#maybe just need to write something and see how it goes

[pomefioredove]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ requiem of a cringe

did something embarrassing last night and was like "I need to go crawl in a hole and die. OR I could write"

type of post: blurbs characters: cater, rook, jack, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral (the term "damsel in distress" is used in vil's part, but it's meant to be teasing and not indicative of the reader's gender), reader is yuu, rook is rook

I. Talks Too Much

It's not that you're trying to be annoying.

Your mouth simply moves faster than your mind, and before you know it, you've been talking for twenty uninterrupted minutes about... well... nothing.

You always notice that uncomfortable, irritated look on their face just after you're done. And then you keep rambling in an attempt to make it less awkward (it never does).

And now you're here, hiding in the hedge maze outside Heartslabyul, thinking about getting lost and never coming out of it.

Of course, if anyone were to find you now, it'd be him.

"Hey, hon~ you busy?"

"Please, not now, Cater," you mutter.

The boy stills, looking a little taken aback by how miserable you sound.

"Are you still upset about that thing at the Unbirthday Party? That was hours ago, babe! I bet no one even remembers,"

You physically cringe. The faces of your uncomfortable tablemates won't seem to leave your memory...

"I remember it," you murmur, burying your face in your hands. "I'm so annoying."

For once, Cater is quiet. A minute goes by, and you think he may have left, until you hear the grass crunching under his knees as he kneels down and pulls you into a hug.

"You are not annoying. And even if you were, it'd only make me like you more," he mutters, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"Understand?"

Your surprise at his change in tone doesn't stop you from hugging back. "Understood,"

You hadn't meant to say all of that.

You just spilled a potion you'd been working on for hours, and amidst your frustrated floor-scrubbing, you had vented about your entire week to your poor lab partner, a person you had been trying to impress all semester.

He had, gracefully, let you finish your rant, and then let you sit in it, just like the harmless potion now coating your knees as you cleaned up the floor.

Then, he awkwardly said: "That... sucks. I guess. I don't know what to say,"

There had probably never, in your whole life, been a person who looked more unhappy to be around you.

Afterwards, you found a nice spot in the woods behind campus to die.

You lie there, hoping nature would reclaim you before next alchemy class, when some purposefully loud rustling in the bushes catches your eye.

"Ah, Trickster! You really should not lie like that- a predator will take that as weakness, non? Are you injured?"

"Only my pride,"

"Talking about it will make you feel better," Rook says. It's more of a demand than a question.

You sigh. "I think I've done enough talking for... ever, actually,"

"Nonsense," he suddenly straddles your waist and pins your wrists to the earth. "I will not move until you tell me the problem, mon cœur."

You're like an animal in a snare. Once Rook has made up his mind, that's it. He will find out.

And so, with a sigh, you let him take the kill- that is, you tell him everything. Your whole, terrible week, the potion incident, the look on your lab partner's face...

When you're done, he's just. Smiling. "I see now. You are embarrassed,"

"Well... yes. You don't think that's embarrassing?"

He beams. "You are simply overflowing with beautiful emotion and passion for la vie! How could I ever find that embarrassing? You and I are not so different,"

In a weird way, that makes sense. Rook is never one to let shame hold him back from expressing his feelings.

He smiles at your pensive expression, and gives you a kiss on the head.

"Mais, next time you are upset, maybe you should come to me first, non?"

II. Clumsy

Forgetful, scatterbrained, oblivious, dimwitted are all words you've become used to hearing.

As well as a few colorful swears.

You have two left feet, even when you're not dancing- you're used to walking into walls, tripping, and dropping things- it just sucks that you have an audience now.

The first years that had gathered around the mess you made- tripping over your own feet and spilling the papers you were meant to deliver to Ace and Deuce all over the floor- are watching with grins and phones out.

You pretend they're not there, even with their taunts and whistles and laughter.

"Hey! Loitering is a waste of time!" someone barks. Literally.

You look up to see Jack moving through the crowd, scolding the other first years for blocking the hall.

When he sees you in the eye of the storm, on your hands and knees picking up your spilled papers, something upset takes his usually-stoic demeanor.

"What's the matter with you?!" he snarls at the boys. "Didn't anyone teach you any manners?! It's rude to stare- and laugh!"

His ears are flattened against his head when he kneels down beside you to help, collecting the papers, and putting them in your hands.

"Come on, we'll be late if you keep 'sittin there,"

Jack pulls you to your feet and gives one final snarl to the other first years before walking you off.

"...Thanks,"

"Eh? Don't mention it," he says. "Leona woulda had my tail if I just walked by..."

You know there's more to it than that, but you don't push. You're just happy he's forgotten to take his hand out of yours.

You can't handle being the center of attention.

For good reason, too- you're awkward, clumsy, and about the least graceful a person can get.

A true Ugly Duckling at a place like NRC. But Vil Schoenheit sees the swan in you. Perhaps that's why he's always been so patient and sweet.

It's a little distracting.

So much is obvious when he waves at you in the hall and, distracted by his smile, you walk right into a wall.

Though you can't see anything but stars after falling on your butt, the stares and snickers of everyone else are hard to miss.

Vil glares them away with a look that could kill twice over, and then stands over you as you lay on the floor.

"Come on," he says, holding out a hand. "I'll check you for concussion."

He brings you to Pomefiore and sits you down, shooing off a few curious underclassmen as he checks your pupils. "Do you feel nauseous?"

"Not really,"

"Then you'll be fine. Just a bump. You really should be more careful, though,"

You've heard that one before. Vil smiles at your dazed expression, and presses a cold compress against your head.

"This will help with the swelling,"

"Thanks," you mutter, still a little out of it. "You're my hero."

His eyebrows raise in true surprise, and then he chuckles. "And that makes you a damsel in distress?"

He doesn't give you a chance to respond before taking away the compress and kissing the red mark on your head.

"Don't think that being so cute is going to distract me. I'll make some time for lessons on poise this weekend,"

III. Unsociable

You'd think that being quiet and staying out of people's ways would get them to leave you alone, but it really just attracts more attention.

And after a grueling period of your tablemates making you the butt of every joke ("wow, I didn't know you could even talk!" "are you quiet because you hate us? come onnn, you can tell me!") you were ready to bury yourself alive.

"I don't ever want to leave," You mumble into the bundle of sheets and blankets on Idia's unmade bed.

"You could stay, y'know," Idia says from his desk, mindlessly scrolling through some gaming forum. "I should blackmail Crowley into letting you stay down here at least half the year."

"Couldn't it be the whole?"

"Nah. You need like, sunlight and stuff,"

"And you don't?!"

Idia snickers. "I'm built different. You know that. I get all my nutrients from blue light... You could at least stay for the weekend, though,"

You roll your eyes.

"...And I'll leak those normies' data. I'm sure I could get into their browser histories and have that emailed to their parents,"

Hm. You genuinely consider it for a moment, but eventually decide to give mercy. You're basically a saint.

"I think I just wanna pretend like I don't exist right now,"

Idia nods in understanding and pushes his gaming chair over to the edge of the bed, before crawling in and wrapping himself around you.

"That can be done. Pancakes tomorrow?"

Sure, there were people who talked to you, but you didn't talk back.

You just don't know how, you suppose. Every time you try, you end up saying the wrong thing, or are accidentally rude, or do something embarrassing.

You don't understand the references people make. You don't get social cues or hints. You have the social skills of an oyster.

Four months at Night Raven College, and you didn't have a single friend.

Well- except for him.

"How are you enjoying your tea?" Malleus asks, polite and curt as ever.

You take another sip- it's tangy, sweet, with a hint of bitterness. Some sort of Briar Valley blend that Malleus had imported just for you.

"I really like it,"

He smiles. "I'm pleased,"

One of the things you find so agreeable about Malleus is his simplicity. He often says exactly what he means; albeit, in a sort of 13th century Lord sort of way.

There's less stress with him. You don't have to pretend to be interesting, or outgoing, or cool. You can just be... you.

Because he likes you.

"You know," you say with a faint smile. "You're so nice to me. Sometimes I think that you're the only person I need. I could be happy with just you for the rest of my life."

