#duck team polycule

[kyeree]

[sideblogdotjpeg]

all i do all day is listen to music think about them and cry

[purplecladmerchant]

Ok. But guys.

Since we a synced minds thinking on funny ways the duck team kiss.

Just. Just. The official way probably is Calder sitting in the floor to reach Sol. Or Sol hanging on his shoulders. The frog don't mind just jump and climb him like a tree.

Callie can tip toe Kiss Calder if he leans a bit too. And she can do the same for Sol.

The other thing they can do and they always get surprised, is that Sol can dip kiss them no effort. For when they think they have something similar to a upper hand just because they are taller.

[stone-stars]

sleepsong - callie has nightmares / calder dreams of the helm / sol doesn't let himself sleep (they help each other)

i wrote a fic about duck team helping each other with sleep! don't worry about the wordcount <3

[figsbass]

on the short rest instead of calling the calder vs callie-and-sol-fake-dating thing "third wheeling" jake said calder was "on the outside of a throuple" ..... really makes you think

[lovevalley45]

i have to say sol/callie is insane bc those two pretend to be dating SO MUCH. like there’s at least FOUR separate occasions where they have pretended to be together either as a deception or an attempt to make some jealous. like what the hell

[rooolt]

I am simply not ready for duck team reunion. Like yes BoB reunion will also be great but like the way we have seen all of these characters truly long for each other for what is real time months, the flower, the ice dagger, the whittled statues like I’m going to cry so hard when it happens you don’t understand they love each other so much. Callie and Sol were so ruined when it all happened and I just can’t wait to see Calder well and truly realize that these people need him and love him, and he’s more than useful to them.

[katiefratie]

"No! Calder's home is where ever I am" EMILY MY HEART OH MY GOD

[joenhead]

Posting more duck team polycule doodles because every time I listen to campaign three my love for them is reinvigorated tenfolds and i think about them for the next week.

i was just thinking about how funny itd be if in a moment of insecurity Sol worries about what Calder and Callie think of him meanwhile those two are head over heels in love. like pining and yearning so hard it makes them dizzy.

Also no I am never letting the “Make Out Every Hour” lie go ever. Im gripping that bit so hard my hand is going to go numb.

[dimension20stuff]

Duck team polycule is real, please see my above evidence and detailed diagram

[twyisontheline]

The fandom gave Alastor a harem, now he has to handle it

Why choosing one ship? Why multiship? Make them a polycule!

First, they teamed up and convinced Alastor to buy a phone (and to not destroy it two minutes after, disgusted with himself with how much he is willing to compromise for those fuckers). Things escalated from that really bad choice, and what started as 'Making a groupchat will make it easier to handle all of them blowing up my phone with messages and calls and those weird meeme things', is now half a nightmare and half a constant supply of amusement and flattery. They are a menace, singularly and collectively, and he has no idea how he found himself in this situation, but he can admit he finds it... tolerable. For some reason. Even if it involves him still having his phone showing 28 missed calls, a number of text messages he doesn't even want to focus on, least he starts reconsidering his life choices, and having to text the "Alastor's harem 🔥🫶🦌" group chat (he doesn't know who came up with the name and he doesn't want to know. Patience is a skill he refined at this point, for survival.) with reassurance and sweet words, when he merely spent an afternoon minding his own fucking business. Alastor: "Now, now, sweethearts, i was merely busy slaughtering a few Sinners. What is the matter?" Angel: "I am trying to be a good guy looking for redemption but without drugs or you, i am bored as fuck." Vox: "When you ignore me for a day, my soul crumbles and dies." Lucifer: "My ducks won't talk to me.

[thatsmymoony]

“Let’s all have sex in frostwind” the duck team polycule truthers will never let this one go Caldwell

[sideblogdotjpeg]

everybody look away im entering silly mode. i havent shipped anything in four years

[nemospecific]

The Duck team polycule will never work because of the sweater curse. Sorry, Sol!

[meteortrails]

exactly one person asked and I don’t care about the rest of y’all’s opinions so. I think duck team is probably the naddpod crew most ready for full polyculedom for a lot of reasons, but one of the major ones is that in this campaign our whole cast of characters are both self sufficient and extremely susceptible to approval and validation, as discussed in my previous post about all naddpod parties being outsiders! and this means that all of them could very much use the love and acceptance of a group polycule and are in fact already full speed ahead into it (see sol and Calder fully ready to murder a bot for not calling Callie a 10), but at the same time are not so reliant on it that it prevents them from taking risks within their relationships. also: they’ve all struck a specific combination that makes them very good at sharing each other, since they’re so ready and willing with the reassurances and aren’t so reliant on each other that they would see other partners as a threat. all that being said I should clarify: this does not mean a duck team polycule would be drama free. a duck team polycule would be non stop overblown drama and they would all love every single minute of it bc they’re insane and that’s why I NEED them to all start dating. do you see my vision here

[sunwarmed-ash]

Voters Choice: Roy x Jamie x Keeley snippet

AN: its gonna start p angsty before it gets happy, season 2 is where sad boi Jamie shines.(BUT S3 THE POLYCULE POTENTIAL EXPLODES) Trigger warnings: physical violence, Drink spiking/drugging (NO SA)

“What's next for Jamie Tartt?”

