#i think I'll schedule my posts a bit over the next few hours this time

[kira-nerys-rocks]

Torri Higginson in Family of Cops (1999)

[janitorhutcherson]

bedtime with mike and abby ( mike schmidt x reader)

hi guys! this is my first ever lil fic/imagine/blurb here!! if y'all like this, I'll keep it up. I'm also new to tumblr, so please please be patient with me. in the future i'd love to do requests.

also if someone wants to help me with formatting/be friends, just shoot me a msg :p

this is just a quick lil imagine/blurb. I've seen so many smutty fics and i wanted to spice it up w/ some fluff. just sleepy time on mike's night off! on w the fic :p

*edit* this isn’t revised!! i threw something together last min and posted cause i felt like writing lol. don’t mind the typos

word count: 1,633

warnings: none! just fluff, angst if u squint!!

summary: nighttime with mike and abby on his day off!

Most of the time, you, your boyfriend Mike, and his little sister Abby were on entirely different schedules. Mike worked nights at a shitty gas station job for the time being after his job at Freddy's was... well.. no more for obvious reasons. Even though he swore off the night shift, this was necessary until he could find something better. Jobs were sparse at the moment, and Mike's history didn't exactly make him a star candidate.

A typical night would consist of you making the three of you dinner, slowly forcing Abby to venture out when it came to her taste buds. Recently, she'd taken a liking to tacos. You and Mike would make a joint effort to get her ready for bed earlier together, as Mike was more particular about being there for her since the incident. She'd get a bath, get into her jammies, and the two of you would tuck her in with a bedtime story. You'd both kiss her little forehead goodnight, then kiss your boyfriend on his lips before sending him off.

Most nights, you tossed and turned in your sleep, unable to rest properly without Mike by your side. A painfully dull feeling would rest in your stomach, the lack of his warmth beside you agonizing. You'd spend all night waiting for 6am to roll around as you felt the bed dip on his side, barely stirring you from your sleep. You'd have thirty minutes until your alarm went off, thirty minutes to wrap yourself up into him before you once again went on your separate ways... living your separate lives until you could have your few hours of union later on.

But tonight, you were lucky. Mike had gotten the next few days off. His job was being extra kind as they actually recognized the hard work Mike put in, something he wasn't used to. They'd told him someone would take over for a bit, to enjoy himself, to rest. It may have been a low-paying, trashy, borderline dangerous job, but his boss was nice, and the customers were certainly safer to deal with than those at the pizzeria.

You called out sick from work, not wanting to miss a single second with your little trio. You'd both even made the decision to pull Abby out of school for the day, spending it building forts, watching movies, and eating ice cream. The three of you even went out rollerskating, Mike awkwardly tumbling every few seconds on the rink as Abby would bust out laughing at him. The three of you were now sat around on the couch, Mike smooshed into the far side of the armrest as your entire body lay on his, Abby's head resting in your lap as she sleepily blinked her eyes. She'd already had her bath, brushed her teeth, and all three of you were in your pajamas.

"So, everyone have a good day?" Mike asked, turning his head to the two of you with a small but sleepy smile.

"Mhm," Abby hummed quietly, slowly nodding her head against your lap. It was clear that she was moments from passing out, and once Abby was out, she was impossible to get up without a fight.

"Okay, I think it's time for bed," you giggled, slowly lifting your own head up from Mike's shoulder. Mike nodded in agreement, a laugh of his own escaping his lips.

You both slowly pulled Abby up, getting her up on her feet, her half asleep state making her delirious as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, staring back at the two of you in confusion.

"C'mon, Abs, it's time for bed," Mike muttered, standing up. He grabbed your hand, pulling you up with him. You stood as well, following Mike as he led Abby to her room. She crawled up into her bed, her little body tucking under her blankets as the two of you sat on both sides of her.

"Want a bedtime story?" Mike asked, raising his eyebrows as he leaned down to press a small kiss to Abby's forehead. Abby's lips parted to answer, but before she could, her eyes were closed and she was out. A sincere and quiet chuckle escaped underneath Mike's breath, his eyes full of love for his sister as her stared down at her. You couldn't help but stare, the edges of your mouth turning up into a sleepy smile of your own. He was so majestic, his messy but soft brown curls were laying in every which way on his head. Even though he was much more rested than usual, his eyes were still somewhat sunken in, but to you, that just made him more attractive. His scruff was messy, unshaven, but it managed to highlight his jawline. The sparkle that remained in his eyes, even through it all, after everything that he'd been through, warmed you to your core, your love for him overwhelming.

"What?" Mike asked quietly with a smile still plastered on his lips, his eyes now locked on yours. A blush crossed your cheeks as you realize you’d been caught, your eyebrows raising.

“Nothin’,” you hummed, shaking your head. “Just admiring you.” Your hand reached out to his as the two of you went to your own bedroom, the only light now lighting up your house being the moonlight and street lamps peeking through the blinds. You both crawled into bed, pulling the blankets over your bodies.

There was nothing but silence other than the sound of the fan in your room, the hum almost hypnotic as you wrapped yourself up in his arms. Your head rest against his chest as he instantly tugged you closer, his back flat on the bed as his hand cradled your side. His thumb drew small figure eights on your shoulder. Your body felt fuzzy, a type of relaxation you hadn’t felt at night in a while. Mike made you feel safe. On nights where you two were able to just snuggle up, nothing could buzz in your mind. Anxious thoughts disappeared, even the ones that seemed to be a constant in the back of your brain. There was nothing but a warmness in your mind and a beam of love in your heart.

“Hey, baby?” You heard Mike ask softly, his voice cracking from his sleepiness. You were broken from your train of thought by this, looking up at the man with the sleepy eyes. “Hm?” You hummed in response, your eyes fluttering, but he couldn’t see due to the lack of light. Mike sat up, pulling you up with him as he grabbed your hands, both of your faces now lit up by the light peeking through the cracks in your curtain.

“I- I know we don’t get nights like these much, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m never home, I’m sorry you have to do so much for you and Abby alone. I’m sorry I dragged you into that mess with Freddy’s, got you involved in so much of this,” he said, his voice seeping with sadness and regret. His eyes held an even softer emotion than they did earlier, one that felt like a knife to your chest. “Most importantly, I’m sorry I can’t be the boyfriend I should be. I mean, we should be spending our nights out at clubs, going out on special dates and vacations, and I hate that I’m unable to give you that,” he sniffled, a tear now falling down his eye.

You leaned forward, a frown on your lips as your eyebrows furrowed, your eyes locked on his as you placed your hand on his cheek, wiping away the tear with your thumb as you shook your head. Mike’s own two much larger hands were now placed on both of your cheeks as he continued. “But listen, Y/N, I love you, more than I have ever loved anyone, okay? I- I’m not good at this shit, I know I’m not. I’m clumsy and I’m bad at emotions. I don’t always know what I want or what I need, but I know I don’t only want you, but I need you. You came into my life and you brightened it where it was the darkest. You brought happiness back, you made me understand what joy was again, what it was like to feel.. complete. You saved me, but..” he trailed off again, full on tears falling down his cheeks now. “Most importantly, you saved Abby, made her feel whole again too, gave her somethin’ like a mother, something I couldn’t give her,” he said, his voice breaking at the end. Before he could say another word, you wrapped around arms around him, pulling him into a massive bear hug. He buried his head into the crook of your neck, your mind not even focused on the salty tears and the snotty nose that was leaned up against your shoulder. Your hands rubbing his back as you kissed the top of his head.

“Oh, baby..” you whispered softly, squeezing him like if you let go he’d disappear. “You know I love you so much too…” you finished, pulling his face up by his chin, pressing a soft, gentle but electric kiss to his lips. The two of you then settled back into bed, curling up in each other’s arms as he played with your hair, occasionally leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, small sniffles still leaving his nose from the emotional moment. He was right, it was rare you got moments like these together, but when you did, you cherished them. It took about thirty minutes of sweet nothings and cuddles before the two of you drifted off, in your own little dream worlds filled with many nights like these.

[steviewashere]

Hello, since you're taking prompts, I'm here humbly requesting anything with autistic Steve because I adore him and he's relatable af. Steddie, heavy on the comfort? Other than that, whatever you like, I'll love it :)

Wooo!! I wrote this in like three hours because I was on a roll, so I'm excited to share this!

Rating: Teen and UpCW: Meltdown, Overstimulation (Not That Kind), Some Negative Stimming, Mild Internalized AbleismTags: Post-Canon, Post-Season 4, Established Relationship, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Autistic Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Cuddling & Snuggling, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Soft Steve Harrington, Soft Eddie Munson

Also on AO3

💕—————💕 His t-shirt was too tight. Had it shrunk in the wash, he initially asked himself. Is this not even mine? But when he stood in front of the bathroom mirror, reflected back at him was the same burgundy colored t-shirt, softly worn and sweat stained, a big graphic stretched across the chest that read: ‘Go Bulls, Go!’. Where this thing came from, he doesn’t remember, but it’s kept him comforted and grounded throughout the years.

Steve had a particular wardrobe. Maybe a bit peculiar to the normal, wandering eye. But to him, his clothes made perfect sense. Every pair of jeans was just a size bigger than he needed them, to give him the extra give. All of his white boxer briefs were made of cotton, because the silky type were always too constricting. His socks had holes and patches on them—worn over and over and over again, folded inside out so that the seams didn’t catch under his toes, but they were the perfect level of softness that he couldn’t find anywhere else. Polos made of cotton. Henleys the same. And his t-shirts, well they were soft, too.

In fact, Steve loves soft things. Loves loose things. Loves expected things.

But now his t-shirt is too tight. The t-shirt he thought of all of the last three days. A t-shirt he thought would look good with his light washed Levi’s—always worn on Thursdays for his day of errands. And looking at the little desktop calendar in his room, it is indeed Thursday. He planned this, but he neither planned nor considered the possibility of a clothing malfunction. His hands go to stretch the hem of the shirt, pluck it away from his body and make the fabric accommodate him. However, at the first tug, the loosely bound hem gives an unmistakable Riiiippp sound.

And…

Great, he thinks, I’ve just ruined one of my favorite shirts.

The t-shirt’s too tight, now ripped, and about to be retired. If only he could find something that works the exact same. Every t-shirt he tries on has some sort of error: too big, too ugly, clashing colors, won’t match the Adidas he picked out last night, stretched on the collar, so on and so forth. It’s Thursday, he thinks, it’s a busy day. Errand day. And now I have nothing to wear. Well, he has something. Not exactly what he planned. But if he doesn’t just put on a damn shirt, he’ll never get through his day, and if he misses out on the free time to take charge of the few errant errands—Steve’ll never get them done or he’ll get them done on a different day, a day where it’s noticeably not Thursday.

He snatches a yellow polo from the back of his closet. Dijon mustard colored. Too scratchy over the downy hairs on his belly. But he doesn’t have the time. Doesn’t have the time to redo his hair—three puffs of hairspray and he’d have to do a fourth, but four doesn’t fit, it’s not right, it’s too different. So he just settles. He’s got a schedule today, and damn the world for already trying to stop him.

Next on his agenda is breakfast.

Which, now that his head is shoved dutifully in the fridge and he’s rummaging around like a dumpster diving raccoon, he remembers that he has to go grocery shopping. Down to three large eggs, a couple bacon strips that didn’t crunch right the last time he ate them, and some cream cheese for bagels he can’t reason eating anymore. But he makes do. Again, settling—always settling, it seems. Because today just can’t go right.

Half-way through the eggs, his brain reminds him that he’s eating eggs. The texture going from wonderfully scrambled, not too soft and not too dry—to awfully rubbery and terribly bland and disgustingly charred. His bacon didn’t crisp right, so he won’t even attempt the few nibbles that lay out on his plate. And the bagel is just…staring up at him like the thousand eyes on every spider of his nightmares. Just the mere thought of cream cheese on his tongue has him wanting to hurl. So he tosses the rest, sets his plate in the sink, and wonders if he’ll even have the time to do the dishes—they aren’t piling by any means, but he didn’t plan this. He wanted cereal this morning. Had thought about the near glass like shards of Cap’n Crunch against the roof of his mouth, drenched in whole fat milk. But, again—You’re an idiot, he’s starting to chastise—he forgot that he needed to do a grocery run today.

Now that his stomach isn’t full and is left completely unsettled. Now that his shirt is scratching him and rough in all the wrong places. Now that more wrongs have been done to him than rights, he can woefully cart himself to the supermarket.

Only to get there and not find a spot. Well, one in the back of the parking lot is barely a spot. The one he hates parking in because he always has to walk two minutes longer than he needs to and sometimes the gravel from the nearby bushes is kicked up and then he steps on it and there’ll be a rock in the sole of his shoe. Like there is today because of course, of all days, there are little jagged gravel rocks for him to step on and feel through the soft, giving out soles of his sneakers. Of course, he thinks—riding over mildly irritated to extremely annoyed within seconds.

The grocery store is hell on earth, if it exists. Lights fluorescent and produce aisle sprinklers going haywire and the coffee grounds too fresh and the chatter of people incessant. Annoying.

He brought a paper slip with him. His chicken scratch identifiable to him. Reading:

Grocery List

Milk White Bread (Wonder, not Kroger) Peanut Butter (Jiff, not Skippy) Laundry Detergent - unscented Cat food (salmon this time, maybe that’ll lure in that stray?) Pasta (Thin spaghetti, penne, and farfalle) Parmesan (Preferably not in the jar, but whatever is cheapest) Potatoes Pop-Tarts? (Eddie’s favorite is brown sugar) Chicken Chicken nuggets

The cart he grabs has a wheel that squeaks the entire time he pushes it. Wonder bread is sold out by the time he gets to the right aisle. They really should say something when they change the layout of the store, he notes bitterly, stuffing a couple loafs of Kroger white bread into his cart. Skippy was the chosen option of the creamy peanut butters, simply because the Jiff wasn’t on sale anymore. On the bright side, salmon wet cat food wasn’t too expensive, even if he could only grab three cans. The Pop-Tarts are forgotten by the time he makes it back to his car. And the first paper bag has a handle that rips off almost immediately. And he forgot to unload the quite substantial amount of baseball supplies he brought to the park the other day—which means the bags are loaded into the backseat and he can only hope and pray that the milk doesn’t topple over and squish the bread or god forbid the laundry detergent somehow gets jostled the wrong way and spills all over his car.