You had meant that casually, but when you look back up from your cup, Malleus has this... look.

Wide-eyed, his lips pressed firmly together. There's even a dusting of color on his cheeks.

"Oh," you internally panic. Was that too much? Was that weird? Did you make things awkward again? Crap, you should have just acted normal, what's wrong with you?! "S-sorry, I-"

"Do you truly mean that?"

You go quiet, looking back at him with wide eyes. Your heart is pounding against your chest.

"...Yes,"

Malleus hums, his expression becoming more... pensive, and then...

He smiles. "I feel the same. Shall we go for a walk while the night is still young?"

[cripplecharacters]

So this is kind of a basic question. I'm writing a character with motor tics, specifically blinking and a shoulder shrugging movement but I'm sure I'll add others later. I have motor tics but I'm planning for him to be introduced from 1st person POV of a different character. The tics aren't a focus but I'd like to touch on them. So I was wondering what tics look like from an outside perspective and how to describe them?

Hi!

I myself have the shoulder shrugging thing and have been asked multiple times if either my shoulder hurts or if I need them to hold whatever I was holding so that I can adjust my clothes - but I never actually had anyone recognize it as a tic as far as I can tell.

Your POV character might need to see it happen a few times before catching on that it's not a situational thing for the other character, maybe they will assume that the other character is just sore and keeps stretching their shoulder. The POV character will probably see it as something unimportant at first, it might take them meeting a few times for the character to realize "oh yeah there's Something going on". People without tics are pretty bad in telling what is a tic if you're not randomly swearing or yelling.

The perception of the blinking tic would depend on how exactly it looks. If the character blinks a lot, most people's first thought would probably be either allergies or the character trying not to cry (which sounds awkward for the character with the tic). Anything else would probably be described as exactly what the tic does because it would be a clearly unusual thing to another person who doesn't know them - the POV character could ask them if they're okay or just be distracted by it.

I'll say that people pretty quickly stop paying attention to tics once they know what they are. So the POV character would probably mention them happening a lot at the start, but less and less as the story goes on, since they don't notice them as much - unless the character was to develop a new tic mid-story, in which case it'd be back to a lot of noticing for that specific tic before they got used to that one as well.

I hope this helps!

mod Sasza

[skimmingmilk]

i've just found out your tumblr has even MORe picket fence writing and im over the moon?? But also my heart was shattered with the back in time wip 😭😭😭 how does sonic find the strength to leave baby tails behind, how does he react when he sees tails again in his own timeline after having met sick abandoned baby tails??

Heheheh, yeah, there are some little fics or scenes I've written that I hesitate to put on AO3 sometimes (or just aren't complete enough to be a story on their own), so I like to throw them at Tumblr from time to time. Glad you found them! :D

Ohh, the back in time WIP... Not sure how much I can give away because of the chance that it's going to end up part of a bigger fic... but it'll still be a long while until I get around to posting that xD Maybe people will forget lol.

Potential future spoilers under the cut?

So! The way I see it playing out is that Sonic is going to find it in him to leave baby Tails behind because he knows they'll cross paths one day, the way they're supposed to and everything will play out from there. He knows he can't stay in the past and he can't take baby Tails to his present. Plus, Silver's with him and it probably wouldn't go over well to try and explain why it'd be a good idea to take baby Tails with him when it would negate pretty much everything Sonic and Tails experienced together since meeting on West Side Island or cause a split in the timeline where now there's a universe where Sonic never got to meet Tails because he wasn't there and now Sonic's time with have two Tailses. He knows that it can't happen.

But... Sonic still can't stop wondering about the little guy. Is he cold? Is he scared? Is he getting enough to eat? Is he lonely? Hurt? All the things he's not letting himself think about when it comes to his Tails (the 10 year old who's on his first solo adventure and basically gone as close to no contact as possible in order to "prove himself"). He projects all that onto the baby version of him because he knows Tails can handle himself (and that's not why he's worried about him, what he's uncomfortable with is the motive behind the journey). So he gets his hands on two Chaos Emeralds and goes back to check on baby Tails by himself. Just this once.

Except it doesn't end up being just once. Because there is this disconnect and distance between Sonic and Tails of the present, doubts that have arisen in the wake of Forces, Frontiers, and now Tails's absence, Sonic's drawn more and more to the past. Baby Tails smiles and laughs and he doesn't pull away from him and he likes to play and explore and he still needs him. It's just so easy for Sonic to make him feel better. Just by being there.

Also, because this is after Frontiers, going through cyberspace and the cyber corruption has opened the gates to Sonic's memories a bit and they're kind of leaking into his thoughts more and more. He's falling into the habit of ruminating, reliving moments and questioning choices he made, things he might've done wrong, could've done better. So that maybe Tails wouldn't feel like he needs to become a completely different person.

Present Tails won't listen to him, but baby Tails hangs onto every word. So maybe by being there... Tails might remember being loved and maybe the 10 year old won't only see the worst parts of himself when he looks in the mirror if Sonic can try again and show the younger version that he's worth something just as he is.

I think Sonic crosses paths with present Tails twice during all of this. The first conversation goes okay, but there's an awkwardness to it. But Sonic does try to make an effort to be more open with Tails in the hopes that maybe it will set a better example. And Tails is surprisingly receptive to it. So Sonic resolves to not go back to the past, because Tails seems to be doing okay after all. And he's reminded that he loves who his little brother is now. The good and the bad made him who he is, and would he really want to change that? Of course not!

Unfortunately, the second conversation doesn't go nearly as well...

So Sonic goes back to see baby Tails in the wake of it - not because he needs it, but because Tails clearly does - but when he arrives, the forest is burning and he can't find Tails anywhere...

[captain-pheonix]

Hello. I will call you Phoenix because that sounds very cool and you are cool and I platonically like you and enjoy your works.

Anyways I have come to request an all mercs + Pauling if you’re comfortable and want to write that. (If not maybe just Medic +whoever else you want to write for.) with a reader who has Schizophrenia? I’ve been going through some moments with it and the TF2 mercs are my comfort characters and your blog just feels nice.

If you aren’t comfortable with this feel free to block me or just ignore this ask entirely! Thank you very much!

A/n: GAHHH ILY PLATONICALLY TOO 🫶 ty for sending in a request, I’m so glad you enjoy my works! I try my best! I made sure I did some more extensive reasearch about schizophrenia/the real experience with it before I wrote this, please let me know if I should make some edits! (And other ppl reading this, also don’t be afraid to send an ask about making edits!)

Mercs + Pauling w/ reader w/ Schizophrenia (headcannons)

(Platonic or romantic!)

Pauling:

- will have some guilt about how she works all the time and can’t be there for you

- might send some gifts and call you in between jobs/travel, asking how you’ve been, asking if now was a good time or if you needed a distraction

- as soon as she gets the chance to come see you, she takes it

- asks over and over if you’re okay, because it’s been keeping her anxious on her jobs

- she’ll comfort you with sweet words over the phone if you call her for help

- reminds you to take your meds

Scout:

- absolutely clueless

- buys into stereotypes

- “the voices” type shit

- this guy is gonna need a thorough explanation as to how you feel all the time

- probably asks you how you’re feeling all the time too

- might be a little too quick to do his sneak-attack hugs

- likes hugging you a lot, so that could offer some grounding if you’re having delusions/hallucinations

- words of affirmation 10/10

- expect a lot of words…

- speaking of a lot of words, need an auditory distraction? The scout-o-matic is here! (Only $69.99)

Soldier:

- clueless prick

- thinks you’re some spy or something

- it might take the entirety of the team to convince him otherwise and try to explain it to him with your help

- might also buy into the stereotypes

- if you say you hear or see something that man is going to run around screaming with his shovel trying to chase them off for you (believes they’re real, but only you have magic powers to see them or something)

Medic:

- #1 meds administer

- does not buy into stereotypes, since he may know something about it

- (fw researching you heavy)

- dude is taking notes as you’re straight up not having it

- jk he goes to comfort you if he can after a bit

- you WILL be staying in the infirmary with him (sorry I don’t make the rules)

- will look into techniques to help you

Demo:

- you already know he’s offering alcohol to take the edge off/distract

- you have tried many times to tell him that that will not work

- if you had alcohol with your meds things would not end well

- offers himself as a napping space for being really exhausted (I’d take him up on that)

- he might already be passed out when you go to ask if you two can nap

- might wanna just scootch in there

Heavy:

- will protect you from the bad things (or at least try)

- if someone hurt pookie that’s no good it will not do

- offers protective bear hugs if you need something/somewhere/someone to cuddle up to and be distracted/grounded

Pyro:

- if you’re describing what you see to them, or have in the past, they might try to draw them with good old fashioned crayons and printer paper

- also schizophrenic 😭

- huge empathy from them

- but uhm they might also just straight up not know they’re schizophrenic, so bro could just be like “same”

- alright enough Gen z talk from me (there can never be enough)

- even if just hanging out with them makes you feel more comfortable

Sniper:

- probably feels bad for you

- opts to hang out indoors if hallucinations/delusions are not fun outside

- comforts you when you think you see or hear something

Spy:

- if he’s attempting to be subtle you might expect some noise cancelling headphones and other helpful tools show up at your door

- if you need a break from certain rooms he’s definitely gonna offer his smoking room

- gets you pill organizers for your meds if that’s something you struggle with

- offers lots of gentle comfort

- let’s be honest, this guy was clueless before you started talking to him about it and what it was

- now he just wants to offer help

Engie:

- probably pities you a bit

- gives you that Texan hospitality but may take a bit to understand you better

- will 10/10 make you something if there’s something he can make to help and if it’s possible

- gonna try everything in his power to make your life easier

————————

Hopefully I did okay 😭 ty for sending in your request!!

[bidisasterevankinard]

Fic idea that maybe someone would love to write: so 3 years passes after break up, Tommy meets a man, he starts date him, but casually, he doesn't do serious anymore. But he starts catching feelings and goes to talk the guy, only to find out the guy is married and he's husband is sick with cancer/paralyzed after car crash. So the guy needs only sex and for his husband to not find out

Tommy feels sick. He helped cheated!!!!! He wants the man to know. He deserves not to have this backstabber around, only Tommy finds out the husband in questions is ... Evan Buckley. His Evan

Tommy knew Evan got married, he got to be friends with Chim and Eddie after 6 months, when he could be around them without thinking about Evan too much. But everyone was careful, so much that Tommy and Buck never saw each other all those years. Barely heard news about each other too

Now Tommy feels so so much worse and question himself if he actually should tell Evan, maybe for Evan, for now better not to know? But anyway, Eddie has engagement party and both Tommy and Buck ate going to be there and Eddie makes sure they are fine with it

When Tommy is there he is careful but makes comments to the husband till Eddie calls him out in another room. and Tommy breaks and tells Eddie. Eddie sighs. Buck started to suspected something already a month after diagnosis/crush. I thought he just feels insecure

Now Eddie knows and Tommy begs him to help. Eddie agrees. Next day, Eddie gets Buck alone in his house and they tell everything to him. Buck with red eyes tells them that he's not surprised. Because really he's barely someone wants when he's on his best. But now? Who would actually love him?

He asks them to get him home. He files for divorce and as he was the one to buy the house before wedding, before they started dating he kicks the man out

Tommy comes to see him some dsys later. Buck says thank you. And then I guees you were right. First is never last. I was his first

Tommy feels sick and sad, but Buck says he's thankful. Really. Without proof he would let this man do it to him for years

Then Buck says you can come home, Tommy. Get back to the game you played to not see me. I promise nothing else would make us meet again

That's how Tommy finds out Eddie and Chim and Buck knew he did anything he could to not see Buck and Buck asked them to keep it that way. because he wanted Tommy have them and not to make himself get around Buck

[alittlebitofloveliness]

The thing is, Evie knows she’s a pushover.

She’s loud, sure, once she gets to know someone, and she likes to laugh and needle and tease, but she isn’t brave, not really. Last week when her chem partner hadn’t written his half of their assignment Evie had written it for him even though it took all night because she figured it was better than confronting him. When she was in second grade and Trip Lewitt stole her lunch every day for a year she never once stood up to him, and last Tuesday when Sandy had asked to borrow her lipgloss and hadn’t given it back, Evie hadn’t said a word.

So yeah, she’s a pushover and she knows it. But the thing is, she doesn’t need to be brave because she has Steve. 

Steve, who had given her his jacket and let her sleep in his car because she was nodding off in math after she was up all night writing that paper. Steve, who had pushed Trip Lewitt into the chain link fence when he caught him snatching her lunch one day and then made him eat dirt. Steve, who could tell she was put out about something last week even if he didn’t know exactly what so he’d bought her a milkshake and it meant she’d had just enough change to replace her lipgloss herself.

Steve Randle is the furthest thing from a coward Evie has ever met. He’s so brave she doesn’t need to be, but sometimes he makes her brave too. 

They’ve been friends for as long as Evie can remember. Her mom used to be friends with Steve’s mom before Steve’s mom left him behind, ensuring Evie would hate her forever even if she’ll never see her again. Evie’s been around long enough that Mr. Randle knows who she is- a rare feat from the man who goes from loving his son one day to hating him the next. Steve has slept over at her house, she’s bought him birthday gifts every year since she got her first job at twelve, and everyone always assumes they’re dating because he’s protective in a way most guys only get around their girls. 

They’re not dating though. It isn’t like that. She’s not in love with Steve, has never loved anyone that way; and Steve only has eyes for his blonde haired best friend who loves him but not enough, not like Steve loves him, in the kind of way that makes the world shake. 

Even still, she usually tells Steve everything. He’s her best friend even if she isn’t his, and she needs him more than she cares to admit. She never feels safer in the world than when she’s sitting beside him at the drive-in with his jacket around her shoulders, or throwing fries at him at the diner while they shit talk Sodapop’s latest girlfriend or scheme how to prank their horrific spanish teacher. 

Right now he’s down the hall half wrestling with Sodapop and Johnny Cade, laughing and as happy as he ever gets. She could join them if she wanted to, just walk up and say hello and she’d be safe. Steve would take one look at her and know something was wrong, even if she tried to hide it, and he’d walk her to class with an arm around her shoulders and a murderous glare on his face he’d give to anyone who dared glance in her direction.

As she watches, Sodapop ruffles Steve’s hair and he beams. It lasts half a second before it’s replaced with his usual scowl, but it’s enough for Evie to make a decision. He just looks so happy. Even on a good day Steve is probably one of the saddest people she’s ever met, and it drives her half crazy sometimes because if anybody deserves the truest happiness the world has to offer it’s stubborn, gentle, scowling, deadly kind Steve Randle. The fact that this kind of lightness in him is so rare is a travesty, and she won’t be the one to ruin it. She can’t. She won’t.

She sighs and pulls the sleeve of her shirt down further. Not that anyone would notice the bruise on her wrist anyway, but the purple is ugly and Sandy always says purple isn’t her colour. 

*********************

“I was thinkin’ we should maybe go to that drag race out by the rodeo grounds this weekend when I get off work. I heard from Cindy who’s sister is going with Two-bit Mathews that Sodapop’ll probably be there an’ I want him to see me in that new skirt I got.”

Sandy is jabbering on about her latest plan to attract the attention of one Sodapop Curtis- an unfortunate recent development that has left Evie between a rock and a hard place between trying to keep Sandy away from Soda while not spilling why she’s so against her friend pursing the blonde. Luckily, Sodapop is a typical idiotic fifteen year old, and barely has eyes for anyone longer than a week, and as such, has not yet noticed- or responded to- any of Sandy’s advances. Evie can see this, but whenever she points it out Sandy reminds her that she has an advantage other girls don’t considering Evie’s boyfriend is Sodapop’s best friend. She refuses to believe that Steve isn’t Evie’s boyfriend, and further refuses to believe that despite how close Evie is to Steve, she has little more than an acquaintance with the Curtis boy. 

It’s only a matter of time before she asks Evie to try and get Steve to convince Soda to go on a double date with them, in which case Evie will refuse without an explanation and Sandy will give her the silent treatment for a week. Evie’s trying not to think about it.

