#with todays quality of fic

[lunabeck]

It's so unfair how good NG Life by Kusanagi Mizuho is. It's so unfair how the only scans are bad and it's unfair how it's old and there's like no fandom for it and that no one talks about it. It's unfair how her other work got an anime adaptation but NG Life is RIGHT THERE being so freaking good and lends itself so well to be an anime and YET. No one talks about it. People only talk about Yona and I get it. That's good too but NG Life is one of the best stories I've ever seen told and I love it and it deserves more recognition!!!!!!!

[happyhauntt]

SUMMER OF BUDDIE. ━━ week one: mixed media + creating a gifset for your fic. (@summerofbuddie.)

synopsis: when buck gets a call asking if he'll take emergency custody of a young relative, he doesn't hesitate to say yes. especially when the alternative is her ending up in the care of his parents. but taking care of a traumatised kid is hard, especially when you're still running from your own demons. (or, buck fosters a traumatised teen and together they start to heal.)

read on ao3.

[one-flower-one-sword]

well I know what you want from me you want someone to be your reflection, your bitter deception setting you free won't you come and dance in the dark with me? show me what you are, I am desperate to know nobody better than the perfect enemy and I know what you want from me you want the same as me my redemption, eternal ascension setting me free

for @bladesmercy's fic The Fear of Falling Stars

[scoops-stevie-archive]

in the three months leading up to steve meeting the rest of eddie's family, eddie has taken it upon himself to run steve through a crash course in the munson family cookbook. they'll be in kentucky the whole summer so steve has to be prepared.

tonight, eddie said he was making steaks.

when steve gets to the trailer after work, eddie's frying something in the skillet that obviously does not smell like any steak he's ever eaten.

"uh, eddie?"

eddie looks over his shoulder. "hey, sweetheart!"

steve sets his keys on the table before walking over and looking over eddie's shoulder. he's even more confused. "i thought you said we're having steak?"

"we are," eddie nods toward the skillet.

"that doesn't look like it."

eddie rolls his eyes and turns around to face him. "not steak from a cow," he says, like it's obvious (it is not, in fact, obvious). "it's bologna."

steve resists the urge to rub at his temples. instead, he puts his hands on eddie's hips and rubs his thumbs over the little tease of skin between his shirt and jeans.

"baby, i don't think bologna counts as steak."

"it does for us poor folk." eddie reaches up and grabs steve's nose, gently giving it a shake. "we call it poor man's steak. real steak's expensive so we gotta use what we can afford." he gestures behind him. "so, bologna."

steve doesn't remember the last time he ate bologna, or if he did at all. all his meals consisted of whatever his mom cooked and it definitely wasn't any of the things eddie had made him so far.

(don't tell his mom, but eddie's food is way better. he can taste the love it was made with.)

"it does smell pretty good," steve concedes. his stomach gives a growl. he hadn't eaten lunch because he was so excited for a steak dinner.

eddie grins and reaches for the loaf of bread on the counter. "pick your poison, then, stevie-boy!" he sweeps his hand over the options of toppings: mustard, mayonnaise, lettuce, and tomato. "we're eatin' like kings tonight!"

[wannaeatramyeon]

Word quantity: high. Word quality: low. You have been warned.

Goo Kim x Reader: School Days with Princess & the Delinquent

Chapter 7 - Please read chapter 1 first!

Index: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Epilogue

Things take a peculiar turn on the first day back after vacation.

Your old friends have long distanced themselves from you after seeing how close you and the unruly blonde have gotten. 

Everyone else avoids you both, worried that Goo has infected you with his delinquency and you will spread it like a virus.

Whatever. It doesn’t bother you.

.

.

The entire school year so far had felt like a fever dream. 

No-one would have paired you, the top student, with a returning juvenile offender. The unlikeliest of friendships that if any fortune teller could have foretold, you would have demanded your money back anyway.

It was a strange thread of fate that had wound itself around you both, a magnetism you couldn’t shake.

You ponder if meeting in person again after the weeks apart would break whatever you had. If the weirdness of your friendship would become too evident and big to overcome.

The doubts crept in for nothing.

You and Goo have kept up to date in a steady stream of calls and messages consisting of memes and nonsense throughout.

Even so, when you come together again, conversation doesn’t dry up. It picks up exactly where you left it.

.

.

However, none of that is peculiar. The peculiarity is this-

Under the layers of his eccentricity and depravity, Goo hides a breathtaking attractiveness.

You’re sure, if you asked him, he would think it would be obvious to even a person without eyes. 

In fact, you would bet your life on it that he will say something ridiculous about how he just has a hot aura. That every single living creature would be able to just tell. 

Maybe some plants too.

And really, it’s a testament to how handsome he is; that even with an attitude and personality as obviously abrasive as his, people can’t help but take notice.

