#this is an excerpt of a scene from chapter 17

[thesimperiuscurse]

And so I get up and complain loudly and knot my running shoes; and give myself away with a smile. 

[boonalina]

Excerpt from Chapter 17 of my LMK Successor AU

(The reunions of warm hearth)

Redson had never seen Mk shirtless before, let alone shirtless AND wet. Safe to say Redson had no clue Mk was that muscly, considering Mk spends 90% of his time at FFM. (In this scene, he is invisible using the Invisibility Jade)

(Btw it's not "oh he's no hot" it's "OH NO, HE'S HOT!!" Truly a "Don't dead open inside" moment haha.)

@violetjedisylveon

[missriggie]

DreadRook Week 2025

Day 2: Memories

//"You are ever in my thoughts" @thelighthouse-server

Leading off from the last entry, Solas invites himself into Rook's dream, noting the murals on the walls - the fragments of her history. As he learns more about Rook's past, he provides insight into one particularly traumatic vision, one that triggers the storm within her.

CW: Brainwashing, mentioned/implied SA & non-con

Registered users can read 'What Was Stolen' on Ao3 here: [LINK]

EXCERPT (2/2) of CHAPTER 17: A DEBT TO PAY

“These remind me of the ones in the Lighthouse. They yours?”

   Solas glanced ahead past her, scanning the space before shaking his head. “I am physically bound to this prison. I cannot see what you do,” his playful smile turned a little cocky, “That is, unless I do this.”

   Solas closed his eyes and breathed deep, head nodding as his body behind the barrier fell into a meditative trance. A shiver shot up her back as his voice hummed in thought from behind her. “Fascinating…”

   A figment of his spirit, far more pristine than his sleeping body, strolled about the room like a viewer in a gallery, head turning from painting to painting. Rook bristled at his spirit appearing beside her, uncertain if it was a trick of the Fade or him purposefully invading her mind. She watched him warily as he continued to assess each painting.

   “You could do that the whole time?”

   “Not necessarily,” he said as he continued to assess each painting, “I risk myself by doing so. However, the energy has softened the more we have spoken, and you have piqued my curiosity.”

   “What do you see then?” she asked.

   Solas smiled at the first mural, tracing a spectral hand over the image. “I see a child learning the bounds of her innocence, and a curious friend to help guide her along. This wolf, you saved it from a hunter’s trap, correct?”

   She reluctantly nodded, the sound of her innocent laughter echoing out of the stone.

   “Howl. You gave it a name.” he deduced, head tilting up to the darkened ceiling and squinting, “it seems such a connection has attracted a spirit of Loyalty to you.”

   Rook looked up where Howl had pushed her in, her heart almost breaking as the memory became clearer to her. It wasn’t just a dream, then.

   “It’s fuzzy, but I think I really did love that wolf…”

   “It must have been a powerful friendship indeed, to have a denizen of the Fade so eager to imitate it.”

   Rook felt the weight of her reconstructed arm on her body, seeing it more as a gift now more than ever. A friend. She had a friend back then. Before…

   Solas strolled over to the next one. “Ah~ a thunderous triumph; channelling the storm and claiming its power to break her chains rather than drown in its chaos. Inspired.”

   Rook cleared her throat of the feeling that particular painting summoned, hearing the echoes of the storm battering against the hull of that ship, and almost tasting the salty burn of sea water scraping at her lungs.

   “Inspired a heck of a lot of anxiety around water for a while, actually.”

   As he made his way over to admire the next painting, Solas’s frown deepened, his chest tensed as he gasped in recognition. The scene portrayed younger version of herself lying face down on an altar with needles coming out of her back. Just being near it was enough to conjure the familiar feeling of her spine being sapped of energy, a feeling she fought to conceal. It disturbed him just as much as it did her, but he did not look away, inching closer to the painting. Rook tried to read his expression, but whatever thoughts or secrets he carried in his sudden rapt fascination in the mural, she could not place. Instead, his eyes fell upon her apologetically.

   “Who is the mage that conducted this ritual?” he asked.

   She was reluctant to confess the name, taking another pained glance at the memory. The faded colours of red and black enrobing the magister, the whispers of his incantations mixed with gentle encouragement for the necessity of this, promising to take the pain away.

   “Lord Cassidus,” she spat out, “he was my master before I broke free.”

   He glanced, nose scrunched in disgust, then softened his expression when casting his attention back to her. “He did this…to you?”

   Solas sighed, shaking his head at the cruelty of this scene. His frown one of both anger and understanding, of a puzzle revealing more of itself, unveiling a truth he deigned to see come forward.

   “It is an old ritual,” he explained, “one that was practiced by many of the Evanuris before our numbers grew into an empire, but none were so enthusiastic as Elgar’nan. It was how he had swayed the followers of his enemies into willing slaves of his own – separating their loyalties and replacing it with utter devotion to him. He’d found beauty in defiance, any who challenged his rule he sought to break like wild beasts.”

    He paused so suddenly, head bowed and eyes as solemn as a Rivaini seer prepping a body for a funeral pyre.

   “I’d witnessed many victims of this ritual, and the cruelty he had bestowed upon them thereafter, the unspeakable acts he committed when their minds were too altered to object. They were…his favourites.”

    As his spirit exhaled deeply, his body behind the barrier did the same. Rook saw the blood on his face streak with the tear that slipped out, the sorrow to his voice was not one of grief but of guilt.

   “Tell me, if it is not too difficult or painful to recall, what did this Cassidus make you believe? What did he make you do?”

   She could only stare at his seriousness, the bounds of her memories tied to the magister still a blurred mess of images lumped together, something she tried to forget herself and leave behind. But there was no denying her curiosity that locked in on the eyes of the Dread Wolf. Whatever answers he could have about the memories that were stolen from her, she would take anything at this point.

   “He made me believe he was my father,” she confessed, “said he was a friend to the Elves and took me in when my mother was killed. He’d convinced me his research was for the benefit of children like me, reconnecting us to our birthright of eternal life, so long as it served the Imperium first. He made me his student in private, and an obedient little doll to show off in front of his friends, just to save his seat in the Magisterium. Can’t let them see his delusions of treating an elf child with any care, not that he did in the first place.”

   She hovered by the scene of the ship caught in the storm, her body draped in rags, her neck bound with an enchanted collar, one hand reaching into the sky for salvation, the other guiding the strike through the heart of Lord Cassidus.

   “We were on a ship sailing past Rivain, I don’t remember where we were going, but on the way, we found more children that ‘needed to be saved’ and ‘deserved a better chance’ like the one I got. Then the storm came. Something happened to the Veil that day, might have been around the time of the Breach, everything changed, but it awakened something in me. All that energy dusted off the things he wanted to keep locked away in me, I remembered all ten years of it, rushing out of me. Everything he made me do to conduct his experiments, the poisoned ‘medicines’, learning how to pronounce all the incantations, the exercises and tests to make sure my body was fit enough. ‘You are my greatest creation’ he always told me.”

   She glanced down at her hands. Though she was merely a soul walking the Fade in this dream, she still felt the ache where her scars began. Scars that were now painted on these walls. More memories flashed behind her eyes, symbols stretching from the murals onto the columns and ceiling and floor. The blur of words sprawled over large tomes of arcane knowledge, sketches of the anatomy of all manner of creatures. In the roil of the sea she could hear the chime of piano keys playing the same melody over and over again.

   Her fingers remembered the high-quality leather fitted around the hilt of a blade, the way it glided across throats, how it sparkled like rubies. Her cheeks ached from how she used to smile up at her ‘father’ for approval. This bundled mess of shameful, violent memories only being half the picture ignited something sinister inside her, scratching, clawing, hammering against the walls. The gong of a bell, the rattling of chains, somewhere up above, deep below, or far away, but here, always here.

   “How…? How much of this is real?” she said, her voice cracking, “How much of this was me or because he made me?”

   Rook could taste the dense storm cloud gathering, the rush of electricity brewing within, tingling with gooseflesh up her spine until it hurt. The energy in the air shifted with her as the sweeping wind of a budding vortex swirled around her.

   “Rook?”

   How faintly his voice brushed against the edges of her focus. The roses and vines climbing up the walls trembled as the wind picked up. Her hands shook with sparks of energy as they went clammy, wet with rain, sweat, blood. Hers and not hers, from many, many innocents.

  “I’m sorry,” she sobbed at the faces appearing in the leaves along the vines, their eyes rolled back and mouths wide open as they wailed and choked on the slaughter she wrought, “I did it because I had to. It’s for your own good. He said so. He promised.”

  “Rook, listen to me. Focus your mind,” Solas’s gentle hands reached for her shoulders, “You are no longer in that man’s thrall. Your spirit is free. It chose to come here; it can choose to silence this storm.”

   His voice echoed around her like a salve upon a stinging wound, cooling the burning anger, holding the edges of her hurt and patiently guiding her to seal it. She bowed her head, following his instruction as she controlled her breathing, synchronising it with his.

   Rook opened her eyes again, returning into a calm centre as his spirit’s hands held hers. A glowing energy flowed from his essence into her, humming with soothing, almost divine warmth, his shining eyes fixed on her as they dimmed, a halo of roses wilting behind him, spent of energy.

There was a tragic kind of beauty to him, now that she saw this vision of him up close and remembered the tale of how he came to be, how he had chosen this form so long ago to join the living among the first Elves. A focused brow, eyes that still carried kindness and wonder despite the years that would have worn them down, and delicate and full lips designed to whisper words of understanding into a lover’s ear. She blinked and snapped her hands back to her sides, Solas’s projection disappearing once the connection broke.

On the other side of the barrier, his physical body woke up.

[sweet-s0rr0w]

day 31 of @hprecfest - most recent fic you loved

First Watch of Night by @tackytigerfic - E, 274k, 2024 (completed, posting as a WIP every two days, on chapter 14/21)

Harry Potter defeated Voldemort at the Battle of Hogwarts on May 2nd, 1998.

But what if he didn't?

Excerpt:

“Every single time your magic sparks off Potter’s, you could be eroding the edges of the world,” Draco said. “Though I suppose there’d be no Voldemort if the very fabric of our universe is destroyed. Excellent approach to victory from Team Reckless.”

