#and the tuesday morning chapter excerpt

[tinkerbelldetective]

"You know, I don't think you've ever visited me for anything less than business on this side of the bridge."

You lean against the doorway of your brownstone, a teasing smile on your face.

Ben Stone shrugs his shoulders before ascending the steps, meeting you on the second stair from the top, his tall frame blocking the street.

"There's a Wednesday in your office that would beg to differ, my dear."

There's a moment of soft laughter between the two of you while you step aside to let him in.

"How's Pamela and Peter?"

"She's at a sleepover that will consist of noisemakers and staying up far too late, I'm sure. Peter's convinced he can stay up to see the ball drop with his aunt."

It strikes you just how much he seems to fit. His signature waistcoat hanging up behind the door, the way he stands in your living room waiting for you to join him and his blue sweater and jeans combo that rivals your own. He looks so tall in your living room, even next to the big tree, but he looks like he's supposed to be there (because he is).

Ben's hand slides around your wrist as you walk past, gently tugging you into him.

"Now," he begins, that little drawl of his peeking out in a low tone, "as much as I love our Tuesday mornings, there is room for dinner on my calendar next year."

"That sounds lovely," you answer, eyeing the ticking clock.

The sudden cheer from your neighbors caught you off guard, but you settle in as Ben's finger slide under your chin, lifting just enough to meet your lips.

"Happy New Year."

[voxofthevoid]

Back to the usual programming—Fem GoYuu Infidelity Wednesday #3 🎂

This part actually acknowledges the infidelity aspect, unlike the last two excerpts. We're also switching from Yuuji's PoV (first three chapters) to Gojou's PoV for the rest of the story—which currently stands at an estimated 11 chapters.

I'm 26k in and have started on Chapter 5. But I can't really predict what the final word count will be. A baby novel, given my track record.

“Gojou-sensei,” greets Itadori Yuuji.

“Leave.”

Yuuji does not leave.

How curious. She didn’t have trouble leaving the other night. Satoru didn’t even realize until she woke up to an empty bed, lying lengthwise with the covers tucked around her. She had no memory of even getting on the bed properly, let alone climbing under the covers. Her last lucid memory was all sensation and no sight—a warm hand on her breast, curled gently, possessively over the flesh.

She’d have been tempted to think it had all been a dream if she hadn’t woken up with come drying on her face and between her legs. When she washed herself, it turned slick and slippery against her fingers.

She saw the bruises later. Dark red marks all over her throat and chest. They’re still there—a deep, telling purple. Her usual work clothes cover most of them, except a handful of particularly lurid ones on the underside of jaw. She’s always marked so easily there, as if her body was punishing her for the sheer sensitivity of that delicate stretch of skin.

Today, she’s covered them up with makeup. For her usual Sunday call with Suguru, she wore a full-sleeved turtleneck and angled the laptop just so, letting her loose hair and the dim lighting handle the rest. She was half sick and half thrilled at the thought of Suguru asking her to take it off and give her a show, only to see.

Of course, Suguru didn’t ask for anything of the sort. They talked about work. Suguru chided Satoru for her less-than-reverent comments about her students enough and didn’t say a single bad word about her own coworkers or patients. Then she left to do more work.

And Satoru stripped off the turtleneck and pressed her fingers against the bruises and didn’t think at all about the mouth that left them there.

Now the same mouth says, “Sensei.”

“I don’t see you leaving.”

There’s a sigh, exasperated as if Satoru’s the one being unreasonable here.

“I just…” Yuuji trails off. There’s an uncharacteristic delicacy to it. Yuuji’s not particularly brash, but she’s an unfettered thing, wild and sometimes loud. Hesitance doesn’t suit her. Even when Satoru catches her off guard in the classroom with a question or quiz, she’s usually greeted with cheerful admissions of ignorance, devoid of guilt or even shame.

It’s so terribly charming in all the wrong ways.

Satoru clenches her jaw, glaring at the shadow on her desk like she can set it on fire with her mind. She’ll probably regret that too.

Yuuji shifts, the distorted but still distinct shape of an elbow traversing the surface of the desk, and the shadow doesn’t show where it goes, but Satoru just knows that Yuuji’s cupping the back of her own neck, a nervous gesture that’s more disarming than awkward.