He should’ve made another list of things he needs to remember he’d done. Would’ve been nice, he supposes, if he told his future self that the baseball equipment is still in his trunk. But, alas, here he is playing the same Tears for Fears tape again, listening to the baseballs clink off of each other. Thank god for the Tears for Fears tape, though—it’s the same one he’s listened to nearly every day since he bought it in 1983. At least that’s something to expect. At least it’s something he can rely on after the absolute shitshow he’s had today.

Though, maybe he should’ve expected having to pull over to the shoulder. In a car that chokes and gives up when he’s two-thirds back, half-way through his errands list, and completely done with everything. His hands are tight on the steering wheel. And there’s nothing but silence flowing around him. It’s like drowning, sitting here like this. For once, after everything he’s ever experienced and having so many bad days like this, he doesn’t know what to do.

A part of him, the overwhelmingly obvious part, wants to scream and cry and kick his legs out in front of him. Wants to dig the heels of his feet into the pure asphalt underneath the rubber tires of his stupid, unreliable car. Maybe tear the shirt right off his body and squish himself back to normal. But in the open, bright pool of sunlight, he can do nothing but just sit there. Head against the steering wheel, wet breaths through his nose, and a tightness in his throat that won’t rid even after his fifth swallow. Part of him wants to cry and cry and cry and never stop crying. And it sounds good. Not here, though. Not yet.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there before something knocks on his window. So, he rolls his head over to peer—not at all that gently, with enough force to drive a hard line into his skin. But when he catches sight of the person watching him nearly fall apart, he wants to cry impossibly more.

It’s Eddie. With his big, soft, concerned eyes. Hair tied up into a bun. Coveralls over his body, splattered with oil and other unidentifiable muck. Probably coming back from an early morning shift at the auto shop in town. He can help, maybe. So, Steve cranks down his window. Enough that Eddie can dangle his arms inside and crouch down to get a better looks.

“Stevie,” he softly greets. “You doin’ okay?”

Steve just shrugs. Makes some sort of noncommittal grunt. He works his jaw tight and tense. Mumbles, “Car broke down.”

Eddie hums, acknowledging. He looks over his shoulder briefly, leans to peer into the backseat, and then looks onto Steve again. “I can take a look, if you want, sweetheart.”

“Don’t have enough money to get it fixed right now.”

“Baby,” Eddie sighs. His eyes go half-lidded with aching. He reaches out a tentative hand and gently traces his fingers over Steve’s left shoulder. Inching his way to his neck, where knots are surely forming. “It’s free of charge for you, you know that.”

“I just don’t care about it right now,” Steve lies. He cares a great deal. Cares that this has ruined his day. Has ruined the rest of his plans, but if he admits that, he’s sure he’ll cry. He’s not sure why that’s his first reaction: to cry and break things and flap his hands as if ridding the energy. Not sure why it hurts to look Eddie in the eyes right now. Why everything that’s happened has affected him so negatively. Why he’s so particular about his things to do and how he dresses and what he eats. But he knows he’ll cry if he explains.

“Okay,” Eddie mutters. His fingers are soothing over Steve’s shoulder. Light and airy and so soft, it makes Steve want to melt. “How about I drive you back? Help you unpack your groceries? We can leave this baby right here for now and figure out how to get it back to you later, alright?”

Wordlessly, Steve nods, hauls himself out of the driver’s seat, and helps Eddie unpack the bags into the back of his van. That part of him that wants to destroy flares alive inside of him. And he has to restrain himself from chucking the milk carton against the side of the van. But he gets into the passenger seat, silent and seething and mildly overwhelmed.

He gets angrier, though, as soon as Eddie’s radio blares to life. Heavy, obnoxiously loud drums and guitars and vocals fill the space. Instinctively, Steve’s hands shoot to his ears, covering them completely with his palms, digging his fingernails into the skin around them. Garbled, he makes a noise of great discomfort. Grits his teeth together. Squeezes his eyes shut until little speckles of black float in the corners. And hunches into himself, compact and an easy trick to consolidate himself. It doesn’t work, though. Nothing is working in his favor.

“Turn it off, Eddie,” he distantly hears himself snap, “turn it off!”

All at once, the music stops.

Steve sighs, not quite relieved, but easier. It’s still bright. And Eddie’s van smells a little bit like marijuana. And maybe Steve hasn’t smoked that in a little while because the scent is too intense and he never knows how to explain why the smell alone makes him want to scream, but it does and he knows part of that isn’t normal but he doesn’t know how to be normal and now he’s blown his cover all because of something petulant like music being too loud and now Eddie won’t want to date him because he’s being irritable and annoying and—

“Sweetheart?” Eddie’s distant, raspy, soft voice calls. “Is it a migraine? Do you need some water?”

“No,” Steve answers tersely. “Just take me home, Eddie.” He can’t loosen himself from the tight hold, from the squeeze of his eyelids, from the tension in his fingers. But he’s probably making an ass of himself. Probably pissing Eddie off. “Please,” he tacks on, “please take me home, Eddie.”

Nothing else is said as the van rattles and grumbles, pulling away from where Eddie had been parked. There’s no words. No music. Eddie doesn’t fidget. Steve doesn’t think either of them breathe, really. And not only has he pissed Eddie off, but he’s starting to make himself angry. Why couldn’t I just be normal, Steve internally bemoans. I’m being annoying. And he shouldn’t be helping me. And I should’ve just called a tow truck. And I’m making a big deal out of nothing, just like Mom and Dad used to say.

And if he were in a different mindset, he could probably think about why that statement used to feel so miserable. When his parents would dismiss him. Send him to his room. Where he’d sob into his pillows and toss his books across the room and hide inside his closet because it’s the only place that truly felt safe. The closet, where the world couldn’t reach him, and the lights were all dark and he could hum as much as he wanted. Because nobody could find him. And nobody cared. And then he was warm, safe, the version of himself he felt he needed to be.

Eddie parks gently. He helps bring the groceries inside. And then he just stays. As if Steve didn’t just ruin everything. But he looks at him with those concerned eyes again, fidgeting with his fingers because he wants to reach out, about two seconds away from crawling out of his skin. Meanwhile, Steve’s pacing back and forth, squeezing his hands shut, eyes closed, breathing heavy through his nose.

“Is something wrong, Steve?” Eddie finally breaks.

Steve shakes his head quickly. “Long day,” he gets out.

Humming, Eddie takes a step forward. He tilts his head and attempts to make eye contact, but Steve averts his gaze. “Why don’t we sit down for a bit and take a little breather?”

“This is the wrong shirt,” Steve blurts, scratching at his stomach again. The shirt keeps rubbing up and down whenever he bends, whenever he moves for that matter. It’s starchy and too new. Too much, not enough. “And my hair is a mess.”

“It’s not a mess,” Eddie murmurs, “looks fine to me.”

“No. I messed it up this morning. Because I tried on all my shirts.”

“All of them?”

Steve nods hastily. “None of them were right. And that doesn’t make sense, I know, but it’s true. And I put three puffs of hairspray in, needed a fourth, but that’s not right either.” He angles his head up at the ceiling, furls and unfurls his hands a few more times before placing them palm down and flat against his chest. Wants to press down. Hard enough to remember, but not enough to bruise. So he does. Gives in. Allows himself this one good thing, the pressure, the hurt, the sizzling ache. “My breakfast was gross.”

“Yeah? What’d you have, baby?” Eddie gently asks.

“Why—“ Steve gasps, struggling. “Why are you fine with this?”

Taken aback, Eddie makes a soft noise. His eyes widen and he furrows his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m being weird. I—You saw me! I was having like a little mini freakout in my car and then I got all mad at you and I was covering my ears and keeping myself tight and now I’m—Fuck, I’m going insane.

“Everything’s wrong. Everything is so wrong. My whole day is fucking wrong. Schedule got ruined. The clothes I planned out days ago didn’t work. My breakfast was bullshit and the grocery store didn’t have the right bread and Skippy is my least favorite peanut butter, but I had to get it because it was on sale and I forgot to get those Pop-Tarts you like even though I wrote them down on my stupid list but I don’t make enough lists because I forgot about the baseball stuff in my car and it shouldn’t have been there and that’s why I had to put the groceries in the backseat and the only good thing was my Tears for Fears album was still in the radio—And…Fuck.” Steve takes a haltingly loud gasping breath. He slams his hands over his chest, finally giving in to that innate urge he’s carried since he was a kid. Squeezes his eyes shut again, not wanting to see whatever hurt or disappointment or realization washes over Eddie’s face.

He continues, “I left the album in my car. The light’s too bright. I can…I can like hear the wiring in the fixtures. Everything. I’m feeling…I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m feeling. I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know,” Steve babbles. His hands flex into his shirt, the fabric wrong on his skin. Fingernails scratching at it, trying to tear it off. Wants to crouch down onto his knees and hide between the corner cabinets, nestle himself in a dark place, cry until there’s nothing left to give.

The realization hits him all at once, he needs to get away. To the safe space he created. So he forces himself around Eddie, up the stairs, behind his slammed bedroom door. And he crawls the rest of the way into the deep, far side of his closet. On top of old blankets, underneath too small clothes. Rests his head against the wall. And just…sobs. 

His elbows rest upon his knees as he shields his face with his forearms. The sounds of his cries muffled by his own skin. He kicks off his sneakers and digs his feet into the pile of blankets underneath him. Trying to get rid of the itchy, swooping, nauseous ache from inside him. He doesn’t like this part of his bad days. Doesn’t like being alone. To be left with his own mess. But he’s not sure how Eddie will respond, so he figures this is better.

Though, that’s quickly proven wrong when Eddie carefully comes in, announcing himself as the door opens. He stops in front of the closet and crouches down. “Hey, Stevie? Is it alright if I’m in here, baby?”

Steve sniffles. “I…You’re not going to be mean, are you?”

“No, Steve. I promise I’ll be nice. I just…You seem really overwhelmed and I thought maybe I could help you a little bit.” He shuffles forward slightly, opening the closet door from inside. Peeks through the gap. Asks, “How?”

“Could give you a hug? But…I was thinking we could trade shirts first? Mine is pretty soft, kind of loose. I know that’s how you like your t-shirts, baby.” For good measure, he plucks his t-shirt and gestures for Steve’s.

“You’ll look like a dork.”

“Yeah, but you’ll be comfortable. So hand me your shirt and I’ll give you mine.”

Once they’ve exchanged shirts, Steve leaves the closet and sits with Eddie against the side of his bed. Sure, the mattress may be soft and feel nice, but the firm ground under him keeps him anchored. He leans into Eddie’s side, lets him drape an arm over his shoulders, and sighs into the hold. Eddie’s other hand comes up and he traces fingers over Steve’s hairline, featherlight but caring all the same.

“Does this help?” Eddie whispers.

“Yeah,” Steve sighs. “Sorry about…Well, being weird and getting all intense earlier.”

Eddie shrugs. “It wasn’t like that at all, baby. You had a bad day, nothing worked in your favor. I’m not going to fault you for reacting.”

“I was crying in my closet, Eds. That’s hardly normal.”

“I’d cry, too if I had the day you experienced.” He runs his hand between Steve’s shoulder blades, pressing firmly over the tense knots that formed. “Is there anything I can do? Anything on your list that you need help with?”

Steve nuzzles his face into Eddie’s shoulder, cheek squished against the joint. Muffled, he says, “For now, can you just hold me for a while? Nobody’s ever comforted me like this after…Well, you saw what happened. But later, can you help me vacuum and mop?”

“I’ll hold you forever,” Eddie promises. “And I’ll exterminate all the dust bunnies you could ever think to encounter, nothing could make me happier.”

Something in him finally chips away. He’s not quite loose, yet. Not ready to release all the pent up negative energy he’s seemed to catch throughout his day. But he can believe Eddie, for the moment. He rests his head deeper into Eddie’s shoulder, lets himself fall into whatever song Eddie is humming, reaches out and grips firmly to one of Eddie’s hands. Plays with his rings, the smooth metal like a balm on the fatty part of his thumb. He relishes in how Eddie just lets him. Lets him, despite everything.

He can’t quite look Eddie in the eyes, not yet. Can’t force himself off the ground. Can’t quite get rid of that intense, drowning sensation that burbles in his chest—makes him want to cry and breakdown even further. And maybe he can, realistically. But later, he surmises, later he’ll do that, so long as Eddie continues to not mind.

The warmth of their shared bodies is nice. The softness of Eddie’s t-shirt against his skin. The gentle musk left on the collar from whatever cologne Eddie uses. Something with bergamot, a little bit of citrus, something like bourbon. He closes his eyes softly. There’s not much light flooding into his bedroom, just a stripe of golden sunlight from between his curtains, but that’s fine.

For the first time today, something is fine.

“I like this,” Steve quietly admits. “You being here with me through this, I mean.”

Eddie makes an acknowledging hum. “Whenever you need me, I’m a phone call away, sweetheart. I’ll come dashing over, your knight in shining armor, armed with the softest of t-shirts and the most delicious of snacks just for you, baby.”

Steve chuckles. A sound he thought wouldn’t be possible on a day like this. Despite everything, he smiles softly. “I’d love that,” he whispers, “I love you, Eds. Thank you for making me feel a little bit normal.”

“I love you, too, Stevie,” he responds, easy as that. “And I mean it, baby. I love you, I want to hold you and cherish you. You need anything, any time of day, you call me. Bad days are no joke.”

“Mmm,” Steve gently hums. “Maybe I should add cuddle time to my daily routine?”

“Maybe you should,” Eddie agrees. “I think that would be excellent for both of us.”

“Good,” Steve states quietly. He wraps his own arm around Eddie’s waist, pulls him in tighter, and tucks in close. “This feels right.”

💕——–——💕 Taglist: @hotluncheddie

[the-wip-project]

Planning for January and 2025

Hello, writerly friends!

It's the end of a year, we're looking at the the next year coming, and naturally this is a time of reflection and prediction. I'm actually not a big fan of new year's resolutions, but I want to keep up the monthly planning. 