You’re no exception.

Sure, you always knew. Though it was a quiet little hum in the background.

When you see him again, you cannot miss how good looking he is. How pleasing his features are. His attractiveness is screaming at you.

Especially when you’ve had his mug thrusted at you with selfies and video calls on a daily basis. 

Your eyes stray on the first day back and ever since. You take in his tall, powerful frame. His broad shoulders and strong arms. Long legs that walk with a confident stride. 

Like a higher power knew that Goo Kim would be too powerful with just his beauty, so had been punished by being extra obnoxious. 

Because damn him. He really is gorgeous.

.

.

Goo notices you like him back as he sits opposite you in the canteen, stealing bites from your chopsticks.

The way you look at him has changed. You look at him the same way he looks at you.

With a tenderness that makes his heart hurt and his head cloudy. 

With a certain hunger he is unfortunately all too well acquainted with.

Uh oh. 

A frown forms and you tilt your head, catching his erratic change in mood.

This spells trouble.

.

.

If anyone dares to call Goo a wimp, they would be getting a good beating. Might as well throw in a couple of broken limbs too.

It’s not that he doesn’t tell you because he’s scared of you rejecting him. Quite the opposite.

The grand plans are coming to fruition and anything happening will open up a can of worms.

So he swallows down his affection. Pretends he doesn’t notice yours. 

Keeps up the charade of absurd sweet nothings and relaxed caresses that holds more and more meaning to him with each passing day.

.

.

Today you clean his wounds and bandage him up with a sigh.

There’s no point in trying to change someone like Goo Kim. And perhaps you have been dazzled by your proximity to him, and spoilt by his soft spot for you, but you think he’s really not as bad as everyone makes out.

The blood and hysteria is something you willingly turn a blind eye to. Until it gets too much and Goo proves he’s not invincible after all. Then you’re just there with your first aid kit, patching him up with pursed lips and flared nostrils.

“Thanks, Princess,” Goo gives you a toothy grin that melts your frosty demeanour.

Even with his busted lip, you can’t look away.

You want to kiss him.

[h0rr0rsaxo]

I thought you were just joking when you said you were obsessed with Homelander. You weren't.

WHY IS IT ALL OVER YOUR REBLOG PAGE? IT'S ALL JUST HOMELANDER. I WAS SCROLLING FOR FIVE FUCKING MINUTES.

DUDE I'M SORRY - BUT HE'S SO FINE. I'm sick and tired of pretending that I don't wanna squish his man tits, and call him my babygirl. I have to live in a society where I have to pretend like I WOULDN'T allow and tolerate his possessive behavior. I'm tired of pretending that I wanna fix him. I don't. I wanna make him WORSE. I would 100% be his enabler.

"It's us against the world babyboy😫💔🥀🖤⛓️"

[hercarisntyours]

his ass is NOT turning!! (human! Oplita/Arion Hadestown au)

[thebluestbluewords]

anti-Valentine’s Valentine’s date

I tried SO HARD to write the adorable Jal prompt that I received for Jalentines day, and instead of cute all my brain wanted to write was angst. Set in approximately D2, it’s a 3k lead-in to a longer Jal fic that I’m probably not going to finish writing.

*

Mal kicks the door of the boy's dorm open with the heel of the stupid, impractical strappy sandals she's been wearing since before dinner. 

Or at least, that's what she tries to do. Instead, because her life is a curse and the very existence of high heels is a prison, the delicate silver heel of the shoe that Evie spent hours sourcing for her snaps off. 

Great. Perfect. This is just how she wanted the night to go. 

Mal pounds on the door with her fist instead. "Open up! I brought misery and disdain for the institution of love!" 

A thump. "And chocolate?" 

"No, I didn't steal any chocolate at all from my date with the king of Auradon," Mal says, as sarcastically as she can manage with one shoe on and the other broken to pieces in her hands. "Just let me in already." 

The door pops open. "You're late." Carlos informs her. "Evie already went back to your room." 

Wonderful. 

"I don't care," Mal informs him right back, and shoves her purse, which is tiny and lilac and stuffed to the brim with all the chocolate she could fit, into his hands. "I need this princess shit off my body yesterday. I am not cut out for valentine's day, that's what I've learned, and also Ben's going to dump me and I don't care."

"Woah. Uh. Maybe you should care--" 

Mal spins around to glare at him, and Carlos immediately throws his hands up. "I MEAN, your judgement is impeccable and we all hate Ben now!" 

Ugh. 

"I don't hate him," Mal snaps, yanking her earrings out and throwing them sort of in the direction of somebody's dresser. There's still enough empty space on the top for her to recognize it as a dresser, so signs point to it belonging to Carlos. "I hate love. And valentine's day. And dating."