“Why are you here, Yuuji?” Satoru asks.

“…I didn’t have any class with you today.”

Satoru presses her lips together, making a show of flipping through the worksheets. “I’m aware.”

It was the first thing she checked after she’d washed the smell and slick of cunt off her face that morning. She knows her schedule by heart; she still checked. She teaches Yuuji’s class Tuesday through Friday. The lack of a Monday lesson felt like a sign from the universe.

Yuuji clearly has other ideas.

“Guess it’s better this way,” Yuuji mutters, low enough that Satoru’s not sure if she’s talking to herself or Satoru. The breath that follows is markedly louder, an explosive exhale that has Satoru biting down on a sigh of her own. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m not gonna blackmail you or anything.”

Satoru stills. Blinks, once and very slowly. “I beg your pardon?”

“You know,” Yuuji says unhelpfully, her shadow moving with a violent gesture Satoru can’t quite make out. “That didn’t really occur to me until after I left your place. And I don’t have your number or anything. So I thought I’d find you and…tell you, I guess. That I’m not gonna say anything to anyone. Or, uh, try and blackmail—if that’ll even work. You don’t seem very blackmailable.”

“Blackmailable,” Satoru echoes blankly.

“No offense?” Yuuji offers.

Satoru laughs. She can’t help it. The sound comes out too sharp and raw to be anything akin to humor.

“Are you for real, kid?”

“Uh…”

Satoru finally looks up at Yuuji.

A hurricane of hunger greets her, and for a moment, Satoru’s back in that bar, watching Yuuji’s eyes grow big and black as she drank in Satoru’s body in all its exposed glory, and just like then, what guts her now is the undeniable understanding that it’s only the intensity of Yuuji’s want that’s changed.

This girl has always looked at Satoru like this, only softer and warmer—more fond than hungry.

“Don’t,” Satoru rasps.

Yuuji swallows, the wet sound of it an animal call.

Yuuji says, “I haven’t done anything.”

It’s true. She hasn’t. But she will. Satoru can read it on her face, her mouth, her entire body, and it’s only a moment before Yuuji acts on that impulse that it occurs to Satoru to wonder what the girl is seeing on Satoru’s own face—and what she recognizes there, if there’s anything to recognize at all.

Surely Satoru hides her sins better than a fifteen-year-old girl.

But her lips part at the first hint of pressure, and if sin isn’t what she breathes into Yuuji’s hot, open mouth, she doesn’t know what to call it. Desire is too innocent a word. Lust is too simple.

Yuuji says something, the words smearing wetly against Satoru’s mouth, but even through that mangled mess, Satoru can hear her name and her title, all of it brimming with something she can’t qualify and knows better than to want to. She sucks Yuuji’s tongue into her mouth before she’s tempted to, and the taste of flesh not her own floods her mouth, sending a rippling wave of warmth down her body.

She doesn’t remember Yuuji’s taste from Friday night—well, not the taste of her mouth. It will be a long time before Satoru forgets the taste of her cunt.

But they kissed, long and hard and again and again. Satoru remembers that. It’s haunted her.

A calloused hand cups her jaw, angling her face up for Yuuji’s tongue to slide deeper into her mouth, curling wickedly against the roof of it before flicking down to tangle with her tongue, bold and pushy, like a woman who knows what she wants and how to take it.

But Yuuji’s not a woman. She’s a girl.

And Satoru is—

“Married,” she gasps, tearing away from the kiss with a sudden violence that leaves her lower lip prickling from scraping teeth. “Yuuji, I’m married.”

“I know that,” Yuuji says, sounding breathless but not much else. “Does it matter though?”

Satoru stares incredulously at her, except the effect is maybe ruined a little by the way she clenches from chest to cunt at the naked want splattered on Yuuji’s face.

“Clearly not to you,” Satoru says anyway, trying to keep her own voice even.

That seems to give Yuuji pause. She straightens up, the hand on Satoru’s jaw peeling away to returns to its contemplative clutch of Yuuji’s own nape, and Satoru tries to distract herself from how cold that bit of skin feels, except her chosen form of distraction is sporting furrowed brows over flushed cheeks—so painfully young and so devastatingly pretty.

