#quantity not quality babey

[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.” 

[honestlydarkprincess]

9-1-1 as text posts but make it quantity over quality

[queenlua]

it's interesting how i'm willing to forgive HUGE continuity/consistency/coherency errors if a book has a pedal-to-the-metal, balls-to-the-wall, bro-i've-just-done-so-many-drugs-get-in-the-fucking-car kinda vibe

but if a book is merely "pretty good" and "pretty normal" but commits one-too-many subtle continuity errors i get irate

[curiosityjams]

i know so much is easier said than done, but the older i get, the more i realize being alone or having a small circle of friends/loved ones....sounds more and more appealing by the day, lol.

[ynneleac]

QUANTITY OVER QUALITY BABEY!!!!!

[distorted-graffiti]

hi there! i’m now taking art commissions :D i’m still a minor and my parents are STILL stalling on helping me get a bank account so unfortunately as of right now i cannot take regular payment, however! i have a bandcamp you can gift me albums on. if you’re interested in commissions, just dm me on here or discord and we can discuss further there! (do NOT buy me albums before messaging me, if you do i will assume it’s a christmas present and you won’t get a drawing in return.)

The price of your total purchase on bandcamp will determine what you can receive as a commission, for example:

let’s say you want to receive a rendered bust which is $5. If you buy me $4.98 worth of albums on bandcamp, you won’t receive the artwork you want. If you bought exactly $5 or more worth of albums, only then you would receive your artwork.

0/3 slots left :)

If you’re interested, my rates and examples are below the read more :]

bust: $2 colored, $5 semi-rendered, $8 lineless

halfbody: $8 colored, $10 semi-rendered, $12 lineless

fullbody: $15 colored, $18 semi-rendered, $24 lineless

extra characters are +20% for each, simple backgrounds are usually free but more detailed backgrounds with props will have to be discussed.

examples of a colored piece (minimal to no shading):

examples of a semi-rendered piece (more detailed shading):

examples of a lineless piece (no lineart all coloring babey!!):

TOS:

i will not be able to get your drawing done right away, it will probably take more than a week depending on what type of drawing it is. these are commissions and i want to pace myself in a way that prioritizes quality over quantity.

you are not allowed to use any of my art for the following:

nfts

ai art

monetary gain

i am willing to draw:

ships (self-insert ships are allowed!)

fanart

ocs

i cannot draw:

nsfw

mecha

furries

real life people or heavy realism

[aimlessnomad]

takin' the shotgun approach to posting. quantity over quality, babey !

[seokmatthewz]

my life is just make grainy gifs for 2 hours and suffer

[the-cookie-of-doom]

so my dad’s boss/best friend is selling his house to move out of state, and my dad came in to ask about some stuff since I am a Real Estate Agent (yes, this was post cry. When I’m that level of emotional I need to be Distracted; talking through my issue only makes me fixate and blow things out of proportion and spiral; I need to talk about something else to calm down.) and he was asking what I can Actually Do currently and like 

nothing. literally nothing. I am not allowed to say a house even looks NICE, or God forbid I may end up sued for it. (i’m exaggerating but only a little.)

one of my RE profs stressed the fact that the most dangerous point in your career is right after your get your license, and before you sign with a broker. Because during that period of time all the liability falls to you, and it’s very easy to get yourself into trouble, even just by giving advice.. I’m happy to give advice here because lol none of you have my agent number, but irl? yeah no I can’t touch that with a 10 foot pole. I wish, though... ya girl wants a JOB

[necromaency]

it's 2am and i cant sleep bc i cant stop thinking about all the good books ive read last year while also masking my underlying anxitea™️

[muddlemore]

Ay Papi when's ur next king of the hill post

my king of the hill posts are hand picked and raised with care unlike your artificial reposts i look for quality humor

[factual-fantasy]

Oml, Peso is absolutely B A B E Y

Yus, Peso is babey. 😌 And oh man, the headcannon that comes with this picture is just too cute.

I like to think that Peso found safety by being constantly surrounded by his many relatives back at home. But now that he’s an Octonaut and often times finds himself alone.. he chooses quality over quantity, and now finds safety in Captain Barnacles and Kwazii because they are the strongest and bravest members of the team arguably. Which would explain when in the show something scary happens, Peso always ducks behind one of the two. ●ᴗ●

[strawborzoi]

Art fight 2021 babey! 7th year now!

