#can’t stop the a-train

[cadavorcist]

cant stop the Aft-train

[viperwhispered]

Rest

Guess what? I've got more Jamil x reader for y'all. You can also find this on ao3. No warnings, just 866 words of kinda fluffy(?) caretaking stuff with gender-neutral reader.

At this point, you know Jamil’s schedule almost as well as he does. So, when you have the chance, you head to Scarabia’s kitchen, hoping to spend some time with Jamil while he and the other students prepare dinner. 

However, when you enter, it takes you but a moment to notice Jamil’s uncharacteristic fumbling and the tired look in his eyes. The way Jamil’s chopping the vegetables has you worried about him cutting himself with that knife he’s usually so adept with, and it seems it’s only force of habit that’s keeping him on track.

You frown, and when your eyes meet Jamil’s, you can already see him put his guard up.

So he knows what state he is in, huh? And still, here he is.

It seems Jamil is reading your thoughts, all of him telling you drop it before any words are even said.

At least he still lets you lean in and give a quick kiss to his cheek in greeting.

“Hello love. Do you still have a lot on your agenda for today?” you ask, keeping your tone low for at least some semblance of privacy in the busy kitchen.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” is the response you get.

Of course.

It takes a little more pestering before Jamil actually answers your question. Your lips purse. That list is far too long to your liking.

You take a moment to think, juggling your own plans and to-do list against the urgency of the things Jamil mentioned.

“Will Kalim be eating from that?” you ask, pointing at the food Jamil is preparing.

“Yes.”

“Alright, I won’t be touching that one, then. I’ve gotta do a few things but I’ll be back when you’re done here.”

“Don’t,” Jamil says with a glare, clearly aware of what you’re thinking.

Yet even his disapproving look doesn’t have the usual weight behind it.

“Yes. I will,” you say firmly, even as your heart curls inwards with another bout of concern.

Really, when did he get so tired?

And how did you not notice it earlier?

You leave the kitchen before Jamil can protest further, hurrying through the dorm corridors to find Kalim.

Soon you have an enthusiastic – and concerned – supporter for your plans. You have Kalim point out a few reliable Scarabia students to help with a few of the most urgent matters Jamil mentioned – cleaning up the common areas, delivering some paperwork to Crowley, preparing some dorm-wide notices – while you see to Kalim getting his school supplies in order for the following day. You even recruit a couple of third years to help Kalim with his homework.

You’ll see to the rest tomorrow – after all, you do also have a boyfriend to look after.

Your conversation over dinner can hardly be called anything else than an argument – despite Kalim’s best attempts at acting as a moderating force between you two. It is very tempting to ask Kalim to tell Jamil to take the rest of the day off – it’s not like Jamil would be willing to openly disobey a direct order. Still, you really don’t need to remind Jamil of his position on top of everything else that you’re already doing more or less against his wishes.

Eventually, however, Jamil’s had a square meal, the most urgent things on his to-do list are being taken care of, and you’ve managed to drag him to his bed.

“I really wish you wouldn’t push yourself so hard,” you murmur, your arms wrapped tightly around Jamil. You’re telling yourself you really do just want to cuddle, to offer some respite to Jamil. Still, there might also be a part of you worried that if you were to let go, he’d just jump up and get back to working himself to the bone.

Yet, for all his protestations, just the fact that you’ve gotten Jamil to lay down with you speaks volumes of his current exhaustion.

“I can’t just leave my duties, albi. You know this.”

“Making yourself too indispensable, is what you’re doing,” you protest.

Oh, you know it’s not so simple. Not with his background, not with all the expectations and assumptions.

But sometimes you really wish it would be.

Jamil merely scoffs in response to your words.

Still, it is undeniable that he is slowly beginning to relax in your arms, slowly bringing his head closer to yours. His eyes are starting to flutter, too.

“I will still need to help Kalim with his homework, at the very least.”

You wonder who he is trying to convince more, you or himself.

“Amin and Khalil are helping him. They’re basically top of their classes, aren’t they? I’m sure they’ve got it.”

Still, Jamil frowns.

You sigh. He really is not letting go, is he?

“Do you want me to go supervise?” you ask.

And leave you, unsaid yet hanging there right after your words.

“Don’t,” Jamil eventually says, the word barely more than a breath.

It seems he has accepted his fate.

You softly caress Jamil’s hair, listening to his softening breathing.

And when you wake up, wholly unaware of having been lulled to sleep in the first place, it’s to the lightest of touches from Jamil’s fingers.