Last month I planned nothing and I did nothing! Yay! Total win on my side! It's not quite true. I wrote 3.5k words, which is more than nothing but not much.

As we go into a new year, some planners and goal setters advice to take a look back and reflect on the year 2024 before going into 2025. I kind of hate that because I never achieve as much as I wanted. I wanted to have a book published in 2024, damnit! 

But maybe it's good to see what I actually did, before the yelling brain keeps calling me a failure. I wrote 115k words last year. That's not bad! My AO3 statistics are a bit difficult to read because I updated a few fics from like 2021 and 2022 and then that wordcount gets counted for 2024. But hey! I finished a fic! Updated others! I also published 20 ficlets over the year. Some are just over 500 words, others are longer and according to my writing file I wrote 24325 words for these ficlets (It may look like I'm oh so well organised with all these numbers and I want to make sure that you understand, I am not like that! I'm just lucky that these programs give me numbers). So, take that, yelling brain. Well done me. 

I had a paragraph here about fuck all that looking back, let's go forward. I mean, this last year did its very best to stay as a messy shitshow in our memory, at least if you're the kind of person who wishes for a just, peaceful, and sustainable world. But after writing that paragraph up there, I think you should also look back. Even if you didn't achieve everything you wanted to, look at the small victories too and celebrate them. It's good for you.

My look into the future: Finishing and publishing is my forever goal and that's what I'll keep doing, be it fanfic or original fiction. I have several half finished things going on and way too many ideas for more books. (Sticking to one genre? Wouldn't know her.)

As always, finding and scheduling the time to write is the crucial task and I'm still trying to figure out how to combine life, work, reading, gaming, TV watching, and writing into the day. How do people do this? Somehow sleeping has to factor into this too, right? I guess it's back to a daily hour of writing, either in the morning, or in the afternoon. A fixed point in the schedule.  

Here at the-wip-project, I already hinted at a new project for the beginning of the year. I'm calling it "Getting to know your story (through writing it)". I'll make a separate post for it.

What are your plans for the coming month?

Have a good start into the new year!

~barbex

[chronicbeans]

Puppeteer Wally Darling x (G/N) Puppet Reader

idk if this will be a series or just a one off so LET'S GOOOOOO (if you want a part two, let me know in the comments of this post.

TW: Obsessive and Possessive Behavior, Kidnapping? (Can you kidnap a puppet? IDK but we're putting that warning just in case), Controlling Behavior

Wally Darling grins widely as he puppeteers the star of the show, (Y/N) (L/N), in a scene within their home. As sad as he is that he cannot voice them, as well, just bringing their personality to life through their motions is enough for him. Voicing his beloved (Y/N) is all up to Sam, their voice actor/actress. Sam, who also happens to be out sick, today. Just like yesterday. And the day before that...

"Aaannddd... CUT! Great job, Wally. You did great! If only Sam were here. Have you heard any word from them?" The director sits back in their chair, staring at the puppeteer on set. Everybody has been asking him about Sam, today. Why are they asking him? Is it because they don't get along?

"No. Sorry. I haven't heard a word. They don't tell me anything." "Alright. Well, you can go take a break, Wally. You've been filming for about... Woah! I must've lost track! You've been filming for NINE hours straight! Isn't your arm tired from being upright for so long?" Wally shakes his head, grinning as wide as a Cheshire. "I can't feel my arm at this point... but I can keep going! I'm always happy to keep going! (Y/N) means so much to me-!"

"Take a break, Wally... And put that puppet back in the storage, will you?" The director looks over to one of the camera people, telling them to turn off the camera, before muttering to themself "He's an amazing puppeteer, but Jesus... He treats that thing like it's alive..."

He quickly runs to his little office, taking (Y/N) with him. Placing the puppet on his desk, he gives his arms a rest as he lies back in his seat. Letting out a long sigh, he looks over to the limp puppet on his desk. Sitting it up and leaning it against a pile of books and folders, he smiles. Surely, the director won't mind if he keeps (Y/N) out of that dingy old box for a little while... As long as they get back in there by the time he leaves, it should be fine.

"I wonder why everybody keeps asking me about Sam, (Y/N)? Do they think I did something to them? Sure, we don't get along, and they clearly don't have as much passion for you as I do! I would never hurt them, though! Do you think I would hurt them?" He looks down to the puppet, smiling. Of course, it doesn't answer. It still feels nice to act like (Y/N) answers and understands. "Thank you for the kind words. It really helps! I love working with you, but the others can be so stressful, sometimes!"

Wally looks away for a moment, checking a few papers on his desk. His schedule seems rather empty for the next week. He had already gotten most of the filming for the episode done today! Only two more scenes require (Y/N). He wishes that there were a few more, to be honest. He prefers working to having nothing to do all day. Maybe he-

"Where... WHERE AM I?!"

Wally's eyes widen, hearing the familiar voice. He looks over to (Y/N), seeing that they have now toppled over onto their side. Their arms flail slightly, as they squeak out "Where am I?! Who? What?! This isn't the neighborhood!"

As much as he wants to squeal with excitement, they are being rather loud. That, alongside the fact that they are voiced, and still sound like, Sam... and people are a bit suspicious of Wally for some reason... He quickly grabs them, placing a hand over their mouth as he quickly says "Be quiet! Someone might hear! I'll explain as much as I can! Just be... Quiet. Here, let me help you back upright."

He picks the puppet up, feeling them squirm a bit in his hands, then sits them back where they were. They raise their arms, which shake as they do so. As they look up to him, he feels his heart swell with joy.

He doesn't know how this has happened... And, frankly... He doesn't care. (Y/N) is talking! (Y/N) is moving! (Y/N) is... (Y/N) is alive! Shaken, yes, but still alive! It's his greatest wish come true! All the work he's put in to bring this character that he loves oh so much to life... Did he have something to do with this? Did his wish for (Y/N) to be able to talk back, move, and live a life in his world make it actually happen?

It doesn't matter. All that matters is that his little puppet is here, in front of him, and able to truly interact with him.

"What's going on...?" Their legs shift slightly, but not much. "Why do my legs feel weird? I can barely move my legs?!" Wally pats their head, saying "Shh... It'll be alright. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure what is going on, either. I can tell you where you are, though. First thing's first, though... I'm Wally Darling! I already know who you are, (Y/N). Before you ask, I'll let you know how I know your name."

He goes through everything. The studio, the show, how they are a puppet. To his shock, they already knew they were a puppet, just not exactly what it meant... They didn't know somebody was controlling them in their world. The poor little thing seems so confused! It looks like their head is spinning!

He picks up (Y/N), grinning from ear to ear as he says "Don't worry, (Y/N)! I'll keep you safe! This world is large and dangerous for a puppet like you! I, as your kind puppeteer, will make sure you are safe from harm!" To his shock, (Y/N) only flails, saying "I want to go back to my world! My neighborhood!"

Wally's eyes widen. They want to go back? To leave him? He knows that it is the right thing to do, but he simply cannot have it. As much as he wants to make his lovely little puppet happy... they can just learn to be happy with him! There's no reason why they can't, right?

A simple shake of his head was all it took for them to visibly lose hope. "I'm afraid I can't do that. I care about you too much to let you go back! Think about it... I explained how your world is a show, right? It is like... think of it like a little lie. Would you rather go back to your world, cursed with the knowledge that everything you say and do, see and hear, and all your friends, are just a lie? That it isn't real? Or would you rather stay here, where everything is real?"

(Y/N) shakes their head, again. "I could go back and tell them the truth! I could let them know what is going on! I could-" "Not if I don't let you. I control what you do in that world. If I don't let you tell them, then you can't." "I still want to go home. I want to see my friends, again. I want to go back to Home and take a rest." "You can take a rest at my house!" "I WANT TO GO HOME!" "Be quiet! The others might notice! I might be treating this like it is normal, but if others saw you moving about, they would scream! Stay still-!"

Wally quickly places his hand over their mouth, again, as the director walks in. "What is going on in here?!" Wally chuckles, nervous, as he says "I'm just practicing my (Y/N) impression! You know, since Sam has been out for a while. We don't want to get behind on episodes just because they are gone! Who knows when they will be back?"

The director's eyes trail to the limp puppet in the man's hands. "I thought I told you to put that thing away! Why do you still have it out?" Wally flinches, quickly thinking of an excuse. "Well, I needed to practice not only the voice, but also puppeteering while talking. Since I usually only have to puppeteer, I thought it would help to practice doing both?" The director sighs, nodding.

Then, the best words he has ever heard come out of their mouth happen.

"Just take that puppet home with you, if you want. You clearly have something wrong in the head to be so... ungodly attached to it. You'd probably would keep it in better condition than when we leave them in the storage boxes, anyway."

With that, the director slammed the door to Wally's office shut. The puppet in Wally's arms began to move once more, looking up to Wally with fear. They immediately begin to squirm, trying to get out of his grasp, only for him to hold them still with ease. "Come on, (Y/N)! Let me show you just how much you'll love it here! I'll show you how happy your show makes the children of this world, as well as how much fun this world can be! Anything for you to stay, (Y/N)!"

He grabs a small, cardboard box, then places the struggling puppet inside. Quickly stapling it shut, he then pokes a few little holes into the top. Yes, technically, a puppet cannot breathe, but he still feels bad keeping them in a dark box during transport. Picking up the box, he takes it to his car, saying "Don't worry. The ride will be short. I love relatively close to the studio! Just stay calm, alright?"

"LET ME OUT! WALLY! WALLY! LET ME GO!!!" The box shuffles in the car seat, the puppet inside clearly being in distress as he drives down the road. "WALLY!" (Y/N) peeks out of one of the holes in the box. "I don't know what you are doing, but you are clearly not being a nice neighbor! LET ME GO!" "It's too late. Even if I wanted to, we are already at my house! Come on, let me show you around!" "You could just drive me back-" "LET ME SHOW YOU AROUND!"

He quickly swoops the box into his arms, carrying it into his house as the puppet inside throws itself against the cardboard walls, attempting to escape. He rushes inside, closing the door behind him, before placing the box on his couch. Popping open the lid, (Y/N) pokes their head out, frantically looking around the room.

Their face would've grown pale, if it could've, as they survey the room. Their expression twists, as much as their felt face could allow, into a look of anxiety and fear. Looking around, Wally is slightly confused. What could be wrong with his home? There isn't anything that is obscene or dangerous, as far as he is aware. Then, it hits him.

This place is Wally sized, not (Y/N) sized. The small puppet, who is only around 3 feet tall, give or take, will have a bit of trouble navigating his home. Especially with the fact that they don't seem used to their puppet body. Normally, he would feel bad or sorry, then help accommodate his beloved little puppet. Considering the fact that they clearly want to escape him, however...

This is perfect.

Even more so, because felt hands won't have as much traction and grip on things like doorknobs, windowsills, and the likes. It's going to be harder for them to try to get out without his permission. As much as he hates knowing that he is making (Y/N) unhappy, it truly is for the best!

"Aww... (Y/N), this will only be for a week! Then, I have to go back to work! Maybe... Maybe, when I puppeteer you at work, on set, you'll go back to your world? Just wait. If my theory is true, you'll be back in no time!" The puppet nods, folding their arms. They look away from Wally, clearly upset and full of dismay.

Wally picks up (Y/N), holding them in his arms gently, almost like he is cradling the most precious thing in the world. To him, he is. Nothing could compare to (Y/N)! The effect they have had on the children who watch the show brings him such joy. The way they talk about kindness, acceptance, generosity, and creativity is all that he has wanted to see in life. He has always wanted that kindness, that acceptance, and affection for himself! Now, he can. Now, he can have (Y/N).

His co-workers may call him crazy, saying something is wrong with him... having crushes on fictional characters is childish in their eyes- something an adult shouldn't do. They've been on his back for him talking to the puppet like it could talk back, how he never seems to let it go, and how his little obsession is made stranger, considering that he puppeteers the character. They've always told him that (Y/N) isn't real and to let go. Jokes on them, because now Wally's precious, sweet (Y/N) is real! They're real and they're his.

[not-magdi]

Sick

Pairing: Pablo Gavi x fem!reader

Summary: Y/N decides to play nurse for her sick and poor boyfriend

Trigger Warning: Throwing up 

Words: 1k

A/N: I've decided to post my works here too, I have a book on Wattpad where all my other works are but I will upload many here now too. With that, happy reading!

Y/N and Pablo decided that after a few exhausting weeks of training and studying, it was time for one of their traditional 'Movie, Cuddle, Snack, and Gossip' nights. Despite their busy schedules, they make an effort to spend quality time together at least once a month, from going out to a fancy restaurant to working out together, or better said Y/N watching Pablo work out. 

This night was no different, snuggled up on the couch, Pablo laying between Y/N's legs, his back on her chest. Snacks that Gavi's trainers should not hear about were laying all across the couch. 

They were currently watching Avatar as Pablo began to squirm around a little bit, not thinking much Y/N choose to ignore it. Ten minutes later the squirming didn't stop, in fact, Pablo grew even more restless. 

"Amor, what are you doing?" stopping the movie Y/N looks down at Pablo who had a frown on his face, holding his stomach. "My stomach hurts ... I really don't feel good Amor". Now looking closely at Pablo she can see how pale his face got in the last hour. Feeling his forehead Y/N exclaims " Oh baby you're burning up ... let me get a thermometer." 

Standing up Pablo whines at the loss of contact, "I'll be right back amor ... try to closing your eyes for a little bit" 

In the bathroom, Y/N tries to find a heating pad for Pablo to relax a little bit. While heating it up she returns to Pablo who is cuddled into the couch, with sweat beads running down his forehead. 

"Here Baby" sticking Pablo the thermometer under his arm. As it starts to beep Y/N takes it from him starting to frown. "39.5, that's not good ... we need something to bring your fever down if it gets past 40 we need to go to the hospital." 

Groaning Pablo looks at her through hooded eyes, "Amor please help me to the bathroom ... I think I need to throw up", helping him up and rushing to the bathroom the last thing she sees is him leaning over the toilet, before hearing him gag and throw up. 