"You said you hated froot loops yesterday." Carlos points out. "Because I took the last of them. So like, I'm gonna take this with a spoonful of salt here. Did your date not go well?" 

Mal rips the pins out of her hair with so much force that one of them flies into the mirror. It doesn’t shatter, which is a fucking shame. She would have liked to make an awful mess. "I hate love, and I'm going to die alone surrounded by the bones of my enemies. No, it did not "go well,”” She stops ripping out pins long enough to add air quotes, which are essential to the dramatic effect of it all. "He asked if I love him back, and I told him, again, that I don't know how to love people, and he made this horrible face and was so kind about the whole thing, and just-- ugh!" 

Carlos is hovering. "I’m…sorry?" 

"I'm sorry we ever came here." Mal spits, yanking her other shoe off and throwing it somewhere in the direction of Jay's shoe pile. "I don't-- I can't be a princess. I hate that I just-- I don't know how to do anything, and I hate when people look at me like I'm supposed to know what I'm doing, and there were all these cameras, and--augh!" 

"Jay's in the shower," Carlos offers. "If you want to bother him about it." 

"I want to hit something," Mal admits. It's not a perfect solution, but she's already feeling a little bit less like her skin is on too tight now that she's got her hair loose and wild around her shoulders and her earrings and stupid, uncomfortable, impractical shoes off. "I think-- d'you want to spar with us?" 

"Can't. Homework." Carlos gestures to the textbooks he's got spread out on the neater one of the boys’ beds. "I've got a test tomorrow and if I fail I'll have to retake the class." 

Mal leans over so she can see the textbooks. It looks like history, maybe. Something with a lot of dense text and no visible math problems. "I can't imagine you failing any test, furball." she says, meaning it. How well they thrived on the isle of the lost isn't a perfect gauge for how well they're doing in Auradon, but school is school no matter where they are, and Mal can't remember her little nerd ever failing a test.

 Carlos goes even tenser at her attempt at reassurance. "First time for everything." 

"Still, you failing?" Mal scoffs. "We're in Auradon, not Wonderland. Not everything is upside down and inside out and topsy-turvy. Or whatever Allie’s sayings are.. You'll be fine." 

"I'll be better if I study. Sorry. No sparring for me tonight." 

Ugh. Mal rips another pin out of her hair and throws it towards the mirror with the others. "Suit yourself. I'm going to go bother Jay into letting me beat the shit out of him."

Carlos flashes her a little half smile. "Have fun."

“Oh, I will,” Mal assures him, and spins around to go invade the sanctity of the boy’s showers. 

The short, barefoot walk down the hallway to the boy's bathrooms gives Mal critical time to think about her plan of attack. She's wicked and awful, naturally, but she's also not especially interested in getting shouted at by a teacher for being out of bed and in the boy's showers tonight. She's had enough of being shouted at by adults who think they know better than her. She's not some Auradon girl to be controlled, so she's simply not going to get caught. 

Which means she's going back to the boys room. 

At least she'll remember to grab some different shoes this time. 

"Fuck off, Mal," Carlos calls through the door when she knocks a second time. "You can't steal my shoes." 

"I can steal whatever I want, actually," Mal corrects him, opening the door and barging in, as is her right as their fearless leader. She is Mal of the Isle, and she's not a prize to be won or a princess to be wooed. She's going to steal whatever shoes she likes. "Jay's shoes don't fit me right." 

Carlos throws a pen at her. "Neither do mine, you're just delusional about the size of your own feet. At least take my sneakers if you're going sparring. I hate when we have to dig out the poison kit after hours." 

Mal sticks her tongue out at him. Her shoes are all perfect, and she's also perfectly aware of the size of her feet, which are currently half a shoe size smaller than the one Carlos wears.  As such, their shared approximate size gives her the right to steal his shoes whenever the princess ones she's been dressed in are too much for her to manage, physically or mentally. . "I'm taking the ones with spikes." 

"Are not." 

"Are so," Mal says, diving under the bed to where he keeps all four pairs of his shoes lined up. "I'm going to add more spikes while you're not looking. Poison-tipped ones. Razor-sharp." 

"Use porcupine quills, they're barbed." Carlos says helpfully, making absolutely no motion to get up and defend his shoes.

Mal shoves aside the fallen textbook, grabs the hoodie shoved under the bed for later, and ah. There’s her prize.  Boots (with spikes), dress shoes, cleats (more spikes), and there at the end, sneakers. 

"Fishhooks," Mal suggests. "The giant ones that rip holes when they come out. And I'll dip them in bleach powder so it burns the whole time they're inside." 

Carlos shudders. "Gross." 

"You're gross," Mal rips her dress over her head, and does not wince at the popping noise the shoulder seam makes. Evie can fix it again later, or they can burn it. Whichever. "I'm taking your clothes too."