Last year I did 40 attacks, and with current events (working in a covid lab, moving house, etc) I’m gonna focus more on quality over quantity :3 Will definitely be revenging all friends though >:3c

Profile here!

[hakurasakura]

new year fic writers and readers ask game 2020

thank you for the tag @pumpkin-goob

What was your biggest writing/reading achievement of this year?

the fact that i actually wrote. i always wanted to go back into writing but i didn’t get the inspiration/motivation until november. but alas, i’m still proud of myself

and also writing my first long fic. i was so nervous writing it, but with the help of the people who beta it, i got it done!

for reading, i read a zukka (zuko x sokka) twilight au series. i never thought i would read two of my childhood things together but it’s really good! so many emotions. such a roller coaster ride but it’s one of the best things i have read this year! here’s the link to the unconditionally and irrevocably universe: zukka twilight au

What did you learn about yourself as a writer/reader this year?

as a writer, i had to tell myself not to push too hard. for example, hitting a certain word count. in hindsight, it doesn’t matter because it is about the quality over quantity 

as a reader, leaving comments. comments AND reblogs (on tumblr) are very important for writers. it will help them improve. get them motivated. but if you leave comments/asks about “when will you update [x]” the writer will become discouraged. please please please leave comments, as a fellow writer, i cannot emphasize on the importance of comments enough. 

Did you dive into something familiar or try something new this year?

i typically write short fics, but this year i tried something new: long fics! and honestly i’m starting to like them. the story/worldbuilding. it gives the time and space to describe scenes. 

Share a comment (if a writer) or a story (if a reader) that lifted your spirits this year.

every comment i get on my fics, whether it’s on tumblr or ao3, i cherish them in my heart. i look at the everyday to keep myself motivated. 

for fics, it’s @gravelyhumerus jemily college au series. i LOVE it and i’m so honored to beta for her. AND re-read it on tumblr/ao3 because it’s that good. 

What are you grateful for?

for all the notes and comments on my fics. all my friends who are willing to brainstorm ideas with me. i honest to god wouldn’t have been able to do without you guys

imma name drop some people because it’s soft bitch hours

@lizziechase @babey-jj @tara-draws @ssa-essayer @gravelyhumerus @sunnymulti @iconicc @sunlightgalaxy @purelyprentiss (also you too erika but i already tagged u above) and a few others whom i’m forgetting. sorry but i still love you 💕

Have your styles (writer) or tastes (reader) changed this year?

idk as a writer but as a reader, i went more fluff over angst. i mean i still like angst but not as much 

What’s the first thing you want to read or write this year?

what i want? idk. really i dont know. the desire will come when it wants to

Anything new you want to try in 2021?

explore more ships to write about than just jemily. dont get me wrong. i LOVE jemily but i feel comfortable writing it now. honestly i kinda ship every cm ship (except hotchniss, demily, and porabbly something else but i’m forgetting) so i want to expand my writing abilties

Do you have any fic resolutions?

don’t worry about the notes. that is not what’s important

tagging anyone who’s a reader/writer and seeing this

[yukiwrites]

Balthus, Ruining Everything

Thank you so much for the support and the patience as always, @xpegasusuniverse! I hope you like it~

Summary: Khalid had returned home ready to work hard to become a worthy King so as to strengthen relations with Fódlan. However, bringing Balthus along was a terrible mistake, no matter how much of his own word he had given in the past. How could he ruin even a traditional sport of Almyra?!

Commission info HERE and HERE!

______________________________

Despite the eventual skirmishes against Fódlan, it wasn't as though the entirety of Almyra was focused on their shared border. It was a large country, with hundreds of thousands of people going on with their lives despite the war.

As diverse as its culture was, however, all of Almyra joined together to celebrate and participate in their most popular sport: the national Yağlı güreş. It was a practice Khalid had had little contact with throughout his life (especially after enrolling in the Officer's Academy), apart from watching his father's eventual matches during his childhood, so he was looking forward to organizing everything for this year's tournament.