“Sure,” she agrees half heartedly, dodging the stuck out foot of some soc girl as they make their way down the hall, “I’m coverin’ the evenin’ shift for Corrin though so I might not be able to stay-”

She cuts herself off abruptly, books tumbling out of her arms as she locks eyes with him.

He’s standing in a group of football players, a junior to her sophomore, and he’s big, terrifyingly so, muscles straining against the fabric of his shirt. Half the hallway had turned at the commotion of her dropping her books but he hardly spares her a glance, blue eyes glinting cruelly as he gives her an unimpressed once over and turns back to his friends. 

It’s yet another slight, another reason for her to despise him though it does nothing to assuage her fear. She still remembers the feel of him pinning her against a locker, remembers the feel of his hot breath against her ear and the way his friends had jeered and catcalled, names she was used to but that stung all the same.

She doesn’t have to remember the terror- she’s feeling it again right now.

“-vie? Evie? Hello?” Sandy is giving her an exasperated look, Evie’s discarded books are piled in her arms- when did she pick them up? “Earth to Evie! Are you back with us?”

She sounds annoyed but her eyes are dart to a group of senior soc girls who are giggling and whispering behind their hands, then to the football players and him. Sandy’s nervous, she realizes, and then realizes why. They’re already at enough of a disadvantage being greasy girls. They can’t afford to be weird too, and Evie’s already enough of a freak as it is. 

“Sorry,” she forces a smile, takes her stack of books with trembling hands, “sorry I just got a wicked headache all of a sudden.”

“You’re probably dehydrated,”  Sandy seizes her arm and practically drags her down the hallway, head high even as a wave of giggle and whispers claw at them, “it’s thirty degrees out, an’ you’re wearin’ long sleeves like you ain’t never seen Oklahoma summer before.”

“Yeah,” Evie ignores the twinge of her wrist and the pounding of her heart, “I bet that’s it.”

*****************

She spends the rest of the day jumpy and tense. Sandy tires of her newfound jitters quickly and jumps on an invitation from Kelsey Morrone to go out for a smoke a little too eagerly. Evie hardly has it in herself to mind.

She doesn’t start to calm down until last period and it’s only because Mr. Horton’s geography class is so boring it trumps all other emotions. Sandy isn’t in this class either, which means they can’t even write notes to pass the time.

Her anxiety ramps up the second the bell rings. She’s all too aware of the possibility she might run into him in the hallway, and everything in her screams that that cannot happen. She takes extra care as she packs away her things, prolonging the inevitable, and then regrets it when she realizes she has no crowd to blend into as she steps into the hallway. Luckily her locker isn’t too far from the math wing, so she keeps her head down and walks quicker than usual and makes it there without any further disaster.

It’s not until the familiar scent of motor oil and fabric softener envelops her and she feels a slight tug on her braid that she finally relaxes. 

“Hey doll.”

“Hey yourself,” she swats at Steve halfheartedly, tucking her braid back behind her ear from where he’d tossed it over her shoulder.

“Hey,” he takes her hand gently- he’s always gentle with her- and pushes her sleeve up slightly, revealing the horrible mottled purple and blue bruise, “what happened?”

All day she’d sat next to Sandy and she hadn’t noticed a thing. Not a single teacher had glanced at her twice, not even when her english teacher handed back their essays and her sleeve had slipped, and yet Steve had noticed within the first minute of being here.

She looks into his eyes, at the anger hiding beneath his concern, at the scowl twisting his face that had been so happy just this morning, and makes a decision.

Even if she’s spent most of her day waiting for a chance to talk to him, she can’t let Steve Randle fight her battles forever. 

“Nothing,” she pulls her hand away and pulls her sleeve back down, “don’t worry about it.”

“Evie-”

“Steve,” she cuts him off, “it’s fine, really. What’s up?”

“I wanted to know if you an’ Sandy wanted a ride home.” He says, eyes still locked at where her bruise is hidden away under blue fabric. She can tell he desperately wants to ask for more details, just like he knows that she won’t offer any. 

“Ain’t you playin’ chauffeur to your buddies?”

“Not today,” he shakes his head, black hair glinting in the afternoon sun as they meander out the doors. He takes her backpack without seeming to think about it, slinging over his shoulder, and Evie hides her amusement at the fact that for all he’s a tough greaser he’s secretly a gentleman, “Two-bit’s takin’ the kid and Johnny, an’ Soda’s walkin’ over to the DX for work.”

“Well Sandy’s got plans with Carmen,” Evie tells him, “But I wouldn’t say no to a ride.”

Some of the tension bleeds out of his shoulders when she mentions Sandy’s busy. It’s no secret he’s not exactly a fan of her, thinks she’s sharper than she needs to be with Evie and hates her for it, the stupidly protective person that he is, not realizing that’s just who Sandy is. Still, it was nice of him to extend the invitation to her in the first place. She wonders for the millionth time how Steve got a reputation for being an asshole when he does stuff like offer a girl he hates a ride home without thinking, just because she’s a friend of Evie’s. 

“You wanna stop for a milkshake on the way home?” Steve asks, tossing their bags in the back seat, and rolling down the window. If it was hot outside, it’s a million degrees in the car, but she fights the urge to roll up her sleeves, not wanting to give him a better look at her bruise if she can help it. “I’ll pay.”

She considers his offer. First of all, damn him for knowing her so well- ice cream has always been her biggest weakness. Normally she’d say yes without hesitation, but his offer today is very obviously a ploy, a scheme, a bribe if you will, to trick her into talking about the bruise and Him, and she has decided already that she won’t. To sit across from Steve, while he looks at her with sad eyes and tries to sweet talk her into talking is not part of her plan. 

“Not today,” she shakes her head and offers him a smile, “I'm beat.”

“I can see that,” he mutters under his breath, but doesn’t protest, starting the car and pulling out of the parking lot.

It’s a quiet ride home. Normally they’d chat and tease each other, but Steve’s mood is sour and she’s hesitant to start a conversation because she’s famously bad at keeping secrets and Steve knows that better than anyone. If he got her talking, sooner or later she’d let something slip and all bets would be off.

Fifteen minutes later he pulls up in front of her house and cuts the engine with a sigh.

“Thanks for the ride,” she presses a kiss to his cheek and goes to leave.

“Wait, Eves,” he catches her hand, the rough calluses on his skin at odds with the softness of the movement, “just- you know I got your back, right? No matter what.”

He’s so earnest, so worried. 

“Yeah,” she smiles, heart swelling with gratitude for this dumb boy who came into her life and never thought once about leaving, “I know.”

He holds her gaze a moment more and nods, clearing his throat abruptly.

“I’ll give you a ride to school tomorrow. Sandy’s welcome too if she wants.”

“Thanks.” She smiles, squeezing his hand and trying to put all her gratitude into it before she lets him go, closing the door gently behind her.

He doesn’t drive away until she’s safely inside, the door locked behind her. He never does.

***********

“Mornin’ doll.”

“Mornin’,” she hands him a piece of still warm bannock wrapped in a tea towel, and he shoves half of it into his mouth in one bite, humming appreciatively. If there’s one thing she knows Steve loves, it’s her mom’s baking.

He inhales the rest of the bread before speaking.

“Sandy comin’?” 

“Nah, she’s gettin’ a ride with Carmen.”

He nods and starts the engine, the car coming to life with a purr. It’s not as quiet as some of the socs fancy ass cars, but it’s the quietest tin can in all the east side and it’s all because of Steve’s magic with mechanics. She always feels an unearned swell of pride on his behalf whenever she sits in this car, stupid as it is.

It’s not until they’re halfway to Will Rodgers that she notices Steve’s hands are torn up and bruised, every knuckle split. 

They definitely weren’t like that yesterday.

“You get into a rumble or somethin’ last night? What happened to your hands?”

“Oh, that,” Steve waves a ruined hand dismissively, “don’t worry about it.”

“Steve-”

“Evie-” he mocks, flipping their argument from yesterday, “really. It’s fine.”

“I know it’s fine, that ain’t what I asked!”

He pulls into the parking lot and cuts the engine before turning to her with a sigh, 

“You really wanna know?”

“Yes!”