"Wash the bloodstains out before you put them back." 

Shirt. Pants. Hoodie. Sneakers. 

Ill-gotten disguise on, Mal flashes him a thumbs up on her way back out the door. 

“Hey,” Mal calls out, keeping her voice intentionally low. She’s got the hood of Carlos’s stolen hoodie pulled up over her hair, and she’s relying on the sight of a familiar size-shape-color-scheme to deter anyone from looking too closely at her. Not that there’s many students around the boy’s bathroom at 9pm on Valentine’s night, but still. She’s not exactly looking to get caught. “Jaybird?” 

There’s no noise in the bathroom except for the irregular drip of a shower head that hasn’t been turned off quite hard enough. All the money in the world, and Auradon Prep still doesn’t have showers that actually work how they’re supposed to. 

It’s ridiculous. If Mal were in charge of the school budget she’d be putting all the money into showers. A hot shower and a  fireplace in every dorm, so that none of the students have to feel cold if they don’t want. That’s the budget priorities Mal would have. Warmth, and then food. The dining hall could stand to leave leftovers out longer after meals. 

…princesses don’t think about food. She’s been around Evie long enough to know that one. Princesses are tiny and perfect without even trying. Princesses eat salad and fruit and don’t order fries with anything. Princesses are the sort of people the king is supposed to be dating, and Mal is never, ever going to become that sort of person. 

“Mal?” 

Mal does not jump. She just— startles. Just a little. “Hey.”

There’s a smile playing at the corner of Jay’s mouth. “Hey yourself. I thought you’d be out with Ben still.” 

“You know price charming,” Mal waves a hand. “Had to have me home by midnight or else he was afraid I’d turn into a pumpkin.” 

“It’s nine thirty.” 

“Localized curse. The younger you are, the earlier it thinks you should be home. We picked nine, just to be safe.” 

“You can just say you had a bad date, killer,” Jay says. “I’ll be your alibi. You need a shovel?” 

Mal snorts. “It didn’t go that badly, give me some credit. I just freaked out when he started talking about love. While we were on a date to talk about love.” 

Fuck. 

A lot more of the evening makes sense when she frames it that way. None of the bullshit they’ve found online talks about dating the king of the entire country, but there’s a lot of website with mind-numbing names like psychology today and buzzbees news that make it very clear how important Auradon brats think nonverbal communication is. 

She went on a date. On Valentine’s Day. 

With Ben. 

“…Killer?” 

Focus. 

“Fuck off.” Mal snaps reflexively. “I’m fine. Just. Plotting.” 

Jay dodges around her for a pile of fabric, which reveals itself to be his Auradon-blue team hoodie. “You wanna plot somewhere a little better?” 

“What I want is to go home, but I’m not going to get that,” Mal says thoughtfully. “I was going to ask you to spar with me, but if you’ve got any better ideas I’m open to hearing them.” 

“Breaking and entering.” Jay says immediately. “We should blow this place. There’s that all-ages club in town—”

“If I have to touch another human being I’m going to scream.” 

Jay touches her arm deliberately, a sustained pressure that doesn’t even read as touch, just comfort. Mal drinks it in like he’s pouring the comfort directly onto all the jagged, awful pieces of her soul. “I’m not a human being?” 

“Shut up. You’re mine, it’s different.” 

“You’re mine, then.” 

There’s a piece of her heart that fits perfectly again the broken edges of his. Mal couldn’t let go of Jay if she tried, not for anything in the world. Not for her mother breathing fire at them, not for Fairy Godmother insisting that it’ll be good for them to make other friends, and not for a stupid holiday that says she’s only supposed to be tied to one person, and not even the one holding on to her right now. 

“Sure.” Mal agrees, because she can’t put words to the enormity of feelings she’s experiencing. Villains don’t have feelings, but she’s reformed now, and it’s harder to describe the feelings with words than it is to have them. “We can sneak out, see what trouble we can find.” 

“You’re all the trouble I need, killer.” Jay says, too honest. “I’ll take you out of here whenever you need. Wherever you want.” 

“Sap.” 

“Princess.” 

“Do I look like a princess to you?” Mal leans back to gesture at herself. The sweatshirt she stole isn’t Auradon-blue like Jay’s. It’s an old one, ratty in the way that all their old isle stuff is, and nearly transparent at the elbows. The seams are held together with Evie’s neat machine stitching, but the thread is three different shades of red and grey all mashed together, and there’s a hole in the edge of the hood that’s exposing the soft inside of it. Her sneakers are a size too big, and laced tight to compensate. Her hair is still a mess from the violent undoing that she’d subjected it to, and she can’t be bothered to try and tame it, not when her chest is bursting with feelings that don’t have any place to go except for out of her body, in tears or screams or whatever violence she’s able to inflict that will drive the awful right feeling out. 