He came back after the Yağlı güreş season had started around the kingdom, though he still had time to prepare for the Kırkpınar that would occur at the capitol, a few weeks from now. Since he was also accumulating more and more duties for the eventual ascension to the throne, Khalid welcomed the responsibility readily.

He would be in charge of overseeing the quality, quantity and storage of the oil; ordering the fields to be cleaned for the matches; sending out invitations to honored guests; preparing the venue; separating the budget for the eventual prize and so on.

The Grand Championship consisted not only of the winners from the provinces but also of wrestlers that lived in the capitol per se, with the last one standing to challenge the current Baspehlivan, Nader. Should they win, they would be allowed to choose between the prize money and a favor from the King -- though the former had so many restrictions barely anyone chose it, prefering to go with the money instead.

Khalid was almost humming to himself as he scratched his chin with the feather pen he was using to sign some reports.

His small bubble of joy burst the moment the door to his office opened with a bang, revealing the one 6'6'' oaf Khalid did not want to see for at least another decade.

"Hey there, bud!" Balthus greeted, already making himself comfortable on the chair in front of Claude's desk. "I got kicked outta the field just now 'cause they're terraforming or somethin'. You know anything about it?"

"Annnd my peace is gone, isn't it. I can feel it." Khalid muttered to himself, though loud enough for Balthus to hear and ignore. Sighing, the prince straightened his back, not even bothering to look at the man who's come to make a mess out of his family. "In a month, we'll be hosting the Grand Championship of Yağlı güreş, and I want everything to be done beforehand so there are no complications."

"Yagli- what's that? I saw some huge barrels being unloaded on my way here, too, do they have anything to do with this? Is it a party? Booze!?" Balthus got more and more excited as he prattled on, almost banging his huge hands on Claude's table.

Groaning, the prince finally put his pen down, afraid that that oaf would destroy anything, or worse -- mess up the piles of 'read' and 'unread' reports, which would take at least another day of work to organize again.

"Yağlı güreş means 'oil wrestling'. It's the oldest sport practiced in Almyra and also a national sport."

Balthus snorted, then placed his fist atop his palm, as though remembering something. "Wait, I saw some dudes doing something like that back in some underground arenas! I didn't know it was an almyran sport, though, nice."

"Yeah, 'nice'." Khalid rolled his eyes, intent on going back to his work.

Balthus didn't move, though, and just made himself comfortable on the chair, as though he intended to spend the time he couldn't spend training, bothering Claude instead. "Anything else?"

"Muh? Nah, I'm good, thanks."

"..." Khalid narrowed his eyes to the large man, placing his chin atop his clasped hands. "Hey, you know what? Why don't you try it?"

"What? Oil wrestling?" Balthus was so focused on rubbing the dirt from under his nail he had to blink to look up to Claude. "What's in it for me?"

"For one, you can train for it so you'll have your training grounds back. I'll even introduce you to an old Master who doesn't have ciraks so he can teach you everything about oil wrestling."

Balthus twisted his lips, shifting his weight towards Khalid as though waiting to hear something more. "Yeah? Sounds fun."

"... There's also prize money if you win." 

"Oh yeah, babey, now you're talking!" Balthus jumped up, the action shaking Claude's table, threatening to mess up his papers. "Where's that Master?"

Khalid quickly slapped his stacks of documents before they all scattered due to the oaf's rough movements and sighed. "Call the attendant standing outside, I'll have him send word for you."

Balthus was taken outside the palace, to the Master's residence. From the looks of it, that man had been competing since his youth, but never found a pupil worthy of his skills -- though now he had to accept Balthus due to the royal decree, so he wasn't too happy about all of this.

However, once the master saw Balthus' physique, his attitude did a 180º change.

"I will show you the ways to win quickly. You're big, but your opponents will be more experienced, so you'll want to quickly slide your hands into their kispets to pin them down."

Balthus sputtered. "I gotta wha-"

"Of course, it is forbidden to get actually intimate with your opponent -- you'll have to be respectful! -- but as long as there are no genitalia touching, you'll do great." The man brushed his beard with one hand, waving to a servant with the other. "Now go on, change into your trousers. I'll show you everything I know."

