—they’re always either making messes or hungry.” you place a hand on your abdomen. “im sure it will be alright. but thank you for your concern, anri.”

“you’re 19, 3 years younger than me…oh, you poor girl. i’ll just need you to sign some papers first and make a few phone calls with mr ego, and we’ll be set.” anri shakes your hand firmly before a soft smile graces her lips. “you’ll be an excellent mother. don’t be too hard on yourself.”

“thank you.” you smile back meekly, preparing yourself for the days of hell of taking care of sweaty teenage boys. but hey, considering how you used to be the manager of your high school boys soccer team (with oliver on it, no less), you’re probably already used to it.

———

february 26 2019

“you need me to take over cleaning for you?”

barou sits down next to you, sliding a bowl of rice of some dishes (that are beneficial for pregnant women, you notice) in front of you. “if you don’t mind.” you reply, picking up a pair of chopsticks and beginning to devour the food.

“well, i was planning on doing so anyway. it’s not good for a pregnant woman to do any work, even if you’re only on your fourth month.” barou begins to eat his own portion of rice. “i already finished all of my training for the U20 match tomorrow anyways.”

“thanks, barou.”

after a fair amount of time, you’ve only told the people at blue lock who you knew wouldn’t freak out about you pregnancy: which wasn’t much. isagi, yukimiya, kunigami, barou, kurona, hiori, and nanase. you would only tell everyone else when your stomach grew a considerable amount, enough to single-handedly show that you were pregnant.

“you must be training hard to surpass isagi. that’s amazing, barou.” you begin, taking a glance at how barou wolfs down his food. he nods from under the bowl. you notice how he’s also less…irritated with you. at least, he always tries to be. even if you make a stupid mistake or dirties certain things that were once clean, barou takes one look at your abdomen before just cleaning it again. a classic gentleman—why the hell didn’t he have a girlfriend yet?

—

you couldn’t sleep that night. you moved the mattress up, you moved the mattress down, you pulled the blankets up, you pulled the blankets down. you opened the girls, you closed the lights. and yet you still couldn’t sleep.

finally, you began rubbing your stomach in circles. “my sweeties, tomorrow you’ll finally be able to hear your dad’s voice for the first time. and if all goes well, you’ll both be able to meet him when you’re both due in august.”

after a few more kicks and hushed promises, you could finally dear your eyelids growing heavy, and you began a dreamless rest.

———

february 27 (the day of the U20 match)

you sat on the bench of the changing room for the U20 team. blue lock had already won, and for privacy, the U20 team left the changing room, leaving only you and oliver inside after some negotiations. oliver’s eyes are fixated on you, and they can’t seem to pull away.

“oliver,” you began, sighing. “im going to make this quick because i know that you’re fangirls are too impatient to wait for you for so long. im pregnant,” you ignored the way that his jaw went slack. “your kids, twins, a boy and a girl. they’re both due in august. do you want both, should i have both, should we each raise one—“

“marry me.”

now it was your turn for your jaw to go slack.

“what—? but you fucking cheated on me!”

oliver’s lips pressed into a thin line. “i’ve cheated on tens of women before, but i’ve never once cheated on you. you’re the only one that i’ll never cheat on. akamei was just a liar who wanted me to take her back, but lying to the love of my life wasn’t the best way to go about it.

“i don’t blame you if you still don’t trust me, but at least let me marry you and let me be a good father to our kids. they deserve it, and you deserve it too for staying strong for months of being a single pregnant mom.”

tears began to pool at your eyes, and your chest felt tight. “fuck, since when were you so mature, oliver?” you threw yourself into his arms, soft sniffles escaping you and onto his shoulders.

“it’s not that im mature, i just really love you.”

———

january 3, 2025

“mama, did you and daddy have a fairytale love story too?”

your daughter olivia’s words make you freeze in your steps. after once against reading her a classic lover story (Cinderella) as a nighttime story, your daughter has been obsessed with them…not a good thing.

“of course they did! just look at them now!” your son oscar from right next to her replied. you gulped before nodding shakily.

“yep…yep! goodnight, guys! i love you both!” you scurried out of the room and into your shared room with oliver, where he laid relaxed on the bed.

“you seem tense.”

“yeah, olivia just fucking asked if we had a fairytale love story, no shit.”

“we did!”

“fuck you.”

———

FIN.

[brynn-lear]

Put Another "X" On The Calendar [Yandere Angel of Death!Sunday/Reader]

Unreliable Synopsis: To be rejected by the angel of death himself… you must be heaven's favorite chew toy if he won’t let you die as intended. But this year will be the last time you'd play with his games. [5.6k words]

CW/Tags: gn reader, explicit and detailed suicidal themes, alcohol, very soft yandere angel!Sunday, dead dove: do not eat. Please prioritize your mental health first; you matter more than you think. This is first and foremost an expression/vent of real struggles, not a romanticization of the tags mentioned nor does it promote it as a solution.

𝟒𝟑,𝟖𝟐𝟒 𝐒𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐌 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐄. Nostalgia has grown unfamiliar for the past days— you can’t even fathom having the same bitter acknowledgement you had years prior. Someone once said a person shall always remain a stranger to themselves, and you dearly wish you still recall who that was so you could ask if it is in the same degree you feel now. Too often does the mind ask the necessity to get up every morning, until mornings become noons— and finally, evenings. Minimizing your waking hours as much as possible to avoid confronting the state of your own mind and body.

Today is Saturday. Or was it Sunday? You can’t remember. You only remember dates when there’s a deadline. And here you are, with another late submission.

Barely dressed for the snow, you leaned against the cold door.

“You’re here again? Why do I keep finding you here?”

The man turned around.

𝗖𝗢𝗟𝗨𝗠𝗕𝗜𝗔 𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗧𝗢𝗖𝗢𝗟 (𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗠)

I have read and understood this consent form, and I consent to the processing of my personal data. I agree to the inclusion of my anonymized data in research publications and understand I can withdraw my consent at any time. I acknowledge that confidentiality may be breached in cases of high self-harm or suicide risk to ensure my safety, which may involve sharing information with relevant professionals. I also understand that my consent does not affect other lawful grounds for data processing or waive my rights under the Data Privacy Act of ████ and applicable laws.

Client ID: ████████████

1) In the past month, have you wished you were dead or wished you could go to sleep and not wake up?

🟥 YES

⬛ NO

It’s him again. The man that keeps hanging around your university’s Architecture Building rooftop. 

He smiled softly. “I could say the same to you.”

Despite the coldness of December, you came here with nothing to shield from it but the blazer your mom bought years ago for her office presentation. This stranger was almost as terrible as you were, in an opposing sense. He was draped all over, but his style seemed almost more overprepared for fall when it’s winter.

You let out a soft noise. 

Sometimes, you look forward to seeing this stranger on the rooftop. 

Trudging towards him, you asked plainly. “Who are you even waiting for?”

“I usually tell people that it’s my sister.”

You decided to ignore his strange phrasing.

“Can’t you two meet elsewhere?” You spat, unable to hide the disdain. Your voice made you cringe. More than anyone, you know how vile and cynical you truly are, but to let it be known now is counterintuitive. “I’m sure there are better meeting spots. Dreamjolt Cafe’s just around the corner.”

The stranger looked down, his eyes almost fluttering shut with a tense gulp. “I suppose there are more convenient locations. But…”

“But?”

He stared at you. His bright golden eyes that many complimented in your view looked as dull as the snow. No doubt he’s beyond human. This handsome stranger has no right to exist. He only serves to remind you how much you lacked while also blocking the sweet release you’ve been chasing.

Sometimes, you wish he was as lonely as you.

“But to leave is to take away far more than just promise,” he whispered but no breath painted the air. “To leave is to let someone down. Somehow, I feel as though I do not need to explain this to you.”

“You don’t have to.” You said out of disinterest.