Slowly opening the door she kneels behind him stroking his back, "Don't fight against it ... let it all out" Hunching over again and throwing his guts up Y/N holds a towel under cold water making it damp and holding it to his forehead, never stopping to stroke his back.

"You finished?", groaning Pablo nods his head leaning against Y/N and closing his eyes. "I feel like shit amor", chuckling Y/N adds " Yeah ... you look like it too." Looking up at her he gives her a small smile flipping her off. 

Helping him to his bedroom Y/N tucks Pablo in and brings him the heating pad and forces him to drink some water so he doesn't dehydrate. Wanting to turn around and grab another pillow from him, Pablo stops her by grabbing her hand "I'm sorry ... for ruining our date night", looking him in the eyes she softly assures him, "Hey you can't control getting sick ... and I like babying you so don't worry" kissing his head smiling softly Y/N stands up to grab a bucket for Pablo, in case he gets sick again.

Returning to his bedroom with her laptop she lays down next to Pablo letting him snuggle himself into her. Prompting the laptop up on her lap they continue watching movies until Pablo falls asleep with his head cuddled into her chest. 

Throughout the night, Pablo kept throwing up every half hour, resulting in both of them not sleeping much. Y/N being always by his side, rubbing his back, bringing him water, or cleaning the bucket. 

His fever got less and in the morning he was not burning up as much anymore as last night. But he was still feeling like he was run over by a truck, so Y/N decided to call Xavi to tell him that Pablo can't go to training today and probably for a few days after too.

Xavi: "Hola Pablo, que pasa?" -What's up

Y/N: "Hola Xavi, es Y/N la novia de Pablo" - It's Y/N, Pablo's girlfriend

Xavi: "Ah, hola Y/N, todo está bien?" - Everything ok?

Y/N: "Uhh no, Pablo es muy enfermo, vomitó todo la noche, el es muy debil . No puede entrenar hoy y los días después. - Pablo is really sick, he threw up all night an is really weak, he cant train today and the next few days

Xavi: "Ay pobre chico, por favor dile que se mejore pronto de mi parte y llámame cuando este mejor" -Ay poor boy, please tell him get well soon from me and call me when he feels better.

Y/N: "Yo debo, adios Xavi " -I will, bye Xavi

Xavi: "Adios Y/N 

Looking beside her she can see Pablo slowly waking up, looking at her with a slight smile. "How are you feeling amor?", grabbing her hand softly he sits up a little bit. "Better ... still not great but better"

Kissing his head softly Y/N adds "I called Xavi and told him you were feeling like shit, he told you to get better soon and that you should call him when you feel better." Looking up at her Pablo thanks her with a kiss on the cheek, to not get her sick too. Feeling grateful for her caring for him with so much love. 

Over the next few days, Y/N was playing doctor for Gavi giving him medicine, calling his mother for her famous sopa the pollo, and cooking it for him. Pablo enjoyed being nursed by his girlfriend having to do nothing but lay on the couch and getting fed soup has its perks. 

Y/N choose to sleep over at Pablo's house the last few days so she could look after him, which made Pablo realize something, them living together would be an absolute dream for him. Not because he wouldn't have to do anything anymore, no but because living with Y/N meant waking up to her beautiful face in the morning or seeing her dance around the kitchen pretending a wooden spoon is her microphone.

He realized he wants Y/N to be there when he wakes up or comes home from training, cuddling in his bed with her every night. He can't imagine a future without that. Now he just needs to think of a way of proposing his idea of living together, to her, to the love of his life, the only girl he can imagine a future with. 

[bellaxgiornata]

Do you have any tips for fast and efficient writing? I’m always impressed with how quickly and consistently you seem to churn out good quality chapters. Occasionally, I get “in the zone” and manage to really stay on top of my updates, but other times, it feels like pulling teeth. I worry that I sometimes sacrifice quality just to be able to put out an update. I want to stay consist for my readers, but that requires about 4000 to 5000 words a week, which is tough for me on top of a full time job! Any suggestions?

Oh, this is a good question! And thank you, I'm glad to hear you think my stories are consistent and of good quality! I will say that what works for me probably isn't always going to work for others, and I'm also aware that I'm in a unique position of being a stay at home mom. So when kids nap, I get free time to write. When my toddler starts preschool next week and the baby naps, if I've finished my adulting chores for the day, I get to write. Usually y'all don't have those opportunities at work--especially not daily. I'll also sometimes write in the evening before bed if I'm really feeling it (though while pregnant I had been too tired to do that for months). Honestly a lot of it depends on how much time you are able to write, and for me, I do actually spend quite a few hours a week writing and editing. Probably a lot more than people realize...

I'll put the rest of my response below the cut though because I know this is going to be long!

The first thing I did that really helped me keep churning out updates was to stop requiring myself to reach a minimum word count for them. I don't write with the pressure of needing to reach a specific amount per chapter, rather I focus on what needs to happen in an update. If the draft seemed a bit short, I'd come back later and edit in more detail or dialogue or another scene or something that fit and it usually filled things a little more without seeming unnecessary. Removing that pressure of reaching a specific word count really helps I think. And 4,000-5,000 words a week with a full time job is honestly a lot to plan out, write, and then edit consistently!

Secondly, I have multiple stories to work on. Now I definitely don't recommend this because then you'll get overwhelmed, but I do often hit a block in a fic sometimes and instead of just writing something I don't like and posting it or completely stepping away and not writing, I write something else. It keeps me in the habit of doing it so that I don't just suddenly stop. But obviously, I can't consistently update the same fics over and over, I tend to jump around. I think what might be better is maybe taking a step away and working on a one shot or something if you're struggling with a scene or a chapter. For me, sometimes what I need to write in a story is not what I'm feeling at the moment--angst, fluff, smut, whatever--and so I go write something I am feeling instead. Usually that helps unblock what's in my head, especially if I want to write smut for example, but the characters in the story I'm writing cannot realistically have me throw that in at that point.

Lastly, I think taking the pressure off of yourself to update on a schedule might be helpful. I know, it's hard to not update regularly and you might feel like you're disappointing readers, but we aren't getting paid for this. If you start pressuring yourself, you're going to burn yourself out and fanfic won't be fun anymore. It'll feel like work. And who wants to spend their free time working with no pay? So if you can get a nice long chapter up every week for a bit, but then suddenly you're struggling and it takes a few weeks for an update? That's okay. Your readers will still be here. And new ones will always appear if some have moved on.

Honestly I think as writers we put a lot of pressure on ourselves to consistently post, but it's not realistic. Like I said, I'm in a unique position of often finding moments to write because of what I do for work. That's not the norm for everyone. I struggle to update fics sometimes myself, which is why you might see some stories go months without an update, but I just update other things in the meantime. But if I only had one story, you'd definitely see me having weeks where nothing comes out because the words for that just aren't coming or they're not coming out right.

Hopefully some of this helped at all! But really, I think removing the pressure of writing is the biggest issue to tackle. Whether its your posting schedule or your word count, the pressure really gets to you. Especially if you're reaching the day you might usually post and you don't have something you feel is ready, then maybe you start to stress or panic and are rushing to get something done. That's just not fun though! Fanfic should be fun!

[angelofthemornings]

Okay, I came up with an action plan. I sort of want to share it with others, so after I review it with my therapist next week I'll post it to r/hikikomori. I'll show you folks too.

I decided to come up with an action plan about my condition based both on personal research and input from my new therapist. I'll make reminders in my phone calendar and come back with three month, six month, and one year updates. If anyone would like to do the challenge with me, please comment and update as well! I'm doing this publicly partially because I think it would be a little easier for me to do something for others and not just myself. If I'm a success story people can look at, then others might figure out how to help themselves too.

Some background on me:

I was a healthy, active, and industrious kid. Very curious, always doing something, a hard worker. The only thing wrong with me was some autism, very mild.

However, I developed severe insomnia around the age of thirteen and was unable to sleep until two or three AM. My parents decided I was "being obstinate" and refused to take me to a doctor or even get me OTC sleeping pills. Instead, I'd get locked in an empty closet hoping I'd pass out from boredom (I didn't), or dragged out of bed and onto the floor at six AM by my arm or my hair and forced to go to school on only a couple hours' sleep. Maybe an adult could handle that kind of sleep deprivation and still function, but for a child this was torture, especially because I was screamed at and sometimes hit every morning because I struggled to get up and going. I completely collapsed mentally - I even started bedwetting - and dropped out of school within a few months of my insomnia appearing, becoming a hikikomori. I spent over a decade more or less in captivity, and, possibly due to the stress of isolation, I developed bipolar disorder and epilepsy (I'm pretty sure, at least, that both came after I entered social withdrawal and weren't the cause) and I also struggled with alcoholism for a bit. I have some other trauma from things like relationships - I ran away and lived briefly with an older man as a teenager and it was really bad - and some other things, but that's not important right now.

I spend all my time lurking on social media looking for cheap dopamine hits and reading ebooks on my phone and that's just about it. After a LOT of trying and failing I'm able to draw and paint on a tablet for at least a few minutes most days as well.

So, as for the challenge.

My first step was stabilizing my health (bipolar disorder and epilepsy are in control and my sleep schedule is good, and I stopped drinking using the Sinclair method). That's taken care of.

Here are my instructions to myself for the rest of my healing process:

1. Accept that you were driven into a fragile and fearful state that is so normal to you now that you don't even notice it. Try to notice it. There are lots of things you want to do and don't do, and things you do that you don't want to be doing, and they grate on you. Pay attention to those moments and challenge and interrogate them, like:

"I don't want to get on social media this morning. Why do I feel like I have to?" Once you have answered that: "Is that true? Do I really have to? What will I feel if I don't do it and is that feeling really going to be intolerable?"

"I want to pick up a little, but I can't make myself. Why is that? Okay, it feels like I'm afraid my back will hurt. But how much will it hurt and will I go all to pieces if it does get sore? No, I think I can handle it."

"I need to clean the snow off of the car and I can't do it, but I can't identify why. What is something I could do to make myself more comfortable doing it? Maybe I'm hungry and could eat lunch first to get myself energized and to move around a little before doing any labor, or maybe I subconsciously realize I'm not wearing warm enough clothes."

Now is where all the research you've undoubtedly done about ADHD and autism stuff will come in handy. "Oh, it looks like I feel like I'm not going to be on time so I won't do anything before my telehealth appointment, even quickly change the clothes I've been in for three days...I know from my research that I can use a visual timer to help with that."

You'll have to talk to yourself like a mother negotiating gently with a very young child, or like someone rehabilitating an abused kitten, and that's okay. "Reparenting yourself" is a very common technique in American psychology. Remember that the father of hikikomori studies, Saito Tamaki, is really against firmness and force. He often compares it to "driving someone into the corner." Your job is not to discipline yourself and try to get tougher, your job is to coax yourself out of that corner. Again, the "abused kitten" model of thinking about yourself should work well here according to him - I don't think telling a feral kitten that Marcus Aurelius wouldn't approve is going to make it stop cowering. Kindness and creating a safe emotional atmosphere so it feels comfortable expanding its boundaries will.

Understand that "making yourself comfortable so you can do things" is much different than just "making yourself comfortable"; the latter is the kind of retreat that led to your unhealthy lifestyle. The former is purposeful healing.

Also understand that this "mindfulness" will take time to do consistently and is sometimes going to get annoying and cost energy. But if you can manage to do it for even one thought/action you want to change a day, that's still significant and will grow into serious progress.

2. Move physically. I don't mean go outside and jog for an hour right away, that's like, step nineteen. Moving physically and "being in my body" or "aware of my body" is difficult for me because of self-hatred and possibly some sexual abuse trauma, and after all this sedentary isolation I feel very detached from it. You'll want to start with very small stuff like chair yoga or those under-the-desk pedal things, and for only a few minutes. You can work your way up to true exercise later, for now, your job is just to get used to yourself as having a body.

3. Go outside by yourself, with no particular reason at first to decrease pressure. To start, I want to drive to the park at least twice and then three times a week, I don't even have to get out of the car, just practice being there. After I can regularly go to the park without feeling stressed, I can go to the public indoor pool and swim, just to practice being visible around others (water is really soothing to me). Then I'll attend virtual meetings for something - I've found some groups for autistics, LGBT, etc. After establishing regular attendance at virtual groups, I want to start going to the open art studio held at the library every week. That is attended exclusively by old ladies and they're always happy to see younger people, and older women generally have good social skills that'll compensate for my bad ones, and it's way less pressure than trying to create a social circle with people my own age. I also can either sit there quietly and make art or choose to socialize a little, nothing is obligatory.

If I struggle too much with the virtual groups or open art studio, I might attend an adult day care center for the disabled and have people pick me up to go, so that I'll have something external pushing me.

After I get used to that, I need to focus on one-on-one stuff which is very hard for me. To do that, I want to get virtual lessons in language learning (expensive but I'm going to try to squeeze it out of my budget) (on italki you're paying the tutor to be nice to you and you're not talking in your native language, so you're going to stumble and be awkward by default, no shame) or in violin so I can improve my skills and express myself. After I get used to people that way, I can try to join things like book clubs in my area and meet people in their 20s and 30s naturally.

4. This is about where I can start considering maybe a part-time job or school. It might be useful to take a class or classes on Coursera first, that way I can practice structure and doing things consistently for weeks on end.

5. In general, I want to make a list of three things to do every day. At least one of them should be a fun thing that I'd like to enjoy but struggle to do, like playing my violin. Another one should be something challenging and productive I can do on my phone, like use a language learning app, because phone activities are easiest for me. The remaining slot can go to obligations like doctor's appointments or cleaning up.

Advice: Studies show (source: Tiny Habits, written by the director of the Stanford Behavior Design lab) that you actually have a very limited window to reward yourself for good behavior, as in, less than a second. Saying you'll eat ice cream after dinner if you do something in the morning isn't effective. What you need to do is, after you've done something you want to reward, give yourself a bit of congratulations. I personally started playing the Final Fantasy victory sting in my head once I've done something I want to do. (The author of the book says he does a little dance or goes "Yay me!" when he does something like his pushups.) I also got the Do It Now app, which gives you points for tasks you set so you can watch yourself level, and I added not only obligatory stuff (cleaning, brushing teeth, appointments, etc.) but entertaining things that aren't sitting on a screen that I'd like to do more of but are hard for me (violin, listening to music, etc.). These two tools can give me tangible, psychologically appealing rewards. I don't know why being able to press a button in an app and watch a number go up is so satisfying, but it is.