“Well, I heard a rumour somewhere that some of the football team- a certain captain in particular- have started to get a bit brazen in how they’ve been treating some east side girls. And Sylvia Devares seemed to think maybe Angel had mentioned something about you showin’ up late to spanish last week and shaking like a spooked horse. So me’n the boys decided it was time to have a little talk with the dear captain and his buddies.”

“You didn’t have to do that," gratitude and shame swirl in her gut, “I can’t expect you to fight my battles forever.”

He lets out an inelegant snort.

“Of course you can,” he says, so matter-of-fact she couldn’t argue with him if she wanted to, “I meant what I said yesterday: I always got your back. Always. Even if you don’t wanna talk about things, I’m always gonna be here for you.”

Yeah, she realizes, he really is, always has been always will be. It doesn’t matter if she’s a pushover or not, he’ll always have her back.

How did she get so lucky?

[ephemerasnape]

Thanks solely to this lovely comment drawing my attention to it, I've gone back and edited The Dark Sacrifice. It was one of my earlier works and I feel my writing has improved a lot since then.

If you haven't read it, or haven't read it from a long time, give it a read on ao3 or below! It's short, and it's one of my most popular fics.

The Dark Sacrifice 🔞

Sebastian x F!Reader x Ominis

“This might hurt a bit,” Sebastian warns, “but be a good girl and take it. For me, and for Anne.”

Extreme Dubcon | Rape/NC | First Time | Loss of Virginity | Praise | Threesome | Excessive Talking During Sex | No use of Y/N or MC but you are MC

The owl had said to meet Sebastian and Ominis at the Feldcroft Catacomb. Was this going to be the attempt to cure Anne using the dark relic? If so, wouldn’t Anne need to be there as well?

You’ve no idea how Sebastian managed to convince Ominis to participate in this potentially perilous escapade. You can only assume that he’d lied to some degree, which didn’t sit right with you but, well, I'm about to find out, aren't I? Hurriedly throwing on your robes, you exit the Room of Requirement and floo directly to the catacomb, only to find no one waiting for you outside. Anxiety overwhelms you as you look around, desperately searching for any sign of Ominis or Sebastian - and finding none, at first. Then you see them – footprints in the snow leading into the catacomb – two sets. Sighing with relief, you follow, making your way through the dreadful place alone for the very first time.

The catacomb is just as dark, musty, and creepy as you remember, except everything has already been looted and there are no spiders left to attack you. Still, you cautiously make your way through each chamber until you reach the room where you and Sebastian had originally found the relic.

You are relieved to find both boys waiting for you – Sebastian leaning casually against the familiar table, Ominis fretting and pacing as expected. “We can’t do this,” you catch him assert, just before he notices your presence.

“There you are,” Sebastian welcomes, gesturing towards the relic. “All my research has finally borne fruit. I have discovered how to unlock the power of the relic – what is meant by a ‘dark sacrifice,’” he explains.

You approach the boys, Ominis taking a step forward as if to halt your approach. “Sebastian,” he implores. “Please, we can't do this. There has to be another way.”

Maybe you should be concerned, but you're not - you attribute Ominis' statement to his general anxiousness regarding the use of dark magic, not thinking much of his pleas as you continue walking towards where Sebastian stands with the grim object. But you notice something about the room that you hadn’t before – a kind of raised slab in the center, which looks a lot less dirty and worn than everything else in the Catacomb. Sebastian must have conjured it for this purpose.

What does the dark sacrifice entail? Is it awful? Will you need to kill something? An animal? Fortunately, you have a few beasts in your nab-sack if it comes to that, but you sincerely hope it won't. 

“It can’t be helped, Ominis,” Sebastian assures the other boy, turning to face you. Your eyes go wide as you notice his wand trained on you. “There's no other way. I need to do this... for Anne. Imperio!”

Suddenly, your mind goes fuzzy. You watch Sebastian smiling at you, speaking to you as if through a haze. You are confused, but you feel pleasant – so very pleasant.

It’s warm in here, isn’t it? At Sebastian's suggestion, you begin to take off your robes, and then the rest of your garments. Why is Ominis shouting? There's no reason to shout. Everything is exactly as it should be.

“It’s going to be alright,” Sebastian tells you, and you believe him without hesitation as you stand nude in front of the two boys. Sebastian appraises your body with his intense gaze while Ominis has his wand raised, tip glowing red. They are both starting at you, Sebastian's eyes dark with desire. 

“Lay on the altar,” Sebastian commands, taking your hand to help you up onto the stone slab at the center of the room. It's fortunately more comfortable than it looks – he must have used a cushioning charm or something, but you certainly wouldn't mind even if he hadn't.

“What's happening?” you ask, looking blearily from Sebastian to Ominis, who still seems upset.

The brunette takes a step forward. “Shh, darling,” he offers, stroking your hair. “Everything will be alright. I promise.”

An inexperienced but confident hand brushes down your body, over a pert nipple, across your stomach, before coming to rest at the apex of your thighs. “Open for me,” the boy above you says, his eyes clouded with lust. You comply, and slowly, Sebastian sinks one long finger between your folds - hissing at the wetness he finds there. “Merlin,” he exclaims, beginning to stroke up and down the length of your slit. "It should be just... there," he settles on your sensitive little nub, causing you to let out a gasp as he begins to circle. Staring deep into your eyes he asks whether it feels good.

“Oh! Oh, yes, it feels so good, Sebastian,” you groan, the pleasure beyond anything you’ve experienced before, probably due to your completely-relaxed state.

"Sebastian," you hear from slightly to your right, but Sebastian pays Ominis no mind while he continues his attempts to bring you off - to ready you.

“I’m going to make you come for me,” he whispers, a dark edge to his voice as he speeds up the motions on your clit - causing you to thrust your hips forward to try to get more contact.

Suddenly, his head snaps to the side. “Ominis!” he barks, and the blushing blonde looks startled. Grinning slyly, he suggests “Occupy her mouth for me, will you?”

The other boy  - obviously at war with himself, though you can't understand why - hesitates.

This is wrong – so wrong in so many ways – and yet.. his cock throbs in his trousers. Ominis desperately wants your pretty little mouth around his prick. He’s never had a girl do that for him before, and he’s almost ejaculating just thinking about. Not to mention he has secretly wanted you specifically for a long time.

Ominis isn’t sure why he has to participate in this except that Sebastian wants him to. Still, his teenage hormones are raging as he hears every little gasp and moan of pleasure you issue very acutely. While he does at first hesitate, after some moments he approaches. Slowly, he leans forward, and kisses you gently.

“You know that’s not what I meant, Ominis,” Sebastian chuckles. Ominis glares at him (in his own way).

“I know what you meant, you vulgar twit. I just wanted to kiss her.”

“Kiss away,” Sebastian grins in his typical manner, and Ominis does just that, leaning forward to capture your lips again. You groan as his tongue invades every inch of your mouth, and buck desperately into Sebastian’s fingers as they stimulate your clit mercilessly.

“I think she needs your cock in her mouth.” Now it’s Ominis’ turn to groan as he pulls away and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before reaching down to undo his trousers. His other hand resting on your forehead comfortingly, you can hardly imagine a deeper feeling of bliss – that is, until mere moments later, when Ominis has produced his engorged cock and pressed it up against your lips.

“Suck this for me, will you, darling?” he breathes, his voice serpentine and seductive. 

You hear sputtering noises as you eagerly begin to work Ominis’ cock with your mouth. In between pants he gasps out “Good girl! Merlin!” His hips thrust weakly forward as if he desperately wants to fuck your mouth but is holding back. You groan, part of you wanting him to take what he desires from you. Between the two of them, all of your senses are being consumed.

“Come for me, sweetheart," Sebastian urges in a dark whisper.

Your whole body tenses as pleasure curls up and releases inside of you, travelling from the tips of your toes to deep in your pelvis as every part of your body spasms and shakes. It's the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had in your life, and the sounds you make while coming are enough to nearly send Ominis over the edge. “Fuck!” he groans, and begins thrusting his hips in earnest. You don’t notice that Sebastian has withdrawn, apparently gone to retrieve the relic, which he places on your stomach.