“The prettiest princess in all the land,” Jay says, and jumps back before the words are even out of his mouth, out of the range of Mal’s swipe. “C’mon, killer. You’re the fiercest baby dragon I know. Come out with me. We can find trouble somewhere better than this.” 

"You're trouble already," Mal grumbles, but there's no bite to the words. She wants, wholly and completely, to be somewhere else. "The gates are locked for the night, you know." 

"No problem. Besides, you can just say you're on an important errand for the king and get through all the school security." 

"I could," Mal agrees. It's not like she's afraid of a little misplaced power when she can wield it. "But it's more fun to sneak out." 

Jay's grin is a bright flash in the darkness. "Hey, I've got a stupid idea." 

Mal grunts. "Shoot." 

"I could toss you over the fence." 

"The twenty foot fence." 

Jay shrugs. "It's more like twelve feet. At least according to the build specs." 

"Which you came across..." 

"Totally legally. They're in the library, if you know where to look for 'em." 

"You're impossible," Mal sighs. "Okay, once you toss me how are we getting you over?" 

"I'll jump." 

Over the twelve foot fence. "Sure, and when you break your leg falling back down?" 

"You'll magic me back together again. Humpty-dumpty this shit." 

"I don't think you actually know that rhyme."

"I know your rhymes," Jay shoots back. "You've got magic for levitation in the spellbook, yeah?" 

"I don't have the spellbook with me, wise guy." Mal points out. "I'm not even wearing my own shoes right now, what makes you think I memorized magic that'll get us over the fence?" 

Jay's eyes are too bright. She's going to have to use a spell just to hide him, and the magic will burn her out, and they'll get stuck on the wrong side of the fence, and-- that's what she would think, if she were Jane, or someone will less awesome magic powers. She's Mal of the Isle, and she's got this shit under control. 

"Dragon magic," Jay says cheerfully, like it's not late and they're not doing something totally against all of the rules they're supposed to be learning by sneaking out to the city. "I trust you, killer." 

"I could kill you," Mal grumbles, but she raises her hands and lets the magic gather there, blue-green sparks catching on her fingertips as she pulls the spell out from her mind. "Make this boy as light as air, hop the fence without a care." 

The magic falls over Jay in a net of shimmering sparks. They absorb in after a second, but the look suits him. Mal spares a thought for her sketchbook, which is tucked away in her locker with the rest of the books she hasn't had the time to touch in weeks, and the drawing her fingers are itching to make. "You can hop it now. You'll be light enough to jump over the fence with a regular leap." 

"Sweet!" Jay turns and drops to a knee. "Hop on." 

"Piggyback? Seriously?" 

"No better way to hop it together. Unless you'd rather I throw you over."

It's dangerous, and not just physically. Mal's been doing a pretty fucking good job at squashing down the feelings she's not supposed to have for her best friends, but this... 

She's emotionally illiterate, but Jay's offer to take her out tonight is like a picture book. Or one of those furniture instructions that doesn't even have language, just pictures to follow. 

He cares about you, Mal's traitorous brain whispers. More than your boyfriend does. 

Ugh. 

"Don't do anything stupid," Mal says, even as she's the one climbing on. "The spell should be good for a few leaps, but--" 

"Can't hear you, too busy blowing this place!" Jay grunts, pushing them both upright. "Let's fuckin' go--" 

"Don't--" 

"Hup!" 

Well. At least they're on the other side of the fence now, even if they crashed directly into the school holly bush on the landing. 

"Oww," Jay groans. "Might need a little more practice on that spell. I think there's something wrong with your magic assist on the landing." 

Mal yanks a leaf out of her arm. "There is no magic assist, dumbass. I tried to tell you, but somebody decided to go full steam ahead without listening to my warning. We're over now, and that's what matters." 

Jay mumbles something unintelligible. She can only assume it's rude, given the circumstances. Ugh, holly leaves are not the hot new accessory of the season, not even when they're doing a levitation act and sticking with a single thorn into her nose.

 "Speak up or shut up, jaybird." 

"I said--" It's impossible to tell in the darkness, but it looks like he might be blushing. The school grounds are supposed to have automatic lights, but a little wire cutting took care of that for them, and they're sneaking out under cover of darkness tonight. Mal's good at knowing her crew, but she can't be sure. "I, uh, you're important. To me." 

"Don't get mushy on me." 

"I'd never. Just. We're sneaking out together, and I wanted you to know, I'd never commit crimes and misdemeanors with anyone else." 

"Liar." 

Jay flashes her a smile, but he's doing the thing where he's got a hand tangled up in his hair, and it makes him look heart-wrenchingly sincere. "Yeah, but not to you." 

Oh, gods. "Don't go having feelings on me," Mal says, swallowing down the wobble that wants to creep into her voice. "I can't handle it. Not tonight, please." 