“I guess it would,” Yuuji says slowly, “if I was the one married. But I don’t even have a girlfriend, sensei.”

Satoru gapes at her. Yuuji looks back guilelessly.

Yuuji’s a good kid, is the thing. Satoru figured out less than a week in that Yuuji isn’t as innocent or toothless as the candy-pink hair and sunshine smile make her seem, but her bite is never mean. It’s tempered, for the most part, by an easygoing attitude and a tendency to simply accept life and people as they are, and when the lamb becomes a lion, it’s because some noble principle she holds close to her chest has been violated.

There have been a few fights since the year started. Yuuji never initiated, but she always finished it, and Satoru’s come to know that the girl’s got a bit of a reputation—much like those two bosom friends of hers.

It’s a little nostalgic, really. That’s a rarity these days. Satoru has an incorrigible fondness for her own teenage years, but teaching in high school has done a lot to scrub her rose-colored lenses of all the relevant pink.

Still, Yuuji’s a good girl. Her edges are sharp, but her core has always seemed sweet to dripping.

Except she just more or less told Satoru that she’s quite fine with fucking married women.

Good girls don’t do that.

[xxnashiraxx]

Tuesday Snippet!

Thank you @elinorbard for tagging me!

In case anyone was expecting it, I'm not going to be able to post Chapter 13 of With Stars to Fill My Dream today- I'll have to postpone until 11/10 so I have some more time to polish it up. I've had to edit some things in the story and add some setup for future events, but I've not recovered enough from vacation to do that all this morning!

Thanks for your patience! Have this little excerpt for now! ❤

“Are you alright?” Shadowheart pokes her face into Ofelia’s tent, pale and clammy. Ofelia scrambles to wipe her tears away, nodding and meeting the half-elf’s eyes. “Yeah… I think so… did you see it too?” Shadowheart’s lips set in a firm line, nodding softly. “We all did. Here, it’s dawn… come out. Let’s all sit and talk around the fire.” Ofelia heeds Shadowheart’s suggestion, pulling her boots on and fixing her hair into a loose bun, resolving to bathe before they start the day. Officially. She hesitates, once again finding her return to her bedroll to be a mystery. The last thing she remembers is swaying in Astarion’s arms, thinking about how pretty he looked under the light of stars, music from her own world making her feel like they were in their own pocket in time, separated from the tadpole, the cult, all of it. She remembers wishing he’d been from Earth, that way she’d want to go back… And try as she might, she can’t bury these stupid feelings. Her face flushes in shame at the memory of pressing that kiss to his cheek, that pang of longing when he hadn’t shoved her away but instead gazed at her in surprise… It made forgetting that it happened ten times worse. Then she returned to her tent, somehow, a faint feeling of unease now clouding her mind. How did she get back? Did she go back alone? She can’t shake the feeling that she’s missing something important, but she can’t put her finger on what it might be… She walks out into the early dawn, stunned to find another surprise- a welcome one at that. “Scratch!” Ofelia crumples to her knees as he runs up from beyond the outskirts of their camp, the rest of her groggy companions yelping or jumping out of the way as the dog barrels into her. “Oh, I’m so glad you're safe!” She mumbles into his fur as it pokes her neck and cheek and he nearly knocks her backward. He licks her face and barks and she scratches his ears, giving him little kisses on the snout and top of his head.

No pressure tags! ❤ @pinkberrytea @khywren @verbenaa @inkymoonbunny @kalmiaphlox @coyote-mint @bardic-inspo @busy-baker @nerdallwritey @ladyduellist @justabiteofspite @badbloodwitch @lanafofana @caffeinatedmunchkin +anyone else I may have forgotten!