Also, meditating helps (especially because it makes you more aware of your thoughts, that's useful for step one). I financed a Muse S meditation headband that reads my brainwaves and rewards me with audio cues when I reach a relaxed state, but I'm not going to say that's necessary because I want this challenge to be as cheap as possible for everyone.

Above all, be gentle, and give yourself points for trying even if you can only do something for a minute or two.

[octuscle]

Being a photographer is awesome! I work around the world with a lot of people - some of them are famous, most of them are not. But it's my mission to let them shine like stars. Well in my past I had the chance to become a model myself but I wasn't enough self-confident to say yes. I chose the place behind the camera and not infront of it. Looking back I sometimes ask myself 'what if...'. It's silly because I'm not unhappy but there is this curiosity. So I'd like to try the Chronivac Programm changing the past and the present. Please activate it

I'd like to try something out there. An Instagram add-in that I made. Post a selfie of yourself. Then with each comment from you, the next younger picture also changes to a portrait of you. And with every new follower you live on the pictures and also in real life already one day longer not the life of the photographer. But the life of a model. And you yourself become one day younger. I'll start with a comment of your selfie. "Dude, great pic! Who will you be in front of the camera for next time?" And at the same moment, your last picture turns into a shot of you on the beach.

It's still pretty early in the morning in Paris. Nevertheless, the first comments and likes come in pretty quickly. I have limited the activity of the add-in to twelve hours at first. No idea what will happen in that time. First of all, you don't notice anything yet. Off to the shower. But when you're done, your bathroom has already changed quite a bit. A veritable armada of creams and lotions is ready and waiting. You take a look in the mirror fogged up by the shower. Everything is normal. For once, you've been modeling yourself for the last three weeks, so you just have to take care of yourself a little more than usual.

While packing your bag for the next shoot, you take a look at your cell phone. Wow, 40 new followers. While you were in the bathroom… Cool thing. Just as cool as the fact that you can leave your photo equipment at home and only need your toilet bag and a change of clothes. You got to keep the racing bike from one of the last shootings. Helmet on, quick selfie posted and then off into the morning rush hour. With the bike you are simply the fastest. And you look the best. And keep yourself fit. In the last three months, you've often had to make do with just one hour at the gym. Your schedule is full. You were a great photographer, but you have yet to prove yourself as a model.

You arrive at the photo studio and because it just looks cooler, you shoulder your racing bike and carry it up to the studio. You are not the only model waiting here. But one of the older ones. You check Instagram. A good day! 400 new followers since breakfast. But there are also really great pictures of you in your profile. Both your selfies. As well as the pictures of your ex-colleagues. For over a year you are rarely behind the camera. But in front of the camera you are appreciated, because you are not only photogenic, but also think like a photographer.

On Instagram, it's now blow by blow. The more comments you get, the faster you get new followers. You look younger and younger and more athletic in the pictures. And your account is overflowing with crisp pictures of you. There is already a first fan account. When the photographer's assistant arrives at noon with a few boxes of sushi, you have an incredible 2,000 new followers. Not bad for a model who is already quite mature. You are now 32 years old. With over five years of experience as a model. You used to study to be a photographer. You still like to take pictures. But professionally you don't want to do that anymore. In your Instagram account, one has to scroll really far into the history to find pictures of you that were not selfies. But even those are richly commented by male and female groupies.

Phew, that was a really exhausting day. But some of the shots turned out really cool. And there was good money. Of course, you've been in the business for over ten years now. You had your first model jobs when you were not yet 16 years old. But now you are a real brand. Today you got an incredible 4,000 new followers. In one day. On a day when you could hardly post anything yourself. You started the day with a selfie on your road bike.

You ended the day with a selfie in front of the mirror in the bathroom of your hotel room. "It was a great day, tomorrow we'll continue bright and early. Good night to all of you". Ten likes before you even put your phone down.

[applestorms]

🛳️ 🐌 💥 🪩 for the ask game?

hell yeahhh (original post here)

🛳️ Are there any new ships you want to write for? (Platonic, romantic, or anything in between.)

birthdaymassacre is the first thing that comes to mind, though i wouldn't mind dipping my toes into the moonriver a lil either. i've also had this one really distinct yagamane fic idea plotted out for a while now, so we'll see if i ever get around to expanding that into a proper fic instead of like. two pages of notes LMFAO

in terms of non-romantic relationships, i am Always wanting to expand on wammy's house stuff, particularly in terms of lawlight interacting w/ meronia. The Potential. it's There. also more beyond-- getting a physical copy of LABB has really gotten me back into all of His shit again recently lolol.

🐌 What is one of your smallest writing goals?

hmm smallest in what sense? i suppose in the very short term, posting this fic i'm currently in the process of doing final edits on (it'll be out in a couple hours lol). this question is tough cuz i feel like most if not all of my writing goals are some kind of long-term practice thing =3=" i guess Get Weirder maybe counts. i've grown to really like superegos over the last few weeks since i feel like it ended up being a really interesting twist on the usual sex robot tropes (interesting to me, anyway) and i hope i can do something similar again. there's an honesty that i genuinely feel like i can't get at unless i allow my writing to be fully weird and/or off-putting to the degree that i want it to be, so. also-- really Committing to writing some proper horror. though that gets a bit into the next question...

💥Is there a chapter, scene, or WIP you're most excited to write? Share a snippet or tell us about it!

i have been Frothing at the mouth wanting to write the meronia sequel to praise the sweetness after K put the idea in my head however many months ago. thx for that. after my DJRBB fic this is my Top priority for fic writing moving forward. i fear talking about this in much more depth since i haven't gotten much down get and my ideas will inevitably change (also latent paranoia that the more i talk about something the more likely it is the fic will bury itself away to die a quiet death in my drafts. can't talk too much they can smell it and panic easily) but. yeah :)) putting mello thru the cult torment nexus 👍

also might post a little birthdaymassacre ficlet but We'll See, i'm still deciding if i want to commit to expanding on that or not.

🪩 Do you have any "good" writing habits you want to cultivate?

writing regularly!! and watching my tenses. screams. mostly just writing regularly. i think i got into a decent schedule last quarter but my classes are gonna change again after break so i'll probably have to re-figure my fic writing time again depending on how busy i get. the goal is always a little bit daily but frankly i don't invest too much in that while school is active since i don't want to totally exhaust myself or turn this into a chore that i hate. i feel like most other writing goals/improvement comes down to this though, thinking about writing means jack shit for me unless i actually try and Do It once in a while. i should also probably try to critically read my old shit to see what things i'd like to work on but, eh. we'll see.

[fics-by-em]

Amorous Facades - Chapter Eleven

A wild night out leaves the lives of Jamie Tartt and Ophelia Adams more intertwined than they ever would have imagined.

Will their decision to try and use the situation to their advantage work out in their favour or will they realize that they should have cut their losses when they had the chance?

———-

previous chapter

———-

Note: I know this chapter is a little bit late, but unfortunately that might be happening a bit more for the next little while… I have a really busy couple of weeks ahead and then I'm going on vacation for two weeks where I'll have no access to my laptop to write or post anything. Then in September I'm starting a new job. I'm still hoping to update regularly, but the once a week schedule might not be possible. I hope you can all stick with me though because I do have lots more planned for this story!

———-

During their first few days as an official couple, Lia saw less of Jamie than she had every other week since they met. When he left early the morning after their date and didn’t come home until well after dinner, she couldn’t help but let her anxiety get the best of her as she worried that he’d changed his mind or decided that convincing her to agree to be his girlfriend was enough for him to claim victory and he no longer cared now that the chase was over. The hours she’d spent alone that evening after she got home from work gave her enough time to spiral into her own thoughts until she’d worked up the courage to confront him almost as soon as he walked through the door.

She’d immediately blurted out her concerns and while Jamie was shocked at first, a smile slid onto his face once he’d managed to process her words. That only annoyed Lia even further - as she assumed he was making a joke of the whole situation - but he’d quickly put her mind at ease. He apologized for the lack of contact through the day and he explained that their final match of the season was coming up that weekend. It was very important that they won if they wanted to be promoted which meant that the team would be spending the rest of the week training hard for long days. That information simultaneously had Lia feeling relieved and embarrassed as she mumbled out an apology for her reaction and suggested they work on their communication.

Despite the smug smile on his face, Jamie had agreed and spent the rest of the evening teasing her about being so clingy, but from then on he’d made more of an effort to check in throughout the day. She appreciated his willingness to listen to her concerns and by the end of the week she was feeling much more confident in her decision to give Jamie a chance. He really was working hard to prove his dedication to her and she was powerless to resist his charm.

However, when the day of Richmond’s final match of the season came around, Lia found herself feeling nervous again. Jamie had left mid-morning to get in a warm-up with the team before the match started as usual on game day which left Lia to show up at Nelson Road alone, wondering what kind of reception she would receive. She walked slowly through the hallways as if she could delay the inevitable rejection, but it still didn’t take her long to find herself standing outside the door to Rebecca’s office and she took a deep breath to steady herself before knocking on the door.

“Come in!”

It was Rebecca’s voice that called out to her and she accepted the invitation to poke her head around the door to see her sitting on the couch with Keeley as she’d expected.

“Hi,” Lia smiled, relaxing slightly when they didn’t immediately recoil at the sight of her. “I know it’s short notice, but I was hoping I could sit with you two at the match today.”

“Yeah, of course, babe,” Keeley nodded, her enthusiasm putting her even more at ease. “Do you want some champagne?”

She held up her glass as if to demonstrate and Lia accepted the offer as she moved to sit beside her. She was trying to think of a way to bring up the elephant in the room as Keeley poured her a drink, but Rebecca beat her to it.

“So,” she started. “How’re things with Jamie?”

Considering she hadn’t talked to Keeley at all since Jamie’s confession and wasn’t entirely sure how she was feeling, Lia answered somewhat trepidatiously.

“Things are actually really good,” she admitted. “We’ve decided to give it a shot and try being in an actual relationship, not just a pretend one.”

“Oh my god,” Keeley squealed as she handed Lia a glass of champagne. “That’s amazing! I was so worried that Jamie had messed it up all by saying what he said, but he really didn’t mean it. I know Jamie and I know he didn’t, he’s just more emotional than people think and the funeral got the best of him.”

“That’s what he said and it’s been kinda hard to blindly trust him, but we went on a date a few days ago and he really put in some effort. It was nice.”

“That’s so exciting,” Keeley gushed. “And I promise there’s nothing between us now. I was so worried you wouldn’t wanna be friends anymore after what he said so I’m really glad you showed up today!”

“Me too,” Lia smiled. “I didn’t want things to be awkward and I believe that things are over between you, but I just worry that Jamie’s just desperate for affection from anyone, not necessarily from me.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Keeley rushed to assure her. “He’s different with you. He cares about you, I can see it.”

“It always seemed like more than just an act to me too,” Rebecca mused. “But tell us about this date? Where did you go?”

Lia felt her smile widen and she tried to control her enthusiasm as she launched into an explanation, grateful to finally get some womanly insight into the situation. She told them about the flowers, about the board game pub, the walk home and the little boy in the ice cream parlour. The way they ‘ooh’d and ‘awwe’d at all the right moments brought her some comfort as she still couldn’t help but feel like she’d maybe been won over a little too easily, but Keeley’s response when she was done telling her tale only strengthened her belief that giving Jamie a chance was the right choice.

“Wow, that is way more romantic than anything he ever did for me,” Keeley informed her. “He’s smitten, babe.”

“I didn’t think he had it in him,” Rebecca agreed. “But obviously he just needed to find the right person and it would seem that person is you.”

“You think so? I can’t shake the feeling that he’ll toss me aside once he’s had his fun.”

“Why on earth would you think that?”

The question came from Rebecca - her shock clear in her voice - but Lia simply shrugged.

“Because he’s Jamie Tartt and I’m just me, a dork who works in a bookstore. I don’t want him to get bored once the chase is over.”

“But you’re not boring,” Keeley assured her. “You’re fun and so sweet, Jamie is lucky to have you.”

“You think so?”

Lia cringed, knowing that low self-esteem wasn’t a particularly endearing thing, but she hoped that they would know it was a sincere question and not just a way for her to fish for compliments.

“Absolutely,” Rebecca nodded. “And from what I can see, you’re both good for each other. You definitely bring out the good in him.”

Lia felt practically giddy from their reassurance and hid her smile behind her glass of champagne as she mumbled out a ‘thank you’ before taking a sip and switching the conversation back onto Rebecca to get caught up on the gossip of her own slightly messy love life.

——

The match was a rollercoaster of emotions and Lia wondered if they always would be now that she found herself rather invested in one of the players. The first half had things looking pretty bleak and while Lia knew it wasn’t over until it was over, she was bracing herself to spend the rest of her evening trying to comfort Jamie and help him through the loss.

However, those worries vanished from her mind shortly after the second half of the match started.

It was like Richmond were a different team and they quickly picked up the slack from the first half. It was tense and exciting, but they pulled it together enough to force a tie which was all they needed to get promoted. The girls leapt to their feet the moment the match was officially over, squealing and hugging with an enthusiasm that Lia never imagined she would feel about a sporting event before she met Jamie. The team and coaches all flooded onto the pitch as they celebrated with the roaring cheers from the crowd reaching almost deafening levels and despite the newness and instability of their relationship, Lia felt a pull towards Jamie that truly surprised her.

It was like she physically needed to be near him. She could see him on the pitch being embraced by his teammates and she craved the opportunity to do the same. The pride she felt swelling in her chest took her breath away and when the boys all jumped and ran off the pitch and Keeley suggested they head down to the locker room, Lia practically bolted for the door of the box they were sitting in. She paused briefly enough to congratulate Rebecca on her team’s win, but then she darted out into the hallway with Keeley hot on her heels.

The sound of exuberant chants echoed down the halls as soon as they got down to the main floor and Lia let out a joyful giggle as Keeley swung open the door, calling out to the team as she did. Their presence seemed to heighten the already rampant celebrations as the team let out a cheer at their arrival, but Lia was more focused on her search through the crowd for Jamie. 