Harry hadn’t hit anyone in years, probably not since fighting with Draco himself, in school, but he wanted to so badly that he could feel the hopeful tingle of it through his palm, out into the fingertips and collecting in his balled fist.

Interrogate the feeling, Bill would say if he were here. Let yourself feel what you need to feel. Harry suspected “let yourself embrace the violent desire to punch Draco Malfoy right in his smug mouth” was not quite what Bill meant when he had gone through those mindfulness exercises with the troops last month.

“Do you know what it’s like?” Harry said, pressing his hands flat against his own thighs, bearing down into the shifting muscle, grounding himself. It felt strange to be so close to Draco’s restless body. “Being me, I mean. Do you know what it’s like?”

“I don’t even know how to answer that,” Draco said. His colour was high in the spill of moonlight, throat swallowing convulsively. “Of course I don’t.”

“Just imagine,” Harry said quietly. From next door came the low sound of laughter. Malfoy had made it to bed, then. “Imagine being in pain all the time, constant low-level pain from all the Occlumency. And all the fighting. Years of it, Draco, years and years.” Under his palms his thighs felt tense. “I’m so tired.”

Without letting himself think about what he was doing, he shifted sideways on the bed and flopped down to lying, stretching his legs, letting himself sink into the mattress. Draco’s pillow was cool and firm under his hot cheek, and he closed his eyes. After a moment he felt the bed shift as Draco wriggled back down so he was lying too. The pillow under Harry’s head dipped with the added weight of Draco’s head, and he kept his eyes closed.

How do I even start with this fic, which I'd been hearing about for two years and looking forward to for longer, and which I FINALLY got to read (and even better, to beta!) this summer?? First Watch of Night is epic in length and even more so in scope; the worldbuilding is incredible, the characters are all fully-formed - flawed, but so very loveable, and at the heart of it all is a Tacky trademark love story, so deeply-felt that it'll stay with you long after you finish the fic. Plus... Multiverse! Angst! Pining! Draco and Harry getting to know their counterparts from another (maybe familiar...?) universe! Ex-friends to enemies to maybe-friends to lovers! Sharing a room! Spy Draco! Fencing! Rosie, Harry's gorgeous goddaughter! Multiple POVs! Action scenes! Sex! Wolfstar sex! (Brief) Romione sex! Other-Drarry sex! Look, this might not be the most polished rec of all time, but if you've read any of Tacky's fics before you'll know what they're about. And you'll probably already understand why I'm raving about this fic. So go, get started now, and you might just catch up with posting in time for the epilogue! (assuming you read faster than i do)

If you read it, and especially if you love it, please do let me know! And as always, please do take the time to leave the author a kudos/comment <3

day 1 - first fic you remember reading

day 2 - a fic rated G

day 3 - a fic not on ao3

day 4 - a comfort fic

day 5 - a romantic fic

day 6 - a fic for a ship you don’t normally read

day 7 - the best of your OTP

day 8 - a fic that was recced to you

day 9 - a WIP

day 10 - a fest/event fic

day 11 - an underrated fic

day 12 - a fic from your favourite author

day 13 - a rare pair

day 14 - a fic rated T

day 15 - a fic over 50k

day 16 - a podfic

day 17 - a fic that makes you cry

day 18 - a fic that makes you laugh

day 19 - fanart

day 20 - a fic with fanart

day 21 - a fic rated M

day 22 - a series

day 23 - a crossover or AU fic

day 24 - holiday (vacation)

day 25 - holiday (national holiday)

day 26 - a fic under 5k

day 27 - a smokin' hot fic

day 28 - a fic over 100k

day 29 - a fic rated E

day 30 the fic on tbr list i'm sorry i skipped there are just too many and it actually only sparks guilt

[roseaesynstylae]

Star Wars: The Clone Wars: No Prisoners, Chapter One

Hi, Rex. I’d be more enthusiastic, but I know who’s writing you, so I’m mostly just apprehensive.

(I’ve gotten my hands on PDFs of the books, which is very nice. Lots of new options.)

You know, if Traviss stuck exclusively to the clones instead of constantly embellishing her Mandalorian OCs and bashing the Jedi, I feel like we’d all be happier.

Please appreciate Traviss writing something I actually like. It’s so rare that I feel I must point it out every time.

Oh, I’ve heard of this scene. Excuse me while I brace myself.

Somewhere, Alpha-17 is growling, “I did not fucking raise you to think like that.”

…

Pardon me for a moment.

Okay. Okay. I’m calm. I’m fine. I’m calm.

Firstly, why is Pellaeon acting like Kal Skirata? Described as paternal, condescending, sexist… Traviss really can’t keep her OCs out of every single thing she writes.

Connected to that, thanks for ruining the character of a reasonably well-liked individual. When Pellaeon showed up in the Thrawn Trilogy, he was very much a military man, straightforward, and decent enough for someone working for the Empire. He was intended as the Watson to Thrawn’s Holmes, and his entire personality was very Watson-like. Now? He’s Traviss’s watered-down version of her most(in)famous Star Wars character and I hate it.

Secondly, I would be less angry if there was just one thing missing from that little excerpt. Can you guess?

“We do not expose flesh in this ship, not only because it’s unbecoming, undisciplined, and distracting, but because a ship is a dangerous place.”

Distracting.

She’s fourteen years old. Why, exactly, Not!Pellaeon, are you insisting a young girl cover up like that? If it was just “The ship is dangerous, please cover up,” I’d be annoyed by the way it’s done, but I could at least understand the reason. Traviss, what the hell were you thinking when you wrote this?

Also, why is Ahsoka just going along with this? This is the girl who was talking back to Mace Windu and the rest of the Jedi Council. Now she’s just rolling over? Traviss, you didn’t bother to watch a single fucking episode of the show, did you?

I already know the answer to that question.

Rex, your older brother-father combo is extremely disappointed in you. Alpha-17 is going to put you through your paces the next time he sees you.

Anyway, that’s that. There’s some other stuff about Pellaeon’s ex spying on possible Separatists, but there really wasn’t anything interesting in it, and that scene took it out of me.

First impression? I’m not impressed. Pellaeon and Rex have both been turned into assholes and Ahsoka’s OOC. Traviss, you’re hired by Disney to write for them. It’s one thing when fanfic is out of character, but you were brought on professionally. Your editor should have checked for their personalities and for continuity. You should have read and watched the media the characters you’re using come from. I mean, you didn’t watch the damn movies when you were hired to write for the franchise, so I’m not surprised, but still.

[acescorazon]

Changes~

Chapter: 17

Title: Roses.

Rating: M

Word Count: 2478

Warnings: Minor Violence, Language, Crocodile.

Chapter Excerpt:

“It’s part of my apology.” 

His apology? His apology…? Buggy looks up at Crocodile again and gives him yet another puzzled look. What the hell is he even apologizing f- Oh, wait. Buggy thinks as he suddenly remembers his chat with Mihawk and Crocodile from not too long ago... 

"Yes, we're sorry. We're sorry. I'll have gifts sent to you first thing in the morning." 

He was serious about giving Buggy an apology gift? Not only that, but he chose to give Buggy a bouquet of flowers? Oh, the irony of the situation isn’t completely lost on Buggy. 

(He should throw these in the nearest trash can.) 

|Ch1|Ch2|Ch3|Ch4|Ch5|Ch6|Ch7|Ch8|Ch9|Ch10|Ch11|Ch12||Ch13||Ch14||Ch15||Ch16||

Buggy ends up roaming aimlessly around Emptee Bluffs island after he leaves Mihawk's tent. He's not sure if what just happened was real or not if he's being completely honest. Mihawk is developing feelings for Buggy? What kind of fucked up joke is that?! There's just no way that's true, it just can't be true.

But it is true, a voice in the back of his mind tells him. He said he was being genuine and had no reason to lie, didn’t he? Fuck.  

Buggy's mind was already a mess before Mihawk went and admitted that he might be catching feelings for him, but now it's in a state of complete and utter chaos with Mihawk's blunt confession at the forefront of all said chaos. For fuck sake’s, what does he mean he has feelings for Buggy?!

Buggy walks past dozens of his beloved subordinates who all want him to stop and talk to them, but Buggy doesn't think he can even form a coherent sentence right now, so for the most part he dismisses his children with a quick, "Sorry… I … I have to go." and continues on his way.

'I think I'm developing feelings for you, as crazy as that sounds.' 

What the hell? How did that even happen? At what point in time did Mihawk stop and go, 'Hm, Buggy's actually kind of cute. I think I might like him'? Oh, God. What is Buggy even supposed to do about something like this? How is he supposed to feel about all of this?

He should be mad and disgusted, shouldn’t h– 

Buggy barely registers that he's passing by Crocodile until said man clears his throat. "Did you and Hawkeye make any progress today?" He asks, and the mere mention of Mihawk makes Buggy's brain short circuit. 

Buggy stops in his tracks and stares at Crocodile, confused, "What?" He asks, looking around nervously. All he heard was Hawkeye’s name truth be told.

"I asked if you and Hawkeye made any progress today." Crocodile clarifies, "He seemed so determined to help you out, so I was wondering if you two made any progress."

"Yeah," Buggy confirms, "Yeah, we…I'll tell you later. I'm not feeling good right now." He replies quickly. He doesn’t want to talk to Crocodile, he wants to go to his tent and try to figure out what the hell is going on with his life right now. 

"Alright. I'll see you at tomorrow's meeting, Cl… Buggy." Crocodile mutters as he takes another drag of his cigar. Buggy’s just about to leave when Crocodile calls out to him again, though, “Oh, shit. Wait!” He exclaims. Jeez, what now? 

“I have something for you. Just give me a second.” Crocodile mutters. More work? For the love of God, can he not just have someone else do it?! Buggy thinks as he tries to control his nerves. At the very least, could Crocodile not have waited until morning to give Buggy any additional work?! 