Just like that, Jay's posture melts into something different. Not quite his usual confidence, but something closer to normal. "Sure. No feelings. I can do that." 

"I don't--" Mal scrubs a hand over her eyes. "I didn't mean that you can't have feelings, just. I can't be the one to handle them tonight. I'll do whatever you want tomorrow, just-- can we just go be somewhere else tonight? I can't handle all this lovey stuff." 

Jay's shoulders melt even further. Mal can't look him in the eye, she can't, she won't-- 

He's smiling. His hand is so, so warm in hers. "Killer." 

"I'm sorry." 

He shrugs. "Whatever. You're allowed to have a bad night. I'll take you out, we can forget this ever happened tomorrow. Easy." 

"You should have someone better," Mal cries, and the horrible realization that she's crying sets in. "I don't want feelings for you!" 

"shit," Jay whispers, so quietly that Mal is sure she wasn't supposed to hear it at all. "Dragon, we don't have to do feelings like the Auradon brats. You can just be mine, and I can be yours, and we don't have to do any of the mushy shit that's freaking you out. We can just run away." 

"Together." 

"Yeah. Unless you spelled somebody else over the fence while I was distracted." 

Mal wipes the sleeve of her stolen hoodie across her nose. "Ugh, no. I don't use magic for just anybody." 

"See, there you go. I'm honored to be worthy of your magic, your royal evil-ness." 

“Fuck off,” Mal groans, and then before she can lose her nerve she steps close enough to cup his face in her hands. There’s no magic this time, but Jay’s skin is hot and soft under her palms, and it feels like there should be magic between them. “I’m the worst girlfriend in the world, so I won’t ever put you through that. I’m selfish, and I’m flaky, and I can’t say that I love you, and I can’t ever promise that I’ll be able to say it.” 

Jay’s face is a thundercloud. “Did Ben say you needed to say it back?” 

“No, but— Ben’s not here right now. That’s the point. He’s not the person I run to when everything in the world is too much for me to handle. Ben’s sweet and all, but he’s not who I want to be with when I’m upset. Can you imagine what he’d say if I suggested running away from the grounds?” 

“What ho good chap, let me summon a car to escort you from the venerable grounds of our fine institution,” Jay picks up her thread, mocking. “And yeah, I guess when you put it that way, it’s pretty silly to think about Ben taking care of you.” 

Mal sucks in a breath. “Exactly. He’s sweet, but I don’t know how to deal with sweet, and it feels like the pressure of it is killing me. You know how to push back when I’m being a monster, and I don’t know how to fit that into one of the relationship boxes I’m supposed to use here.” 

Jay tips his head into her hands. “We could make our own box.” 

“We could.” 

“I wouldn’t ask you to be my girlfriend.” 

Mal leans in. “I know,” she tells the space between Jay’s parted lips. “I know.” 

[riostwsty]

" I'll make up to you... "

Summary: Jamil does nothing but work all day, everyday. Luckily he can always rely on his partner at times when he feels beyond exausted. word count 1.6k + Keywords: fluff, scenario, romance, third person narrator, g/n reader (you/yours), established relationship, reader not implied Yuu/MC Characters: Jamil x reader CWs: none, just comfort I think

Your footsteps echoes in the halls of Scarabia, moonlight and the shimmer of a thousand stars illuminated your path by the windows beside. Kalim had asked for help with a big project for Astrology class, and there you were, only managing to finish a little before 1 am struck, and as you were heading back to your room, decided to pay a visit to the dorm's kitchen for a cup of water and a (post) midnight snack.

There was a strange sight however, upon arriving there, of a Jamil Viper standing unmoving behind the counter, staring expressionless at his feet.

—"Jamil! I haven't seen you all day, where have you been?"— you asked. He didn't even flinch at the sound of your voice, but you continued regardless —"You didn't read any of my messages, I was actually starting to get worried, haha... Jamil?"—

The lack of response made you reluctantly approach, getting nearer, you made sense of the situation at hand... more or less.

He stared at four pieces of bread fallen face down on the floor. Stared as if they had insulted him in seven different languages. Glancing back and forth to the floor and his face, all you could muster was a "Wha..."

—"I wanted toast"— he muttered to himself —"why."—

You picked up the bread, hopefully to break the weird trance your boyfriend was in, and looked for a garbage bin to discard them. He furrowed his brows, at last truly acknowledging your presence. You imitaded his expression back —"It's way past the five second rule, come on."—

He sighed, leaning on the counter with arms crossed and resting his head on them like a makeshift pillow, face down. It was fairly obvious what it meant, and a bit unease, you already knew what to do in situations like it.