It seems brighter somehow, as if it knows what's happening.

“Sebastian.. It’s not right,” Ominis cries, feeling guilty about how tremendously he is enjoying using your mouth and throat. Sebastian chuckles, "And fucking her mouth is?”

The question seems to shut Ominis up, who withdraws from your mouth just as Sebastian is arranging himself between your legs. “This might hurt a bit,” he warns as you feel the warm, blunt head of his flesh nudge your opening, “but be a good girl and take it. For me, and for Anne.”

Suddenly, a flash of pain bursts behind your eyelids as Sebastian drives himself balls-deep inside of you. You whimper a little, but the pain subsides as he begins pumping his thick cock in and out of your pussy, which is very wet from having come already.

“That’s it.. that's a good girl,” he grunts. You groan in pleasure, barely even noticing when Ominis unleashes his semen all over your chest with a howl.

Sebastian continues to rut you, getting more and more caught up in his pleasure. “Good little slut. My slut. Taking my cock like a good little whore.”

As you lay there, being completely debauched by the two wizards - your classmates - you feel high, the world swimming around you, chemicals flooding your brain with pleasure, satisfaction, and ease. You want nothing more than for this to never end – for Sebastian to never stop fucking you.

He laughs when you let him know as much.

“I’m glad to see you so eager," he grunts, "Unfortunately, this has to end sometime, and it’s going to end with me filling you with my seed. Would you like that?”

“Yes!” you cry, scrambling to grab at Sebastian who is keeping a painful distance in order to balance the relic on your belly. “Fill me! Please!” you whine, your back arching as if you’re trying to foist the relic perched on your belly into the heavens.

“Om- Ominis – activate the relic,” Sebastian gasps, his thrusts becoming faster and more erratic.

The other Slytherin taps the macabre pyramid once, twice, three times, before it glows red.

Eyes wide and glued to the relic, Sebastian stills and you can feel his warmth flooding you as he empties himself deep inside. Slowly, he withdraws, panting as he cleans himself off and tucks himself away.

"Can't say I minded that," he quips, reaching down to collect a bit of the mixture of blood and semen that is seeping out of you. You watch in blissful apathy as he holds his finger over your tummy, allowing a single drop to land on the relic.

"The blood of a virgin mixed with the seed of the one who deflowered her. That should be more than enough." The boy grins, taking a look at his handiwork – both the relic, ominously pulsating in his hand, and you, laying there on the slab, looking completely debauched – your face flushed, hair mussed, his cum dripping from your battered pussy, Ominis’ decorating your breasts.

Sebastian can’t help but let out a small groan. “If only you could see this, Ominis..”

But Ominis has turned away. “I've seen enough! Sebastian, I can’t believe what we’ve done. Anne would not have wanted this.”

“Well, if that’s how you really feel about it,” Sebastian muses, withdrawing his wand from his robes. “Obliviate!”

------------

What am I doing here? is all you can think of as you get up from the filthy floor of the Feldcroft Catacomb. Ominis and Sebastian are nowhere in sight.

You anger, your pulse quickening. Why would they have stood me up like this?

Then another thought dawns on you. I’d better go to Feldcroft to check and make sure everything is alright. Maybe Anne has taken a turn for the worse.

Brushing the dirt off of your knees, you notice an odd soreness between your legs. You resolve to stop sleeping in such unsuitable places as you chug a Wiggenweld..

Now to find the boys.

[eddiegettingshot]

Tbh I was radicalized this summer when you said we have progressed past the need for eddie therapy spec and fics. i havent read a single one since and probably wont again and my life has been so peaceful since… he literally does not need that. He just needs to feel secure and open with his feelings, needs to let people love him fully, and maybe some grief counselling/a support group to go to occasionally. If frank was going to help with that he would have in s3. (no offence to people who write/read therapy fics Im sure they are wonderful and profound and frank is actually good at his job in them)

helpppp good. thank you for giving me an excuse to talk about my beloathed therapy eddie because i think it’s so so so funny that after 8x06 the predictable response was that eddie needs to go to therapy. which i feel like there are soooo many things happening on both the character and the story level. like what’s funny is that frank really could not be a good therapist on screen because that’s not interesting tv. i’m not a therapist but i imagine that in fear-o-phobia he should have probably like. worked with eddie to decide on who he’d try to contact, figure out how the conversation might go, work on coping strategies, etc. but obviously eddie had to blow up. it’s funny because all of the other presumably “good” work frank does is completely off screen. because it’s uninteresting. so eddie wouldn’t have the kind of therapy arc people think he should have anyway, it’s quite literally just something people demand because they need a virtue signal that eddie is “trying” (and of course therapy is the only picture of “trying to heal”). the fact that he’s growing and dealing with stuff outside of therapy is like, not acceptable i guess? i think it’s also funny that as far as fic goes eddie is pretty much always in therapy but it is truly once in a blue moon that we see buck or really any other character talk about therapy.

anyway on the character level. obviously people who relate to eddie’s experience might find therapy really useful but i am not talking about real people i’m talking about a character who is fake. something that is very funny and interesting to me is that in the fear-o-phobia scene eddie is pretty much being resistant and mean and a bitch the whole time but when frank says “you can’t put all your feelings in a box eddie because someday it’ll blow up” and eddie literally already knows what’s going on (“…and take me with it”). actually eddie pretty much always knows what’s going on when he’s having issues it’s just he packs it all down. so seeing a character like this do the internal pathologized work of therapy with just. A Therapist. is… soooo boring to me. it’s funny because i do think frank was right. like in the end i think it’s sort of indicated that eddie is not only feeling this survivor’s guilt/pointlessness but that he also fears he’s going to end up like all the other people who share his pain. so he does need that sort of external pathway to dealing with his issues, like… exactly what you said… leaning on the people in his life… loving them and letting them love him… perhaps a support group or volunteering or whatever… in terms of an actual story these things are soooo much cooler and more fun than what therapy stuff can offer eddie specifically (like… strategies? identifying various cognitive distortions? idk). because he’s already a character who’s always in his head… it’s so much better. To Me. to see him work through things in other ways. such as by talking to a gay priest.

[its-time-to-write]

chapter 7

y’all I am SO SORRY this is so late. I’ve been caught up with end-of-year stuff at work and planning for next year. but I’m posting the last two chapters now🙃

I’m not sure how active I’ll be moving forward lol, 2025 is shaping up to be a pretty big year for me, professionally speaking, and that either means I’ll have more free time or less. Idk. But thank you for supporting my writing!!! You guys make me happy🩵🩵🩵

table of contents

found god at your ex’s house

To be entirely honest, the longest and only conversation you’ve ever had with goddamn Keeley Jones was at the Prada show right before you found out about Bean’s existence. 

You’d prefer to keep it that way but fucking Madeline is friends with her so now you’re headed to a stupid, awful, horrible girls’ night at her house and you’d rather fucking die.

Okay, maybe that’s a little dramatic. But your experiences concerning Keeley have been unpleasant at best. 

She first caught your notice in a tabloid on a yacht with Jamie and a screaming headline to match your screaming mind. It was two weeks after Jamie came over for the last time and apparently not enough time to get over him.

You’d gone straight to Madeline’s to scream into a pillow.

Then she was in your instagram, and when you had blocked her she appeared in fan edits and fucking WAG accounts. Then she was at the Prada show and in magazines and on the telly. It felt like no matter how much you tried to shut her out, Keeley fucking Jones remained as a painful reminder.

It wasn’t her fault per se, but you hated the role she played in Jamie’s deterioration. 

And now Madeline is fucking friends with her.

“What the actual hell, Madeline,” you groan. “Keeley fucking Jones? Are you serious? She’s the fucking worst. AND she’s not to be trusted! The girl hardly has two braincells to rub together.”

Madeline rolls her eyes. “I understand that you hate her. But she’s kind and sweet and actually a bit brilliant. I’m not going to tell her about you or Bean, but she’s not some vile, boyfriend-stealing bitch.”

“I’m not saying that,” you reply as you try to get Clare to burp. “I’m just saying that the girl could stand to grow up a little.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. She has. I think you’d like her.”

“Fuck off,” you scoff right as Clare burps. “See? Clare agrees.”