Crocodile disappears into the tent he’s standing in front of, and it’s then that Buggy finally realizes where he’s actually at. How the hell did he end up outside of Crocodile’s tent of all places? He tries to avoid this part of the island at all costs. God, he must be in worse shape than he originally thought if he ended up going anywhere near Crocodile’s private dwellings. 

Buggy thinks about just fleeing the scene, but before he makes any final decisions, Crocodile reemerges from the tent with a bouquet in his hand. “Here.” He says before he shoves what appears to be roses into Buggy’s arms. 

What?  

What the fuck?! 

Buggy doesn’t properly process the situation, that much is obvious. 

“I…” He looks down at the flowers in his arms and then back at Crocodile, then repeats the process at least two more times. Okay, what the hell is going on on this island. His tone is a combination of exasperation and confusion as he asks a simple question, “What are you giving me flowers for?!”  

“It’s part of my apology.” 

His apology? His apology…? Buggy looks up at Crocodile again and gives him yet another puzzled look. What the hell is he even apologizing f- Oh, wait. Buggy thinks as he suddenly remembers his chat with Mihawk and Crocodile from not too long ago...

"Yes, we're sorry. We're sorry. I'll have gifts sent to you first thing in the morning." 

He was serious about giving Buggy an apology gift? Not only that, but he chose to give Buggy a bouquet of flowers? Oh, the irony of the situation isn’t completely lost on Buggy. 

(He should throw these in the nearest trash can.) 

“You don’t want em?” Crocodile asks, sounding slightly annoyed, “Because if you do–” he pauses, stopping himself. He exhales a deep sigh and changes his tone slightly, “Look, maybe it ain’t the best gift in the world, but it was the best I could get for right now. I’ll get you something while we’re at Prickly Pear or after that.”

“No…No the flowers are fine. Thank you.” Thank you?

“I’m trying, okay?” Crocodile murmurs softly, “If you really don’t like the flowers, then… Tell me what you do like and I’ll buy it.” He pauses again, “And don’t go saying some bullshit like ‘If i have to tell you what to buy me, then what’s the point in buying me a gift in the first place?’”

Little does Crocodile know, Buggy has no problem telling people exactly what he wants. To be honest, he would ask for money or treasure but there’s no point in doing that. “Anything’s fine,” Buggy says instead, “Just get me a bottle of whiskey. It’s the thought that counts anyways.” Ew, when did he start saying such cliche, sentimental things?  

Crocodile stares at Buggy, and...Buggy stares right back at Crocodile for a long moment. “The fuck you want whiskey for? We got whiskey on the island.” He runs his hand over his face, “I’m offering to buy you anything you want. Anything, regardless of the price tag, and you want whiskey?!”

Buggy feels a headache coming on. “Then…Then, get me more flowers!”

“That ain’t enough!”  

Why isn’t it enough?! Buggy wonders. “Fine, buy me whiskey and some more flowers.” He replies, trying to bargain with Crocodile in a weird way. This feels like such a stupid and trivial thing to argue about, but he shouldn’t be surprised by any of this.

Crocodile sucks his teeth, “Whiskey and flowers, huh? You want me to take you on a goddamn date while I’m at it?”

“What?!” Buggy exclaims, confused as hell. Where the hell did that come from?! Crocodile was probably just joking or making a weird sarcastic remark, but needless to say, it catches Buggy completely off guard. What a weird thing to say to a man you’ve spent weeks hating. 

“Nothing.” Crocodile replies and waves his hand in a dismissive fashion. “Pick something better.” He instructs, “Think it over and then let me know what you actually want after tomorrow’s meeting. Deal?”

“Why can’t you just get me the whiskey and flowers?!” 

“I’m trying to show you how sorry I am. Why won’t you just let me get you something nice that shows you that I care?!” 

‘That shows you that I care.’

This has been one hell of a night already for Buggy. First it was 'I think I'm developing feelings for you, as crazy as that sounds.' ringing repeatedly in his head, but now it’s: ‘I’m trying to show you how sorry I am. Why won’t you just let me get you something nice that shows you that I care?!’

What the hell? It feels like Crocodile and Mihawk are joining forces to pull one giant prank on poor Buggy. If that’s the case, their practical joke is working because Buggy has never been more baffled in his life. “What…?” Buggy repeats, this time in a shaky voice. “You don’t care about me.” 

Crocodile closes his eyes and exhales a heavy sigh. He pauses to think of his next words, and for a moment, the only thing that can be heard is the sounds of crickets chirping in the distance. “I am trying to care. I am trying to be a different person.” He finally says as he slowly and carefully chooses his words. “I’m trying to make things better between us, but you don’t see that because you’re more stubborn than I am! I have been trying to apologize for weeks and trying to show you how regretful I am, but you just won’t give me a fuckin chance!”

Another pause. “I am sorry. I’m fucking sorry, i don’t know how to do this. I’ve never had to do this.” Crocodile laughs, and his laughter sounds cold, bitter even. “You want me to push aside my pride and get on my fucking knees and beg for forgiveness?!” Would that even be something Crocodile would be willing to do? “I’m asking, man to man, what will it take to get you to see my apology as genuine? What will it take for you to forgive me so we can just move on with our lives?!”

What would it take for Buggy to actually, wholeheartedly forgive both Crocodile and Mihawk? The answer evades him. The truth is: He’s not sure if he could ever truly forgive them. But if there were one thing that would warrant forgiveness, what would it be?

“You want to punch me?” Crocodile suddenly asks. “You wanna give me a black eye or a busted lip?” What? Buggy would think that Crocodile was joking if it weren’t for the tone of his voice. “Is that it? You want revenge?” 

Well…

“I’ll give you a free sucker punch if that’s what you want.” Crocodile tells Buggy, “Hit me as hard as you can, but make it good because you only get one free punch. After that, you have to fight my ass for real.”

A strange feeling of deja vu washes over Buggy as he stands in front of Crocodile on this chaotic evening. Even if he did punch him, what would that accomplish? A small punch is nothing compared to the bullshit Crocodile has put him throu–

Just kidding. Fuck Crocodile.

While still holding his bouquet of flowers in one hand, Buggy wastes little time before he punches Crocodile across the jaw. For once he acts without truly thinking or weighing in the consequences of his actions, which is something he’s gotten so good at recently. Plus, he actually manages to catch Crocodile off guard it seems because said man makes a shocked noise and spits out his cigar as soon as Buggy strikes him. “Ow, fuck! You little fucker!” he spits. Buggy may not have been able to hack Mihawk to pieces, but maybe that’s because he was being all nice and honorable. Crocodile’s different, though. He's okay with hitting Crocodile.

Crocodile hunches over for a second, if that, before he straightens up and laughs. “Oh, that was a good one. I’ll admit it.” He says as he points at Buggy, and looks like he’s trying desperately not to beat Buggy within an inch of his life. “That was real good. I didn’t think you would…” He trails off before he starts to laugh again.

Should Buggy start running?

“Are we even now?” Crocodile asks as he rubs the side of his face, “Can we finally move on with our lives?”

Buggy wouldn’t call them even by any extent but he’d be lying if he said that it didn’t feel good to punch Crocodile in the face. His heart is racing right now as an almost forgotten sense of happiness washes over him. “One more.” He says, holding out a finger. He’s pushing his luck, and he knows it. He should be shitting his pants now and begging for forgiveness, and knowing Buggy, he’ll regret this all in the morning. Regret is a problem for tomorrow’s him. though.

Crocodile laughs and looks at the night sky, “Oh, you’re feeling ballsy tonight, aren’t you?” A little, and maybe that’s partially because he just left Mihawk’s tent not too long ago and has been nothing but nerves and adrenaline since. “One more. One more and th– Ow! You motherfucker. You just couldn’t wait, could you?”

All Buggy hears before he punches Crocodile is ‘One more.’ After that, his body reacts on its own again and he punches Crocodile across the face one more time, this time putting as much strength into his strike as possible before he lands it. 

Oh, that was good. He feels like he just won the lottery on his birthday. 

That same adrenaline that tells him that it feels good to finally gets his hands on Crocodile without having to deal with any repercussions, is telling him to keep on going. It’s saying ‘You can totally beat this guy’s ass, Buggy. Keep going, keep going!’

However, as soon as Crocodile straightens up again and then gets in his face, Buggy loses a little bit of his courage from earlier. “You…” Crocodile touches the corner of his mouth where it’s bleeding a little with his tongue and laughs. “You…throw a good punch, don’t you?” Well, Buggy has been in his fair share of bar fights…

The words ‘I’m sorry.’ are on the tip of Buggy’s tongue, but he keeps them in. He won’t apologize, not this time. Instead he exhales a shaky breath,  “Yeah, well… I wanted to take full advantage of my two free punches.” He admits.

Crocodile nods. It’s almost as if he’s reluctantly agreeing with Buggy and telling him he’s made a good point, but with his body language. “Good for you. Are we even now?” He asks yet again.

“No, that wasn’t enough.” The words leave Buggy’s mouth before he truly processes what he’s saying. It shocks not only himself but Crocodile as well. He thinks he sees Crocodile’s eye twitch under the dim lighting illuminating the island, but he's not sure.  

“What?” Crocodile asks.

“That…That wasn’t enough. Why would two measly punches make up for all that you’ve done to me?!”

“...”

Crocodiles expression twists and contorts as he processes Buggy’s words.  He looks frustrated at first but that frustration morphs into something more. He narrows his eyes at Buggy, “It’s not enough?” He clicks his tongue. “If you think I’m going to stand here and let you beat my ass, then you have another thing coming.”

Oh, he’s no fun.

“You’ve done way more than just punch me in the face a couple of times.” Buggy counters. 

“I mean, yeah, but…” Crocodile reluctantly agrees, “We might as well just fucking fight, then.” he says as he shrugs off his coat, “C’mon, then. No bullshit or devil fruit powers. Let’s just fight and - win, lose, or draw - move the fuck on.” 