“Other than that, I enjoy coming here and staring at the sky. The sight here reminds me of my purpose.” He stared at you intensely. “There's always a paradise that needs to be built. That vow is like the sun in the sky— perhaps I'll melt and fall before reaching it... But some hardships I must endure."

He took off his scarf and reached it out to you.

You blinked, raising a hand in protest. “No need.”

“I need it the least. Take it. You’re cold.”

Most days, you wish you could make him as lonely as you. 

“I don’t feel anything and I don’t like owing anyone anything.” The words slip out of you easily.

You don’t want to extend your time here for a random stranger.

“I know.” He muttered. “But still, take it. If I’m not careful, it may just be the only physical thing I can leave behind.”

For a moment, the sun and earth were silenced. You took the scarf, circling the soft fabric with your fingers. It was azure with speckled star patterns, ranging from complex to the most simple X-s and dots. You didn’t say another word. It was understood from then on that you both might’ve come here for the same reason. The rooftop was the haven for when the physical conditions that existence brings are met with crushing defeat. If he asked you the same question you had moments prior, you’d have but one reply:

It’s the tallest building on campus; I came here for the view.

With dissipating reluctance, he approached you and wrapped the scarf around your neck. His gloved fingers were shaking, but you made no comment. As you stare up, you’re greeted with the sight of his flushed cheeks and pursed lips. Yet, you’ve no motivation to return the scarf. 

Maybe the frostbite makes him feel a little more alive too.

As if to affirm your suspicions, he took off his own gloves. The act made the skin he hid with the long sleeves of his jacket visible. It was not your intent to be nosy, yet you saw the bandages wrapped around him. Gauze pads in places you’d expect it to be. The sight must’ve distracted you long enough, since the moment you looked at your own hands— it wore the black gloves he donned.

You’re wearing his scarf and gloves— he has nothing. No fur, no anything. Just him and a black coat, white shirt, and pants. Yet his limbs did not tremble. The temperature had no effect on him.

Finally, he gave you his name. 

“You can call me… Sunday. And you?”

Sunday.

You blinked. “Like the day after Saturday?”

He chuckled humorlessly. “Exactly like the day after Saturday.”

With that, you decided you do not like him.

Call it competitiveness, call it frustration— name the emotion for whatever is convenient— but there’s no pleasant note to describe him. Objectively and instinctively, Sunday is predictably a good man. But the maggots that crawl inside you scream just how much he has no place in your life. They writhe behind your eyelids, burning with an unspoken illness that wanted him miserable.

“(Y/n). (Y/n) (L/n).” You answered. “Realbrook Dorms. Room 404.”

To die beautifully and meaningfully. You don’t have that privilege.

Sunday’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why did you tell me that?”

The dorm may just be the only physical thing you can leave behind.

“I don’t know.” You laughed, averting your gaze.

“Just in case you want your scarf back, I suppose.”

And you know what?

You’re sure he knows that you’re broken, too.

2) In the past month, have you actually had any thoughts about killing yourself?

🟥 YES

⬛ NO

3) Have you been thinking about how you might do this?

🟥 YES

⬛ NO

𝐀𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧— but the higher beings routing out pest control. Entering the classroom filled with those bright and beautiful, those who were born to be who their program says they are, has patted you with the crown of envy.

No amount of pomodoros, no higher statistic in your Focus Plant app, can make you even a fraction of their genius. Depressing, but true. 

How can you even compete with a room of intellectual gatekeepers?

You’d ask a question, hoping to learn, and all they hand out is a vague response. Not an explanation, but enough for them to say “oh, but I replied, haven’t I?”

These Penaconian Science High School graduates surely are the cream of the crop, and they won’t spare other people’s hopes and dreams to get what they want. 

It’s fine, you tell yourself. This is a highly competitive university. You expected this. It has a name. Your tuition is free. Everyone is a scholar. You just have to hold your breath and live through this. For the future you promised your loved ones.

Of course, assuming you can exhale after 3 more years. Assuming you still have a beating heart inside.

You bought another notebook today after you lost your previous one. The old one’s probably hidden under your “organized mess”. 

But at least you can force yourself to write good things again.

𝟷𝟸.𝟶𝟿.𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟺

𝙸 𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊 𝟼𝚔 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚙 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔.

Walking, not running or jogging, is the only healthy hobby you have. Writing consumes you while art reminds you of your worthlessness. It’s a short sentence, but that’s fine. That’s why you bought a pocket sized notebook in the first place. 

Having that as a first entry is 3 miles better than a detailed plan of which sea you’ll last disappear to.

4) Have you had these thoughts and had some intention of acting on them?

🟥 YES

⬛ NO

𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐲. You opened your dorm room. Thankfully, as it was the only stroke of luck you had that day, none of your roommates were around. You let your bag slid from your shoulders down with a loud thud.

For a few minutes, you squandered it salting the hard boiled eggs you bought with your own tears.On the floor no one was industrious enough to sweep, you sat. You had no energy to climb up your bed. It was just you and awkward silence. 

It’s Christmas season.

You have no good memories of it. You barely left your room.

Maybe you should’ve known that every December would compete for which year was the worst. The best December had to be the year when you’d receive terrible exchange gift presents like cheap junk food while you and your mother chipped in to buy a great gun toy. Then the worst was your first christmas without that family member you were closest to. When you’re reminded how deeply grief can cut through while everyone’s in good cheer.

There’s a knock on your door. 

Quickly, you put your jacket back on and wiped your nose. You twisted the doorknob open, already feeling terrible for the housekeepers. They often report to your parents when they decide to visit. So you’ll just slip in your excuse in the middle of the conversation.

“Hi, sorry Miss Rena, I’m sick right now— cold, really. Did I accidentally leave my water bottle on the study hall again—”

“Good evening, (Y/n). May I trouble you for a moment?”

You flinched at the familiar but oddly placed sound.

“Sunday?” Your eyebrows furrowed. “How did you— oh, right, I did tell you what my dorm was.”

Here he was again. You had half the mind to think he would only spawn on the rooftop, but you were wrong.

“It’s rather reckless of you, and I hope you will refrain from doing that to other men.” 

There was a dark tilt in his tone and his gaze matched it perfectly. Years ago, that could’ve put shivers down your spine. But you no longer care for most things.

You can only mimic a nervous laugh. Mimicking what you would’ve sounded if you still cared for your own safety.

Sunday offered you a small smile.

“How many times do you walk per day this month?”

“Huh?”

What a strange question.

He looked at the window. “Let’s walk outside. You haven't done ten thousand steps in a day for quite a while now.”

“What a rude assumption.” You scoffed.

“Was I wrong?” He asked, but the innocent tone made you second guess the teasing nature of his words.

If you two were close, your roommate’s unsuspecting pillows would’ve hit him square on the face. Sunday opened your wardrobe and grabbed the scarf you gave him.

…Why does he know where you kept it?

He opened the door wider.

“Come on,” he replied. “Let’s take a walk.”

You don’t know why, but your guard is always down when you’re with him.

Maybe you no longer have any sense of self-preservation. Which makes sense, given your real goal. However, unlike most, you do not love being loved. Being cared for ultimately turns into a debt to be repaid in your eyes. Yet, you couldn’t stop Sunday when he wrapped the scarf snugly around your neck. 

The two of you walked around the area. Sometimes, he’d talk about the people, animals, and objects of nature that piqued both your interest. Despite being nearly strangers, he was oddly calming to be around. 

Sunday held your hand as you both walked, like it was a matter of time till it crumbled. His eyes had this persistent pleading you refused to acknowledge. Even in silence, it was asking you the worst request.

To stay alive.

“Why did I cross your mind?” You asked him. “Why did you suddenly visit my dorm?”

He stopped walking.

“... Instinct.”

“Instinct?”

“Just a feeling, that something might…” He muttered a word nearly inaudible. “If I was away. Humans are not perfect individuals. Quite the contrary, their hearts are filled with contradictions at every moment.”

