#read a fic and now i’m feeling things

[pendinganchor]

from someone who knows what it’s like to not have anyone say happy birthday to you, if you are someone who thinks “we’ll plan a surprise party and all pretend we forgot their birthday” is a good plan, please never be in charge of planning someone’s birthday

[keferon]

*clasps your shoulders gently and looks you straight in the eye*

Keferon. Please read Ninth by Kyn on AO3. I think you would love it very much. It has a large chapter count, but don't be intimidated, it's very easy to get into. It is currently unfinished, but is being updated regularly.

You are the seventh person that recommended this fic to me so ahahahaha yeah

I’m doing great Help I hate some parts of it but I love the other parts I’m spinning in the blender

…..I made the moodboard….

[kingofanemptyworld]

hey you know what would be fun? a fic where the Royal Guard follows through with their plans to make Ichigo the new Soul King and Grimmjow promptly loses his shit because what the actual fuck Ichigo has already given these people literally everything, twice, and this is how they repay him? recruits Nel and Harribel and Urahara and Yoruichi (after Nel sits on him for a while because Jesus Christ Grimmjow you can’t storm Soul Society by yourself no matter how much you’ve powered up) and it’s the Ryoka Invasion all over again except with pissed off arrancar instead. I just think it would be neat

[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!

[kairospy]

Every time I go into a fic and they have Ronan as this domineering cool & collected guy, I burst out laughing I’m sorry

[padfoot-lupin77]

I’m sorry but we were told that ghosts can’t feel humans upon touching them, and then repeatedly shown ghosts hugging each other. And you expect me not to conclude that ghosts can feel each other perfectly fine?

Also while writing this I realized that in that scene towards the end where Crystal hugs Edwin and he says “again, a handshake would suffice”, he couldn’t feel the hug, he was just annoyed (not really)

[valeovalairs]

You can pry girl dad Mark Winters out of my cold dead hands.

[wickmitz]

any thoughts/opinions on vikdecai?

i don’t believe i have any complex thoughts that haven’t already been said by the community at large! mostly my opinions just correlate to a very fond i like them, since mordecai kneecapping viktor in order to save himself from having to hurt him later is really one of the first things that humanizes his character. makes you realize he’s not nearly as cold or practical as he tries leading you to believe -- a front that unravels further given his atlas obsession. and i like that! my favorite thing about mordecai is his subtle longing for the lackadaisy crew, how much he doesn’t wish to hurt them, and how venomously he loathes his current life … what he’s doing now isn’t what he wants to currently be doing, but merely what must be done for his goal, one which is already layered in lackadaisy sentiment. so his bond with viktor is important to me, given how much it highlights this inner struggle and earnest truth within his character. but then again, this can also be applied to mordecai’s relationship with mitzi, atlas, and ivy, so let me discuss them in a more romantic sense. which i’m sure is what this question is trying to get at!