[crystals-and-cosmos]

Time, Stop - chapter 1

Characters: Akiho Shinomoto, Yuna D. Kaito, Sakura Kinomoto, Syaoran Li Rating: T Warnings: swearing Tags: romance, a sprinkle of angst, boys having good old magic sparring, who the heck is targeting Sakura keep your hands off her!! Summary: Kaito and Akiho are back in Tomoeda for a short while, on Syaoran's request: he's finally going to learn time magic! What Akiho doesn't imagine, however, is that this visit will trigger one of the biggest turning points in her relationship with Kaito. Word count: 2.037 A/N at the end of the chapter. English is not my first language; keep that into consideration. This chapter on AO3

Excerpt:

“Would it be a problem if we arranged everything so we could travel back to Japan for a few days? I have just received a phone call from Syaoran Li, he—” but he couldn't even begin to pronounce the next word that Akiho was already jumping up from her seat, exclaiming frantically “Sakura-san?? Did something happen to Sakura-san??”

A thunderbolt illuminated Tomoeda's sunset sky.

The garden of the Shinomoto-Yuna mansion quaked as a thick chain slammed into the grass with a clanging sound, missing by a few centimeters one of the pine trees lining the fence. The impact left deep furrows into the lawn.

Syaoran Li landed on his feet a few meters nearby, crouching to the ground to regain balance, gripping his sword tightly. A sweat drop trickled down his jaw, as the 17-year-old scion of the renowned Li Clan gritted his teeth and lifted his head, glaring fiercely at his attacker.

Yuna D. Kaito stood gracefully on one of the garden lampposts while holding his magic staff, watching the panting Syaoran on the ground with narrowed eyes. His gaze reflected the same purple light that delimited the entire garden, like some kind of barrier. His expression was imperturbable, impossible to decode.

In front of the french patio door that gave access to the garden, Sakura Kinomoto and Akiho Shinomoto stood close to one another, watching the confrontation with concerned expressions.

Sakura, in particular, bit nervously her lower lip as she repressed a powerful urge to run in Syaoran's direction.

Akiho caught that with the corner of her eye, and her hand instinctively went to hold her best friend's one. The strawberry blonde girl, wrapped in a camel trench coat, returned the hold with double the intensity, eyes glued on the scene in front of them.

“Don't tell me you're already tired.” Unconcerned with the condition of the young man below, Kaito flipped his staff upside down. His personal magic circle lit up under his feet as more chains sprang forth and darted towards Syaoran.

The younger magician quickly rose to his feet, still panting, and held his sword tightly in front of him. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply to steady his nerves. He focused on summoning all the magic in his body, feeling the blood rushing faster through his veins. As the magic circle of the Li Clan appeared, shining brightly under him, he chanted with a solemn tone.

“Time, stop.”

The air in the garden grew thicker as everything took on a greenish hue. The group of chains hung frozen in mid-air a few meters from Syaoran, static just like the rest of anything else located inside the barrier. Only the magicians present at the moment weren't impacted by the spell he had just activated. An eerie silence permeated the area, as if they were in outer space.

Sakura watched the scene at the top of her apprehension, still gripping the hand of a motionless Akiho.

“One…” Kaito counted, whispering softly to himself.

Syaoran swiftly whipped one ofuda out, holding it in front of his sword.

“Two…”

The young man steeled himself to begin the incantation of his signature spell; however, he quickly felt his body growing heavier and heavier, as if somebody had just dumped a ton of lead on his limbs. His movements were lagging, head spinning and breathing becoming increasingly labored. Words suddenly felt so damn hard to pronounce.

“Three…”

“R-raitei…” Syaoran struggled to push the chant out of his gritted teeth, when suddenly his limbs felt much lighter and the pressure was instantly relieved from his body. His eyes widened in dismay.

The night breeze resumed blowing gently among the leafy branches of the trees, breaking the dead silence. The green light dissolved.

Akiho blinked her eyes rapidly, realizing the scene in front of her had changed from one moment to the next.

Time had resumed its normal flow.

“Syaoran-kun!!!” Sakura shrieked from the patio.

“Shit!” Syaoran cursed, as panic gripped his chest. He desperately jumped to the side, narrowly avoiding the group of chains that resumed darting towards him like a freight train, crashing to the ground. His sword landed tumbling a few meters from him. He trembled as he struggled to sit up on the grass, frustratedly running a hand through his disheveled hair. He looked up and found Kaito standing in front of him with an outstretched hand—his expression was serious, but much softer than before.

“How many seconds…?” the younger magician asked quietly, out of breath, his eyes already filled with disappointment even before hearing the answer.

“Three,” Kaito answered calmly, “you surely improved from yesterday's training.”

“But it's clearly not enough,” Syaoran replied with a disheartened tone, accepting the helping hand and standing up with a whimper. “I need to reach at least five seconds to be able to seize the chance to counterattack.” His legs were shaking, feeling completely depleted of any energy.

Kaito watched him with sympathetic eyes while he dissolved the purple barrier circling the area, then cast a repairing spell on the damaged spots of their garden.

“Syaoran-kun!!” Sakura came running and hugged her boyfriend's chest on the side, supporting him at the same time.

Syaoran's eyes widened at his girlfriend's impetus and his cheeks colored slightly—particularly because of how tight her hold was, unconcerned by the presence of the other two.

“Is it really necessary for you to learn this technique…?” she raised her head from his chest, looking at him with pleading eyes.

“Sakura…I'm okay. I just need to rest a little bit,” his smile matched his soft voice, running a comforting hand along her back.

The girl wasn't persuaded at all, but she knew she couldn't stop him from learning to master time magic. It was within his right, as the next head of the Li Clan and as a powerful magician, to learn any technique he deemed necessary, no matter how difficult and taxing, to protect himself and the people important to him. Including Sakura herself.

Akiho pulled her cardigan tighter against the cool evening breeze as she approached the other three. She stared at Sakura and Syaoran quietly, lost in thought for a moment. Then, her concerned gaze shifted from the hugging couple to Kaito, locking eyes with him. “Are you sure this harshness is necessary? He can't stand on his own.”

A frown appeared on Kaito's face, like a child who had just been scolded for something he didn't do. He was about to justify his choices, when Syaoran promptly interrupted them both.

“No, Shinomoto…I'm the one who asked him not to go easy on me during my training. He didn’t do anything wrong.” His fierce amber eyes met those of Kaito. “I knew he would've understood my request.”

── ･ ｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

Stockholm, three weeks earlier.

Kaito's phone beeped on his desk, prompting the dark-haired man to put down the utility bill he was looking at and check the device immediately. He didn't have many contacts on his phone, and Akiho was at home, so he guessed who had sent the message right away.

He tapped the messaging app with a smirk, thinking he would find once again one of the bizarre photos the two magicians had been exchanging over the years. However, his smirk morphed into a puzzled expression when his eyes read “Is it ok for me to call you right now?” on the screen. At his positive answer, his phone rang immediately.

Kaito reached Akiho in the library room, where she was hunched over a desk, browsing through the content of two grimoires freshly obtained from the secret area of the stunning Stadsbiblioteket, the Public Library of Stockholm. “What are your plans, three weeks from now?” he asked her point blank, capturing her attention and obtaining an intrigued expression in return.

“Besides my classes and my book repair projects? Not much, I'm afraid…why?”

“Would it be a problem if we arranged everything so we could travel back to Japan for a few days? I have just received a phone call from Syaoran Li, he—” but he couldn't even begin to pronounce the next word that Akiho was already jumping up from her seat, exclaiming frantically “Sakura-san?? Did something happen to Sakura-san??”

Akiho's concern wasn't completely unjustified. On the contrary. A couple of days before, Syaoran had been practicing with some tracking spells, when he had accidentally spotted a foreign aura looming around his girlfriend. The multiple levels of discordance magic that Eriol and Kaho had woven on Sakura long ago had done their job well, thwarting the malicious attempt to locate her.

But since the discovery, Syaoran had not been able to sleep a wink. Someone was trying to pinpoint Sakura's location—this meant that she had possibly piqued the interest of a magician, if not more than one. He had always known that such a powerful magician could not stay unnoticed in the magic world forever, yet he had hoped that this day would come as late as possible.

“So…he finally asked me if he could take up the offer I made him before we left Japan, four years ago,” Kaito ended his explanation, matter-of-factly.

Akiho's eyes widened in disbelief—a bad feeling crept into her heart as she realized that was the first time she heard about it. “…Offer? What did you offer him?” she asked, her blue eyes ready to put him through the wringer.

“To teach him time magic,” he replied smiling placidly, as if it were the most mundane thing in the world.

“TIME MAGIC?” Akiho's distraught voice echoed in the library room as she quickly walked towards him, “You promised him you’d teach him time magic??”

Kaito stared at her agape. While he was very aware of the dangers hiding behind its use, he still considered time magic a kind of magic like any other. Just a very powerful, handy tool in the bag of a magician that needed to be handled with extreme care, and the fact that the next head of the Li Clan wanted to learn it didn't surprise him in the least.

Then, he realized what the actual problem was.

“I will not use it myself. I will only teach him how to achieve a good control of it,” he clarified immediately, hoping that would suffice to calm the girl down.

Akiho stared firmly into the dark fog of his amethyst eyes, frantically searching for any trace of loophole to his claim. She found none.

He did want to point out that technically, time magic wouldn't have affected him in the way she feared, as a greater spell still had its claws on him and his time was still frozen—blocking his lifespan as a result. But he decided to not bring it up to avoid rattling the girl any further. However, they negotiated for a good twenty minutes the typology of spells he was allowed to use during his coaching period. The less use of magic the better, as Akiho always insisted on. Three weeks later they were on a plane, heading for Japan.

── ･ ｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

“I’m sorry for causing you trouble, but please don’t be mad at him,” Syaoran said with a slightly guilty smile, as he summoned the sword that was laying on the grass a few meters nearby, sheathing it back into his hand with a spell.

Akiho gave Kaito one last dirty look, then finally relented, letting out a sigh. “Fine, I understand.” Her expression softened, eyes inevitably shifting to Sakura. “…He needs to rest. Go ahead and take him to the room I showed you earlier,” she said, smiling kindly in reassurance.

“Thank you so much, Akiho-chan!” Sakura grinned in response, while carefully supporting Syaoran, as they both went back inside through the french patio door.

Akiho turned again to Kaito, a streak of concern clouding her eyes. “How are you feeling…?”