—"wanna talk about your day?"—

—"hm."— Jamil grunted quietly, taking in a deep breath as he counted on his fingers —"Final history test. Didn't submit Crewel's project in time. Laundry. Dishes. Cancelled Basketball practice."—

—"That's quite the list..."—

—" 's only half of it"—

You leaned on the counter next to him, with a half embrace, rubbing circles on his back with one hand. —"I came here for a midnight snack before going to bed, but I can also make you some hot chocolate while I'm at it. How's that sound?"—

His posture changed to the offering, looking up at the ceiling as if carefully calculating his response, but then slowly shaking his head in hesitant disapproval —"...Must consume milk under three days... once opened.... Such a waste."— His speech was slurred from the sheer exaustion, stumbling over his words while you tried to make sense of the conversation —"... don' worry... I eat the floor toast. thanks."— he then let all the weight of his head fall at once on the counter with a comically loud thud to end the discussion right then and there.

Needless to say, this has happened a fair amount of times before. The vice housewarden often gets too caught up in his responsabilities to even remember taking breaks, and when his partner is not around to give reminders, well... the situation only escalates to the worst. In comparison to his usual serious, responsible and ever flawless image, he'd become completely out of touch due to the fatigue accumulated througout the day, walking and speaking as if his conciousness hang by a thread, threatening to give in at every second passed.

Jamil constantly fought to keep the solemn demeanor, but one can only go so far, after all, he's human too. He'd rather dissappear than ever be caught acting as anything but the picture perfect mask he held in front of others, and that drained ridiculous amounts of energy the longer he kept up the performance.

You took his face on your hands and brought him closer to inspect his drowsy state. He struggled to keep his vision focused, and it gave the impression of the bags under his eyes to be darker than usual. He noticed you press your lips in a thin line and squint your eyes as you observed with worry. Jamil hadn't even begun to lose himself in the tender moment, of your warm hands caressing his skin so affectionately, when you rapidly turned your attention to the kitchen cabinets to take all the ingredients for that previously mentioned hot chocolate offer, making him click his tongue in annoyance.

—"[name], I told you I-"—

—"Jamil, stop worrying about wasting ingredients from the pantry, and allow yourself to enjoy a well deserved treat for once"— you interrupted —"you're tense. you should relax before heading to bed, or else you won't get a good night's rest"—

He scoffed, approaching from behind and shutting with both hands another cabinet you were about to open, like that consequently closing the space between you two, as he glared as best as he could at your surprised expression now centimeters away from his face.

It was an embarrassing position to be in, between the cabinet and Jamil you couldn't move, caged between his arms so he was sure you'd look at him the eye. Yes, it would be almost intimidating, that is, if his mind hadn't gone blank from his sleep deprived state, only managing to muster a single "ssstop." accompanied by a tired pout.

—"Nop"— you pushed him back gently —"You go sit down somewhere. I'll take care of things now"—

==

Both of your hands were occupied as you made your way around the dorm. One holding Jamil's mug and the other holding his hand, guiding him like a lost puppy. By the time you reached the boy's room, he seemed to have finally given up complaining, and was resting his head on your shoulder, barely keeping himself up. You instructed him to sit at the edge of the bed, handing him the hot beverage, while you took a seat behind, and began to undo his messy braids and ponytail with care.

The quietness between interactions was by no means uncomfortable anymore, at this stage of the relationship, they were reassuruing moments that told words weren't needed when you two understood each other so well. It was true, reading a person like Jamil was no easy task, yet you did it so effortlessly. Still, that didn't mean he was a completely open book in any way.

After undoing the braids, you took a brush to untangle any knots left in his hair. Once you noticed the tension on his shoulders was beggining to dissipate, you decided to gather a bit of courage to ask something that had been bothering you for quite some time.

—"Why are you always so eager to refuse any help from me?"— you broke the silence —"You're barely managing to keep yourself up by the end of the week, yet you still..."—

You sighed, not feeling the need to complete the sentence. Jamil didn't respond right away, only tapping his fingers on the mug in hand as if counting the seconds passed from the unanswered question.

—"I'm used to... doing that"— he took a sip from the hot chocolate —"you feel bothered by it?"—

—"It's just that you do so much for everyone. You do so much for me and-"— you interrupted youself, wondering what words to use to accurately describe your thoughts on the matter —"and it feels like the efforts are unbalanced, you know? It's unfair."—

His eyes darted across the room, seeking to be fixed anywhere but to your direction.

—"...can't say I feel the same way"— he mumbled.

You sighed softly, letting the quiet atmosphere to sink in once more.

Growing up as a servant for the Asim family, constantly having to look after others and never prioritizing himself, barely taking any breaks- for sure these responsabilities took deep roots on his subconscious, wether he noticed it or not, no matter how much he believed he deserved better, there was always a voice in the back of his mind, telling the exact contrary. Ordering him to hold the act for just a little while longer, to work a bit more, and above all, to do it all alone. It was HIS duty and no one else's.