romantically, i view mordecai and viktor’s dynamic as … favorable? it’s entirely plausible there were feelings there, an intimacy only they shared as men inside atlas’ arsenal, people who were entirely knowledgeable of the lackadaisy’s nasty underbelly. it’s their slaughter of people deserving and of many, many innocents that help their boss’s speakeasy run, and this violence ( this constant watching one another’s back ) would only breed closeness in spite of the horror it’s built on. and, of course, they have core things in common outside of their job and efficiency for bloodsport! like their love for family, their devotion towards those who matter most, and how out of place they equally feel on this soil - - in this world and era, where everything feels like it’s out to get them in some way or another. their ability to connect beyond their surface level traits and quirks ( mordecai and viktor are very much opposites on their surface, and they have a habit of bickering about these differences, albeit lightheartedly ) demonstrates the profoundness of what they have and what they’d do to protect it. they care for one another in little gestures, insignificant to most but in a way that truly matters to them … as they can see the genuineness in it, since they’re putting themselves into the careful actions and aren’t just doing things for politeness sake. for example, mordecai tries adorning them in matching cloth so they’re two equal halves, symmetrical, and then we have viktor who pocketed mordecai’s glasses to give him later when they were done with their mission. i like to imagine there are more things like this in their relationship! stuff that isn’t as severe as life or death, like saving your friend’s skin by a mere inch or dragging each other to a finish line every day. any of atlas’ men can offer that. it’s the extra things, done out of agency and personal desire, that bring them closer than any other regular joe on atlas’ payroll. it’s rather clear that they were close canonically, and that viktor was perhaps mordecai’s closest friend in a way that atlas could never be due to the pedestal he was constantly put upon. and while we have less insight on viktor’s feelings, i’d imagine the betrayal has never, and will never, fully heal. it is not a wound he can easily patch up, and it isn’t something one could just forget either. how can you dismiss someone who used to be your hands and eyes and ears? when you two functioned as another man’s extra body in your entirety? you may as well have shared a mind when out on the field, and that’s a closeness and a trust which is hard to lose. viktor hardly lets anyone in as is, just as anti social as his spectacles wearing companion, so to lose that in such a violent was is an unspeakable pain he bears, i’m sure. mordecai took whatever remained of his life from him with that shot. he’s permanently robbed viktor the ability to defend the last few hairs he cares to protect. his purpose is now up in the air. and all this anguish from someone he completely and utterly believed in … there is a lot of hurt, is what i’m saying. a hurt that’s too deep and life altering for it not to be supremely personal too. it’s deep and festering and viktor ignores it, and mordecai ignores it, mostly, but sometimes his paw strays near his wound and he itches at it, and it reopens the ache all over again. there is metaphor to be found there! an abandonment and a departure that leaves you bloodied from maiming or being maimed. it is very easily a multi-layered sentiment!

however, i could still take this or leave it romantically, hence my earlier statement of favorabe rather than unabashed gushing and swooning. this is a ship i like, but i don’t read mordecai as crushing on viktor per se? i’ve always viewed his extreme relationship with atlas as puppy love that’s half bred from devotion, something not entirely genuine but also still genuine enough, which makes for a nice parallel between that and rocky’s bond with mitzi. his rivalry with atlas’ wife and his oddities such as wearing his boss’s shirts read as girlish crush behavior, typical things one does when believing themselves enamored, you know? naturally his views and feelings for atlas aren’t quite that simple nor easy to parse, and i’m not trying to simplify them in any way! i just believe he had a torch for atlas, and thus didn’t carry another for anyone else, at least not as intensely. whatever feelings he might have for someone would always be second to atlas, who was his very reason for living and breathing every day, who was his answer and justification and eventually? his obsession. in many ways i think mordecai was too wrapped up in atlas to properly develop feelings for viktor, even if there were inklings of something inside of him. ironically, the term something is what i love using when thinking about him with viktor or mitzi. mordecai is something with those two, he feels something, an unlabeled sort of thing he can’t really reach -- perhaps he doesn’t even want to, scared of what it might mean, what it could say. and it is different somethings! they are not the same feeling, what he feels towards those two, but it’s not fully known to him in the way that his feelings towards atlas was. it is not as clear! especially now, with things as awful as they are and with mordecai so full of turmoil he’s forcing himself to not share. he also has an intense aversion to emotions, obviously, which doesn’t help matters lol. this man could find some of the closure he’s so desperately seeking if he took more than a glance inside of himself, but then he wouldn’t be apart of this tragic tale, now would he?

still, in a better world where the lackadaisy’s gaggle of traumatized characters are allowed healing without any casualties or major losses, then i’d enjoy seeing a viktor and mordecai slowburn. where they decide to remain steadfast by each other’s side like once upon a time before, and they deal with life as a unit. maybe when given the space for it, mordecai’s affection can finally cement into real love for viktor -- the romantic kind, something sappy and disarming and maddening all at once. maybe viktor will allow such indulgences, finally able to touch upon his heart again and use it in a way that he hasn’t gotten to in a couple ages. or maybe he won’t share the specific feelings that mordecai possesses for him, but he’ll enjoy creating an entirely new thing that’s only for them : he can compromise and he can bend if mordecai is willing to bend just the same. they certainly wouldn’t be your typical couple, their emotions too stunted for regular dates or typical pda, but there’s something more special and intimate to them carving out their own space, and thus having their own secret world. a mix of platonic and romantic affections, a healthy dose of selfishness and desire they couldn’t ever have before but now can hoard so entirely, in small bearable doses. and there will always be some things they both won’t ever be able to shake ( mordecai disabling viktor, atlas, viktor’s daughter, etc ), although they could manage these aches and guilt better together, which is the exact sort of happy ending i’d want for them. if i may be so indulgent myself haha ( <- person who knows lackadaisy’s ending will be mostly dark and tragic but likes playing around with hopeful scenarios and what-if’s regardless! )