Tagging @diodellet @twstgo @crystallizsch @jamilvapologist @jamilsimpno69 as per request If you'd like to be tagged for any future works, let me know!

[the-broken-pen]

“You’re going to blow out your arms,” the villain observed. They watched as the hero merely grit their teeth, shoving themself through another pull-up. It looked painful, and if the sweat slicking the hero’s brow was any indication, it was.

They waited for the hero to let themself drop from the bar and accept the villain was stronger. But they didn’t.

Three more pull-ups, and the villain stepped in.

“Hero,” they said slowly. “You’re about to tear the ligaments in your arms. You need to stop.”

The hero blew out a shuddering breath. Struggled for purchase, fighting gravity—and let themself drop.

The hero’s hands were bleeding, calluses torn open by the bar. The hero didn’t seem bothered when their own hands shook so much that their blood began to splatter on the gym floor.

For a moment, the villain could only stare at them.

Shit.

They didn’t know how to handle this. They knew the hero was dedicated. They knew the hero was strong, and perpetually trying to be stronger, but they hadn’t thought…

They hadn’t thought the hero would be so willing to tear apart their own body for success.

It was supposed to be fun, the villain thought. They felt a little sick as the hero pressed their palms together to soothe the bleeding, an action that was practiced and familiar. As if they had done this before.

The hero reached for something in their bag, smearing blood on the side, and pulled out a roll of blue electrical tape. The villain didn’t understand why, until the hero tore a strip off and made to wrap their hands with it.

The hero would be the death of them.

They crouched in front of the hero, plucking the electrical tape out of their hands.

“What are you doing with this?”

The hero blinked at the villain like they were the strange one in this situation.

“Wrapping my hands?”

The villain hissed in a breath.

“With electrical tape?”

The hero flushed slightly, looking down at their bloody hands. They looked close to tears.

“It…sticks to skin, really well. And it doesn’t move, either, when you move your hands or wherever else, even if you’re fighting. Plus, blood doesn’t make it come off, at least, not for a while.”

The villain blinked at them.”

“Blood doesn’t make it come off,” the villain repeated, processing. The hero nodded, reaching for the electrical tape. The villain settled it out of reach.

“Not if you wrap it right.”

Dimly, the villain realized that meant the hero had done this enough times to have it down to a science.

“And you couldn’t use a bandaid?” The villain asked incredulously. The hero shrugged a shoulder, then winced at the motion.

Yeah, the hero had absolutely blown out their arms.

“Bandaids move—“

The villain hushed them.

“Be quiet for a second.”

The hero, wisely, went quiet.

The villain rubbed a hand over their face, then studied the hero for a moment. They took one of the hero’s hands into their own, studying the damage.

“Why did you do this to yourself,” the villain murmured.

“What do you mean, why,” the hero snapped. “It’s my job.”

“Your job is to save people,” the villain corrected. “Not destroy yourself.”

“I’m not destroying myself—“

“You are.”

“Shut up—“

“Hero.”

“I need to be better,” the hero snapped. Their voice rang out across the gym, echoing into the rafters, and they both froze. After a moment, the hero spoke again, voice soft. “I need to be better.”

They said it like they needed the villain to understand. The villain wondered who they were really saying it to—the villain, or themself.

“Better than who?”

“Everyone.” It was hushed, like a secret.

The villain watched them, waiting.

The hero took a shaky breath

“My whole thing is being the best. I have always been the best. That’s the only reason I matter. If I’m not strong enough, then I am nothing, so I need. to be. better.”

The hero had started crying, very quietly, like they were afraid to take up too much space.

The villain was not equipped to handle gifted kid burnout.

“There’s more to you than just being a good athlete,” the villain said hesitantly, and the hero shook their head.

“No. There isn’t.”

“Hero.”

“Can you give me back my electrical tape?” They hiccuped to contain a sob.

“No,” the villain said firmly, and then the hero really was sobbing.

“You don’t understand—“

The villain didn’t. Not really. They had never been the kind of talented that the hero was.

They wondered now if maybe that was a blessing.

“I don’t,” the villain agreed. “But I do understand that you’ve saved half the city, and you give everything you have to give, and you always do your best.”

“But I-“

“No.” The villain stopped them. “You are doing your best.” They tipped the hero’s chin up until they met the villain’s eyes. “And it is enough.”

The hero froze, eyes darting over the villain’s face. They wondered if anyone had ever said that to the hero, if whatever mentor they had was giving them anything other than orders to be stronger. Be better. Be more.

The villain had some new targets to take care of, it would seem.