“I'm perfectly fine,” he smiled, “those spells were very tame. I should get back inside too, I will get dinner ready while he's resting.” He was heading for the patio door, when he heard Akiho's voice again, coming from behind him.

“…I still think that taunt was unnecessary.”

He turned around, and the pointed look she gave him elicited a spontaneous chortle from him. “He works harder when I encourage him that way. He knows it's all well-intended.”

At his reply, Akiho couldn't really stop her own chuckle that escaped her lips, and with an amused “right, right” she joined him, heading for the patio door.

Akiho had no idea that was just the quiet before the storm.

Author's Note:

Okay, this is my first public chaptered fic! And the first one featuring Sakura and Syaoran together! I'm writing for them too! Wah! 🤣 I am pretty nervous because I usually don't plan much and I never do an outline for my fics, but I think with a multi-chapter one it's kinda necessary! I just hope everything will go well. 😂 This chapter includes also my first "action scene" I've ever written, so I hope that was interesting enough.

I won't comment much since this is only the "introduction", the beginning, so I want you to find things out along the way, but let's set some things straight: Akiho, Sakura and Syaoran are all 17 years old here. Kaito's time is still stopped, as you can read in this first chapter, because he and Akiho haven't found a cure for him yet. And this will become one of the big themes of this fic. Keep in consideration he looks 19-ish, like in the canon manga.

They are temporary back in their old mansion since I'm fairly sure that Eriol bought it back for them, not for himself (he continues living in England, after all): Sakura's comment in chapter 80 on Akiho's books being safe really does suggest that Eriol bought the house so no one else could buy it and force Akiho and Kaito to displace their belongings. Eriol also "manages it" so I guess that means that he helps keeping it clean and paying taxes and such while they're not there. For this reason, it makes perfect sense that whenever they go back to Tomoeda, they will stay in their old mansion. And this time, Akiho insists in putting "Shinomoto - Yuna" on the plate outside (why "Yuna"? Because we still don't really know what's the supposed last name and what's the first name, so I prefer to go with "Kaito is the first name because that's how Akiho calls him" even though there's no confirmation and I hope one day CLAMP will clarify this. 😂).

The season they are in is spring (Sakura's 17th birthday was a few weeks earlier), basically the same as RL now in the northern emisphere. In this introductory chapter I couldn't develop Sakura's character much, so she only comes off as a worrywart, but more of her will (hopefully) come out in the next chapters.

I think that's all for now, (polite) comments are welcome, just like writing tips! ❤️

[strixamans]

Happy fic moment from 2024

Thanks for the tag, @nocryptographer! This is such a sweet idea.

Share an excerpt from any fic of yours that you wrote this year, depicting a happy / fluffy / cute moment that you're proud of. Let's spread some joy for the last moments of the undeniably fucked-up year that was 2024.

Mine is from Chapter 17 of this one, following the first smut scene of the fic, and my career.

We continue to lie there, naked and smiling, until I shiver.   “Are you cold, darling?” I answer, “A little.” Although I've largely been ignoring it, my hands and feet prickle with a pins-and-needles sensation that might be related to the loss of blood. Astarion looks at me sweetly. “I wish I could warm you up.” “You do.” "Well..." The skin around his eyes wrinkles with his smile in a way I can't resist. I don't really want to leave. But, entwining his fingers with mine, he goes on, “We should get you back to camp, all the same.” I know he's right. Still... He kisses my hand again, then releases it to sit up. And as he leans over to collect our folded clothing, I struggle a little to upright myself, feeling suddenly quite dizzy. A goofy smile spreads across my face. “Oh, I’m a mess…” Astarion looks concerned. “Did I take too much?”  “No, no. You were perfect. I’m just… a mess.” “A beautiful mess, all the same. Here…” He brushes some of the debris from my back, then picks up my shirt. “Arms up.” “I’m quite sure I can dress myself,” I say, giggling. He replies, “I’m sure that you can. You don’t have to, though.” I give him a sly look. “What, you want to take care of me?” And with a bashful smile, he says, “Maybe a little...” So I smile back at him, raising my arms to let him slip my shirt on over them. Then, taking my underwear, he reaches down to pick my feet up, one by one, so he can slide the little garment up my legs while I laugh, shifting my weight from side to side to help him get it up over my hips. And when he succeeds, I pull him in for a kiss. “This isn’t so bad..." Astarion allows me a happy moment of indulgence, before disentangling himself to ask, “You weren’t wearing pants, were you?” “Absolutely not,” I reply. “I’m on vacation.” He chuckles, strapping my sheathed knife to its usual position on my thigh before he goes to kneel at my feet and get my boots on. I watch him stand to dress himself, then go to pick up my towel and dirty shirt, draping the towel over his shoulders and tying the shirt around his hips. “Ready?” He offers me his hands, then pulls me to my feet when I take them. The ground feels very far away, though, and I sway severely. Astarion hurries to wrap my arm over his shoulder, securing his own around my waist. “Are you sure you can walk?” he asks. But I insist that I can; and so, we set off towards camp. The going is slow, and quiet—I have to concentrate on keeping my balance. When we’re about halfway there, though, Astarion laughs quietly to himself. And after a few seconds, he says, “Probably for the best I can’t see whatever it is you’ve done to my hair.” I start to laugh; and of course, promptly lose my balance, nearly collapsing to the ground. But Astarion manages to keep me up. “Alright, that’s enough,” he says, stooping to bring his free arm around the backs of my thighs. “What are you—you can’t possibly—” My giggling protestations are quickly replaced with shrieks of laughter, though, when he succeeds in picking me up. “Are you going to drop me?! Should I be scared?!” “Of course you should be scared," he quips. "I’m a vampire. But I’m not going to drop you.” “Are you sure?!” “I know it’s hard to believe, darling, but I happen to be feeling unusually strong, at the moment. If only at your expense.” I just can't seem to stop giggling. “Careful… if you carry me all the way into camp like this, you might be stuck with me forever.” He giggles, too, leaning in to kiss my forehead. “My silly bride… There is nothing I’d like more.”

(For context, the smut is preceded by a scene in which a tipsy Wyll explains Baldurian nuptial customs, including the "carrying the bride over the threshold" thing, to the gang after being horrified to learn that no one else has been to a wedding)

No pressure tags for @b-e-lindstorm @sawickibalisong @fartasticdurge @deadly-diminuendo @nw39

[voxofthevoid]

Demon/Hunter Horror Wednesday #11: This fic's a few hundred words away from 100k, and I have 11 chapters left to write, assuming the chapter estimate doesn't increase again. This is gonna take a while, folks. My best guess is that the word count will end up somewhere between 150k and 200k.

More goyuu this week! The last chapter was nearly 9k of one(1) kiss/frottage scene, plus a couple of tinier scenes to tie it up in the aftermath. This is an excerpt from that.

Also, my prediction was wrong; Sukuna won't show up in any concrete capacity until the chapter after the next two (i.e., in Chapter 17/25). But well, balance—most of the first half of this fic is pure sukuita, and now the goyuu is taking over, kinda. There'll be a good chunk in that middle that's both in near-equal measure.

Satoru yanks Yuuji’s head up before he can feast, plunging his tongue into that gasping mouth to lick out the violence.

Yuuji gasps, his nails digging meanly, unconsciously into Satoru’s stomach. Satoru pries his free hand off his sweater to grab Yuuji’s hand and shove it further down, pressing those grasping flush to Satoru’s denim-clad cock.

Yuuji’s hips jerk like it’s his dick that’s getting touched.

“Can’t trust your mouth,” Satoru says without quite breaking the kiss, slitting his eyes open so he can see Yuuji’s face from centimeters away; his eyes are open, more black than brown. “So use your hands, sweetheart.”

Yuuji moans.

Satoru drinks that sound down hot, and it’s as sweet as Yuuji’s violence would have been. Satoru will allow it one day, when Yuuji can be trusted with Satoru’s capacity to take everything a demon can—and then some.

Yuuji’s fingers are clumsy on Satoru’s crotch, like they can’t decide between groping his dick through the jeans and unzipping the fly for a better treat. Satoru doesn’t do much to help, busying himself with Yuuji’s mouth. The taste of blood has washed all the way out, and it’s Yuuji’s taste now ripening on Satoru’s tongue and seeping deeper with every inhale and swallow. Yuuji’s kissing back, sweet thing, and Satoru can tell that’s exactly why he’s fumbling so hard down below.

Satoru keeps kissing him anyway, licking lazily at the roof of Yuuji’s mouth before pulling back to nibble on a lush lip, and Yuuji shoves up against him with a guttural noise, flattening Satoru against the couch. His fingers slip into Satoru’s waistband, tugging with a concerning amount of force.

“Easy,” Satoru warns again, barely reining in his amusement. “If you tear that off, I’ll have to walk out of here in my underwear.”

Yuuji draws back with a nonplussed expression, all of him growing less violent for a moment. “I wasn’t gonna tear it off?”

It’s not very convincing; Yuuji himself doesn’t look all that sure.

“It’ll be very sexy if you do,” Satoru reassures him. “I’ve always wanted to be ravished.”

Yuuji’s hands clench on Satoru, once again threatening to tear off his jeans and also bruise his ribs. “Fuck.”

“Aren’t we eager,” Satoru murmurs. “Go on then. Take it out. Without property damage, preferably.”

“Satoru-san,” Yuuji whines, but the complaint loses all bite when he presses his whole palm to Satoru’s clothed dick like he just can’t help but cop a feel before resuming the apparently arduous process of freeing it.

Satoru has to fight not to arch up into it, his whole groin one hot pulse.

Yuuji does conquer his fly, finally, peeling it apart and tugging Satoru’s underwear down to let his cock spring out.

Satoru sighs, pleasure and a twinge of relief. And Yuuji—

Yuuji sucks in a breath that burns in Satoru’s own lungs.

“Oh,” he rasps, “it’s pretty.”

Satoru looks down, watching said piece of pretty twitch in helpless response. Yuuji’s hand is hovering over it, not quite touching but clearly wanting to. Satoru feels his gaze like a touch anyway, dripping fire from the exposed head to the taut sacks at the base.