Sunday’s gaze softened, hurt.

“Which is why, even if you tell me you are doing fine, I am inclined to believe that the opposite is the case.”

“...I see.”

You subtly tried to get out of his hold, but he didn’t let you go.

“Why do you care?” You continued walking, and he resumed too. He always matched your walking speed. That in itself felt nice. That someone would adjust for you, that is. 

“I believe it’s… human nature to care.” Sunday hummed. “Listening has always been my job.”

You laughed. “I guess so.”

Quietly, you took note of that.

“Here.” Sunday pointed at the benches.”Let’s take a rest.”

The university nearby— not yours— just installed more carved wooden benches. When he sat down, it felt like it was made for him. Quietly, you sat down beside him. He sits up straight, unlike you. You’re hunched back, fiddling with your hands as though there was an invisible toy that stole your attention.

Sunday sighed softly. "The evening light does tend to settle the heart, does it not? A quiet reminder that even the longest days must come to their end."

You looked at the sky.

"I guess. The day ends, but what comes after doesn’t feel much different.” You chuckled. “Same old suffering.”

“Perhaps there is something in the simple act of continuing. Something... precious in that.” He said. “We all walk our own paths. Though it may be lonely, as long as we keep moving forward, we won't forget each other.”

"Sure, if you're feeling masochistic enough in waiting for something that never comes." You huffed. "I've grown past that phase. Multiple times."

“Life has a way of leading humans in circles, only to place us where they are meant to be, even if they cannot yet see it."

“And spoiler alert, I’m not meant much for anything.” You looked up to meet his gaze. 

“But thank you, anyway. It’s nice to have a brief respite, even if it comes from the man I keep spotting on the rooftop.”

“And I’ll continue to materialize there if you refuse to have a truce with yourself.” He half-chided, half-teased. “I am the only one who truly understands you, who knows the depth of your heart, even when you can’t bear to look at it yourself. And until you no longer go to the roof to see the view from up there, I’ll continue to linger.”

There’s a blank expression on your face. An expression no human should be able to read.

But he can.

“(Y/n), if you need anything. I’ll be there. As I always have.” Sunday looked back at the winter sky. 

“And I’ll remind you of that everyday if I have to. Because that is what I choose to do. If I’m forced to take you, I—” Sunday closed his eyes. “I don’t know what I’d do.”

You’re not smart, but you understood what this was about.

You’re his.

You may not "know" him, but you’re his reason. His only reason.

And wishing for death threatens all his plans.

5) Have you started to work out or worked out the details of how to kill yourself? Did you intend to carry out this plan?

🟥 YES

⬛ NO

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 just as you were making weak attempts to tug the sleep you’ve been missing for 5 years. There’s supposed to be an Engineering BINGO event today. You skipped it and thanked the campus for once that there’s no classes. Your rough, useless hand frantically attempted to hang up as if it’s no different from snoozing an alarm. But it was Hailee. The only person who ever regularly talks to you.

You answered, voice groggy at 3 PM.

“Heyyy (Y/n), where are you?”

“Hail—” you muttered. “Just sleeping.”

“You’re not coming? Cocona just won an IPad!”

“Good for her, good for her.” You didn’t really register what she said. “Since there’s no class I figured I’d just sleep in, you know?”

“Ah, yeah, I get that. I lowkey wanna go home too, but Max is having fun.”

“Yeah.” You yawned. 

“Hey, kinda random, but I just passed by Madeleine earlier.”

“Yeah well she’s always everywhere all at once.”

“Sure, but she was at the registrar.” Hailee paused. “She’s getting a transcript of records, I think.”

“What for?”

“I think she wants to transfer.”

You sat up.

“Really? Well, shit. I want in, too.”

“Yeah, same.” Hailee’s tone turned serious. “I want out of this hellhole too.”

“Hey Hailee?”

“Yuh?”

“I’ll call you back.”

“Oh, okay, sur—”

You messaged Madeleine.

You paused.

Why are you telling her this.

You and her barely talked.

You and Madeleine messaged each other more for a while. Each notif was a half-hearted argument against going through both plans. Words of how neither of you should go through it leaning as a suggestion rather than a real conviction. You'd agree, but you both know it’s just words. 

She didn’t mention her reasons outside academics, and you didn’t mention yours.

The hesitation lingers, but you both danced around it, sending stickers of people hugging, pretending you'll back out, even though you know you both know you won’t. Neither of you is truly convinced, and yet, the conversation went on a seemingly positive note.

It’s fine.

At least now, you know, that you aren’t the only one who tried their hardest with nothing to return to.

But there’s a voice in your head telling you no. 

It doesn’t belong to you. It is not your voice.

Yet it begged and begged.

Please, don’t do it.

And for now, you’ll pretend you’ll listen to him too.

6) Have you engaged in, attempted, or planned any actions with the intention of ending your life? Examples: Taking pills, attempting to shoot yourself, self-harm (e.g., cutting), attempting hanging, taking pills but not swallowing, holding a gun but changing your mind or having it taken away, going to a high place but not jumping, gathering pills, acquiring a weapon, giving away belongings, writing a will or suicide note, etc.

🟥 YES

⬛ NO

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠. No one asked you to draw, but you figured since the man on the chair heavily recommended you get back to your old hobbies, you’d draw the people who consider you as a friend. So, you strayed from sketching topics that lead the mind wandering. 

You stared at the screen blankly.

Genuinely, you were caught off guard.

Careful. Don’t fool yourself that a small “thank you” means they would be there for you. You’ve been here before. Don’t be a pushover.

You closed your eyes.

No, thank you, Monica.

“Just a few more.” You muttered. “Just a few more portraits. Just one more holiday greeting. Just one more late video animatic birthday gift for Alex that I didn’t give weeks ago. And then—”

You can finally pardon yourself with the right to die.

Don’t.

Please don’t.

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…

Your messenger app crashed.

…

You turned off your phone.

7) If yes, was this within the past 3 months?

🟥 YES

⬛ NO

You blinked.

A hand. A hand reaching out that isn’t “Sunday”?

Really?

You laughed.

You laughed so loudly, you’d be glad if you remembered the fact that no one was around. 

It just feels so inhumane.

It is inhumane. 

So inhumane, that you felt offended for the last shred of humanity you thought you no longer had.

You cackled, feeling a drop on the back of your wrist.

The one time someone actually noticed you did not feel well. 

And they worry about someone else. 

You are such a fucking joke.

Your body shook, laughing at this unintentional cruelty. Air-like bile rises up your throat— your eyes burning. A few more laughter escaped your turtle lipped mouth. You couldn’t tear your pained gaze away from the screen. You wiped your eyes.

The funniest bit?

Crying won’t change a damn thing.

It’s nearly 2025, and no good thought crossed your mind.

Just like your father said: everything is evil, it’s only a question of how much you’ll let the devil consume you.

Today is Tuesday. Or was it Wednesday? The man doesn't care to remember. He only remembers dates when there’s a deadline. And here he was, arriving at 11:59 pm. Just in time to stop another would-be tragedy. 

Barely dressed for the snow, “Sunday” leaned against the cold door, almost out of breath.

“You're here. Why must I keep finding you here…”

His purpose turned around.

It’s you. His ward that keeps hanging around the university’s Architecture Building rooftop… Now standing on top of your parents’ roof. 

You frowned deeply, tipping your weight slightly. “I could say the same to you.”

Before Sunday could utter a word, your phone buzzed. 

You grimaced as you saw the alarm. “Won't you look at thaaaat?! It's already 2 am. I'm so fucking stupid. I must've thought I set an alarm for 12 instead of 2.”

“Yes… Happy New Year, (Y/n). I hope your 2025 will be blessed.” Sunday spoke softly. His heart raced as he made slow movements to approach you. The man hoped he'd be close enough to pull you away from the edge.

“How much did you drink?”

You cackled.