[teehhhhhhhhhhh]

WIP GAME

Rules: You will be given a word. Share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that start with each letter of that word.

the wonderful @wildglitch has tagged me, so i must deliver! @chaoticallyfluffy also tagged me but wild got to it first LMFAOOO so my word is dance! (i barely got any wips but we'll see)

D: Darla then came bursting into the room, holding two crutches, running to the group. She had a gleeful grin, looking proud of herself. "I found them! It was in the doors room. I had to wrestle one of those octopus monsters for it!” Darla passed the crutches over to Eugene, who set them up under Pedro until they were stable before letting go of him. (Technically not a WIP but still a WIP is this already posted chapter of SUFC)

A: Anyways, which extraterritorial leader decided Tuesday was a good day to schedule a whole ass alien invasion? Especially at 10 in the morning? Not to mention that they specifically aimed for Fawcett City, like just why? The city was strange enough, dealing with all kinds of magical beings and time bubbles, and now add aliens to the list! Billy already had enough on his plate, thank you very much! (Untitled Shazamily WIP)

N: “Nope, everything’s always slow in the fall. Y’know how it is. Crime’s low, food’s low, and usual jobs are taken by the time I get there.” Billy sighed again for a second time, before slipping on his worn-out red sneakers. In the fall, he was lucky to even get a leaf raking gig, but even that was a long shot. (Untitled Champion of Magic centered fic)

C: Captain Marvel descended down to the scene, meeting face to face with Black Adam. His cape shone and sparkled in the sunlight, billowing in the wind— almost in a divine way. Marvel’s gaze met Black Adam’s, tensing up the atmosphere. The pressure grew as silence greeted the two. They both studied each other, calculating when the other would strike. Black Adam smirked, before he gave the first blow. Luckily, good ol’ Herc warned Billy in time before he got his head blown inwards. (Same untitled wip as the one for N)

E: -existing.” “But, dude, you literally one-shot them everytime one somehow ends up at the rock. Plus, when you are at those league meetings, we always clean them up for you!” Freddy pointed out, with an accusatory tone. “I know! But it’s still annoying as hell! Like I’m literally just walking around, and suddenly there’s a demon after my head.” Billy groaned, leaning on the armrest of the throne. (SUFC deleted scenes)

uhmmm idk who to tag lol the people that i usually tag already done it and tagged me first LMFAO

@jasontoddsguns youre it 😈 (idek if you write fanfic HELPP)

to whoever sees this and wants to do this, your word is TWISTED

[overjoyedisland]

Long Time Coming - Chapter 15

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

Updates post on Tuesday nights.

Chapter Summary

Violet and Xaden spend the morning together and with his mother, learning some new things.

Chapter Excerpt

We are seated again at the small dining table. The kitchen staff enters almost immediately with plates of eggs, sausage, and potatoes. As I’m scooping the potatoes to put on my plate, I drop the spoon and gasp. A level of elation I’ve never experienced flows through the bond from Andarna. Xaden looks at me with concern, but laughter bubbles up out of my throat and I can do nothing but throw my head back and let it out. “Andarna,” I manage to gasp. “She must have met my dragon,” Xiomara says with a knowing grin.

Taglist:

Let me know if you want on or off.

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

[cyanspica]

Chapter 2 is up!

Excerpt:

It’s Tuesday morning, so, naturally, Alex goes into work hungover.

He didn’t mean to get so drunk the night before, but the conversation with Madison threw him so much that one beer seemed like a good idea to settle his nerves. And then Hercules had come home, so it was a social thing, and one beer had become two, three, four, five, since Hercules doesn’t work on Mondays or Tuesdays since the lucky bastard sets his own hours.

He had egged Alex on, and Alex—as he always does—had taken the bait.

So now he’s nursing a coffee and a hangover, glaring into the black liquid like it’ll answer his emails for him if he intimidates it enough.

“Rough night?”

“Fuck!” Alex jolts away from the voice right in his ear, splashing coffee onto his desk.

It’s not enough that Thomas haunts him. He seems to take great joy in materializing suddenly into Alex’s space when he least expects it and in smirking like an asshole when Alex is surprised. With no guilt, Thomas leans forward and braces his hands on Alex’s desk.

“You look like shit,” Thomas tells him, tilting his head with that same smirk.

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Tuesday, April 22 Part I

MANNY: Gary's gone. BUFFY: Gary. Oh, the guy that helped me out at the counter yesterday? MANNY: He didn't show up this morning. BUFFY: Well, shift's just starting. MANNY: He was supposed to unlock early this morning. Didn't show. Pull his card. BUFFY: Well, I'm, I'm sure, you know, he's just late. He didn't seem like he was leaving. MANNY: I'm moving Timothy to counter. You're on grill. BUFFY: Me? MANNY: I've been watching you. BUFFY: B-but I-I don't know how to grill. MANNY: Just think. This is the last day you'll ever be able to say that.