Madeline shrugs. “Clare is three months old. She doesn’t get a vote.”

You wrinkle your nose and say, “You mean unless she agrees with you, right?” and Madeline smiles her most angelic smile. 

“All I’m saying is you’re more than welcome to come with me tonight.”

“I’d rather die,” you inform her.

—

Jamie has the day off. They won against Aston Villa on Sunday so he’s supposed to be resting, but he’s never been very good at that.

So he does what any self-respecting person would do and goes to his ex’s house.

He forgets Roy fucking Kent is going to be there until the man himself has opened the door but Jamie musters up some arrogance and breezes right by him. Keeley knows he’s coming anyway, so he’s not going to be harassed by some grumpy old twat.

Roy must be sick or something because he doesn’t say anything. If Jamie weren’t so consumed with his own worries he might actually be concerned.

But he’s not so he sits on Keeley’s couch like he belongs there and lets her hand him a cup of tea before she sits down next to him.

Roy isn’t far off, pretending to read a book but Jamie is abso-fucking-lutely positive he hasn’t turned a single page yet.

But absolutely FUCK it because he needs Keeley’s professional, girl opinion.

“I’ve got a kid,” he says, and both Keeley and Roy do absolutely horrible jobs at pretending they’re shocked.

“Fuck off, how the fuck did you know?” he protests. “Was it Ted?”

Roy and Keeley exchange a Look and it just makes Jamie madder.

“Technically it was Coach Beard,” Keeley says in a mousy voice. “We figured you’d tell us when you were ready, Jamie.”

That’s just confusing. “How the fuck did Beard know?” he asks.

“Kid looks just fucking like you,” Roy says and that makes Jamie mad too because when the fuck did Roy see Clare?

“I saw them on the green when I was with Phoebe,” Roy clarifies and Jamie takes a minute to file that away as Roy Kent’s first-ever non-swearing sentence.

He says, “fucking hell,” because really, fucking hell. He went from not knowing he had a baby to knowing to apparently the whole Richmond coaching staff knowing (and apparently meeting) her.

Keeley asks, “Is that why you’re here, babes?” and her gentle voice actually makes him want to fucking cry so he just nods and puts his head in his hands.

“Don’t know shit about being a dad,” he says, voice muffled, and Roy slams his book shut because apparently he has shit to say.

“Fuck off, Tartt,” he says. “Stop being a little bitch.”

Keeley exclaims, “Roy!” but she’s also curious about what he has to say because she doesn’t do anything else to stop him.

“I fucking mean it,” he continues. “You fucking come here expecting to fucking cry on the couch and be told you’re fucking shit at something and throw a fucking pity party, so fuck off. You might be a shit father, you don’t fucking know, but that girl doesn’t fucking think so and if I were her, I’d hate your fucking guts. So untwist your fucking pants and stop being a fucking whiny little bitch. Go fucking be a dad and if you’re shit, you’re shit. But stop looking for fucking sympathy for something you’ve made up in your stupid fucking twat brain.”

With that he pushes himself out of his chair, swears at his knee, and disappears into the kitchen, presumably to remain silent for the next year since he’s met his word quota.

Jamie looks at Keeley as if to say, Are you hearing this prick? but Keeley just lifts a shoulder and says, “He’s right, babe. You’ve got to actually go do something about it.”

So Jamie pinches the bridge of his nose and recounts everything his mum told him over the phone for some extra review.

—

Clare is easy, as far as babies go, but for some reason tonight she’s decided to be an absolute terror. She won’t eat, won’t go to sleep, won’t calm down. She just cries and cries and no matter how many times you check her temperature or her diaper, she cannot get it back together.

It doesn’t help that you’re tired, either. Like, newborn-level tired. And hungry, too. You’d order in but Clare hasn’t even allowed that so you open the fridge as best you can while bouncing Clare up and down. All you can see is a jar of gherkins, a can of soda, and some lemons. 

And a fucking banana which must be Madeline’s because you’d rather die of starvation than eat that shit.

Fucking hell.

I am not going to cry you tell yourself sternly, except that doesn’t do anything except allow tears to well up faster than if you’d just let it alone.

You can’t call Madeline because she’s at Keeley’s and you’ll be damned if you interrupt her girls’ night. Madeline didn’t sign up to be tied down and she deserves a non-parent friend, so she’s not an option.

For a split second, you debate calling Jamie. But that’s a level of desperation you haven’t quite reached. You close the fridge and are saved from deciding what to do next by a knock on the door.

Clare wails like she’s being murdered, so you hope it isn’t the police but it isn’t, it’s just Jamie with a bag of groceries. He’s in the house setting up in the kitchen before your brain catches up with your eyes and Clare just cries the whole time. 

You know exactly what he’s making before he’s even pulled out half the ingredients. It’s chicken pesto risotto, the dish you always begged him to make whenever he had a moment of free time. Jamie can cook maybe four things in total, but damn he can cook them well. He slices some bread, puts it on a plate with some butter and hands it to you, swapping the plate for Clare so easily that if you didn’t know better you’d think he’s been doing it his whole life. She stops crying the moment she’s in his arms and honestly, you’re too tired to worry about it. You crash on the couch and fall asleep after two bites.

It’s dark out when you wake up, but the lights are on in the house and it’s warm. Someone’s gently caressing the top of your head and saying your name, so you open your eyes to Jamie standing over you.

He’s looking at you with a soft expression, and your heart aches. It all feels too painfully normal.

He says, “Food’s ready,” and holds out a hand for you to grab.

You hesitate for the barest fraction of a moment before taking it. “Little Bean’s asleep in her bed,” he continues. “You hungry? Figured we could eat then you can go back to sleep.”

You nod. “Smells good, J. Are you planning on spending the night, then?”

Jamie shrugs. “I thought- I don’t know, I thought maybe you could use a break.”

He sits next to you at the table. The food’s been set out, and it’s still warm. It’s also the first meal you haven’t been responsible for in a good long while.

“So you’re just here now,” you say. “You’re the kind of person who shows up, cooks dinner, puts the baby to bed and watches telly in the evenings? You could barely handle a relationship, and now you want a fucking family? You can leave me all you want, but I swear to God, Jamie, I will murder you if you hurt Clare.”

It’s frustrating because it feels like you’re at an impasse. Jamie can come back once he’s shown he’s changed, but he can’t really show he’s changed if he can’t fucking come back, can he?

It doesn’t matter that he probably has changed and you know deep down that even he isn’t a big enough dick to abandon his daughter.

Jamie says, “I am. I mean, I won’t. I mean, fucking hell, you don’t have to fucking murder me, yeah? Just give me a chance, like.”

You snort. “Do you even know how to change a diaper?”

Jamie says, “Googled it, didn’t I?” and that makes you genuinely laugh. Of course he did. But you laugh too loud and it wakes up Clare, who lets you know she’s irritated with a shriek. You knock your head lightly against the table and whisper, “Fuck,” before putting down your fork. You push your chair out and Jamie stands, lightning-fast.

“I got it,” he tells you, and you raise an eyebrow.

You reply, “Okay,” because if he’s going to act like a father, he’s going to have to put in the work. And you’re hungry and this is your favorite meal. Besides, what’s the worst that’s going to happen?

So Jamie goes to Clare’s room where she’s sobbing like there’s no tomorrow and you continue to eat while straining your ears to make sure Jamie isn’t panicking.

Unfortunately, you didn’t account for the fact that the worst thing that could happen is Jamie comes back out after ten minutes with a sleeping Clare on his chest and he looks so fucking hot that you want to jump his bones then and there. 

Jamie is thankfully oblivious. He sits back down and pats Clare on the back so she doesn’t wake up again.

“How’s the food?” he whispers. “Haven’t cooked in fuckin’ ages.”

“Good,” you whisper back and then you lapse into silence. 

 “I can stay the night, if you want,” Jamie offers after a bit, and you glare.

“Not like that,” he hastily amends, “I mean if you want to sleep. I can feed Clare and whatever.”

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. “Jamie. What the fuck do you want from me? You can’t fucking come back here and play house when you want, and I get it, your dad’s a piece of shit and you don’t want to be like him. But you’re in the fucking Prem, Jamie.”