For now, though, they had to take care of hero.

“We’re going to go wrap your hands,” they said softly. “And then we’re going to take care of your arms, and you’re going to take a nap.”

The hero nodded, watching them like they were some kind of good, selfless person.

“And if I ever catch you using electrical tape again, so help me, I will put you six feet under.”

That startled a laugh out of the hero, and they let the villain guide them to their feet.

“Fine.”

The villain turned to them. “Okay?”

Are you going to be alright?

The hero seemed to understand.

“Okay,” the hero agreed.

Yes.

And so, it was.

[moonpascal]

@mischievousmoony for our viewing pleasure

credit to @/slutforaaron on tiktok

[antleredweirdo]

DPxDC Writing prompt: A new circus is in town appeared seemingly overnight, a circus of meta humans with red eyes and equally terrifying and wondrous acts. It’s suspicious as all hell and even more suspicious when Jason suddenly feels overwhelmingly compelled to join it when he sees the commercial for it on the TV. Seriously, where the hell did this ‘Circus Gothica’ even come from?

Ok hear me out; y’know in that one episode where we’re introduced to Freakshow and he brainwashes Danny but then it’s ok because he’s saved by his friends?

What if Sam and Tucker and been too late? If Danny had been successful taken?

What if no one believed Sam and Tucker when they said Danny had been kidnapped and he’s not a runaway?

And what if he’s been brainwashed for over 3 years while travelling in the Circus, the only people caring enough to find him being unable to do anything about it?

And what if Freakshow made the mistake of preforming in Gotham where the Bats dwelled? And where they’ll take a deeper look into the circus’s suspicious behaviour…

[hogans-heroes]

Don’t think about Bucky shivering in the first Stalag winter with his thin leather jacket, dull eyes and arms clutched around himself, and Gale being exasperated with him. “Why did you get rid of the sheepskin ya loony we could never peel it off of you before?” And Bucky muttering “you hated it,” lips pressed tight because what did he do wrong now but Gale is lost because he’s never seen this side of Bucky before and Bucky’s eyes are damp and he freezing without a proper jacket because of Gale and it breaks something inside Gale’s chest. That’s the first night he makes Bucky bunk with him so he can wrap him up with his own body warmth and blankets as Bucky waits till the others are asleep to curl close and press his face to Gale’s neck, hands fisting in the back of Gale’s sweater.

[blondeweasel]

The Bad Batch Finale: Tech is dead

The entire fandom:

I haven’t even seen the finale yet (clicked on the Tech tag on AO3 like an idiot and got it spoiled) but I’m already jumping on the denial train. Allll aboard!!

[sanyu-thewitch05]

I’m sorry, but the bisexual to asexual(or aroace) train is wild.

More talk in the tags

[dragonnnfly]

Httyd + Tumblr

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #152

Danny stumbled through the forest trying to get away. His family was out on a camping trip and things go less than ideal. His identity gets outed and before he can get his parents reaction he bolted into the wilderness. His heavy footfalls and the blood rushing in his ear were the only thing he could hear eventually as he ran. Soon though he came to another clearing with what looked like a plane and a camp site that seemed to only house the bare essentials.

His foot accidentally steps on a twig and it only takes a second to find himself staring at the twin he abandoned years ago when he died the first time. He held Danny’s own favorite sword against his throat.

[campirefangs]

No thoughts just thinking about anal… Dreaming about someone laying me over their lap. Fingering and stretching my ass so slowly, softly, and gently that I start begging you to be rough with me. Begging you to take my anal virginity please, please stretch me wide enough that you can force yourself inside of me. Then force me to ride you when it’s still too-tight and painful so you can sit back and relax; focus on watching me, enjoying the pathetic noises I’m making, and tell me what a good dumb little boy I’m being for you. Tell me you’ll slap me if I stop, you didn’t give me pemission to stop violating my own ass. Make me thank you for degrading and defiling my ass because it belongs to you. Make me thank you because my virgin asshole will never be this tight again after you’re done with me.

🦇ok to like/rb | op is a man and uses he/they pronouns 🦇

[starryluminary]

Could you imagine your first substantial interaction with someone being an ear kiss in your sleep and yet somehow you still end up friends. That’s wild to me I don’t know about you

[tmmyhug]

i jeep making the mistake of opening twitter the people there are so STUPID

[tired-socks]

Once a year my tf2 hyper fixation crawls to the absolute front of my head.

After 10 years she’s still here and kicking.

[edenkyubiko]

🖐️😁

Meeeeeeee….

[jalboyhenthusiast]

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