"This is insane. I love it." Balthus gurgled a laugh as the master pushed him to follow the servant.

Truly there was no time for Balthus to learn the actual techniques, though him being a former soldier with stamina to spare was a major plus. These matches could go on for hours or even days, so one had to be thoroughly prepared before every single one of them.

Balthus even stayed over the master's manor for the duration of his training, which made Khalid incredibly thankful. The prince never thought the oaf would actually go through with it, but he wasn't about to complain about the peace and quiet he finally got, no way. Nope.

On the eve of the championship, the master invited Balthus for dinner, feeling excited about Yağlı güreş for the first time in a few decades. "Truly, the only worthy foe to ever enter the field was His Majesty Arash, though he was still only a prince back then."

Balthus stopped his fork immediately, his interest piqued. "... oh yeah? Arash was good at this back in the day, huh?" he licked his lips. "Can I fight him?"

"Pftt-ahah!" The old man snorted, coughing a laugh along with the tea he just drank. "You want to challenge the King to a bout, boy? Don't be ridiculous."

"No, I'm serious. How can I fight him?"

If he could get himself all over Arash while covered in oil, wouldn't that be amazing or what?!

Twisting his lips, the old man started thinking. "Well, if you really wanted to, I don't think there are restrictions about that if you use it as your prize from winning the championship."

"What? Wasn't it just money?"

"Technically it's all people pick, but you can choose between that or a wish for the King or Queen to grant. Though there are so many restrictions it's just easier to go with the money."

"Oh, fuck yes. I gotta win this." Balthus rolled his shoulders in anticipation. His chest even got all hot and bothered just by imagining his hands going down Arash's- hnn!

"Haha, that's the spirit, boy! Winning against Nader will be hard, but I wouldn't have trained you if I didn't think you couldn't win!"

The two shared a loud laugh before gulping down their drinks, both of them hopeful for tomorrow's events.

Khalid hadn't heard from Balthus ever since he'd sent him to train, so he was actually surprised to see him amongst the competitors -- even more so to watch him climb the ranks so quickly despite being a foreigner who just got introduced to the practice.

The audience murmured amongst themselves, wondering where that strange man had come from; a mix of not wanting outsiders to meddle with their beloved sport along with the right amount of excitement about the fresh meat on stage.

When Balthus, already so greasy he actually reflected light, started the match against the defending champion, Nader, Khalid felt a foreboding premonition.

What could it be? Why would he feel like that?

Was it because, no matter the outcome, Balthus would just return to the castle and keep bothering him? Or was it due to something else? Usually, his gut feelings were always right, but this time he couldn't quite pinpoint what it was warning him about.

Since everything pertaining to Balthus was just a big disgrace in Khalid's eyes. What else could that man do to ruin the prince's days?

"We have a winner! What a surprising turn of events! The outsider, Balthus, defeats our champion by paca kazik!"

"Paca kazik? How did he get so good?" Khalid murmured as Balthus kissed Nader's hand as it was customary before helping the older man up and giving him a huge thank you hug.

The announcer started the usual speech about allowing the competitor a choice, though was already meaning to introduce Khalid so the prince could handle the prize money to the winner when Balthus took a step forward.

"I want to have a wish granted!" He spoke in a loud voice, which reverberated through the open field as though he was using amplifying magic. The audience gasped in unison followed by the sound of all heads turning to the King and Queen who sat beside Khalid.

Tiana narrowed her eyes, always wary of the libertinous man. "Speak."

"I want to challenge the former Baspehlivan, His Majesty Arash, to a match!"

Loud gasps of surprise from all sides echoed around the field, the eyes alternating between the bold foreigner and the silent Royals.

"I will not-" Tiana started to reply immediately, but Arash's hand on hers stopped the Queen's words. Surprised, she looked at her husband, intent on not allowing that man near Arash, when the look on his face made her lose the air.

He was smiling so excitedly! It had been years since he had participated in a match and Tiana knew the sport meant a lot to him, especially since he held the title of Baspehlivan for over a decade before stepping down to ascend the throne. The Queen's shoulders sagged, though her frown remained.

"Dear, that man has no pure intentions-"

Arash ran his thumb through Tiana's hand. "I know, my dear wife. Worry not; I'll put him in his place."