[coffeebanana]

anyone who writes hurt/comfort of my blorbos breaking bones…i will love you forever just saying

[plusultraetc]

426

guys don’t worry dabi will be fine when shigaraki returns somehow with both aspects of overhaul instead of just decay he can use it to heal him and spinner and toga and be the league’s hero also kurogiri is fine

[reliablejoukido]

Someone just gave me a shit sandwich comment on a fic and it’s like… don’t do this. Don’t do this to me and don’t do it to other people.

[pizzaqueen]

Oh and I started writing the ace!Eddie fic I mentioned the other week. I have the first part drafted and it could stand on its own but it would be very bittersweet and that’s not entirely my jam, so I’ve planned a second part and need at least a third.

I’m just trying to reconcile how I usually write Steve with the Steve I want in this fic (sexual compatibility is very important to me so he’s not how I usually see Steve for that to work) and I’m not 100% I can make it feel right to me but fingers crossed!

[leenfiend]

me who spent all day thinking about Keith and Lance: I miss them :(

[orchidego]

Miscommunication trope has become unfashionable to love but it’s easily my favorite. First of all. Mutual pining. Star-crossed morons. I can’t bear the alternative, really, which is an uneven amount of pining—I need them to be in equivalent headspaces, but narrative tension still needs to exist somehow. Second, this trope can be done extraordinarily well (how I know is I’ll usually have a bodily reaction—stomach swoop! reverberation in my chest!) which I suppose makes the badly done ones stand out.

Miscommunication or fear of communication happens all the time. It’s very true to life, even with people who are good communicators, but here the stakes are so high. This tension is where all that pleasure (for me, the reader) comes from.

Further, “just talk to each other” no. When the stakes are this high the communication deployed needs to be wielded like a scalpel. Delicate, precise, ….whatever. Or, an explosion. Something desperate. It’s not regular communication. It’s fraught with meaning. It matters more to them than it would to anyone outside the dynamic. The consequences of failure seem cataclysmic. Words fail. Words fail all the time. When you feel that much and you just can’t pin it down. See I’m already gearing up to pine. It’s that easy!!

[padfootastic]

hello! here’s a lil drabble/ficlet situation about sirius being super invested in baby harry’s life, to the point he gets annoyed and jealous when he’s not immediately caught up on every little thing.

x

“I can’t believe you’d do this to me.”

Lily entered the dining room to an unusually confrontational scene. On one end of the table was her husband, hands held up, palms facing outward in a gesture matched by the pleading look on his face. Right across from him was Sirius, arms crossed across his chest and a severe frown on his face. In the middle, Harry was sitting with a thumb in mouth, watching his father and godfather intently. Lily was a bit surprised at how quiet he was being—usually the presence of his favorite people meant an overload of squeals and shouts and giggles.

“Padfoot—“ James began only to be cut off by Sirius’ hand swiping through the air.

“No, James, I didn’t expect this from you of all people,” he took a deep breath and Lily was startled to see the emotions play out on his face. “How could you?”

Lily decided to enter the conversation then before things could devolve any further.

“Er, what’s going on here?” In any other situation, the way in which both their heads swivelled to look at her, coupled with the surprise on their face, would’ve been comical but Lily was too distracted to care about that right now. She couldn’t even remember the last time James and Sirius had had a disagreement. Those two just didn’t do that.

Which was another issue all in itself and if she focused too long on it, it made her head hurt (how can two people who spend as much time as they do together never have any tension?? she didn’t get it, didn’t think she ever would). But for now, she had more important things to tend to.

“Well?” She asked again, seeing the expressions change on their face. James was making a face, not unlike a child who’d been caught with their hand in a biscuit jar whereas Sirius had doubled down. His brows were furrowed, lips pressed into a straight line, and the most stubborn expression Lily had ever seen on his face.