When her eyes finally landed on him, she felt her heart swell.

He looked relieved. He looked joyous. He looked on top of the world. And combined with his dishevelled post-match appearance, the look of success was incredibly sexy on him.

She couldn’t resist winding her way through the group until she was by his side and finally able to wrap her arms around him, finding the feel of him just as intoxicating as the sight. His strong muscles, clinging to his shirt that was damp with sweat. The deep, manly scent of his body after such an intense workout. The way he squeezed her so tight she wondered if he was ever going to let her go. It all had such a strong wave of emotion washing over her that she couldn’t stop herself from stretching up to capture his lips in a kiss.

There was a shyness to it - a moment of hesitance before she found the courage to slide her hand to the back of his neck and encourage him to dip his head - but Lia knew it was unnecessary. As far as the rest of the team was concerned, their PDA was old news. They’d been showing affection in front of the group for weeks, but it felt different now that what they had was real. The moment felt more intimate now that it wasn’t simply for show and Lia felt her cheeks growing hot as she pulled away.

“Congratulations, Jamie, you were amazing.”

“Nah, wasn’t me really,” Jamie shrugged. “Dani’s goal really sealed the deal.”

“But you let him take the shot,” she pointed out. “It was a team effort and you’ve really become a team player.”

“Thanks, babe.”

A lazy smile slid onto Jamie’s face that was so endearing that Lia found herself once again drawn to stretch up and connect their lips, but she was relieved to find that Jamie seemed to be as desperate for connection with her as she was with him as when she tried to slip out of his grasp, he tightened his arm around her waist to stop her from moving too far away.

There was a tension between them that was undeniable. It simmered through the after party in the locker room and seemed to grow with every casual touch or lingering glance. Lia felt absolutely smitten with Jamie. Seeing him in his element, celebrating after a win, bonding with the team that he’d been working so hard to prove himself too. The atmosphere amongst the group was electric and Lia was grateful to be a part of it, even more so now that she wasn’t just pretending. 

And as Jamie’s touches grew bolder, she felt it was safe to assume that he was feeling the same way about her. His hand drifting down to squeeze her bum when no one was looking, letting his thumb slip under her shirt to stroke at the skin of her lower back when his arm was settled around her waist, the way he kept leaning in close to whisper things in her ear even when such closeness wasn’t really necessary almost as if he was just looking for an excuse to let his breath wash over her skin. There was no way that Jamie couldn’t feel the spark crackling between them and crawling up his spine the way that she could.

And so - if Jamie was intent on driving her wild - she decided to return the favour.

Being seductive or flirtatiously teasing wasn’t her forte, but the beer that she was sipping on helped her find a little inspiration - both due to its contents and design. She was deep in conversation with Isaac - the team Captain - and Colin - one of his teammates - when the alcohol she’d been sipping and the burn of Jamie’s gaze on her helped the idea take shape in her mind. Nodding along to what Isaac was saying as he told her some in depth information about a play they’d been practicing, she glanced over at Jamie and made eye contact as she deliberately let the neck of the bottle rest between her lips for just a moment longer than necessary, sucking gently in a way that she hoped would be at least somewhat suggestive. She saw Jamie’s jaw clench as he watched her and she bit back a smile as she turned her attention back to the men she was talking to, but it didn’t take long for her to feel an arm slide around her waist and she didn’t even need to glance up to know that it was Jamie.

For the rest of the post-game celebration, Jamie didn’t let her out of his grasp and Lia was more than happy to stay cuddled up against his side. When the team started discussing where to move the party and which club to take the celebrations to, she was relieved when Jamie turned down the invitation and suggested that they just head home. She eagerly agreed, but was surprised that when they got into the taxi to go home, Jamie became more withdrawn. The affection that he’d been lavishing on her all night was gone as he sat on the far side of the car, focusing his gaze out the window. It was reminiscent of how they’d been when their relationship was just an act and it was a stark contrast to the way he’d been all evening.

She tried not to let her anxiety bubble to the surface and get the best of her - assuming instead that perhaps he was just tired as the adrenaline of the match started to fade away rather than that he wasn’t truly interested in her - but she was still buzzing from the way they’d been teasing each other all night. Desperate for some kind of physical touch, she reached out to take his hand and was relieved when he turned his head to flash her a smile before interlacing their fingers.

It was sometime during their drive home that Lia started formulating another idea - one that was only emboldened by the fact that Jamie announced that he was in dire need of a shower almost as soon as they walked through the door.

——

Jamie had barely been in the shower for five minutes when he heard a knock at the door before it slowly cracked open.

“Jamie? Can I come in?”

The question was tentative and only added to Jamie’s confusion. In all the time they’d lived together, neither of them had dared to enter the bathroom while the other one was showering. The glass door left nothing to the imagination and as soon as she entered the bathroom he would be fully exposed to her. It was a thought made his cock twitch despite his concern about her urgent need to talk to him. 

“Course you can,” he called back. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she squeaked as she poked her head around the door. He noted with pride that her eyes widened at the sight of him, but the next words out of her mouth left him the one feeling stunned. “I was just wondering if I could join you?”

He stared in disbelief as she shrugged the bathrobe that she’d changed into off of her shoulders and stood before him completely naked. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” he groaned. “How could I say no to that?”

After the weeks of self-restraint, he felt himself begin to stiffen just from letting his eyes roam over her body, admiring her pert breasts and soft curves that he’d been fantasizing about for so long as her cheeks flushed a deep red and she open the door that separated them. When she moved under the water to let her hands trace over his damp chest, he grew thick and heavy as his cock strained for some of her attention. He was almost scared to move or even breathe in case it snapped her out of whatever trance she’d fallen into, but as she bit her lip and mumbled out a soft yet appreciative ‘wow, Jamie’, he couldn’t help but question her.

“What’s all this about?” He asked softly, hoping he didn’t sound in any way ungrateful. “I thought you wanted to take things slow.”

“I do,” she admitted. “But I thought you deserved a little appreciation after your performance today. You were so good, Jamie. It was so amazing to watch you.”

Her words came out like a purr and the thick honey tone was all his cock needed to swell to its full potential, but he tried to stay focused as he made sure she was serious about the situation.

“S’just the job,” he choked out. “It’s nothing special.”

“It was special,” she insisted. “You were incredible. I was so proud to be wearing your jersey, for everyone in the crowd to be thinking that I’m your wife.”

The praise sent shivers down his spine as he flushed at her words, but the request that came next almost short-circuited his brain.

“Can I touch you?”

“Yes! Fuck, Lia, please.”

He answered immediately, feeling his desperation climbing quicker than he was used to. But then again, he wasn’t used to being celibate for as long as he had been and a release with someone other than his hand was very much needed. He knew that he was very close to sounding like he was begging - something he wasn’t particularly used to doing in bed - but in that moment he would have promised her anything to get her hands to slide down his stomach the way that they were. When she took him in her hand, he couldn’t hold back the moan that slid from his lips and he kept his eyes from fluttering shut just long enough to see her peering up at her from under her long eyelashes with wide eyes.

“You’re so big…” He knew he was at least a little bit above average, but the awe and delight in her voice had a wave of pride washing over him. She had an air of innocence about her despite the bold way she’d come onto him and he was finding it hard to hold himself back. However, he didn’t have to struggle with his restraint for long before she sank to her knees, staring at his cock with a hungry look in her eyes. “I can’t wait to taste you…”

She looked up at him, almost as if she was waiting for permission, but he didn’t trust his voice not to crack so he simply nodded. That was all the encouragement she needed as she eagerly took him into her mouth earning a hiss of pleasure from Jamie as his head tipped back into the warm stream of the shower. He’d had a few doubts about the level of experience that Lia had, but it was soon obvious that he had nothing to worry about because if she was unpracticed then she was a natural talent.

The warmth, the pressure, the pace that she set. It was like she knew exactly what he needed even before he did. She took him deep, gagging slightly in a way that was another little boost to his ego, but his chivalrous side came out as he let one hand slide to her the back of her head to help steady her movements and keep her comfortable. He was careful to keep his grip loose - more to guide than to control - as she clearly needed very little help from him.

He watched completely entranced as she hollowed her cheeks, sucking him so enthusiastically that it was like she was honoured to do it. As her hand drifted from his thigh to gently cup and tease his balls, an obscene sound left his mouth and he felt himself quickly heading towards a peak. He knew it hadn’t taken long and usually he would have been feeling a little more sheepish about his lack of control, but he was too wrapped up in his pleasure to care.

“Babe,” he choked out, knowing he needed to warn her before he was too far gone to form any words. “I’m close.”

The only indication that she’d heard was a slight increase of her tempo and as he felt her tongue drag pointedly along the vein on the underside of his cock, Jamie was lost in his pleasure to repeat himself. His fist clenched as his other hand tightened its grip on Lia’s hair and he resisted the urge to buck into her mouth, letting out a strangled cry as the rush of his release washed over him.

His knees felt weak as his heart raced in his chest, but even when Lia pulled away to swallow, she used her hand to gently stroke him until he came back down from his high. And once his mind began to clear, he reached down to offer her a hand and help her back to her feet.

“Fuckin’ hell, babe,” he murmured. “Where did that come from?”

“You deserved it,” she smiled. “Was it okay?”

“Okay? You were fucking amazing,” he assured her. “Didn’t expect you to be so bold.”

She blushed so hard that even her chest was flushed and a glimmer of the more trepidatious girl he was used to reappeared.

“I can be bold when I need to be.”

Based on what he’d seen so far, Jamie had no argument to that claim. There was obviously far more to Lia than he’d expected and he was excited to peel back even more of her layers.

“Yeah? Well, so can I,” he informed her. “How about we get out of this shower and I can return the favour?”

She bit her lip as his words made her shiver against him, but to his surprise she shook her head.

“No, it’s okay,” she assured him. “Tonight was about you.”

“You don’t want me to? It should be about both of us. You were just saying what a team player I am.”

His words were said with a smirk and he felt Lia giggle as she leaned her head against his chest.

“You are, but I didn’t expect any reciprocation. I just wanted to do something special for you.”

“Touching you would be pretty special too.” He slid his hand down to cup the cheek of her bum, revelling in the feel of her smooth skin and noting the way she turned her body slightly when he gave it a little squeeze, almost as if she was opening herself up to him. “But you didn’t answer my question. Do you want me to?”

She whimpered in response as Jamie let his hand drift over the curve of her hip, but he waited and simply rubbed his thumb against her skin until she gave him proper confirmation.

“Yes…”

It was a short response, but it was almost as desperate as Jamie's earlier plea and after her efforts to bring him pleasure, Jamie wasn’t going to make her ask twice.

Sliding his hand lower, he was somewhat surprised to find that the skin between her legs was bare. It was a detail that escaped his notice when she’d first dropped her robe, but now his mind had been cleared by his release, it caught his attention and he shelved the thought for another time to avoid embarrassing her or doing anything that might cause her to make him stop his exploration. Instead, he stayed quiet as his hand dipped lower until she parted her legs to grant him more access and the wetness he found between them had another groan falling from his lips.

“Fuck, babe, you’re soaked,” he informed her, as if she might be unaware. “Is this all for me?”

He stroked her gently, letting his fingers trail just beside the sensitive bud that he knew would be desperate for his attention as she murmured out a soft ‘mhmm’. He could feel her hand gripping his bicep as he watched her eyes drift shut and a moan slipped from her lips as he let a finger dip gently inside her. She was tight and the thought of the muscles that were gripping his finger being wrapped around his cock was almost enough to have him twitching back to life, but he kept his focus on her as he paid attention to the movements that earned him coos of pleasure or gasps of encouragement. It wasn’t long before he added another finger to his explorations, enjoying the way she stretched around him as his thumb came to settle finally on the bundle of nerves he’d been carefully avoiding. The sound she made at the contact was one of pure bliss and had Jamie feeling desperate to see her fall apart under his touch.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he groaned. “Let go for me, baby. Wanna see you cum, wanna feel it.”

His encouragement had her whimpering again, but he could tell from the quick rise and fall of her chest and the way her nails were digging into his skin that she was close. He kept his movements steady and it only took a few more moments for her to come undone, letting out a moan that sent shivers down his spine as he felt her clench around him. He coaxed her through it until she was quivering him against him when he slowly moved his hand away.

She clung to him, but as her breathing steadied and he felt her heartbeat slow in her chest, he realized the water washing over them was starting to get cold.

“Let’s get out of here.”

The words were murmured into her hair and he felt her nod as she stumbled away from him as if she was in a daze. He smirked, knowing that if she was shaken now she would be absolutely wrecked when he was able to really take his time with her, but he also knew that she seemed sincere when she insisted that she still wanted to take things slow. Considering she’d just given him far more than he’d expected to get anytime soon, he was more than happy to respect her wishes and he turned off the water before grabbing a towel and following her out of the bathroom, eager not to let her too far out of his sight.