This isn’t the part of Satoru that usually gets called pretty, but how can he complain when Yuuji looks so hungry?

Maybe a little too hungry though. Satoru’s not sure he’d put his dick in that mouth just yet, especially with how Yuuji tends to get all toothy in between.

“I’m getting shy here,” Satoru lies when Yuuji continues to just look. “Gonna show me yours?”

“Oh, uh—” Yuuji blinks fast a couple of times, swallowing suspiciously wetly. Satoru’s ego swells in his chest, growing liquid on its way down to his dick. “Yeah, lemme just—”

“I’ll help,” Satoru volunteers; he’s kind like that.

It’s a quick affair. Yuuji seems to favor loose, easily divestible clothes, and the sweatpants he’s changed into are even easier to wrangle than the baggy shorts he was wearing earlier. Satoru gives the elastic waistband a rough tug down, and out it comes, long and flushed and mouth-wateringly thick.

Satoru’s guts knot up in very predictable response.

It’s not a novel view. He did see far more than he should have the other morning, perched on that tree and peering in through Yuuji’s window, but that semi-accidental peep show was a far cry from the scorching reality mere centimeters away from kissing his own cock.

Also—

“You weren’t lying,” Satoru says, tugging Yuuji’s cock down with a single finger for a better look at the unruly bush at its base. It’s the same fairy-floss pink as Yuuji’s hair—mostly. There are dark streaks in between, the same black as Yuuji’s undercut. “The pink is all natural. Haven’t seen two-toned hair before though, and I’ve run into some wild coloring.”

“Why would I lie about that?” Yuuji asks breathily. He’s trembling a little, the worst of it in the hand still hovering between their bodies. Satoru runs his finger down the length of Yuuji’s cock, just a testing touch, and Yuuji shudders so violently that it may as well be a flinch. “Shit, please—”

“That’s my line,” Satoru murmurs, dipping his head so he can better peer up at Yuuji. “You haven’t even touched me, Yuuji.”

Yuuji’s hand curls around Satoru’s cock with a truly endearing amount of care. It’s not a lot of pressure, but Satoru’s blood still burns at the feel of those calluses pressing against the sensitive skin of his cock.

“Closer,” Satoru orders.

Yuuji moves with a throaty noise, inching closer on the couch till his knees are practically level with Satoru’s hips. It brings their cocks obscenely close together, and Satoru feels some kind of a way watching Yuuji’s length sway so close to his own, darker and redder and thicker, promising all sorts of filthy fun.

Satoru gives its head a welcoming squeeze, humming low in his throat when precome dampens his palm.

Yuuji groans, his hips bucking, rough but restrained.

Satoru uncurls his hand, snagging his own dick with a hooked thumb and drawing it flush with Yuuji’s cock, and Yuuji once again proves that he’s a quick study, shifting to angle his cock better against Satoru’s.

“Just like that,” Satoru praises. “Now hold them both.”

Yuuji breathes out raggedly and obeys, letting go of Satoru’s cock to wrap his hand around both their cocks, and his fingers aren’t long enough to reach as far around them as Satoru’s do, but he makes up for it with enthusiasm, the borderline delicacy of earlier vanishing in a single needy clench.

It’s Satoru who groans this time, allowing himself a moment to just dig his head into Yuuji's chest and feel where he’s pressed up against all that thick heat.

Yuuji’s free hand pries itself off Satoru’s chest to land in his hair, grabbing a generous fistful. He does nothing with it, only clinging tight like he’s seeking strength, but it still pulls on Satoru’s scalp, a liquid ache that sluices down his spine and seeps into his gut.

Satoru opens his mouth against Yuuji’s chest, almost tasting the wild beat of his heart. There’s only fabric there to taste, but he bites anyway, and Yuuji’s fingers twitch brutally tight around their cocks.

It eases up the next moment, but Satoru watches himself grow wet with a moan caught between his teeth.

“Tighter,” he says. Then— “Have you done this before?”

“N-no,” Yuuji gasps.

Satoru draws back, looking up at Yuuji. “But you have had sex before.”

It’s fascinating, the way Yuuji’s expression shifts. A whole array of emotions, too tangled up to read. It settles on something dark-eyed and crooked-mouthed, and the way he nods, sharp and brisk, would be misleading if Satoru didn’t know what he does.

The bruises on Yuuji’s throat have faded remarkably, the distinct shapes of fingers now reduced to a few patchy blemishes, but Satoru knows and he knows Yuuji knows, and he’d love to learn the full extent of it, the thoughts and emotions of a teenager who’s become a demon’s plaything, but he can’t read Yuuji’s mind, only his face, and it yields no clear answers.

“With a man?” Satoru asks anyway. The demon seemed to take the form of one, but who knows with their kind.

Yuuji just nods again, a little less painfully awkward.

“That’s good,” Satoru says lightly, and it’s a cruel lie, but it helps keep the sudden flood of nonsensical, impotent rage out of his voice, his face. “You know your way around a cock then.”

[thetaxicabber]

Chapter 17 art for Voyagers of Time and Shadow! 

This amazing art by @giselsann-opencommissions I'm so excited to continue getting art for this series! If you've read it let me know which scenes you'd like to see! :) 

Harry just asked for two ringers for help :)

Here's an excerpt from this chapter!

Harry taps his fingers on his chin a few times and Hermione nods at him, drawing her lip between her teeth. Harry takes a hesitant step forward. “We could use your help actually.”

Sebastian and Evie share a look. Whatever is happening must be bad. Evie hasn’t seen students injured like this outside of crossed wands before. Harry wouldn't ask for help unless he was desperate.

“Oh, you want two Slytherins to help you but not me?” Ginny spits at Harry and Ron, her tone full of venom. Evie can’t help but glower at the red headed girl. She and Sebastian were just as much part of the DA as she was. Their house means nothing in regards to their friendship. They helped train the group. 

Ron scowls at her, but it's Harry who speaks. “Ginny… you don’t understand. They are better equipped to help…”

“We can all help!”

“We want to help,” Neville adds simply and Luna smiles serenely in agreement. 

“Maybe a little context on what’s going on, Harry? What do you need?” Evie breaks up their argument as she and Sebastian have moved closer to join the others. She gives him a smile but he looks pale and panicked. Her stomach flips with a mixture of nervousness and exhilaration. 

“It’s Sirius,” he explains quickly and Ginny’s jaw drops. "Harry! What are you-" She begins to protest but Ron shushes her, allowing Harry to continue. “I had a vision…I guess. I saw it, just like I've told you about. He’s got him. Voldemort, I mean. In the Department of Mysteries. We have to save him.” 




Sebastian lets out a surprised noise next to her. Now that was not what Evie was expecting. She knew Harry's visions connect him to Voldemort and that's what saved Ron 's father when he was attacked. He was supposed to be practicing his Occlumency to prevent this, Sebastian had been working with him, but he said Harry was dreadful at it. But why would Voldemort be at the Ministry? Why would he go there when most don't believe he's returned? Evie thinks that's foolish of him to risk discovery. 

“We tried to contact headquarters,” Ron adds and Ginny stares at him in horror as they divulge secrets. Evie remembers she does not know that the trio has told Evie and Sebastian practically everything. “Harry said he wasn’t there. We got caught by Umbridge…”

“Did she do that to you guys?” Sebastian points at their various wounds, his posture stiffening. 


“Inquisitorial Squad,” Ginny answers grimly. “But we got them in the end, didn’t we guys?” Ron, Neville, and Luna all nod happily in agreement. 

Evie doesn’t wait for Sebastian to answer. She knows they are both all in for Harry. He’s their friend and they can help. “Wouldn’t be my first rescue,” Evie tells them with a grin. She sees relief on Ron, Harry, and Hermione’s faces. Evie is glad she can provide a bit of relief for them after what they've been through. They know her skills will be an asset. They're lucky they stumbled across the two of them out here. Evie wonders what the chances were of that? “What do you need us to do?” 



Harry swallows thickly. “We need to get to London. That’s where the Ministry is. But we’ll have to fly…and I don’t know….”

[havendance]

Tagged by @acediscowlng and @dustorange!

Tagging: uhhhh, I don't know who has or hasn't been tagged and I am too tired to figure out so if you haven't been tagged yet and you're interested, consider yourself tagged by me!

number of stories posted to ao3: This is the year I got involved in multiple niche archives so counting up everything gets a little more tricky. I posted a total of 26 fics this year! (17 to ao3, 3 exclusive to Superlove, and an extra 6 on CFAA). I also did a lot of prompt events and writing challenges this year so a lot of these works are shorter, only 8 being over 1500 words. 

word counted posted for last year: 41,501! Less than last year, but I got into a really good writing grove last year whereas this year I had to worry about graduating and finding a job and actually driving on my commute instead of writing.

fandoms i wrote for: It’s all DC comics baby (except for the short Saga fic I wrote)

pairings: A bit of everything really. I think Helena & Barbara is the combo that stands out. Been thinking more about Helena/Dick as well though I only wrote a little thing for it.

stories with the most kudos, bookmarks and comment threads: Batman for Dummies comes out on top, but since I only posted the epilogue for it in 2024, I’m ignoring it in favor of Help! I was Reborn as Robin’s Father! which makes since as the fic I wrote that’s probably the most accessible to the larger fandom audience.

work i’m most proud of (and why): Hmm I think probably either Delta T or Cassanda Cain: Orpheus Special #1.I’m just really happy with how both of them turned out.

work i’m least proud of (and why): I as a manner of policy, don’t like to talk about my negative feelings towards my fics publicly, but I have to say probably white knight | black knight. This was my first time doing a mini-bang event and I feel like this fic could’ve used about 6 months of time to sit and a second draft but with the pressure of the deadline, I couldn’t give it that. I’m hoping I can look back and appreciate it more later, but for now it’s still got that feel of it in my mind.

share or describe a favorite review you received: I have gotten so many lovely comments this year and you all are wonderful, but I want to give a shout out to Scilly’s comment on Fatherhood for Dummies because you are like the Jack and Dana expert to me so I was so glad that you liked it <3 Also Melo left a wonderful comment on Wild Roses that I treasure.