(“Got relegated,”) he mouths, but you just keep talking. “Fine. You’re in the Championship but everyone knows you at least are making it back to the Premier League and someday you’ll be with a team in the Champion’s League and that’s a lot of travel. It’s a lot of nights alone, and you’re not exactly the kind of person who likes sleeping alone.

Jamie looks offended at that, but it’s true. He’s twenty-six and in his prime.

This whole thing is just one giant circle with no solution. 

“Oi,” he says, and he’s got his serious expression on. “I don’t want anything from you. I want you. Not even because of Clare, but she’s mint. I was coming to find you the other night because I wanted to fix things. I told you that. I meant it, I want to get back together. I know I’m hard to love sometimes but swear down, I want to make it work. Keeley’s on me about commitment and shit and I dunno, it sounds nice. I’m fucking tired of fucking around. That shit’s exhausting.”

“Yeah, because a baby and a girlfriend isn’t fucking exhausting as well.”

Jamie wrinkles his nose. “Fucking Garnacho’s having a kid. If that little shit can handle it, I can too.”

You concede. He has a point. “Fine. You can spend the night. I’m going to shower and then pass out, which means you’ve got the dishes and Clare. You can sleep in the guest room, yeah? I’ll set up the baby monitor.”

Jamie smiles, and before you can really think it through, you lean over to kiss his cheek.

“Thank you,” you say softly before heading upstairs. You’re going to get an earful from Madeline later, but for now you’re going to get good sleep for the first night in a long while.

next chapter

[anticidic]

Can I ask from this ask game for Soukoku (all of the questions)? Thanks 🧁

https://www.tumblr.com/comingfromastatechampionasshole/119898100247?source=share

hi anon!! this looked fun, so I decided to do it 😊

1. Which one is the better cook

Chuuya. Dazai wouldn't know good eats even if it hit him upside the head. Dazai would try to cook, but he set off the smoke alarm not just once, but twice, and the last time he burnt their food beyond edible. I think Dazai would still try to hone his skills when Chuuya wasn't around.

2. What their love letters look like

Lowkey, I think Dazai would send a fake letter and then a really passionate letter full of him waxing poetic. The man gets caught up in his head too much and for too long, and it'd show in his writing where he fails to voice how he feels. You feel like you're reading someone's diary. The fake letter is to irritate Chuuya and pretend like he doesn't care about sappy love letters.

Chuuya, I think would be more straightforward and just say like, he went to the park and crossed over a bridge and it reminded him of the time they were there at night together looking up at the stars.

3. Which one outlives the other, and how they cope

I feel like Dazai would outlive Chuuya? It doesn't even have to be tragic, but taking elements from his canon self, I feel like after finding the one and settling down, he'd dread dying and his inner resolve would keep him alive.

He'd look like he was coping extremely well, or look completely unfazed by Chuuya's passing—the jokes go on, he continues annoying those around him. But then he goes home, it's just him and the four walls and a bed too big for just him, and it's cold. He talks to himself into the late hours nursing multiple glasses of alcohol and it goes on like that until dawn. He's avoidant of anything that reminds him of Chuuya at first because he stuffs every damn emotion down instead of letting them out, and he can feel that tiny crack going down the length of his face and splitting him open day-by-day.

Then, he's getting ready for another day and he goes into their closet that's now become entirely his, and he reaches for gloves because it's below freezing, and he accidentally grabs Chuuya's. The tears come because it's the final straw. And they don't stop.

But also taking parts of canon into consideration, I feel like Chuuya would have a shorter lifespan because of eventual corruption side effects catching up to him as he got older.

4. What they do on date night

Dazai would like doing something cozy, like ordering food and a movie in, but he gets roped into nights out at luxury restaurants, or to take a walk around a temple because Chuuya insists he needs fresh air.

5. How many kids they'll have

I can see them having two 👀 Dazai's the one really wanting the second

6. How they decorated their bedroom

Dazai's very minimalistic. Maybe a framed photo or two, a little lamp on the nightstand, and books he cycles through. Probably has a mini pile of clothes by the foot of the bed because he was late to work that morning. Chuuya wouldn't be as minimalistic, but you could tell he put thought and care into the decorations and how high quality the things he has are. A shoe rack for all his shoes to neatly line up on. A standing mirror by the dresser. Framed artworks hung up on the walls. A large bed with a lot of pillows and the bedding high quality.

7. Which one is the worse driver

Dazai, no contest. Chuuya will force Dazai out of the driver's seat if he has to.

8. What they argue about

Really stupid things. Like, Dazai not restocking the toilet paper. Chuuya forgetting to put his phone on silent when it rings on the nightstand at five am. Chuuya losing his mind over the fact his pack of cigarettes is slowly going down and he doesn't remember smoking so much, but it's really Dazai stealing them.

9. Which one swears more

Chuuya swears more out loud, but Dazai either swears in his head or to himself. Dazai will be sipping coffee at the table when he suddenly hears a loud, "Fuuuuuuck!" down the hall, and he goes to see what's up. But it's just Chuuya crumpled to the floor rubbing his foot because he stubbed his toe on the door. Then Dazai walks away.

Dazai will joke that Chuuya needs to wash his mouth out with soap, but he doesn't actually care that Chuuya swears.

10. What TV shows they watch together, and which ones they hide from the other

I think they'd be really into watching gritty shows or shows that have heists as a theme? The action would reel them in. But separately, I can see Dazai being into dumb reality shows because he "likes to make fun of how stupid people are" but he's really into them, and Chuuya likes cooking shows or animal documentaries.

11. What their first impression was of each other

Chuuya thought Dazai was a fucking idiot and actually couldn't stand him. (Rightfully so) And Dazai made it his mission to get under Chuuya's skin, and now whoops, look how they got here. A very push-pull relationship.

12. What they do for their anniversary

Dazai downplays it and acts cool when he casually suggests they go away to another part of Japan or they go down to Odaiba at night to walk along the pier and then dine by the water. He also got them a nice hotel room so it can just be them. Chuuya wasn't even really sure what to do, he was just gonna get a gift and take Dazai out.

13. Which makes a bigger deal of birthdays

I think Dazai would make a big deal about Chuuya's birthday, but not care about his own. Chuuya would dislike being reminded he's not only the older of the two of them, but he's getting older faster than he recalls the days going by like seconds. Dazai will joke about it, too, but he sprinkles in niceties like getting Chuuya a new pair of gloves.

14. What nicknames they call each other

I can't see them calling each other couple names honestly—I think they'd eventually come up with something only they understand/something stupid for one another. (I will say, Dazai thought he was hallucinating the first time Chuuya called him Osamu instead of Dazai, though.)

15. What they would change about each other

Chuuya would change Dazai's terrible habit of leaving messes everywhere, and Dazai would change how Chuuya hogs the bed and snores like a roaring machine.

[blu3bl00d3d]

need to write, but also need to draw, but also need sleep

cant write, can't draw, cant sleep

[hauntingblue]

ANOTHER DEATH BY INMOLATION???? ENOUGH!!!!

[euclydya]

if i wrote a timeloop fic wiuld anyone be interested

[sinking-into-mist]

I got back to trying to write the Olli/Aleksi fic I mentioned last(?) week, and this is basically how it's going

me: this will be a cute fluffy sfw story

o & a: but what if we kissed... and our hands started to wander... and things got a little heated...

me: sure, a bit of that sounds great 👍 just don't get too carried away!

o & a: *kissing, groaning, neck biting, slight scratching, moaning*

me: okay that's enough! let's go back to the cute fluff and wrap up this fic

o & a: no 😊

me: i won't let you continue. go to bed boys.

o & a: okay!

me: ... wait, i meant, go to bed for some cuddles and sleeping!!

o & a: lol sure 😏 *undressing each other in between heated kisses*

me: i did not see that coming

[pyrriax]

HI TUMBLR late footnote posting before i go to bed (i took a nap today........ ate up most of my time)

not a lot to talk about with footnotes today since i was Busy and my brain wasnt working pfndkmlfd i blame seven hours of modded oneblock

[helianskies]

block button lookin so fine rn