But among crowds you only had eyes on him. And among layers of deception you knew what he really felt. Saw the burden he'd much prefer for you to ignore it.

—"well, you know I love you very much"— you added weakly, taking the now empty cup from his hands and placing it on the drawer beside the bed, along with the hairbrush you had just finished using —"maybe we can talk about this tomorrow, once you're well rested?"—

In no time Jamil turned around from his spot on the bed and tackled you down on the matresses with him, hugging your frame like a body pillow.

—"promise to remind me-"— he added drowsy as he finally allowed his heavy eyelids to shut —"I'll make up to you tomorrow"—

—"yeah, promise."— in no hesitation, you lied. As you had done times before, in this scenario you felt no guilt in doing so. For there was no need to have your favor ever be payed back by Jamil. Taking care of him was no task, much less one to be returned in feeling of obligation.

It was something he couldn't wrap his head around. The fact that someone would do such things, all purely out of love for him. There was still a long way to go until he could even begin to truly understand, your adoration for him was not a matter of exchange, but one of heart.

You ran your fingers through his hair until he was fast asleep, and prepared yourself to join in soon, waiting for morning to wake you to another busy day, that by the end of it, you'd be willing to repeat the same nightly routine over and over again, if so needed, and if he would allow it.

[spite-and-waffles]

Have I run out of all the good JayTim fic? 😭 I've been sadly spoilt with amazing fic for too long and I'm now sloughing through mediocrity.

[nervocat]

Was I super productive with my series today? No. But did I regain that lost confidence and am happier after a small break? Hell yeah. New theme? Also hell yeah. (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

[goodthingscomeinthrees]

i am simultaneously a 26-year-old teenage girl and a 26-year-old grizzled fandom grandmother, i contain multitudes

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: August 17

“The Grand Experiment” by Doomtree

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

Relationship: The Bell Keeper & Meiri (OC) Category: Gen Word count: 2.9k Chapters: 1/? Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Found Family

🌲Read it on AO3♾️

Preview:

A thing about Ed, one that Meiri could have never foreseen wouldn’t get on her nerves until she wanted to bite another hole into his decrepit overcoat, was that every time she thought she had him completely figured out, he’d go and surprise her.

Which was exactly what happened shortly after they arrived at the cabin the very afternoon he had signed the papers declaring that he, of fully informed and free will, was taking Meiri to be his problem for the rest of his life.

(That, by itself, should have already hinted to her that the guy was very strange, if she were being honest.)

Meiri had been setting the dishes on the table, organising them the best she could. It was hard to do much when the material she had to work with were two plain white plates – one of them with a barely noticeable chip, which she placed before her usual chair – and mismatched cutlery, but at least she was trying. Maybe too much, in fact, considering her vision was beginning to play tricks on her with how obsessive she got about placing the fork and knife perfectly parallel.

Luckily, Edmund leaving the small bathroom after his shower saved her from escalating to frustration, then anger, then most likely throwing the cutlery across the cabin to hang from the opposite wall.

That would not be a very good show to put on on her first official day at the cabin.

The steam that accompanied the man’s entrance smelled of cardamom from his soap and sandalwood from his deodorant (she had read every single label in the cabin one day when she was bored), and it was strangely soothing. Meiri sat back on Ed’s chair, huffing, when the fork’s placement still looked off to her

Maybe it was a secret cutlery rebellion. Or they just hated her in particular.

She felt a hand on her head, and scrunched her nose when Edmund ruffled her hair, feigning an undignified “hey!” before he walked by her to sit on the opposite chair.

This was wrong. They were in the wrong places. She’d even put out the cutlery they were each used to using already. She was about to point this out when he said it.

“Want to go out for dinner tonight?”

Meiri blinked.

“Dinner?”

“Yes. It’s the meal we have in the evenings.”

She glared, but it seemed to amuse him so whatever effect she used to get out of that was apparently ruined.

Continue reading

[probably-enjolras]

me: oh man i’ve had so much work for college but i have a bunch of time today for the first time in two months i should finally work on my enjoltaire reincarnation fic

my brain and writing ability the moment i open the computer:

[baejax-the-great]

God I'm still not over people bitching about fanfic being in the tags.

When I first tried to dip my toes into fandom, a thing I knew almost nothing about, I typed "mass effect" into the search bar. What I got was image after image of 3D renderings of asari with phalluses having group sex (and I think Miranda was there sometimes, too). Was this what I was looking for? Absolutely not. Were these images incorrectly tagged? Nope. Did I want to see them? Not really. Was it the fault of the artists that I saw them? Nope.

That's just the nature of searching for shit online, especially such a half-functional website like Tumblr. It's a fucking grab bag of whatever the fuck your fellow humans are up to at any given time.