“We, er, that is—“ James tried, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “It’s nothing, hon.”

Lily snorted in response. She could see Sirius staring incredulously at James and really, this was just getting weirder by the second.

“Evans,” Sirius said, curtly. She didn’t even bother correcting him knowing it was a lost cause at this point. “Will you please remind your husband that we had an understanding and I won’t stand for him breaking it as he pleases?”

“Sirius—“

Lily doesn’t let James finish his groan before cutting in. “What understanding?”

“Did you and your husband not name me Harry’s godfather for a reason?”

“…yes?”

“And does that not entail certain responsibilities and obligations on my part—“

“…Yes.”

“—as well as yours?” Sirius finished, speaking over her uncertain agreement. Now she was a bit stumped.

“Ours?” She blinked at him, wondering what he was on about. A quick glance in James’ direction showed no help from that side. Her husband had the most resigned expression of exasperation on his face, which was really saying something, considering how often he looked like that.

“But of course!” Sirius said, “You are aware that James has the mirrors, yes?” This time he didn’t even bother waiting for her to nod before continuing. “Which means instantaneous communication.” He stressed the last two words, eyes squinting and a stern wrinkle appearing on his brow.

“Si, stop being so dramatic,” James cut in. “You’re confusing the dragonshite out of Lily.”

She grimaced lightly. “Very elegantly put, darling.” Her dear, dear husband only sent her a cheeky wink in return.

“Fine,” Sirius sneered. “Let me ask you this, then.” He pointed one long, pale finger in her direction, her eyebrows raising at the attempt at intimidation.

“Is it or is it not true that Harry, my godson, crawled on his bum across the living room exactly eight days and three hours ago as of right now?”

She opened her mouth to say—not sure what, exactly, but something. Before she could, though, Sirius had already cut in with an overemphasised, “And. Is it or is it not true that James, once my dearest friend—“

“Once?” James yelped.

“—and you, fellow co-wife—“

“You can’t be serious right now,” James groaned, clearly distressed if he wasn’t considering his egregious word choice.

“—did not even bother to use aforementioned mirror to inform me, post-haste?” Sirius finished dramatically, with the air of someone throwing down the gauntlet. He stared at them with a ridiculous air of triumph around him, daring them to disagree.

Lily could only stare in bemused disbelief at her husband’s best friend, nay, brother. One of her closest friends in his own right. Someone who, by all accounts, was incredibly smart and articulate.

Perhaps his bloodline was making more of an appearance here?

“He really has gone off his rocker, hasn’t he, Lils?” James’ spoke what she dared not say out loud. “Should’ve considered this before putting him in charge of the sprog.”

The words had the intended effect. In front of her wide eyes, Sirius basically puffed up in outrage, reminding her terribly of a charm-dried duck. He leaned forward to wrap a possessive arm around Harry, as if James could’ve been anything but joking and they’d take his precious godchild away from him, keeping him plastered to his chest. Harry, for his part, was as overjoyed as ever. He happily wrapped his chubby fingers around two of Sirius’ and prompt tried to insert the whole thing in his mouth, drooling and chewing gummily.

And Sirius, who was notorious for not even deigning to shake hands with strangers (and on one unavoidable occasion, had actually cast a cleaning charm on his palm the moment they’d stepped back from the handshake), someone who applied three different kinds of purifying charms on anything before using it, barely even spared a glance in his direction beyond pressing a kiss to his crown.

“Well, nothing for it then,” Sirius sniffed, nose slightly in the air in a way that reminded Lily entirely too much of Narcissa Black—not that Sirius would appreciate the comparison, of course. “I’m afraid I must take my godson out and away from this dishonourable institution then.”

And in front of both the Potters’ disbelieving eyes, Sirius actually swept out of the room with their child happily lounging in his arms, neither of them looking back even once.

“James…”

He made an answering squeak, still looking at the doorway through which Harry had basically been kidnapped by an over zealous godfather.

“What just happened?”

Her only response was the sound of his head landing on the table with a thunk.

[purplepenntapus]

Im sorry I love the Zoro Mihawk Perona dynamic but the fandom trend of turning it into “Mihawk adopts Zoro and Perona as children and raises them” makes me want to die