“Weren't you already supposed to know the answer to that,” you slurred. “Septimus? THE Bronze Melodia?”

That was the exact moment… when your former guardian angel learned what it felt like for blood to run cold.

Once a guardian angel alongside his sister, Septimus was a protector of humanity, driven by a belief that he alone could heal the world’s ills. His perceived purpose blinded him of what was humanity’s true will, until the heavens cast him out for overstepping. Stripped of his former glory, he became the Angel of Death, his once-bright feathers now hidden in bandages. With each soul he reaped, the haunting melody of his fall lingers, a reminder of a savior who couldn't save himself.

And so, he only hoped that he could save you.

His one and lonely human.

Stirred awake were your memories when you first saw him on that rooftop. Even then, you knew who he was. It was the same fledgeling who kept you company in your silent home. The boy who listened to you talk for hours while everyone else “felt” a ghost. 

No matter how much he tried to look like the image of comfort, he would never be the character you used to love, in the same vein you can never return to the bright cheer you used to have.

“(Y/n), please…” Sunday begged. “Get off the roof.”

“My parents are asleep.” You hummed. “It’s 2 am. I’m on liquid courage. This is the only chance I won’t chicken out.”

“H-How did you know?” He asked. “Who I am?”

“I’m smart when it comes to things that don’t matter,” you cackled. “But ask me how to draw up a diagram for a unit process and I got absolutely nothing.”

You took a step back, which made Sunday take one harsh step forward. “DON’T.”

“Septimus, is it true?” You laughed again. “That you’re an angel of death?”

Slowly, he nodded.

“Yes.”

“Why haven’t you taken me yet? Does God have other plans?”

“T… Truth is, you should’ve died long ago.”

You’re not surprised.

“When I tried to open my guts with scissors, or when I tried to hang myself?” You huffed.

“Longer than that. I had to always snatch you away from your fate so you could have the chance to live on.” The angel spoke, voice weary. “I want to see you live another day. It’s what stripped me out of your guardianship in the first place.”

Once again, you’re not surprised.

“So it’s you…”

The anger in your voice was almost tangible. 

“So you’re the reason why I’m alive.” Your eyes twitched. “It’s you who kept stopping me.”

Sunday raised a hand. “I-I just, I want you to live long enough to see that a paradise can still be built—”

“My paradise is the ocean I want to drown myself in.” You spat. “Don’t talk about paradise when you know I can’t reach it.”

Sunday’s eyebrows furrowed. “That is not true—”

“Who else?”

“Who… else?” 

He’s taking ragged breaths. 

You knew it. Your hypothesis was right.

Keeping you alive is turning the angel of death human.

Many say angels do not have free will.

But this is what he chose to do.

Suddenly, his words on the roof made sense. Why he desperately wanted you to keep his scarf. Maybe there’s truth to it. Angels do not lie. Perhaps if he failed, he would’ve turned into ash and not human. 

Most days, you wished you could make him as lonely as you. 

Looks like in the end, you got what you wanted.

“Who else wants (Y/n) (L/n) to live to see another day?” You asked.

“Plen— some.” Septimus corrected his lie. “Some will want you to keep pushing forward.”

“Will, not would. Will is too late for anything.”

“Will because you don’t give them a chance to show they care.” He argued.

“They’d rather see me in a coffin than put in any real effort.”

“Why,” his voice croaked. “Why do you only assume the worst in people?”

“You know why. You know every ‘why’ there is.”

He inhaled sharply. They say to translate your thoughts and dreams into a creativity worth plagiarizing. Yet, when you’re one foot on the roof and one foot out the metaphorical door, you didn’t give a shit on becoming artistically verbose.

“No wonder I’ve never broken a bone.” You laughed. “And damn, I’d rather take a broken bone than whatever hell you’re putting me through.”

Sunday was close enough to touch you.

“Because despite everything, you are still you.” Sunday cooed, trapping you in his arms. “And as the being who loves you more than anyone—- who knows you when you are a stranger to your own self— I would know this.”

He pulled you closer by tugging your scarf. The same scarf he gave you.

And pushed you until you’re away from the edge.

“There is no sufficient reason enough for you to take your life.”

Sinfully, Sunday leaned your faces closer to once another. You smelled like wine. Sleep deprivation has made a lightweight out of you.

You shook, your voice taking a tone unfamiliar to you. Raw. Loud. There was frustration in it, which was the most harrowing emotion of all. 

“And so what? My problems aren’t bad enough— that I’m just a fucking loser who can’t get their shit together like EVERYONE ELSE? THAT MY OWN BODY GIVES UP ON ME?! TO THE POINT I FIND MYSELF PASSED OUT SLEEPING ON THE DIRTY FLOOR OF OUR UNIVERSITY’S FUCKING DRAWING ROOM?!”

“I—”

“I know what you’re thinking, it’s either one of two things. If you’re anyone else, you think I’ve matured too early, too fast, and if you’re just like my father, then I haven’t matured fast enough for you— isn’t that right?! I know what the FUCK that look is!”

You grabbed the collar of his shirt. 

“No one— NO ONE— fucking truly cares for me. No one PRAYS for me. You know the only people that I talk to nowadays?! Pixels. Fucking. PIXELS!!! So called people with faces I’ve never seen, just texts I have to imagine— just voices I have to convince myself are real. A human connection but not quite. And you know the amount of fucks they actually give?!”

It’s only then that you noticed your hands shaking, but that awareness only tightened your hold. 

“I can paint them a portrait as many as they want. I can greet them, make them laugh a bunch, but at the end of the day I’m hanging out where I don’t b-belong.” White knuckles. Short breaths. “I can listen, I can give people the time of day, but if you ask them what I’m going through, they don’t know jack shit. And there's my campus life, or lack thereof. Where do I even begin with that?!”

“I’ve sacrificed…” Your grip loosened. “I’ve sacrificed true friends, I’ve sacrificed time with family, sacrificed the remaining time I could’ve spent next to a dying loved one. I sacrificed my time, my literal blood, sweat, tears, and most importantly time— for a dream I was never meant to reach. Every morning I could’ve slept, every 6 hours I should’ve rested, there’s nothing. Nothing for a program I shouldn't have taken. And now they’re gone. One is even six feet under.”

You dropped your hold on him.

43,826 system hours.

“Let me through.”

Sunday breathed in shakily. “No.”

“Let me fucking through, Septimus.”

“Do you remember what I told you when we first had a proper conversion?” He retorted, breathless. “To leave is to let someone down, and I meant it literally. I shall not allow this. (Y/n), you just need someone to talk to.”

“And it’s not going to be you!” You laughed at his face. “Or anyone! There is NO ONE who can reach me, Septimus, there’s nothing that can fix THIS anymore.”

“Please, just hold on to me.” Sunday knew you were no longer hearing him. He knew there was nothing to be done. But he clung to your clothes— clawed your back— rested his face on your shoulder. “I have nothing to offer you but myself.”

“Let me destroy myself.” Palms clamming up. Heart racing. “Let me end this.”

“Please, just… █████ █.” He leaned in to a degree you can’t feel anything but inches of his skin. “Just give me till █████ █ to prove to you that each day is worth living. Don’t take your life away for me.”

Sunday cried. His tears were warm, normal. 

“I-I would much rather be human than an angel of death, so I could take care of you.” He wept, holding you closer— back in his embrace. “For I love you with all I have. No other had made me feel this way.”

…

…

…

You fell silent.

“Until █████ █?”

With closed eyes and thin lips, he nodded reluctantly. 

“Until █████ █.”

Your shoulders relaxed, and with a heavy chest, you felt like you regained the ability to cry again.

Thud… Thud… Thud...

Faint, but even faint is enough.

“(Y/n).” Sunday— Septimus called out with a voice that finally reached you. With trembling lips, he cupped your cheeks. His golden eyes blocked the shade of the dullest moon. In that moment, he was the only light you cling to, and it will remain so until the date he has given. “Let me be your north star, your steady hand. Let me take care of you if you cannot take care of yourself.”