~~Buffy Season 6 Episode #112: "DoubleMeat Palace"~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

excerpt from I want you to want for me (Buffy/Tara, unrated) by pelorsdyke

Intertwined, Chapter 10 (Buffy/Spike, E) by BloodyThorn

Transitory, Chapter 16 (Buffy/Spike, T) by GhostsInLove

[Chaptered Fiction]

Anti-Hero Ch, 1/12 (Buffy/Spike, T) by Willow25

Where Do We Go From Here? Ch. 1-11/11 (COMPLETE) (Buffy/Faith, M) by storiwr

but i never thought i'd live to see it break Ch. 4 (Giles/Jenny, T) by jennycalendarswife

Into the Initiative Ch. 7 (Buffy/Spike, T) by heckate

Choices Ch. 2 (Buffy, Ensemble, T) by DestinyMaverick

animal planet Ch. 1-2/2 (COMPLETE) (Xander, Ensemble, T) by belledamn

Soulless Seer Ch. 4 (Drusilla/Buffy, M) by desicat

Better Things to Do Ch. 6 (Buffy/Spike, T) by BeneficialAddiction

Incarnate Ch. 36/38 (Buffy/Spike, M) by TheSigyn

Sojourns in Heaven Ch. 1-2/2 (COMPLETE) (Angel/Connor, E) by playitwithsometenderness

The Purrfect Con, Chapter 1 (Buffy/Spike, G) by flootzavut

The Choice To Stay, Chapter 24 (Buffy/Spike, E) by Spikelover4ever

Buffy Falls First, Chapter 11 (Buffy/Spike, E) by buckrogers687

A Morning After, Chapter 3 (Buffy/Spike, M) by TwilightChild

Anti-Hero, Chapter 4 (Buffy/Spike, M) by Willow25

The Plan, Chapter 8 (Buffy/Spike, E) by NotYourGrave

... she just went to get some more paint, Chapter 5-6 (Buffy/Spike, G) by flootzavut

spike and the stakes, Chapter 22-24 (Buffy/Spike, T) by jewelram

The Zeppo In Time, Chapter 9 (Buffy/Spike, E) by CheekyKitten

Sojourns in Heaven, Chapter 5 (Buffy/Spike, E) by elements

Heroes, villains and Slayers Ch. 7 (Buffy. M, multiple xovers) by DoctorSkywalker

My Calendar Girl, Chapter 4 (Buffy/Spike, E) by Maxine Eden

The battle of the rhymes, Chapter 25-27 (Buffy/Spike, M) by JSBirsa

Sojourns in Heaven, Chapter 1 (Buffy/Spike, E) by elements

[Images, Audio & Video]

Icons: 1 new BtVS and 4 new AtS icons () by Nondenomifan

Artwork: Fred & Gunn () by artsying-ifer

Artwork: Buffy & Spike () by miehczyslaw

Artwork: Andrew () by garscrucible

Artwork: Warren () by garscrucible

Artwork: Spike & Drusilla () by miehczyslaw

Artwork: Summers family (Spuffy) by flyora

Artwork: () by

Icons: Willow Icons () by editshit

Icons: Buffy Icons () by editshit

Manip: Episodic art for BtVS 04.04. “Fear, Itself” () by revello-drive-1630

Video: Wesley & Lilah | It means something that you tried () by bacinaru

Video: Faith Lehane | ANIMAL () by alvxprodz

Video: we could be so good | Spike & Buffy () by Pinkly

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[Reviews & Recaps]

Episode 8- I Robot, You Jane by genZcommentary

Rewatch: S1 E3 - The Witch by torturedspike

Rewatch: S1 E2 - The Harvest by torturedspike

Rewatch: S1 E1 - Welcome to the Hellmouth by torturedspike

More Buffy rewatch thoughts: “Real Me” & “The Replacement” by disquietiswhatitis

AtS Ep 15: Orpheus by sweetcritique

Ep 14: Release by sweetcritique

PODCAST: Episode 63 - No Good Way to Drink Blood (The Initiative) by Sunnydale Diaries