Then it all clicked for Khalid.

That foreboding he felt wasn't about Balthus returning to the castle, but about him slathering himself with oil and rubbing it all on his own father! Gods, he was about to gag. "Father, you're not planning to-"

"I will accept your challenge!" Arash spoke in a loud voice, cutting his son and any curious murmur around the spectators. "Shall we being right away, contender?"

"Oh hell yeah, sir." Balthus rubbed his hands, hopping in place to get his blood flowing.

"Allow me to change," Arash got up from his seat, placing a kiss on Tiana before turning back to the changing room right outside.

Khalid shot up from his spot, stomping towards Balthus, who had gone into a tent to hydrate himself.

"What are you thinking? You could've just accepted the money and finally rid yourself of your debts-"

Balthus raised his index as he gulped the water. "Hah, and miss getting into your dad's pants? No way in hell, kid!"

Khalid took a step back, his face entirely pale. In your dad's pants, in your dad's pants, in your dad'-

"Ugh, yuck, I-" the prince gagged, covering his face with one hand lest he threw up there and then.

"Catch ya later, I'm about to get laid!" Balthus slapped Claude's back before stepping out of the tent, heading back to the center of the field just as Arash approached.

Khalid couldn't watch.

He just couldn't.

Once the referee signaled the start of the match, both men threw themselves at one another, sliding around the greasy grass from all the oil that slid down from the competitors.

Balthus almost broke the 'no intimate touching' rule three times in less than ten minutes, his huge hands not being of any help as he tried to literally get into Arash's pants.

That man was built like a rock! And Balthus had wrestled against many tough guys back in his day.

Gods, just feeling Arash's rasped breathing by his ear and feeling his hands try to grab his trousers made him-

"I'm having the time of my life here, Arash." Balthus panted as they slid off of each other for a moment before joining together one more time.

"Stop, stop, stooop, I can even hear it from this far!" Khalid covered his face with both hands, groaning so loud it looked like he was in physical pain.

The worst part was yet to come, however.

The match simply didn't end!

Both sides were almost evenly matched to the point that one couldn't get a definite grab on the other's trousers, stretching the match for one hour. Two hours.

When it was about to tick three hours, Khalid was already sure he was dead. He had died and came back to life at least five thousand times just by watching that pervert roll around his father for so long. The few times he stole glances at them, he could clearly see Balthus trying to break the rules, though Arash was always fast enough to counter it before being violated.

"Let this end, let this end, let this-" Khalid chanted under his breath with closed eyes, praying to every single god he knew of.

"Annd match! It seems like our former Grand Champion hasn't lost his edge yet, folks! Let's give a round of applause to our King, folks!" The announcer quickly got up from the place he had been sitting since one hour ago, dodging the greasy spots on the grass to approach the combatants.

Arash smirked to the fallen Balthus as the young man faced the sky with wide eyes.

"I lost?" He babbled as he watched the King walk away, the memory of that winning smirk etched into his mind. "That was... hot! What the fuck, and I thought they couldn't get hotter? This couple is turning out to be the best investment I've ever done in my life. No way I'm leaving this place now."

Too far away to hear Balthus' monologue, Khalid shuddered with yet another foreboding feeling. What else was Balthus going to ruin next?!

[qvid-pro-qvo]

what is the go-to takeout order for SVU? Do they have a specific order that they get every time, or do they pick something different? is the genre of food they can agree on as a group different than what they would order if they were on their own?

so i think throughout the day the new york streets have enough that they’re picking up what they can where they can. individually sure, it’d be different than a group. but if they’re having like a squad takeout night because they’re working late and if nick doesn’t get food rn he’ll kill sonny carisi he swears to GOD —

i feel like asian takeout is pretty standard because it’s easy to pass out and around? but i also think that each night it’s a toss-up.......

if they’re feeling like i want something just for them they’ll get like thai or deli sandwiches that they can pick individually and they’ll make someone go pick it up to cut that delivery fee babey

if it’s about quantity and not quality they’ll go grab like ten pizzas and just chow D O W N

(sometimes if sonny has enough forethought he’ll cook a bunch of food and bring it by!!! and no one will admit it!!!! but it’s their favorite)