The obvious answer was to go back to Man City. But much like, well, everyone else in his life thus far, Keeley, Richmond, Love Island, even his hometown didn't want him. And that was just too much to swallow. Everyone wanted him, ever since he hit puberty. And even more once he became a footballer. 

“The fuck you mean no one wants me! I’m Jamie fucking Tartt!” 

“Jamie, you know I love you, you're like a son to me. But now you're like a dead son. Which makes me love you even more. Now get out.”

For the first time in years, he was at a complete and total loss as to what to do next. He didn't know where to go. He couldn't go home. Not after that horridus talk show re-airs on the late night telly and his father starts blowing up his phone with cruel, warranted abuse. He couldn’t go back to Richmond. He couldn't. The team would probably physically rip him to shreds.  

He was lost. So fucking lost. He needed to talk to someone. 

And he doubts even she would be particularly happy to see him….

Fuck!

-

Arguably, his talk with Keeley did make him feel better. She helped remind him at least one person in this world still wanted to get to know Jamie Tartt the person and not the (failed) celebrity and footballer. 

But now that he's left her place, he’s stuck with the hollow feeling of loneliness again. Keeley was just helping him as a friend, and only a friend. Because Jamie’s the one who fucked up and blew his chance with her. And now, well she’s found someone who treats her better than he ever could. She deserves better than Jamie… 

He talked with Ted too, and it went okay, yeah. If anything, it felt nice to tell someone about his dad. But then he had gotten rejected, again. 

‘Jamie, you're a hell of a player, but I don’t think it's a good idea.’ 

Further reinforcing his manager's (and inexplicably fathers) words that truly, no one wanted him anymore. And it fucking stung. Jamie stared hateful daggers at the beer Ted bought him.  

Well, fuck that shit. 

It was Friday night, he was back in Richmond, and too fucking tired to really go anywhere else. If he hopped enough pubs, he would surely find someone who wanted him. 

-

“Well, well well, look who it is! Me own flesh an' blood!”

Before he can even make it to the first pub he wanted to check out, his blood runs cold and stops him in place at the voice of his father. “Surprised you’d show your face in public after such a pathetic and public fall from grace!” Jamie Sr. continues. 

Jamie had hoped, prayed, if he actually gave a shit about praying, that 200 miles was enough distance between him and his father to avoid a ‘bump into’, but it seems like his bad luck just kept coming tonight.

He ignores him. Tries to be the bigger person. Jamie cuts left and turns to try and get anywhere public as soon as possible, but before he can take a step he’s going down. The first hit was solid, and right to the ribs. It absolutely came from his dads hand. Each of his fathers friends took their turn after. Bug was easy enough to avoid, the man was out of shape and old. But Denbo had power behind his fists. Jamie yanks himself off the ground in time to duck one, but practically walked right into the second one. It hit him square in the gut, knocking almost all of the air from his lungs. 

“Fuck,” he wheezes, wrapping one arm around his torso before rearing back and kicking. He had more power in his legs than his arms, and the swift deliverance to Denbo’s sternum with his heeled dress shoe had the older man collapsing on the cobblestone. 

And then, Jamie runs. And doesn't stop until he reaches the back alley of Crown & Anchor again. 

As soon as he reaches the deserted location he collapses, wheezing out his agony. When his back came in rough contact with the brick, he folds like a paper plane. He yanks up and grips his knees, trying to focus on the steady intake of oxygen and not the throbbing unanswered question of What the fuck is he supposed to do now? He could feel the anxiety rapidly building in his chest, it was too much. He didn't have anything to relieve it. 

Someone is shouting across the street, not close enough for him to be able to make out who or if they are talking to him or not. Jamie pulls up his hood and pushes on his sunglasses. He just wants to be left alone. 

“Jamie?” the soft, now familiar voice asks again. Jamie barely registers the soft hand on his shoulder. He blinks up to see the kind, and familiar eyes of his ex, and favorite person in the entire world (outside of himself), Keeley Jones. 

“Keels? Uh, yeah hey.” He says, quickly adjusting himself so he didn't look so fucking pathetic. Girls didn't like that.

“Hey babe,” she smiles kindly, reading through his bullshit as she offered her hand to help him up. He took it. Of course he did. “Let's get you somewhere warmer than the alley huh? Want to come to my place, it’s just a few blocks. We can take the back way, less people at this hour.”

Jamie couldn't process most of what she said, but he nods as soon as she said leave here. 

-

Most of the speed walk to their old shared flat went by in a blacked out blur, but when he was greeted with the familiar scent of sandalwood and citrus he knew he was home. It helped bring some of the feeling back into his trauma-numbed body. 