a time when writing was really, really hard: 

white knight | black knight 😔 I just hit a wall there and needed to keep pushing. Figuring out how to write the first scene between Cass and Shiva in Cassandra Cain: Orpheus Special #1  was also tricky but satisfying when I was able to get it done.

a scene or character you wrote that surprised you:

Hmm I’m not sure if anything really did. There was a whole Helena & Barbara subplot that sprouted up in Delta T but I don’t think that was really a surprise lol.

a favourite excerpt of your writing:

how did you grow as a writer last year: 

I tried a lot of new things last year, a chunk of which has not actually seen the light of day, but whatever. I signed up for a lot more things and wrote a lot of little stuff.

how do you hope to grow this year: 

Hmmm, I think I’d like to work more on tackling my multi-chapter fic ideas. So far I’ve been able to do it with ideas that have a limited number of chapters, but I have ones that feel less structured that I keep foundering on and I want to get them on page! (See: the spyral fic, the knightfall fic I still think about sometimes, I have a War Games idea that probably won’t come to anything, Black Queen)

who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer, beta, cheerleader, etc.): 

I would like to give shout outs to Zahri for always leaving lovely comments, Mika for my Cass week stuff, and Scilly whose posts have given me several ideas to poke away at <3

anything from your real life show up in your writing last year: 

I actually don’t think so. Though I did write that one self-insert…

 any projects you’re looking to starting (or finishing) this year: 

I sort of touched on this already but I really want to get back to the Robins don’t make great roomates universe this year! I’ve got a few different wips I want to get finished up and some ideas I’d love to get to (Nightwing: Year One, that Spyral fic) but I’ll have to see where things take me!

[cassiopeiasara]

20 Questions for Fanfic Writers

I was tagged by the lovely @chainofclovers ages ago.

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

273 ( whoa when did that happen?)

2. What's your total Ao3 word count?

846,599

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

A Way to Ignite (Swan Queen AU)

How This Grace Thing Works (Kyalin)

In the company of only us (Cartinelli)

Broken Shoes and Loose Ends (Kyalin)

Numbers and Figures (don't speak as loud as my heart) (B'Elanna Torres/Seven of Nine)

4. What fandoms do you write for?

I always say that anything I've written for is always game for me to come back to. I'm heavy into 9-1-1 at the moment but I got plans for Richonne, returning to ScarletMay from Gunpowder Milkshake and hopefully finally returning to my Dovesso longfic this year.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

It''s always my goal to. I appreciate each positive one I get and I participate and share for engagement so my goal is to have conversations in my comment sections as much as possible.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I'm not one for angst generally but I did leave this Cartinelli series hanging. I'd had every intention to write a third installment but s2 left such a bitter taste I never could.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Practically all my fics have happy endings but I think I probably felt the most fulfilled when I finished up Woo Me Until the Sun Comes Up (and say you love me)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I have before usually of the racist variety. Usually my friends have swooped in to correct someone before I have to say anything and I do delete it once I'm made aware.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do. It's usually of the fluffy variety but I would like to branch out a bit. I've been gearing up the past few years to dive into more kink in a meaningful way.

10. Do you write crossovers?

I don't think I've properly done one yet but I've been considering one, I'm just not sure how I'm going to logistically manage it yet.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I've had ideas and excerpts stolen before.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I think so? It's been a bit though.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, many. It's one of my favorite things to do with my friends and other writers I admire.

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

I mean I think I just have an ultimate type and it's leaders who fall in love. I've written the most for Hackle (at like 100 fics) but quantity does not always equal favoritism though I LOVE THEM A LOT.

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

There is a Trek fic with only 2 chapters where I can't find my outline so Idk if I'll actually get back to it but like never say never.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think I'm good at fluff particularly of the domestic variety. I'm terrible honestly at picking out my strengths not because I don't know them but especially when it comes to fic beyond when I know particular folks, I'm unsure sometimes of when exactly I've communicated what I wanted in a way that resonates. I think I'm pretty effective at dialogue though.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I suck at descriptions. One time @steellily was editing something for me and so sweetly was like "I love what's happening but where am I?" I leave my poor characters floating in space and I often have to go back to help ground a story. I think I've gotten pretty decent at femslash smut but writing it for the straights could use some work. Ugh and action, I'd kill to write an effective action scene.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

I do it very sparingly and try to stick to languages I know or have a beta/reader who is fluent in it.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Scarecrow and Mrs. King.

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

Gosh it varies but the most me fic ever is Let Me Hand You My Love, it's full of tropey wonder. I'm incredibly proud of let us possess one world, each hath one and is one.

I'll tag @blossom--of--snow, @jonesywrites, @missparker, @applebottomclaudiajeans and @romanimp but no pressure of course.

[stolitzsings]

Happy WIP Wednesday!!! Thanks @sunsetofdoom for the tag!

Another excerpt from my long fic "A Place to Rest," this time from chapter 1. Incidentally I sat down and fleshed out my outline this week and it looks like this one is going to be 17 chapters and an epilogue, so wish me luck 😩

In the meantime, please enjoy this scene of Blitz and Stolas being horny dumbasses at each other!

“Can you tell me what happened, Blitz?”  Blitz heard the words, but he was finding it a little hard to concentrate on them. That was definitely the concussion's fault. It definitely had nothing to do with how close Stolas’s ethereally pretty face had gotten, or how soft his hands were as he gently cleaned Blitz’s skin.  “Huh?” He asked after a moment. Yep, it was definitely the concussion. Maybe he'd lost his remaining brain cells when his head collided with that concrete floor. “I was just asking how you got your injuries, so I know how best to go about treating them. But if it's private, or you don't want to say, of course I underst–” “Bar fight,” Blitz interrupted, as though to reassure himself that he was still capable of intelligible speech. “Got into it with a couple of guys, one of them had a knife. Other one was just big.” “Oh my,” Stolas said primly, now sponging down Blitz’s neck. “That sounds quite intense.” Blitz attempted his best devilish grin. “Don’t you worry, though, I gave ‘em as good as I got.” The worry in Stolas’s face eased a little, and he let out another quiet hoot. “I'm sure you did. I remember you being quite the fearsome pirate when we were young.” Shit. He had almost forgotten about the game he invented to make Stolas his unwitting accomplice. He should have known it would come back to bite him in the ass someday. “You uh… you remember that, huh?” He laughed nervously. “Of course I do!” Stolas's face split into a wide, seemingly genuine grin. “How could I forget a day like that?” The day you accidentally helped a circus clown rob your house, Blitz filled in. He opened his mouth to offer some sort of explanation, or excuse, or lie, but Stolas went on. “Now, you clearly have some wounds on your abdomen,” he said, abandoning his brilliant smile in favor of nervously biting his lip. “Are you comfortable removing your shirt so I can treat them?” Blitz blinked. “Uh… yeah, sure.” He gingerly began pulling off his shirt, trying not to agitate any of his wounds too much. When he pulled it over his head and tossed it onto the floor (taking care not to get blood on the sofa, then congratulating himself on his excellent manners) he heard Stolas give a quiet, “Oh.” He was staring at Blitz's chest with a slightly startled expression.  “‘Oh?’ What does ‘oh’ mean?” Blitz asked, trying not to sound panicked. Stolas looked up at his face and blushed. “Oh, it's nothing,” he said hurriedly.  Blitz frowned. “Great, that's exactly what you want to hear from the guy who's patching you up.” Now it was Stolas’s turn to sound panicked. “Really, it's nothing. It's just that you're, ah… more…physically fit than I expected.” His entire face was bright pink. Blitz grinned, and felt a little heat rising in his own face. He flexed a bit to show off his pecs, and noted with satisfaction that Stolas was staring again. Royals like Stolas were probably horrified at the thought of desiring an imp, but at least Blitz could make him feel a little conflicted about it. “I get that a lot,” he purred, giving Stolas his best bedroom eyes. He swore he saw the feathers around his neck fluff up, and his eyes visibly widened until a spark of white pupil appeared in them. Fuck, that was cute. His heart started beating a little too fast for a guy who was just sitting down. Stop that!  He was supposed to be flustering Stolas, not the other way around. Fortunately, his goal was an easily-achievable one; Stolas already looked halfway to passing out. Funny, for a prince who probably had all kinds of demons fawning over him, he was easily embarrassed by a little skin.

Tagging @bookishcatcafe, @blitzwhore, and anyone else who wants to share!

[overjoyedisland]

Long Time Coming - Chapter 27

Now on AO3

Fic Summary

[Post Iron Flame] Violet Sorrengail and Xaden Riorson could be the power couple that leadership is afraid of, but their lives are full of challenges that keep driving them apart. As they face the latest challenge that threatens their very existence, they find a series of letters that may hold the key to all the answers they need - if only they can read them. As leadership makes decisions about the future of the war college and the students there, Xaden and Violet go on a journey of exploration and self-discovery that they hope will finally bring peace to the continent. As they find answers, they draw on support from friends and others to fulfill their mission.

OR

The Book 3 where Xaden doesn't run away from Violet to protect her. (Because that's all I really want.)

Rating: Explicit

Prequel | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26

Updates post on Tuesday nights and sometimes Friday/Saturday.

NOTE: Updates for the remainder of the fic will be posted when they are ready, so posting may get sporadic from here on out, but we're down to the last few chapters!

Chapter Summary

Aaric struggles to control his signet, Brennan struggles to do the right thing for Naolin, Xaden shares a big secret.

Lots of banter about sex to break up the challenges of carrying out their plans.

Chapter Excerpt

“You’d think they didn’t just meet two days ago,” I grumble to Xaden. “Drake has that effect on women,” he responds. My breath catches. “Liam told me the same thing about you.” He looks at me and raises an eyebrow. “Care to elaborate?” “He told me women either wanted to kill you or fuck you, depending on where you were.” He huffs. “Startlingly accurate.” “I can’t wait until you’re wearing a ring on your finger,” I say sweetly. “I want them all to know you are mine.” “Trust me, they already know,” he promises, pulling me close and kissing my temple.