Wonderful, if true. But the maggots gnaw deep in your skin. Whatever affection he has for you must be unreal and unfounded. A dove catching a worm underneath its pointed claws when it was to crawl to the nearest cliff. There’s a glimmer so conflicted in his eyes. A lucid thought running in a path that circles both his ego and conscience. A truth he doesn’t speak aloud.

He’s selfish.

Sunday doesn’t want you alive for the sake of living. The still surface of the water should’ve moved if so. There would’ve been another angel— another song singing praises of life to lift you up. But it was only him. Always him. 

He wants you to live for him.

He wants (Y/n) (L/n) to live for the angel of Death. 

Selfish.

Selfish. Selfish. Selfish. Selfish.

But Sunday— Septimus— whatever this foul beast was— he knew that he’s wrong. He knows that what he has done has crossed another heavenly line. He knew that you were past your date. He knew he takes too much pleasure in seeing you alive because he allowed it.

Yet the heavens would rather see you suffer than have you take your life again. 

(Y/n)...

He loves you. More than everyone in the world.

But even he doesn't PRAY for you.

You laughed again.

“█████ █.”

You leaned against his chest.

“You've set the date, and I'll patiently wait.” You replied. “By █████ █, you'll do the work, that was your promise. Septimus, I'm tired of taking my own life, so do your job.”

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry…” Sunday mumbled. His shaky breath was more human than you could ever be. “I won't prolong your suffering anymore. I'm sorry. I’ll hold your breath, just as the heavens intended.”

“It's fine.” 

You've had your solace. The answer you've been looking for since you were young.

43,826 system hours.

And just 1,512 bit more.

“Cause every X on the calendar would make me feel a bit more okay.”

Hotline

[makemeimmortalwithahug]

2024 WRITING REVIEW

thank you for the tag @ahyperactivehero !!

stress free tags: @oddessea @nix-nihili @read-write-thrive

number of stories posted to ao3: 8! Exclusively Dead Boy Detectives and I started in August, there will be more in 2025!

word counted posted for last year: 45,885 words

fandoms i wrote for: Dead Boy Detectives

pairings: mainly payneland, but also palasaki

stories with the most kudos, bookmarks and comment threads:

kudos: I'll Love You Carefully - A cursed Edwin falls from the Tower Bridge and Charles rushes to his rescue

bookmarks: also I'll Love You Carefully (something about protective!Charles just hits right)

comment threads: The Road to Ruin - Edwin gets taken to Hell for the second time but Charles is in a much much worse mental state

work i’m most proud of (and why):

it must be The Road to Ruin because I am actually proud of my characterisation of Charles and it's my first attempt at a multi chapter fic, so that alone is enough for it to have a special place in my heart. I love really getting into the Hell aspect of it all and I think the introspective nature has something to it that I previously never quite managed to capture with my writing.

work i’m least proud of (and why):

probably How Could You Think, Darling, I'd Scare So Easily? - Charles gets capture by Esther and Edwin rescues him Tam Lin style. It was the second fic I ever posted but I have to say I should've worked longer on it. It's not bad but I realised that it could've been more angsty and it feels kind of rushed when I reread it now

share or describe a favorite review you received:

it was so hard to pick just one because I love every single comment and they all make me stay motivated and want to get better. But if it's just one, then probably this one:

(sorry for all the tags btw, oddessea dear, you've been such a huge part of my journey on ao3, I cannot thank you enough!)

I think this is the one comment that genuinely made me tear up because I had been struggling with the way I wanted to write this fic and reading that it apparently worked out was just absolutely bloody wonderful

a time when writing was really, really hard:

Probably the last few weeks because I have all of these ideas but also a lot of pressure (put there by myself, mind) to have them turn out perfectly. I won't get into any details, but real life hasn't been too good either for a while now, so it's hard to get into the right mindset sometimes. But it will get better

a scene or character you wrote that surprised you:

Crystal surprised me a lot! I adore her so much and I want to do her complexity justice and while I don't think I have posted a lot of Crystal yet, I enjoyed writing my palasaki fic Bloom Like A Flower so much because it allowed me to show that while Crystal is incredibly powerful and has been through a lot, she's still a teenager

a favourite excerpt of your writing:

I think this one stuck with me:

He pressed Charles even closer to himself, as if he wanted to embrace him fully, so as to not let any of his demons reach Charles in any way. Charles moved to brace his hands against Edwin, somewhere between resting them on his shoulders and pressing them against his collarbones. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to push Edwin away in desperation or pull him closer until no one could untangle them anymore. Edwin was coming undone around him and there was nothing for Charles to do to ease his pain. It was obvious that whatever Edwin was seeing, hearing, feeling, it was paranoia and not something Charles could see. How could you help someone who saw the world burning and crashing around them while you were still standing on solid ground, mere millimeters between both of your realities? - The Case of the Turning Key

how did you grow as a writer last year:

A lot, seeing as I had never written fanfic before and had been struggling with my original works for so long that calling it "writer's block" would've been a huge understatement. So just the fact that I managed to finish 7 (!) fics is already a huge accomplishment for me. Apart from that, I got better at finding the characters' voices when changing POVs.

who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer, beta, cheerleader, etc.)

shoutout to a few people as well!

I obviously have to thank @im-perfectly-normal-about-this for listening to my yapping about various ideas in dms and giving me feedback on my Charles characterisation! I appreciate you so much!

Also dear @oddessea for making my day with every single comment you write!

And then of course the entire DBDA Haunt server. Joining was probably the best decision I made in 2024 and all of our discussions in the writers room are so special to me.

Thank you to: @genevievefangirl, @ahyperactivehero, @read-write-thrive, @moonikabear, @dead-but-still-sarcastic, @zmorak (I'm so sorry if I forgot anyone! Y'all are all so loved!!)

anything from your real life show up in your writing last year:

definitely, little nods to things I enjoy or have done myself. I am good at projecting my own insecurities and problems onto Charles and of course the best example would be Days by the Sea - the agency goes on vacation in Scotland. That was entirely created from my wish to someday visit Scotland

any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

have fun!! When I don't pressure myself into writing and just do it for fun, I get the best results, not because they're perfect or anything, but because I genuinely enjoy working on them and then also feel good about finishing them. Having fun is already a big step

any projects you’re looking to starting (or finishing) this year?

The Road to Ruin will defintely find an ending in 2025! Apart from that, I obviously have my F1 AU that I've been yapping about. A different Modern AU and then let's see what I'll come up with next 👀 I'm looking forward to this year <3

[humbuns]

AHHH when I saw your reblog about Luke's view of the brothers and how it goes against everything he was taught about I was DELIGHTED reading through it. It makes me wonder what if there was a situation where Luke has to confront his internal conflict head on? Like imagine a scenario where the person he looks up to (could be another angel) and they expressed their disdain towards the brothers to the point on acting ignorant on WHY they fell in the first place. Its also worth mentioning that Luke used to admire Lucifer even more so than Michael. Falling from grace is one of, if not the worse things that could happen to an angel. It's practically ingrained in his mind that he should avoid doing what the brothers did. But shouldn't an angels' job is to protect? Especially if its their family? Their own kin? It would be so interesting to see him actually having to question his own morals and values, but also depressing when you consider the fact he's still a child and he's forced to come to the realization that everything he believed upon could be a lie 🥲

Yessss!!!! Not to get theological here but I believe love in religion is bound with sacrifice and I feel like that's something Luke will struggle with the most because he is taught he is a creature seeping with boundless benevolence and the Celestial Realm is a place full of paradise but they are restricted by it. You have to act a certain way or you will disappoint everyone. If you go too far, you will fall. If he begins to doubt, will he lose everything? Is he not worthy of the love proclaimed to be offer to everyone and everything when he was acting out of love?