“I just need to rest a few hours, honestly,” he starts, hoping maybe she’d offer to lay next to him, but then his eyes land on the most emotionally complicated person in the world, and now ‘home’ is the last place he wants to be. Because it's not his home anymore. It's theirs. Without him. 

“Why’s he here?” Jamie asks, though he knows the answer. 

“He lives here,” Roy explained, albeit nicer than Jamie's immediate, snappy tone.

The confirmation hurts worse than all of the physical attacks he’d endured tonight combined. Rejection burns hot in his gut. He’s gotta get out of here. 

“We’re here to help Jamie.” Keeley attempts to reassure, but the panicky feeling only compounds, and he hates the way the spotlight is now on him. Even if they were just trying to help. It was having the opposite effect. 

“I- can’t- this is too much-” he is barely able to get out. 

“Maybe we should get you in bed,” Roy offers. 

That’s enough to stop the panic attack in its tracks, switch railways and turn Jamie’s mood around. His eyes are blown wide in hopeful confusion, and he’s about to agree, yeah, that actually probably would help, before Roy quickly edited, “not- like that. To sleep.”

Jamie’s mouth snaps shut and he bites into his tongue to keep back how disparagingly rejected and embarrassed that made him feel. 

In hindsight, they were probably right. He was exhausted. His body ached where there were surely bruises forming. Yet another thing he’d have to explain away at training, or tonight if they have sex. Jamie needed sleep. Not sex. 

“Yeah. Yeah, alright.”

They didn't talk about it, not really. Roy and Keeley gave him the support he desperately needed that night. They surprisingly allow him to cuddle between their two warm bodies, and it helps more than he can ever make his mouth admit. 

But then in the morning he left, giving them their life back. 

And they didn't talk about it. 

Like it never happened.

-One week later-

Jamie doesn't drink, and it will become abundantly clear over the next few hours why he doesn’t. Part of it is because his fathers lost his entire life and mind to booze, and tried to take him and his mum down with him. But mostly he just didn't like it. Didn't like the smell, didn't like the taste, and he didn't like feeling out of control of his body. But he was in a mood, one that would not be lightened by anything but sex or Keeley and currently both of those options were off the table. 

The idiots down at the end of the counter are trying not stealthy at all to take his picture and he is just not having it. 

“CAN I GET ANOTHER ONE MAE?” he asks loudly in the crowded pub before flipping the three fans off. It only makes them cheer and giggle more. 

“One second Tartt,” she shouts back, though not unkindly, and his eyes go right back into the bottom of his empty glass.  The buzzing in his head was still too loud. He needed something to dull it out. 

“Maybe I could interest you in this, it'll save you the refill time,” An older blonde gentleman probably Ted's age said as he saddled up next to him. Jamie hadn't seen the man come in, or seen him around town really. This pub had a pretty reliable clientele. Jamie has definitely never seen this man before. 

“What is it?” Jamie asked, nodding towards the fruity looking drink with the pink paper umbrella. 

“Mai Tai,” the older gentleman smiles and something about it makes Jamie's stomach turn. 

“Do I look like I drink Mai Tai’s?” Jamie shot back, because he felt almost insulted by the cocktail. He could hear his fathers hateful monologue in his ears discrediting anything that could be considered soft. Not masculine. Queer. 

“You look like someone who might want company tonight, which is why I came over.” His accent claimed he wasn’t from around here and Jamie considers, well maybe, sex wasn’t completely off the table.

“Do you know who I am?” He asks. Tonight, he really doesn’t want to fuck a fan. 

The man tilted his head like a confused puppy. It was kinda cute. Ya know, if you were into that…

“No, should I?”

Jamie scoffed. American’s. No taste in real sport. 

“Guess not.”

“My name is John,” the man said, holding out his hand with a radiant smile. 

Jamie returned it. 

“Jamie.” 

“It’s very nice to meet you Jamie.”

-

Jamie blinks and suddenly he can't tell if they have been sitting here at the hightop for 5 minutes or 5 hours. All of the faces of the pub patrons look the same and it makes his eyebrows bunch together in frustration. At least he thinks they do that, he actually can’t feel any part of his face…

He turns and suddenly he’s face to face with the Mai Tai man and he’s grinning, in a way that makes Jamie's insides churn and threaten to spew. The next moment the man is attempting to close the distance between their mouths and Jamie is acting on instinct. His fist comes out fast, punching into the jaw of the older man hard. 

It makes quite the commotion, because the man shouts, smashes his own glass over Jamie’s head, and Jamie is shouldering him into the rough edge of the counter in an adrenaline fuled rebuttal. 

The next moments pass in a blur. Everyone is screaming, Mae is yelling at him specifically, and then two bigger regulars are carrying Jamie out of the bar. His attacker is conveniently nowhere to be found. 

Jamie just wants to cry because how could this night get any worse?