Author Note

I commented in a previous post about how much I struggled writing this chapter. When I dreamed up this fic, I had lots of fluffy scenes in mind with very vague ideas about how it would all come together in the end. Well, now I'm writing it all coming together at the end and it's challenging! I hope I do this story justice in these last few chapters.

Taglist:

Let me know if you want on or off.

@hockeyspiral23 @oh-no-its-dragons @saranova @jcclg @tegantales @korrinamoe @suebswrites @essjaywrites @sarcasticmothwrites @alittlegirlwaitinginagarden @lovemedarkly29

[astral-mariner]

WIP Wednesday!

An excerpt from my dark saiyans under Freeza story, Homeworld Lost.

Some context: This comes from the first chapter of Part 8, titled "A Lonely World." Vegeta and Raditz have stolen an attack ball and escaped from Freeza's homeworld to a nearby empty planet. They've spent the past few months "recovering" under the care of Freeza's healers after an extremely harrowing purge mission. Raditz is still experiencing the aftereffects of a mind-altering drug on top of everything else. This empty planet is the first time they've been away from Freeza and his "healer" in quite a while. This, coupled with everything they experienced during their last assignment, was obviously extremely traumatic. The scene I've shared below is the first opportunity they've had to be alone and process anything. Vegeta is right around 17 here (about when a saiyan comes of age), and Raditz is around 24.

His arms folded over my own, and his hands clasped mine. After evening treatments—just like the night he returned—he’d often curl at the corner of his bed, leaving space for me, and shoulder to shoulder, we’d tell stories deep into the night. But we’d never sat so close as this. The prince bowed his head, leaving his neck exposed to my cheek as I leaned into him. His pulse fluttered beneath my lips; heat smoldered between us as if we warmed ourselves with energy.

***

Rain rushed over our pod’s round red window, rolling down in thick streams like tears down an already wet cheek. Neither of us moved to open the hatch. Still drowsy from stasis, the downpour occupied our silence. The pod was never meant for two passengers, and Vegeta had to sit in front of me between my spread legs, his back pressed to my chest, but we didn’t mind it. My arms tightened around his waist, and I rested my head on his shoulder. Warm—we’d left our armor behind. No room, and no protection would it offer if Freeza decided to punish us.

His grip tightened, fingers trembling. As my eyes drifted shut, visions flashed before them. For a moment, I felt the gentle clutch of an embrace as if my own arms encircled me, as if I occupied the prince’s space instead. Though Fuenghi’s effects were waning, I recognized the ghostly touch as Vegeta must. No one had held him like this since his mother had all those years ago. When Arcos was just another distant, meaningless world beyond the stars.

A flash of lightning, and the distant roll of thunder. We’d stay like this a little longer yet. Until the storm broke—the prince wouldn’t have to provide an excuse, justify anything. I wouldn’t call attention to it. I nuzzled his hair and breathed in his scent. My thumb stroked the back of his hand rhythmically, offering a small distraction lest the rest overwhelm him.

“I remember the first time I ever stepped inside the royal city,” I told him. Another distraction. Another story from a different life. “The day you were crowned prince and your mother named queen, actually. You were too young to remember. You’d just come back from your mother’s country. Lots of people talked about how strong you were, but I didn’t really care about the rumors then. They always say the newborn royal is strong. But I knew something was different when they named you Vegeta right then and there. You never knew any other name. Always Prince Vegeta.”

He nodded.

“I remember because they let even classless people through the palace gate. People like my mother had been. No one could believe it, especially with how your father was. But we all crowded in to see the forbidden grounds, to see you. Lots of shouting, fights in the square.”

I chuckled to myself. “I kicked an elite brat’s ass that day. Got myself to the front where I could see everything. Then it all went quiet when your mother stepped out with you and Nappa. Just whispers. Like she put a spell on everyone.”

Vegeta’s tail loosened from his waist. He let it drape over my thigh, the tip curling under my knee. When my hand shifted from his to his tail instead, tension melted from his shoulders.

“Then the king announced that there would be a tournament when the moon was half-full.” I went on. “The strongest; class didn’t matter. The gods alone would prove who was worthy to fight at your side, he said. You remember the tournament, of course. When we first met. But that day, when you were crowned—that was the day I decided I’d train, and I’d be the one to win.”

The rain slowed to a drizzle. The prince turned in my arms, then activated the hatch, opening it. Warm mist, tasting of the nearby sea, blew into the pod even if the curved walls still sheltered us from the passing storm. I thought Vegeta might step outside then, but he didn’t. He instead leaned back against my chest. Both of us looked out overhead; the wind chased somber clouds across the horizon.

Cautiously, my hands returned to his waist, and his tail, brushing my forearm and remaining loose, reassured me if his silence didn’t. “That was when the fighting broke out again. When your father presented the challenge. I flattened a few more noble brats. And I got thrashed too.”

I laughed. “But it was one of the best days. I was glad to be saiyan. Battles for the rush of it, low-classes and nobles together. It went late into the night. People from all over the world. Giving away food and wine in the streets. Got drunk for the first time, actually. Or maybe my head was spinning from that hard kick. I honestly couldn’t tell you.”

Vegeta hung his head. When he crossed his arms over his chest, his nails dug in and pulled at his bodysuit. “Gone. Doesn’t matter.”

I took his hand, twining our fingers together and unhooking them from his suit. “I know all of it’s gone.” I squeezed his palm and pressed it to his chest, holding him tight against me. “But it was good. That’s what I try to r-remember…”

I had to stop, choking up and desperate to compose myself. “It was good, and it’s worth fighting for. Avenging. So what if we die trying. It won’t be for nothing. However hard it is, it means something. It means that life was good sometimes, for someone, somewhere. Even if it isn’t for us. That we’re still here and still fighting—it proves just how much it matters.”

The prince captured my wrist with his other hand and used that grip to fling me away. He stood. Clambered out of the pod. His tail coiled tight around his waist as the wind whipped his hair into a jagged mess. “No,” he said, keeping his back to me. “What we’ve—seen…dealt…pointless.”

His fist so tight, his knuckles whitened. “Thought you’d know better. Killed all those children, didn’t you? For what? No glorious battle there, was there? So why’d you do it? Why does Freeza purge people he just sold a planet to, like the ones who lived here last season? It’s fucking pointless. Just the whim of a filthy lowlife. And the gods let all of it happen. Everywhere. There’s nothing you can do, Raditz, but make your enemies suffer. Make them pay for what they’ve taken.”

I got up and out of the pod as well.

Vegeta must’ve heard me, felt me. He raised his voice, daring me to step closer. “We’re alone against this universe. And if I transform, it’ll be in spite of the gods, not because of them. Alone. Hear me?”

“That’s not the Vegeta I know.” I didn’t come closer, but I hovered behind him. “I didn’t enter the tournament because I wanted to fight with you, you know. Thought it was a load of fucking royal nonsense as usual. Gods, I couldn’t fucking stand you. Like having a third-class partner was a fucking insult even though I fucking won—”

“Who cares about some pointless tournament?”

“Let me fucking finish, Vegeta.” I grabbed his shoulder even if I expected punishment. “But then you promised me you’d take Freeza down. That you’d make things right. That night on Freeza’s ship. Only believed you because I wanted to believe it. Hardly more than a child. All we had. Doubted it deep down even though I held on.”

He shuddered. “Raditz, don’t.”

“Then Fuenghi. Everything changed. I believed it—not just nonsense and stories. Really believed it. I promised I’d tell you. Couldn’t tell you on Arcos, not what really happened. [SPOILER].”

He froze.

“I lied to everyone. Zarbon, Rhysling, even Nappa. Would’ve lied to Freeza too. But I’m not lying to you. I wish you remembered so you could feel it like I do. It’s not pointless. It can’t be. It can’t.”

“D-don’t believe you.”

Staggering me, the prince’s energy flared around him. He took off for the sea before I could stop him. His path shredded the clouds, and a scar of starry sky split open above me.

[mybworlds]

The Princess in the North and the Hound

Hello! This is smt new for me, I don't know if I will be able to share this story here on Tumblr, but I try. Pairing: The Hound x Sansa Stark

Summary: Sansa is a prisoner in King’s Landing, she is a victim of the harassment of the Lannisters; she would like to escape, but she does not know how: the occasion presents itself when Stannis Baratheon attacks King’s Landing…. This story takes place in the second season of the TV series.. HOWEVER, IN THE FIRST TWO CHAPTERS (and perhaps even later), I QUOTE SOME EXCERPTS FROM THE BOOKS..

Series Warnings: language, age gap, violence, blood, sexual content

Before to start... I already wrote this ff, but on another site and in italian, so please be merciful with me. It's the first time!

The Hound in my ff is not played by Rory McCann, but by Richard Armitage, so the age gap is less than in the tv series.

Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner

Chapter 1: A little bird in a cage

Chapter 2: King's Landing attack

Chapter 3: The Black Forest

Chapter 4: Fight to be free

Chapter 5: Lessons of trust

Chapter 6: Something there

Chapter 7: Routine

Chapter 8: My duty is to bring you home

Chapter 9: Kissed by fire

Chapter 10: Into the depths

Chapter 11: The party

Chapter 12: A dog can't survive in a pack of wolves

Chapter 13: Face to face

Chapter 14: Running again

Chapter 15: Resilience

Chapter 16: Fire

Chapter 17: Seagard

Chapter 18: Samel and the Stranger

Chapter 19: The Stranger and the Little Bird

Chapter 20: A caterpillar turning into a butterfly

Chapter 21: The Battle

Chapter 22: There's only now

Chapter 23: Here we are again

Chapter 24: Ramsay Bolton

Chapter 25: Tortures

Chapter 26: In the dungeons

Chapter 27: Cold eyes. Cold soul.

Chapter 28: Winterfell

Chapter 29: A sight of joy

Chapter 30: The Bloody Hound

Chapter 31: Into the fire

Chapter 32: Return

Chapter 33: Free to love

Chapter 34: The Stark Reality

Chapter 35: House Tyrell

Chapter 36: Love Scene

Chapter 37: Godswood

Chapter 38: Freedom

Chapter 39: Epilogue