And I guess that's why Simeon tries to ush him away from the Celestial Realm to remove that pressure that he must sacrifice himself from living just to remain perfect in the eyes of others while also pointing out that either realms are not so terrible bad as it seems (Positive the devs are not thinking this deep but even Luke both in nb and obm! openly talks about how much more fun it is being around the others and in the Devildom, even if he is hesitant about it still)

There's so much potential here but it's shame we probably won't see stuff like this at all lol, it would be a nice introspection especially when it's coming from someone who is so in love being an angel and has been sheltered away

[jaytalking]

The number one Perirep hater: Timmy Fairywinkle-Cosma.

[conflitdecanard]

Gobtober 2024 part 3 !

Prompt list I used this year !

Day 15: Ancient Tomb ( Reference to that video )

Day 16: Flowers

Day 17: Drunk / Sugar Rush

Day 18: Mannequin

Day 19: Hatsune Miku

Day 20: Exercising

Day 21: Anime Cosplay ( Using @chaoswolf1982 ask ! Thank you for your request ! )

[liebelesbe]

when they're trying to draw your blood but there's only egg :/ @quezify

alternate version with an egg that's been boiled by your body heat:

[clefablepb]

actual awful thing my classmate i refuse to call a friend (/j) drew on the school table with a corrector pen: pregnant henry stickmin with his wife bill cipher and their demonic stickman-triangle hybrid satanic children. i am in tears.

[alwaysurvalentine]

for the first time in my life, I know it's real - st fic

This was written as part of the @steddieexchange for Lil! ✨

wc: 3.1k - cw: slight watersports (more like omorashi), slight kink discovery (let's be honest this is written by me so it's mostly fluff)

enjoy! 💛

It’s twenty minutes past when Dustin said he and Lucas would need a ride home from the Wheeler’s. Steve thinks they’re working on something related to the campaign Eddie’s planning, but he has no idea why they needed to come together for the better part of the day to make it happen. Playing chauffeur for the kids is going to come to an end soon. Lucas has already taken a couple lessons from his dad, so Steve figured he’d offer to pick them up while he still can. 

The fondness he normally has for picking the kids up decreases the longer he has to sit and wait for them to rush out of the house. Usually, he’d take this time to turn on the charm with their parents and maybe get a snack while he waits. (Ms. Henderson makes the best brownies, but Mrs. Sinclair’s muffins are to die for.). However, no matter how much better things are with Nancy now, it doesn’t mean he feels comfortable trying to make small talk with Karen Wheeler. He can’t quite place it, but sometimes there’s a sharpness to her gaze that sends a chill down his spine. 

Just as Steve reaches for the radio to remind Dustin it’s time to go, the front door opens and Dustin walks out with a grin. Lucas has a matching smile on his face as they walk up to the car, hands full of papers. Steve’s face must give away his frustration because Lucas has the sense to look sheepish when he settles in the backseat. 

~

Steve somehow manages to hit every single red light after dropping the boys off. Normally this wouldn’t be an issue, except his two water bottles have officially caught up with him and there’s an uncomfortable pressure building in his gut. Every time he stops, he shifts slightly. Hoping desperately that he’ll be able to make it to his and Eddie’s trailer in time. It’s not dark enough for him to feel comfortable pulling over to the side of the road, so the only option is to suffer in silence as he drives. 

If he wasn’t driving he’d at least be able to cross his legs and try to help with the pressure. Instead, he’s stuck trying to take deep breaths and hoping the tensions in his legs don’t turn into a cramp. 

~

He’s just about to make the final turn into the trailer park when a flash of blue catches his eye. Of course he’s getting pulled over today. As long as it isn’t Callahan then he’ll be fine. By the time the cop’s made it to his door, he’s holding out his license and registration in case they try to be difficult. And just his luck, it’s Callahan smiling haughtily while leaning into his window. 

Callahan really milks their interaction and Steve’s about ready to burst. A wave of relief hits him when Callahan finally pulls away so he can pull up to the trailer. Now all he’s got to do is make it up the three stairs, unlock the door, and get to the bathroom. The car’s barely stopped when he throws the door open and steps out. Even just standing makes it worse. One large step turns into small shuffling ones when all of the pressure threatens to release with or without his consent. 

His hands are shaking when he grabs at his keys, fingers fumbling over themselves as he tries to single out the house key. They fall with a clatter. He exhales quickly and reaches for them, pressure threatening to release when he finally gets them in hand again. This time when he tries for the key, it comes easily. 

Now that the door is unlocked, all Steve has to do is make it to the bathroom. Just a few more steps. 

He tenses all over again when the door opens from the other side. Eddie’s standing there with a smile, mouth opening to greet Steve like he always does. 

And the pressure lifts.

Warmth gathers in his briefs and Steve watches the moment that Eddie realizes what’s happening. His mouth closes and his eyebrows raise, brown eyes focused on the dark patch continuing to grow despite an audience. 

“Oh? Have some trouble there, baby?” He can’t bring himself to say anything in response, tears of embarrassment gather in his eyes as the tight circle of his sock becomes damp. The world around him narrows, focus solely on his slowing stream and the slight smirk on Eddie’s face.

“Come on, let’s get inside.” Eddie reaches out with a gentle hand but his smirk doesn’t fade. His steps feel heavier than before, like concrete has been poured into them, but Steve lets himself be guided in.

Eddie leads the way through the trailer, past the bookshelf full of worn paperbacks he treats with the utmost of care, past the softest blanket in the house sitting crumpled on Steve’s end of the couch, and past the fridge covered in little notes and doodles from the kids.

Time slows and even though it only takes a minute to walk from one end of the trailer to the other, Steve feels like it’s somehow been hours. His underwear is sticking to him, tight in all the wrong places, tugging at the hair on his thighs with each step. Eddie moves them into their room easily and sits on the edge of the bed. His brown eyes scan over Steve again, taking time to trace his face before looking at the mess Steve’s made. 

When he’d gotten dressed this morning, the lighter jeans were the best match for his purple polo. Now all the light blue wash does is accentuate just where he’s pissed himself. The entire front has gone dark now, with matching trails along the inside of the pant leg all the way down to his shoes. When he goes to undo his pants, Eddie clears his throat and raises an eyebrow. 

“Now, I didn’t say you were good to change, did I? I was just admiring your outfit, baby. Come here.” 

There’s a demanding lilt to Eddie’s words, one that Steve knows will lead to a good time - he’s just got to follow Eddie’s lead. So he does. Steve closes the distance between them, pants now gone cold instead of the warmth he was surrounded in earlier. Once he’s close enough, Eddie reaches out and loops a finger in the front belt loop of Steve’s jeans, pulling him closer with a tug. 

He feels awkward standing between Eddie’s spread legs, knees bracketing him in place. The hand not tangled with his belt loops comes to rest on Steve’s hip, fingers dipping under his shirt to trace along the skin. Like always, Eddie’s hands are cold, something that comes in handy when Steve’s feeling hot in the summer, but now it just tickles. 

“What happened, baby?” Now both of Eddie’s hands are creeping up Steve’s shirt, cool fingers grazing over his ribs, up his chest and back down again. Eddie fiddles with the button of Steve’s jeans for a moment before nudging Steve to take a step back. Once Steve does, Eddie edges off of the bed and kneels at Steve’s feet. He only looks up for a moment, eyelashes fluttering when he winks and then Eddie’s undoing the laces of Steve’s shoes. They give easily and soon he’s lifting one foot at a time as Eddie pulls the shoes off. The bottom of his socks aren’t damp when he rests them on the floor.

“Stevie?” 