-----

chapter twelve

[love-fireflysong]

Got tagged by @queenofbaws like 6 seconds ago to do this thing and because I'm currently trying SUPER hard to stay awake for at least another three hours to get me back on a 'normal' sleep schedule for the next week and a half, we're doing this shit now! ...and also because if I don't do it now then I'll just forget about it and never do it asjdhkjahsdkjs

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

59! Not a bad total all things considered 😤

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

337,514. That's an average of 5,720 words per fic btw akjdshjkahsd

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Until Dawn mostly. Got a decent amount of Tales of Phantasia stuff as well as a lot of ideas for it but cause that fandom is even deader than ud's, I never actually write any of it lmao

4. Top five fics by kudos

Valentine's Day Prompts (crossed out because while it's *technically* my highest I do not count it for the sole reason that like literally not even ten minutes after I uploaded it I got like 50+ guest kudos all at once so those are clearly bots and the correct kudos count is probably somewhere between 20 and 30 lol) What I actually consider my top five fics by kudos are:

The Final Days of Our Youth

More Than Worth It (though considering it was posted only barely a week after the vday prompts the kudos may be a bit suspect here as well 🤔)

Nothing and Nobody But You

The Sound of Silence

Baby It's Cold Outside (so hold me tight in your arms and don't let go)

5. Do you respond to comments?

I did/do. And by that I mean I love to, but the last couple of years I've been letting the few I've gotten pile up due to not being in a good headspace to answer/I've just been really busy at that exact moment. Which is important, cause if I don't have the time to respond then and there, I will just keep forgetting to reply. Which is how I've reached the point where I have almost 2 year old comments that I want to respond to but I feel like shit answering them now 2 years later, and let me tell you the feeling does NOT get any less guilty the longer I wait to respond aksjdhkajsdhjk

(maybe I should use this time to answer them while I try to stay awake lmao)

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hmmmm. I mean, technically the one I'm writing now? It's probably between Winter is Death and Not Only Monsters Hide Under the Bed where one fic involves Hannah slowly losing her free will as she spends a year with the Makkapitew taking over her body and the other is about a little girl hiding from the people sent to kill her village but being found and killed just before her brother got home to save her.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

...Somehow, this is the harder of the two to answer aksdjkjahsdkjashd uh.... pretty much any chrashley focus fic where the ending involves them actually confessing and getting together I guess? But if I have to chose one, I think The Final Days of Our Youth cause it's chrashley confessing and getting together, but also repairing their friendship that Chris very nearly torpedoed cause he's an avoidant moron.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Surprisingly no! Thankfully anyone who does not like the ships I write for does not read my fics and thus does not leave comments. And if there us people out there who just do not vibe with my writing style (understandable) they've just clicked back and not responded either.

9. Do you write smut?

Once! I did it once and only once because I just really, really wanted to read about an awkward and clumsy first time between Chris and Ashley and that, uh, did not exist. So I (unfortunately for everyone lol) took it upon myself to write it. That being said, because it is smut, it is unsurprisingly the one fic I can always count on getting a new kudos or bookmark on every now and then.

And I will probably never write another one again sorry not sorry lol.

10. Craziest crossover?

I mean the only crossovers I've ever done is my Outlast au stuff but I don't really consider that a 'crazy' crossover lol.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of! Like I'm not even sure that they've been scrapped by AI sites. Not sure why anyone would want to steal my fics in the first place though honestly.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I mean, no one's ever asked so I assume not? If they did though than all the power to them.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope! Never been asked and never asked anyone lol.

14. All time favourite ship?

I mean, Chris/Ashley easily, though Chris/Josh/Ashley is a *very* close second lol. (Chester/Arche is also a very close third but no one other than me here knows who they even are so askldjaslkdjsa)

15. What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Oh god, the actual main outlast au fic that really delves into how the initial prank on Hannah snowballed into climbing chrash being thrust into experiencing the events of the Outlast video game. Except that's not a wip I've even started despite all the notes and timelines in my head 😭

16. What are your writing strengths?

I do think dialogue is my strongest strength personally. I think it flows fairly naturally, to the point where I've sometimes gotten stuck on a scene and switching over to some dialogue either earlier on or just throwing a line in randomly will just unstick *something* in the brain and my creativity output stops being a blockage and returns to it's trickle aksjdhaskdhj

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Literally everything else? Descriptions. I just feel like I can't describe things very well and so I'm always worried that my writing tends to read flat because of it.

Also, due to being told that I'm a waste of space, stupid, ugly, blah blah blah by like 99% of my classmates from like grade 1 to grade 9 my self-esteem when it comes to shit like this is unsurprisingly pretty fucking abysmal! So every time I go to post something new I spend way too long hovering over that upload button convinced that this is the fic that will convince everyone that I'm actually a terrible writer and they won't like me anymore lol

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

Never had to use it before myself but it's neat when done... not right or well but, like, done to achieve something you've planned out. I'm not sure what ways I would use it myself, I think it would depend on what use I need it to have in the story itself.

19. First fandom you wrote in?

Oh Class of the Titans easy. Inuyasha is where I discovered fanfiction, but CotT is what inspired me to try it out for myself (my first attempt was uh, not great aksdjklasjdlkasj)

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Oh god, there's a tough question lol. Uh, probably between Baby It's Cold Outside (so hold me tight in your arms and don't let go) and Artificial though. Both are my babies, but Baby It's Cold Outside is the fic that finally started me writing again regularly since middle school after a like almost ten year drought. And Artificial is the one where I finally got to really sink my teeth into what makes my outlast au actually outlast and really get to experience a bunch of shit I had never really written before (torture (physical and psychological), whump, body trauma) and it turns out it was a lot of fun sdlkajsldkjaslkdj

Oh god I have to tag people to do this now don't I? Uhhhhh, @chris-hartley, @icequeen-07, @hannahwashington, @eurazba but if there's anyone else who follows me that wants to do this than please by all means go ahead! Share your work with the rest of us 💖

[violetjedisylveon]

Adjusting

Summary: Ahsoka and Kaeden adjust to their duties in the early rebellion and their month old daughter while Ahsoka grapples with the fallout of her pregnancy.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Post partum cramps, post partum depression, pain, blood, menstrual blood. Breast feeding and lactation are mentioned. And lots of lovey dovey fluff!

A/N: All of the post partum stuff waited a bit to hit and last longer than they should for a normal pregnancy for reasons. I did do my research on the topic back when I wrote this, so I know what happens after pregnancy. It's not pretty. Most of this chapter comes from Kaeden's perspective.

Kaesoka child AU link here.

________________________________________________________________________________

Kaeden turned the alarm off before it could wake Ahsoka. It was feeding time for Padmé.

She picked the tiny infant up out of her bedside crib and gently roused her. The soft glow of night vision eyes told her the little girl was awake.

"Morning sweetie, it's feeding time." She whispered softly.

Padmé yawned and nuzzled into her warm mother. Kaeden patted her back and went to the feeding chair. She found a cradle hold most comfortable for feeding. Ahsoka prefered a laying down position which was easier on her, especially for night feedings.

She lifted up the flap of her nursing shirt and let her daughter latch on.

It was the weirdest thing, while Ahsoka had been gone, Kaeden had noticed her own body acting as though it were pregnant or expecting. She never developed any baby bump or those parts of a pseudo pregnancy. She'd done a few scans on herself to see what was going on and the results told her that her body just decided it needed to prepare for lactation.

To say she was confused, was saying the least. She'd been completely dumbfounded by the whole experience and decided to consult the translated copies of the nightsister books in Ahsoka's possession, since that was how they found out exactly what was going on in the first place. A part her wife had missed the first look was that this sort of pregnancy affected all partners, while one would carry and do the normal pregnancy stuff, except faster, and the others would have their body think it was having a baby that they needed milk for.

So, in an alarming turn of events, Kaeden, although she hadn't been pregnant, was producing milk for their daughter. She'd told Ahsoka, and they shared the feeding duties. She knew Ahsoka was grateful for the breaks, her cramps would sometimes get worse when feeding.

It was an adjustment for both of them, to say the least, they tried making a feeding schedule but ended up settling on whoever was closest or most awake or most rested to take the next feeding.

Their whole situation was a big adjustment.

Kaeden looked down at Padmé, she was slowing down. Kaeden rocked gently, easing her daughter back to sleep.

It wasn't a situation she'd change for anything, well, she'd definitely convince Ahsoka to give birth here instead of whatever frozen backwater she went to if she had the chance.

She glanced over at Ahsoka's sleeping form. Unfortunately, Ahsoka had to deal with postnatal cramps, she could see the discomfort on her wife's face from here.

I'll go get her a pain relief pill. She left their room quietly with Padmé.

XXX

Ahsoka woke up with a powerful and painful cramp, she groaned and waited for it to pass. Her Jedi training surprisingly came in handy for this, it helped her focus on other things and ignore the pain.

However, her focus landed on the cold wetness on her sheets.

She was leaking, again.

She rolled over to get out of bed and change her shirt and maybe get the extra sheet she'd been sleeping with since returning. But then another cramp hit her and she decided to stay put.

Very quickly, she noticed the absence of warmth in her bed. Kaeden was gone.

Maybe she caught it before me and-! The alarm went off, so Padmé needed a feeding. Odd, it felt like more than two hours she'd been asleep.

Ahsoka begrudgingly hauled herself out of bed, then she noticed Padmé was gone too. Kaeden must be feeding her. Ahsoka realised.

She was content with that and settled back down into bed.

The door opened quietly, the mattress dipped, Kaeden's warm hand brushed her shoulder.

"Soka, I've got you a pain relief." Kaeden whispered.

Ahsoka rolled over and took the pill from her wife. Kaeden was holding Padmé, her hunch had been correct.

"You feed Padmé?" She asked in a soft murmur.

"Yep, she's fed, I'll take the next feeding too." Kaeden told her.

"M'kay." Ahsoka was too tired to argue with her wife right now.

Keaden leaned over and planted a few small kisses on her cheek.

"Get some rest, Soka, you deserve it." Kaeden whispered.

Ahsoka drifted back to sleep with the comforting sound of her wife's steady heartbeat.

XXX

Kaeden heard something break, then shouting and cursing from the kitchen. She popped her head around the corner to see what had happened.

Ahsoka was standing in the kitchen with half a broken bowl on the counter, the other half was on the floor with the splattered batter mixture. Her face was flushed and she was sniffling. She looked up to Kaeden and offered a weak smile.

"Hi Kay." She gave a little wave, then she started crying.

"Oh Soka, what's wrong? What happened?" Kaeden strode across the kitchen and let Ahsoka cry into her.

She didn't speak for a while, Kaeden was content to stay with her in silence.

"Fuck. Kaeden, I'm so tired." Ahsoka muttered.

"How can I help you?" Kaeden asked.

Ahsoka frowned.

"I don't know, I just- there's so much going on with the baby and the bleeding and the hormones flying all over the place and all the postnatal stuff that decided it could wait till I was back to start showing up and and, just everything! I feel like I'm drowning!" Ahsoka shouted.

Padmé, who was seated in her carrier, the only thing they had that would be easy to carry around everywhere, at the table, suddenly woke up. Her face scrunched up and she started crying. 

"Fuck." Ahsoka groaned

Kaeden left her wife briefly and went to sooth the bawling infant. She lifted Padmé out of the carrier, cradling her in her arms close to her chest and rocking back and forth lightly.

She could see Ahsoka watching her from the corner of her eye, she knew Ahsoka was already feeling guilty for waking their daughter up.

"'m sorry Kay." Ahsoka murmured.

"It's fine, we'll clean it up and Padmé will be back to sleep in no time. It's not your fault." Kaeden told her wife, pressing a gentle kiss onto her cheek.

Truthfully, she doubted that the shouting had woken Padmé up, since the infant had slept through the breaking bowl. She assumed it was a response to Ahsoka's emotions more than anything else, the little one was Force sensitive.

"Don't worry Soka, we'll get the hang of this in no time." She said, hoping to encourage Ahsoka.

Ahsoka just gave her an unconvinced nod. She'd have to get better at convincing her.

XXX

Kaeden heard water running and sloshing in the fresher as she finished drying out her hair from her shower. Padmé cooed sleepily, it was almost time for bed, for both of them. Managing a ship, rebel duties and a newborn was beyond exhausting. She was so grateful for Zevra and Rinu and all the desperately needed help they gave. She smiled down at her daughter, patting her fuzzy head before knocking on the fresher door.

"Soka? You in there?" Kaeden asked.

She got a soft sound of conformation. Kaeden slipped in and shut the door softly. She could smell blood, and didn't even need to look to know where it was coming from.

Ahsoka's postnatal cramps were certainly a bitch.

A bloody fucking bitch.

Ahsoka was laying in the tub with her head resting against the edge, the water was tainted red. Instead of gently reminding Ahsoka that she shouldn't lay in the tub while her cervix was still somewhat dilated, as she probably should have, Kaeden just sat down next to the tub. She knew Ahsoka had just wanted to lay down and not be standing.

Ahsoka was tired, so tired. Her bright eyes were dulled with exhaustion, she had big bags under her eyes. She hardly registered Kaeden's presence, only glancing at her a few times.

"I'll feed Padmé and get her to bed if you want a few more minutes, Soka." Kaeden whispered.

Ahsoka didn't offer much of a response, only giving a small nod of acknowledgement. Kaeden left as quietly as she could manage. She settled in the rocking chair and let Padmé feed, rocking occasionally to lull the infant to sleep.

Padmé yawned a few times, Kaeden burped her, and waited for her to fall asleep. She set Padmé down in her crib, swaddled in the purple star blanket that was undoubtedly her favorite, then went back to the fresher to check on Ahsoka.

Her wife was still sitting there in the slightly bloody water. Dull, tired eyes glanced over at her, Kaeden smiled a bit.

"Soka, I think it's time to sleep, you look really tired." Kaeden said softly.

Ahsoka sighed and slowly sat up, Kaeden turned the water on low so she could help Ahsoka rinse off. She gently poured warm water over Ahsoka until the tint of red was washed away. She retrieved a chilled pad for Ahsoka and helped her dry off. It was fine if Ahsoka was tired, too tired to properly take care of herself at the end of a long day, Kaeden didn't mind doing it for her.

Suddenly, Ahsoka spoke.

"… I'm sorry Kay…"

Kaeden shot her wife a confused stare.

"Whatever for?" She asked.

"I'm sorry I can't do anything, I feel like I've hardly done anything since I got back and you have been doing everything I should be doing. I feel so disorganized and scattered, I can hardly focus long enough to get anything done, I'm just worrying about everything for no reason and I'm so stupid tired all the time. I can't do anything and half the time I'm hardly even here, I'm always thinking and worrying and tired and it doesn't make any sense!" Ahsoka erupted, quickly wincing at the accidental shouting.

"I'm sorry that you have to do everything for me. I'm trying. I'm really, really trying. I don't know what's wrong with me." Ahsoka murmured.

Kaeden took a second to gather her words. She had never been the greatest with words, in her own opinion.

"Soka, there's nothing wrong with any of that, it's normal to be tired and have anxiety like you do after giving birth, it's all normal." She said.

"And I don't mind having to take care of you, I like taking care of you. You were always running around, working yourself into the ground and trying to take care of everyone else before, you never let me take care of you." Kaeden took one of Ahsoka's hands in hers.