PODCAST: BTVS 616 - Hell's Bells by Another Buffy Podcast

PODCAST: Angel S4E15: Orpheus by Booze and Buffy

[Community Announcements]

2025 Schedule & Rule Changes by fandom5k

Promotion Day by [community profile] fic_promptly

Tuesday Prompt: After Big Events by comment_fic

[johanna-swann]

I have an important presentation at college this week, so I haven't got as far with chapter 4 as I would've liked yet, but I got a little something here for tease bit tuesday:

That night Tommy just can’t wind down. He’s drained, yet there’s a sort of pent-up nervousness. He feels like an asshole, he’s confused, he’s hurt, he’s angry. He doesn’t want to feel any of it. So he grabs his jacket and walks out the door. He walks for an hour, maybe longer, hoping the night air will calm his stormy mind, but it doesn’t. He walks past a bar and figures if the exercise and fresh air didn’t help then a drink might. He orders a beer and a shot of tequila. Two drinks turn into four turn into six. It’s dark and noisy inside the bar, he downs shot after shot and his thoughts are finally beginning to slow down. At some point someone joins him at the bar. He doesn’t know who, but there are more drinks, a few flirty jokes and eventually skin on skin. Tommy doesn’t question it, doesn’t think. It feels good, the not thinking part. His thoughts have been oh so loud lately and talking to people has been exhausting and he misses Ronny and he hates Howard Han for having brought back all of those things and he hates himself more because he knows it’s not actually the probie’s fault. But now he’s being led away by confident hands and there’s a mouth on his neck and – holy shit, that feels good. He wakes up early the next morning and he has never been this hungover in his entire life, but even in his half sane state of mind he recognises that the apartment he just woke up in? Not his own. He stumbles into the bathroom which thankfully isn’t hard to find and empties his stomach until there’s only bile left. He washes his face and hands and tries to mentally prepare himself. He’s never had a one night stand like this before and his head is killing him – everything kind of hurts to be honest – but he wants to be civilised about this. Whoever he ended up going home with last night, she at least deserves an apology for him being drunk off his arse. When he finally spots the person lying in front of him though, only half covered by the white blanket and still fast asleep, his breath catches in his throat. Broken pieces of memory flash into focus. A scratching sensation that accompanied last night’s kisses, the deep sound of laughter, strong fingers with rough skin, hard angles instead of soft curves. Tommy feels like he might throw up again. He turns around, finds his shoes and jacket in the hallway and gets out of there as fast as humanly possible. Tommy thanks god and the universe that the man inside the apartment didn’t wake up and he vows never to speak of this incident to anyone ever.

As is said, I'm not even halfway done working on this chapter, but if you like the excerpt and haven't read the first 3 chapters yet, here's the link again.

[bromcommie]

Hello & Happy Monday!

So...for the WIP tag game...I know I'm supposed to pick the one (1! ONE!) that I find most intriguing, but this is like a whole buffet of intrigue, so maybe I can have two? 👀 1) НОЧНОЙ РАЗГОВОР (FIGURE OUT) <- ngl, the 'figure out' cracked me up. Also, late night conversations? Yes, please!

2) what's a nice nutcase like you doing in a place like astoria 1203 <- this just sounds fun...and possibly like the title could be deliberately misleading

Thank you! <3

Hello helloo, happy Monday to you too! (but also Tuesday now I guess. It's a 2-for-1!)

Thank you for the ask, and thank you for indulging me with two (2! it's gonna be so long!) <3