“Well, uh,” and the embarrassment in his gut wells up and he has to swallow before continuing, “ Dustin asked me to pick him and Lucas up today from Mike’s.” Eddie nods encouragingly, standing and moving towards their dresser. “Like always, he was later than he said he’d be. But things are weird if I go into their house, you know?” The furrow of Eddie brow says that he does not, in fact, know about this, but Steve doesn’t want to focus on that right now. “And in the time it took for them to come out, I’d drunk all of my water bottle.” The water bottle in question was actually a gift from Eddie, something easy for Steve to carry around to help him drink more water. (It only took Eddie a couple months into their relationship to make the connection that some of Steve’s headaches turned migraines were from dehydration.)

“Mm, good job drinking your water, baby.” Eddie rewards Steve with a kiss to the temple before herding him into the bathroom. “Anything else happen?” 

“I almost made it home in time, but Callahan decided to pull me over at the entrance of the park.” Eddie scoffs and even with his back to Steve, he knows that he’s rolling his eyes. The shower starts with a whistle and then quiets, water spraying against the wall.

All of Eddie’s focus returns to Steve, pajama pants and T-shirt he grabbed earlier set on the back of the toilet. Steve knows the shower is for him, knows he should be peeling off his jeans and taking off his polo. But he can’t. He’s fixated on his reflection in the mirror instead, eyes drawn to his mussed up hair, flushed face, and then finally, damningly, on his soaked jeans. 

Eddie steps behind him, hands rubbing over Steve’s sides and then under his polo, lifting until he’s able to toss it on the floor. A gentle kiss is pressed against Steve’s bare shoulder before that same mouth nips at his neck. Steve lets himself be spun around and Eddie makes quick work of the button of his jeans. It takes a moment–Eddie has to peel them down the length of Steve’s legs. His underwear come off too, and Eddie presses another kiss against his hip before nudging Steve towards the shower.

A cloud of steam greets Steve when he peels back the shower curtain. The water is nice and warm when he steps in and it chases the stickiness from before away. Eddie follows him in shortly after, nudging Steve further under the water so that he can steal some of the warmth.

It’s hard to see Eddie with water dripping into his eyes so Steve squints and smiles when Eddie pushes his hair back. 

“Gonna let me take care of you?” 

All Steve can do is nod, eyes already fluttering closed as Eddie runs his fingers through his hair. His face is cradled for a moment, and then there’s a quick press of lips against his forehead. Eddie pulls away with a dramatic smack of his lips.

~

Steve doesn’t care that his hair is still a little damp from the shower, he’s tired and the bed is too inviting to ignore. Fresh detergent fills his nose when he turns onto the pillows and he groans. 

“What?” Eddie’s voice is tinted in laughter, bed dipping with his weight as he crawls in beside Steve. 

He doesn’t want to admit it’s because the sheets don’t smell like Eddie anymore, a hint of licorice and smoke that follows his metalhead boyfriend. Now they just smell like detergent. When he doesn’t answer Eddie laughs and pulls him in close. Bare skin meets his face and Steve peeks his eyes open to trace over the tattoos across Eddie’s chest. He’s close enough to kiss at the legs of Eddie’s spider, so he does. Sleep tugs at Steve and he yawns, settling into the crook of Eddie’s neck before giving in. Just a quick nap and then he’ll make them some dinner, maybe watch a movie.

~

Their bedroom door is lighter than all the other doors in the house, which means when one of them pushes it open with a bump of their hip it likes to slam against the wall. Luckily, this isn’t the only sound Steve wakes to; instead he’s greeted with Eddie’s mumbled curses as well. 

Eddie’s bedside lamp is on, bathing the room in warm, yellow light. Steve rubs the sleep from his eyes and sits up. There’s two bowls in Eddie’s hands with silver spoon handles sticking out the sides. Steve’s able to make out that it’s two bowls of cereal, but if his stomach growling is any indication, it doesn’t matter what he eats for dinner as long as it’s something, and soon. 

Eddie grins as he passes a bowl to Steve and he sits at the end of the bed with his legs crossed to prop up his own bowl. When Steve looks down, a bowl of Honeycombs greets him. While Eddie’s bowl has a lot of milk in it, cereal floating dangerously towards the edge, Steve’s cereal looks nearly dry. He pokes with his spoon and the cereal shifts to show just the tiniest bit of milk in the bottom of his bowl. 

Steve mentioned once that he doesn’t like soggy cereal, would rather eat it dry than worry about each bite being mush. He hadn’t thought Eddie would ever remember that. 

So this is what it feels like to be cared for. 

He has to blink a few times to clear the sudden tears from his eyes. Eddie sets his spoon down with a clink, ducking his head into Steve’s eye line. His eyebrows are pinched but Steve stops his question with a shake of his head.

“This is a whole lot of special treatment.” 

“It’s just some cereal?” Eddie tilts his head in confusion and looks down at his bowl like it’s going to explain what’s going on in Steve’s head.

“No, it’s not. It's not teasing me when I come home and literally pee right in front of you. It’s-” 

Steve can hear the shakiness in his own voice. A couple tears make their way down his face despite trying to fight them. Eddie sets his bowl on the ground, his Honeycomb changing shades as it soaks up the milk. Steve’s own bowl is taken from his lap and set on the bedside table before Eddie continues. 

“You pee in front of me all the time.” 

“You know what I mean.” His words come out more petulant than he intended, but Steve doesn’t back down from meeting Eddie’s eyes. There’s an exasperation there that makes Steve wish he hadn’t even tried bringing it back up. He just admitted he’s all sorts of soft for all of the ways that Eddie shows he cares, but now he’s stuck swallowing shame when Eddie takes his hand. 

“I don’t think I do. Explain it. You pee in the bathroom while I’m brushing my teeth all the time.” 

“But that’s different. We’re inside the house and-”

“And you do it because we trust each other, right? Remember when we first started dating and if we were at your house you’d go all the way upstairs just so I wouldn’t hear it? But now, you don’t mind doing it because it’s just another part of our morning routine.” 

“You held it as long as you could, baby, and then when you saw me you let go. How does that not show you trust me?” 

It’s hard to argue with Eddie when he’s making sense. He’s right. Steve did hold it the whole way home, even while he dealt with Callahan. It wasn’t until he dropped his keys and Eddie came to the door that he gave in. 

“You know I like getting to take care of you, right?” 

Just those few words and the dam breaks, tears completely blurring his vision. Eddie’s quick to pull him in, one hand holding the back of Steve’s neck and the other arm hugging him close. He shudders and coughs wetly, trying to tamper the tears down. He feels like a little kid. All awkward angles and gasping breaths. 

“Hey, breathe for me Stevie. It’s alright, I’ve got you.” Eddie takes a couple exaggerated breaths, hand rubbing down Steve’s back. It takes a couple tries, but finally, he’s able to take a full breath without choking. He pulls away just slightly, reaching up to swipe roughly at the tears on his cheeks. Eddie stops him though and wipes his tears away himself with a gentle swipe of his thumb.

Quiet settles while he catches his breath. A soft tapping sound comes from the string on their fan shaking with its movement. He makes eye contact for a moment. Eddie’s brown eyes are soft as he rubs the last of Steve’s tears away. His stomach feels tight with embarrassment.

“Can I tell you something?” Even though he whispers the words, it feels like Eddie’s shouting, begging Steve to listen. He barely gets a stiff nod in response before he continues. “One of my favorite things about you is how much you care about everyone. Did you know that?” It’s clear he’s not looking for an answer from Steve. He lets go of Steve’s face to hold his hands instead. 

“Even before I got to know you, I could see how much you cared for Nancy. Followed her around like a little puppy, even stood up to Carol and Tommy’s teasing on her behalf. First time I ever saw King Steve stand up for someone.” His words make Steve look down in shame, wishing like always that he’d been strong enough to stand on his own instead of being sucked into popularity. 

“But you still did it. Could’ve just let them tease her and then try and make things up behind closed doors. But I heard you shut them down and then take her out of the situation. Then you changed. Didn’t really hear or see much of you for a while. Not until I met the kids, and all they could talk about was how much they adored you. Which, you already know my feelings there. But that’s when I first got to see who you really were. The man behind the mask, you know? Next thing I know you’re swearing on Dustin’s mother while I’m a centimeter away from slicing your neck open in a panic and now here we are.”