"You don't need to apologize, I really don't mind, and you just went through one of the weirdest pregnancies ever, it would be wrong of me to be upset with you for the fallout of that, especially when I wasn't affected the same way as you were. You don't need to worry Ahsoka, I wouldn't stop loving you if you annoyed me for a bit." Kaeden leaned forwards and pressed a small kiss onto Ahsoka's forehead.

"I love you, and I love everything that comes with you, good and bad, I can find a way to love it all. I'll always be here when you need me, you'll never chase me away." Kaeden murmured, her lips brushing against Ahsoka's skin.

"C'mon, let's go to bed."

She helped Ahsoka out of the tub and into a pair of fresh clothes. She did mean everything she had said, she loved everything about Ahsoka, from her protective worry to her inspiring courage and everything else in between. While some things did frustrate her, like Ahsoka's stubbornness, it wasn't that much of a problem and she loved that stubbornness too.

She led Ahsoka to bed and laid down with her, once she got Padmé's crib attached to the bed so the baby could roll over to them if she wished. She wrapped her arms around Ahsoka and murmured soft, encouraging words between gentle kisses, as Ahsoka had done with her right after Raada. Well, not the kissing.

"Don't worry Soka, we'll get the hang of this, it'll just take time, but we'll get there." Kaeden whispered.

Ahsoka nodded and mumbled something, she was already half asleep. Kaeden smiled at her sleeping wife.

"I love you Soka, sleep tight." She gave Ahsoka a final kiss before letting herself go to sleep.

________________________________________________________________________________

Poor Ahsoka, she's going through some rough times. Good thing she has Kaeden! And Zevra and Rinu. Also Bail definitely gave her a good maternity leave, but Ahsoka can't sit still and is doing stuff anyway.

Also Kaeden and Ahsoka shifted from calling each other girlfriend and partner to wife because, they've got a kid now so why not?

I think next chapter I'm gonna have Bail visit to lend the Fulcrums Artoo and see the baby! It's probably gonna be a bit of a shorter chapter, like how this was.

I hope you all have a good day, whatever that is for you!

VJS Out!

[polandspringz]

bday musings 1/9/25

This is my first birthday out of school completely. Like out of college into working class world. It's a bit weird because working an office job (just switched careers from the hellish job I took right out of college for 6 months) feels roughly the same as being in school. But back to the more structured school than college that I'm not used to for a while. I go to a place for 8 hours a day, try and find things to look busy, and go home for a few hours before I have to wake up the next day. I got special food + cake and played a video game and watched some shows, but besides that it's nothing big. There's no time for something big, not with so much of the day eaten up from work, and there being work again tomorrow. And since I'm at a new job and still learning things/getting acquainted with my coworkers, its not like anyone knew. There's no conversations to be had- no way to bring it up naturally. What usually happens with jobs/school is a few weeks or months out, I'll witness what happens for someone else's birthday. Maybe they WILL do something special for them, will know it from working with them for years, and I'll think "ah, this is what it would've been like". Or it could be a simple mention in a week or so of someone else's birthday, and the conversation will inevitably turn to "oh, when is YOUR birthday, by the way?" and I have to play it off when I calmly say a date that was so soon ago, and they realize it just passed, and the awkwardness seeps in.

When I got home from work, I thought about a memory from elementary school. In my Spanish class, on our birthdays our teacher gave out a sticker. It was my birthday, and I was looking forward to it finally being my turn to get the special sticker, and the other kids in class knew it was my birthday too. I was too shy to bring it up myself, so one of my friends tried to tell the teacher, but there was something happening that day (some homework or lesson) and she was distracted, and so we didn't have time to bring it up. I remember my friend looking at me apologetically when class ended before I could be given the sticker. I think it more speaks to my nature to overthink things/hold grudges, whatever you want to call this, for the fact I still think about this event some decade and a half later.

Last year on my birthday I posted some musings that were much more negative, upset. I still feel those things, to be honest. I still wish I could make it a BIG day, have a whole party, invite my friends, be the center of attention. But life always gets in the way. I feel like my birthday NEVER falls on weekends, always on weekdays, and always away from Fridays. Couple that with a winter birthday, and living in the east coast, and the weather makes it near impossible to do anything fun. And now that we're all adults, its all work schedules and other things getting in the way. And the problem is I'm still too shy to speak up, or still too passive to make the effort to do things on my own. The problem is I am always the one planning things, doing things for others, so I always wish that, even though I'm sure its impossible to do because of my schedule being crazy in its own way, I wish that I could have like- a surprise party or something. Or just be told "hey leave this date open, you'll see why" and not have to plan things myself, just show up and be the center of attention with no effort expended on my part. I'm definitely the self-centered type, but I do wish my birthday could be like me being a princess, just everyone surrounding me and fawning over me- because the reality of the connection I do get on the day is so empty. Talking to deaf ears and reading messages on a phone screen. And the one person you really wish did message you forgets too- even though they technically "messaged" you about it earlier in the week, by mentioning your birthday was coming up- but to my brain it doesn't really count because they didn't say the actual words/phrase "Happy Birthday" or do it on the exact day.

And then its my own fault for wrecking any possible plans for the weekend. Although I only made the decision to make solo plans because my friends were too busy. But now by planning to go somewhere by myself, I've cut off all other possible avenues of possibilities. We say we'll reschedule our hang out or celebrations to a later date, but I don't know why, but I just get... really hung up about stuff- the celebration, the happy birthday messages, everything- happening on the actual date. I guess it's like I become an afterthought, have to be shuffled around, that feeling. And it feels like the day that I always see others get to celebrate and have things go perfectly for, is always in the way on my calendar.

Anyway, I'm 24 now. Been on this website for 12 years now.

[contumacious-arcadia]

Thinking more about this and I'm likely going to be on a little hiatus until after the holidays. I'm a bit stressed and still not feeling well and trying to keep up with my writing schedule on top of everything going on is very stressful. I would have to write in stops and starts, and that's not how I like to work. I generally sit down and knock out a whole chapter at once, and that takes quite a few dedicated hours at a time - much more when I add in proofreading and editing.

I apologize, especially since the last chapter of WASCA ended on a cliffhanger, but I like to put out work I'm proud of and I just don't think the quality would be there if I tried to write a paragraph here and there - especially since so many plot threads are meant to come together in these chapters. Not giving writing my full concentration will definitely end with me missing something important.

I'll still post the next chapter if I get a good solid block of time where I can give it my full attention, but otherwise, the next chapter will be posted after Christmas is over.

Either way, I'm so excited to share the next few chapters with you once I'm done with them. I had some amazing artwork commissioned for it and I think you're all going to love it! (Can't post it on tumblr because of *spoilers*)

Thank you for your patience 💜💜💜

Hello everyone, I know it's been a few days. I haven't forgotten about WASCA, I'm just really not feeling well and not up to writing at the moment. I'll publish the next chapter as soon as I'm able 💜

[fakeloveaskblog]

(Hi, me again. Sorry about the wait the notification didn’t go through so I only saw the notification for the drawing and not the ask.)

Hi Remus, I’m sure I could find his address for you. One sec… done! It’s *insert address*. If you want I could keep an eye on him while you go there, and stall him if he comes home early.

I could make every traffic light go red if he’s driving? Or make it take ages for the green man to appear if he’s walking? I could even teleport him to Australia for a few hours if necessary? Just let me know what you need.

Glow Eyes

(I am very tired so I am posting this without proofreading fyi)

Remus stopped you right before you were able to say the address "I don't wanna know yet. As soon as Remy gets out then tell me. I'm kinda scared that if I know the adress now some stupid part of my brain will take over and I'll go over there all alone"

He listened to the rest of your message before trying on a smile.

"Apreciated if you would stall him yeah. I don't- I don't want him to know so like no" He waved his hands around while searching for words "No obvious teleportation magic shit"

"I suggest a sudden bout of intense migranes" Janus said.

"Oh yeah maybe some diareha" Remus immediately shot back. A nervous laugh suddenly tickled out from his lips as he combed his hand through his hair "Or I mean- Who am I kidding- He doesn't...I don't think he even thinks about me anymore. I- He wouldn't think I would- He doesn't"

Remus' eyes staggered and he stared out into air for a few slow seconds before he let out another more shrill laugh and rubbed his eyes so agressivly his skin turned a bit red.

"I think I gotta go for today. I got lots of like evil planning. Torture. Stuff to do"

He gave Remy a quick hug goodbye and kissed their cheek before leaving just as suddenly as he had gotten there.

"You think we should like follow him?" Remy asked.

Janus started to shuffle the playing cards again while replying "He'll tell us if space isn't what he wants"

--

With a few well placed lies Janus had managed to get out of work an hour earlier so he could visit Remy before the visiting time stopped for the day. They were leaving rehab tomorrow so he wanted to help them back.

The blinds were down, all of the lights and the roommate was nowhere to be seen when Janus got to the room. He made sure to quiet his steps as he walked up to the bed. Remy was laying in a crooked position on their stomach with a heating pad placed between their shoulder blade.

One of their eyes half opened and they shone up into a slight smile when they saw their partner "Hi babe"

Janus took a step over a half packed bag to get down under the covers next to them. Remy buried their head against the crook of his neck almost instantly.

"Think the therapy session triggered like some stupid shit fibro flair up. Spine pain time" They muttered out.

"Your spine is as strong as a cigarette in the rain deary" Janus replied dryly.

"Tell me bout your like day"

"I quite literally just went to work"

"I still wanna hear" Remy closed their eyes and let their arm move around his waist.

--

Remus was absolutely adamant that he would carry Remy's bags for them. He and Janus patiently waited as both of their's partner signed off all of the papers with the doctors and got the schedule for their therapy sessions.

As they took their first steps out of the rehab center they didn't stop to take in the moment, nor did they take a deep breathe or any sort of indication of relief. They simply looked up at the sun while putting on their sunglasses before continuing with the other two towards the closest busstop.

According to Remus his place was kind of a mess right now. Full of paint fumes and instalation testings and he had already stained half of his clothes so Remy had decided to stay with Janus for the time being.

Remy kissed Remus goodbye and Janus hugged him before the two of them jumped off the bus. Right before they got to his apartment Jan made some snarky comment about carrying them over the doorstep. He'd made sure move any alcohol he had over to Logan's place a few days ago.

"Hiiii Ms. Carl. Looking great as always girlie" Remy said while holding their hnd against the snake's vivarium.

Janus moved his arms around them from behind and leant on his toes so he could kiss their cheek. They laid their cold hands on top of his and looked up to the ceiling. The sound of a washer going on full speed came from an apartment over.

"The walls are thin as hell" Remy muttered out.

"It's alright as long as they're not watching sports"

A shudder went along Remy's spine finalizing in a shaky breathe. Even though the knew it was Janus they could practically feel Virgil's breathe against their cheek. The snarled out words to stay quiet or else the neighbors would hear. Stop complaining like some crybaby or they would get chewed out by the lady next door again.

"Sorry- I tink I gotta like lay down- Another flair up" They stuttered out.

Janus gave them another soft kiss before letting go "Any suggestions for dinner? I had been thinking something like a salad"

--

The next morning Remy woke up smothered in what felt like an entire ocean of a bed. A pillow had fallen on top of their head and when they moved it away they noticed that the sheets had gotten all wrinkled from having two people on it. There was a dull pain in their joints but it wasn't anything above normal.

They reached out and felt Janus' skin against their fingertips which made their brain feel all warm and fuzzy.

"Shhh. My alarm hasn't gone yet" Janus whispered out with their eyes still closed.

Remy stayed quiet but their legs kicked back and forth under the blanket. They noticed a smile creeping up on Janus' lips which made them break out into giggles that they quickly tried to supress.

"Shh shh we're sleeping" He murmured in a fake serious tone before quickly leaning in to kiss them.

"Oooh yeahh girl sorry. Gotta get my ZZZZs on"

They exchanged kisses between laughter like sharing ghost stories under a blanket. Until they were making out and fingers became intertwined with hair and a hand coylu searched for the wamth of a thigh.

The alarm rang cutting their kissing off. Janus muttered out some snarky comment under their breathe while rolling their eyes before reaching out and turning it off. They moved to the edge of the bed while rubbing their eyes.

Remy stayed in bed and streatched out their aching wrists while Janus left the room. They came back with a glass of water and their partner's meds. Both the E pills and the ones for the fibro.

"Thanks babe"

"I think your skin has gotten a bit softer" Janus said casually while holding out the glass of water.

Remy stared down into the glass while their feet began to tap aggresivly "oH rEALLY!!? You think it's cause' of the like hormones?"

"It would be fascinating if it was because of something else"

"You- You don't think it's like a bad change right?"

"No" They replied bluntly.

Remy smiled to themself while taking the meds "I was thinking of going to some coffee shop to like work on Rowan's tailoring. It's to like get out of the house y'know"

"Could you go and buy some eggs as well? If you have the spoons?"

"'Course babe"

The two of them held hands on the bus while Janus read the newspaper and Remy checked a gossip site. Jan got off a few stops before them. They wanted to go to a coffee shop they'd never been to with Virgil before. They didn't even order any of their usual drinks. They ordered a random one just because the name slightly reminded them of some silly vocal stim Remus would do.

They listened to some podcast episode that their boyfriend had recommended to them because it was about creating horror garments for film while working away on the tailoring.

Every time someone with a black hoodie or crooked posture walked past them they flinched and had to stop because their heart was racing. A few times they had to go outside and smoke just to be able to calm their racing thoughts.

It wasn't pleasant. The thoughts weren't. The paranoia. The panic. Their whole body being so on edge it made the pain even worse. They tried not to think it but they missed being high.

They tried to remind themself that they hadn't been able to be with Janus like this when they were high out of their mind all of the time. Not this calm. For once when they looked at Janus they hadn't seen any glimpse of worry reflect back on them.

Remy tapped the end of their lighter against the table while glancing around. They made themself smaller and lowered their voice to a whisper as they said.

"Anyone here?" Out towards you "I know you got like crazy ass like ghost powers and shit and I just I just wanna like make sure you like promise me you never summon any of That stuff for me even if I'm like begging" They glanced around the coffee shop again to see that no one had heard them talking to the wall "I don't wanna like hurt anyone else by hurting myself"