НОЧНОЙ РАЗГОВОР (FIGURE OUT!!!) - Ooof, this fucking guy. I'm glad my stern instructions to myself in the title there were funny, because I do indeed need to FIGURE this one OUT and it's bugging me. It's essentially another chapter that's a part of a larger work (not naming names not pointing fingers but it's. The Work I'm Having Trouble Updating) and it was written a looong while back, which is why it's now a standalone file. I love the premise but I kinda want to tear it down and rebuild it entirely, mostly because I'm still deciding on whether I like the way I wrote the backstory for it. So. It's fun! It's challenging! It's giving me a migraine! The title's from this song about a tired traveler trying to find his way in the night. It's three conversations (Steve+Nat, Nat+Bucky and Bucky+Steve - although they barely talk at all) that happen in the night after a very not lucid, injured Don't-Call-Me-Bucky who's recently remembered the Red Room and also had a pretty rattling encounter with the code words seeks Natasha out in Europe for [redacted] something as a last resort, but instead accidentally walks straight into Steve who he's been staying away from like the Devil Himself since CATWS. And then basically bleeds all over him. (I am not immune to the wound care trope! However, this is unfortunately not that.) A lot of ugly feelings and defense mechanisms are brought up, some painful memories re: the war and the Red Room are brought up, and nobody's having a good time or really knows how to process jack shit. They all communicate/perceive love&protection in wildly different ways, and while all three dynamics end on some kind of natural conclusion it's still a lot of unfinished, unspoken business and just kind of sad. Hurt no comfort that's necessary for there to be the promise of comfort in the future, if you will. Tbh, I really want to finish/reincorporate this one. But it's just so *screams into paper bag*. Anyway. Snippet:

When Steve wakes up the next morning Bucky’s gone, like he knew he would be. Like a hurricane passing through, the foreknowledge doesn’t make the aftermath any easier. And then what? his own voice from so long ago echoes in his head as he waits for the water for Natasha’s tea to boil in the sunny little kitchenette of the motel’s lobby. 16 hours later, he’s watching the blinding stripe of the sun setting over the East River before the plane maneuvers onto the landing strip at JFK. The hell else? Then we march on, ace. We go home.

2. what's a nice nutcase like you doing in a place like astoria 1203 - oh good, thank god! So this one is a bit more fun, but it's only got a few disjointed half-scenes so far. The title is actually one of the most literal ones on the list - the fic does take place in Astoria, Queens, and it does involves a certain "nutcase". Several, even. They really don't get along, and then they almost do.

(Blame my recent rewatch of the Netflix shows for this one. Man. What a golden age that was.)

Excerpt under the cut:

It was easy to clock the combat training before, sure, but up close this guy’s… Keyed up. Wild-eyed, a little, and not in the twitchy way of the three idiots piled up outside by the ruined water hydrant, not just sheer adrenaline stoked by fear and booze and coke. More dialed-in, purposefully ruthless. Hungry. Getting up with an expression like an enraged bull in spite of the beating he just took. Nutcase, Barnes thinks bleakly. Not that he’s in any position to judge — glass houses, all that, but — “What’re you,” he croaks, “some kind of psycho?” “Says the guy who just mowed down six guys without blinking." The man spits, grimacing at the blood that lands on the stark white of the rooftop like it personally offends him. If he notices the similar spray across his busted face, his clothes, his military-short hair, he doesn't seem to give a damn. "Nice going, by the way— my man got away." "And my man's bleeding out on a fucking pool table downstairs," he grits out. He doesn't have time for this. This whole night has been one giant exercise in unpredictability, and the police sirens echoing off in the distance are problem enough without him having to duke it out over and over with some local homicidal moron who might or might not be HYDRA. "You wanna tell me what that's about?" The man levels an irritated look back at him and then shrugs, dismissive. "I don't play with my food." "Your food had intel I've been hunting for two weeks." "Tough shit. Maybe if you hadn't screwed up your goddamn trig—" His lip curls of its own volition, affronted despite himself. What an appropriate time for his ego to announce it's back from the dead and in the mix. How fun. “The hell I did. I don’t miss.” "Is that right? There's some real screwed up drywall down there that says otherwise." His voice picks up an edge of something dangerous, aiming for threatening and landing on feral as he takes a step closer, and Jesus, can he stay down already? "Unless you did it on purpose to let him know I'm coming because you work for the bastard, in which case lemme tell you, you and me have a whole different problem." "I don't work for anybody," he says, probably with more intensity than strictly necessary. "He was a civillian. I don't kill civillians." The words curl acerbic on his tongue. He doesn't. He doesn't. That, of all things, makes the man laugh, a bitter little thing that sounds like it clawed its way out of his throat, and only barely. Who the fuck is this guy. "Oh Jesus Christ, not this bullshit again— how many of you assholes are running around this place, huh?" he says, gesturing a little wildly at him. "You got a fancy catsuit under that hobo getup, too?" It's Barnes' turn to look at him like he's a few marbles short, which judging by all evidence he very well might be. The guy snorts at his confusion, shaking his head. "If you consider that criminal piece of dog shit a civilian, you’re way more out of your depth than I thought, kid.”