“You hear me? Here we are. I’m in love with you. You’re not going to be scaring me away any time soon.” Eddie’s leaned into Steve’s eyeline again, hands squeezing in reassurance. 

“I love you too.” Eddie grins at his words and lets go of his hands to scoot forward. He’s practically in Steve’s lap when he finally leans in and presses a kiss to each of Steve’s cheeks then his mouth. 

“Plus,” and Eddie backs up, grin turning mischievous, “I wouldn’t be opposed if it happened again. It was kinda hot.” And then he grabs his bowl before leaving the room in three quick steps. 

“What?! No, come back here. You can’t just say that!”

Again, very thankful to @dame-zoom-a-lot for beta'ing for me and @talanashta for giving me some pointers during this project! 🙌 💛

[dogbound1128]

Average 10 year old behavior

[decadentboat]

How are you liking the timeskip designs?? I mean, they could be way better I'm disappointed because I felt the designs before the timeskip had more effort put on them? My opinion on them so far are:

Chouchou:

I don't know. I don't think the new design fits her nicely? I always felt she had a traditional girly-like aura with his prev design. Look how almost all her jewelry was removed. I could be wrong but maaaybe Ikemoto saw that one fanart where she is together with Sarada where they came out of the gym? IDK it popped into my mind when I saw this. She keeps the kimono sleeves style I guess like Mitsuki. I was hoping she is just wearing this for her spar with Himawari but that is just pure denial from my part XD I don't like those butterfly hairclips at all.

Mitsuki:

Perhaps they went with this style bc he is now gloomy?? So plain goddamnit!! He doesn't stand at all vs the rest of the kids, even Inojin and Shikadai seem to have a little something more. I JUST hope it's not bc they are going to dispose of him because shitty plot reasons because I cannot understand why he is suddenly treated so poorly.

To me, they are both a downgrade. I am truly disappointed bc I know Mr. Ikemoto can do way better.

*sighhh*

[sassy-bitch-since-2007]

Hi. I was going to do a Danganronpa x Total Drama AU, but 'the final killing game' style. However I'm not finding the backgrounds I want for this and it annoyed me enough to just,,, give up on the project altogether.

Anyway, here are the NG I was going to use for it, in case someone wants some ideas (and the reasoning behind them)

For more context, this is supposed to take place right after TDWT. TDROTI didn't happen.

Noah - Passing the Fourth time Limit with Owen Alive (Noah and Owen's friendship has developed during TDWT ; despite his personality, I strongly believe Noah would not put Owen in danger for his own life. I also needed him to not be in the same group as Owen and Eva, given that he was going to be one of the few trying to puzzle out what was going on)

Owen - Putting Food in Your Mouth (Is self-explanatory ; This guy can not survive without food and it would be literally impossible for him to not eat if said food happen to be in close proximity)

Izzy - Being in the Same Room With a Corpse (It literally kills her from the start, which was the whole point ; I also think is fitting for her, given her personality)

Eva - Opening Doors (I can just imagine her getting so mad over it ; Is also the only one able to bypass this NG as she's strong enough to just punch her way through the walls)

Duncan - Going 5 seconds without being seen by another contestant. Time Outs don't count (No one would really want to stay near Duncan, given all he has done during TDWT ; many will think he's the killer because of his personality)

Harold - Answering a Question (That would be an easy NG for anyone BUT him. Harold's a walking Wikipedia, it will be hard for him to not answer any questions)

DJ - Witnessing Violence by Participants (Given his personality this NG makes the most sense for him ; The character that died in the anime with this NG makes me think of DJ, which influenced my decision)

Trent - Opening Left Hand (I wanted to add this NG, that's literally all)

Beth - Running (Also somebody has to have this NG too you know)

Cody - Can't Touch Or Be Touched By Anyone (My AU does not include Sierra or Alejandro due to the injuries they got during TDWT, otherwise Cody would be dead in the first seconds of the game ; I just think it fits for his character and is funny)

Gwen - Revealing Your NG (Which would make everyone suspicious of her.)

Heather - Getting Accused of Murder (I think at least one person would accuse her of killing someone, being as disliked as she was. I just needed her to not group up with anyone, as she's also one of the few trying to puzzle what was going on)

Sadie - Being in the Same Room With Katie (You can tell I wanted to get rid of her fast, as I had no plot planned for her)

Katie - Being in the Same Room With Sadie (Same as Sadie)

Ezekiel - Talking (It can go both ways ; In my AU he talks, as he's confused by his NG. It doesn't need to be this way. You guys can keep him alive if you want)

Bridgette - Witnessing Someone Cry (Again, I think this is fitting given her character. In my AU she was also one of the firsts to die, thanks to Owen)

Courtney - Giving Orders (Fitting, given her character)

Justin - Looking in Any Reflective Object/Seeing Your Own Reflection (I think it would be a challenge for Justin to not see his reflection, but not one he would be unable to overcome)

Tyler - Laying or Sitting Down (Which is torture, given that he's tripping over his own feet more often than not. Again, I saw it fitting given his character)

Before anyone comments about it, Leshawna, Lindsay and Geoff are not here because I couldn't come up with a good NG for them. I was thinking something along the lines of 'Using the Wrong Name' for Lindsay, but the phrasing of the NG gave me enough problems to just give up on it (Basically she would die if she used the wrong name when addressing someone, but I don't know how to phrase it to sound good and make sense).

Sierra and Alejandro are not part of this due to the injuries they got during TDWT. Is canon that Alejandro has been stuck in a robot up until All Stars and, in my opinion, Sierra would not have enough time to be fully healed by the time this 'new season' takes place.

In my version of the AU Chris IS NOT the mastermind behind this, he's actually the first to die. It isn't until Izzy, Katie and Sadie die too that everyone actually believes everything is real and Chris isn't just fooling around (this dude died like at least two times during TDA, no one truly believes he's dead for real)

----

For more context, for those who has not watched Danganronpa 3, here's how things are supposed to work :

One person, known as the traitor or attacker, tries to murder the other participants, while the other participants attempt to identify the killer. Everyone does have a bangle on that they are forbidden to demage or remove (unless they want to die).

The rules are

Rule #1: The time limit. At two hour intervals, when the timer on the bangle runs out, a sleeping drug will be administered, putting all the participants to sleep.

Rule #2: The attacker/traitor. Whilst everyone is asleep, the attacker will wake up and have a certain amount of time to kill exactly one person. If no-one is killed in this time limit, then the other participants win the game.

An assumption developed by its participants is that, assuming the attacker can end the killing at this point, he/she can stop the game by choosing not to kill anyone within the time limit, thereby going undetected or placing the blame on someone else.

Rule #3: Forbidden actions, also known as NG Codes. On each person's bangle, there is a single action that the participant is not allowed to perform. If that action is performed, then a lethal dose of poison is administered. The poison will also be administered if the participants attempt to remove or tamper with their bangles.

Is also specified on the Wikipedia page that the NG code rule can be bypassed by severing the limb above the wrist at the risk of blood loss (yes the rules are copy-paste from the site so you guys don't get spoiled while researching for them)

The participants need to find the traitor and kill them to win the game.

[mommytimmy]

hey pals, considering my favorite jason to draw is jason smoking, would you like me to tag smoking/cigarettes/tobacco?

[kaeyachi]

gonna talk about kaveh thru the tags in case people dont wanna get spoiled

[flakey-von-wembstein]

rant

i just blocked someone on pinterest

PINTEREST

because they was talkin about some bullshit all like "hamas is not a terrorist group, that's just what western media wants you to think" WHATTTTTT i need you to kill yourself rq

[bardtits]

the witcher season 3 ending leaked: geralt tells jaskier ‘i love you’ & gets sent to super hell