but also:

“Self-righteous, God's sacrificial lamb type-of-shit," he mumbles around the mouthful with distaste, staring off across the bridge. "Got himself a stupid fucking title and everything, if you can believe that. Major pain in my ass.” Barnes hums, considering, before taking a cautious bite of his own sandwich. The thick pile of fatty meat and melted cheese breaks apart in his mouth easy with a sudden, almost overwhelming explosion of flavours, his empty stomach singing praises despite the ache in his bruised jaw as he chews. He never thought he’d say this, but god bless Queens. “Catholic?” Castle grunts an affirmative. “Yeah, I have some experience with that.”

[lusthurts]

six sentences sunday

thanks for the tag @daisyishedwig, I've been so eager to share everything I've been working on lately that these posts are truly my only lifeline when all I've been doing is trying to build up enough backlog of chapters to start posting

gonna be more than six, i can't restrain my "art" in this way lol - this is from the how bright we burn sequel, some seblaine flirting since the excerpt I shared for wip Wednesday was on the angsty side ;)

Tuesday is picture day at Dalton, which means they get their morning classes off so they can sleep in before arriving to have professional photos taken in the atrium. They all sit together at lunch after the fact, each looking their absolute best, and Blaine can’t stop staring at Sebastian as he makes his way through the lunch line across the room. There’s nothing particularly different about him, but Blaine notices now that his hair’s gotten longer. It nearly reaches the middle of his neck, and there’s enough of it on top that he has to comb it over and use more product than normal just to maintain that same sophisticated and well-groomed appearance he’s known for. Blaine’s noticed it in bed, of course, but he’s never spent this much time just staring at him and thinking about how much time has passed since his last haircut.  “Hi,” Sebastian says as he takes his seat next to him and nudges his shoulder. “You checking me out?”  Blaine rolls his eyes and looks back down at his tray, even though there’s no use denying it. “Your hair’s gotten longer.”  He nods. “I need a haircut.”  His eyes dart back up to Sebastian. “Don’t you dare.”  Sebastian smirks and leans closer, lips nearly catching on Blaine’s ear as he whispers, “You like it like this?”  A shiver runs down Blaine’s spine, and he glances across the table at Nick and Jeff to make sure they’re both still staring in opposite directions instead of looking at them. Sebastian’s breath is so hot against his skin that he has to swallow hard to maintain his composure.  “I do,” he admits, voice barely above a whisper. “It suits you.”

at risk of double tagging anyone who has already been tagged I'll leave this empty lol - pls take this an extension of a general tag for anyone who'd like to share but hasn't yet! :)

[kintrash413]

had a fun dream and wrote this. summary:

Dirk tries to kill himself. Things go wrong when it isn't considered Just like he expected.

Excerpt:

at 1:12 a.m. on a Tuesday morning you grab a shovel, force on your best pair of shoes, and walk to the cemetery. the streets between your house and the cemetery were emptiest during this time.

you arrive at the grave you already paid for and prepared. the soil is still loose so you start digging.

six feet later and you come across your coffin. you open in, lay down in it, close it, and lock it. there is just enough room to wiggle your toes and fingers but no more.

six hours and 52 minutes later you hear footsteps, feel a tug on your coffin, but of course it's locked. then, dirt is piled right back on. the slight recess of light and muffled sound you'd been relying on are blocked out by soil.

you legs go numb first, then your arms. you try to wiggle your toes and fingers again, but the action feels tingly and then hurts, so you stop.

you didn't expect it but next your face goes numb. the feeling is alien outside of the cold, but eventually it begins to feel familiar.

the last thing to happen is for your limited oxygen to run out. you had expected this to happen. you hadn't prepared in any way, you had just expected it.

once your lungs start to hurt and you start to feel dizzy, whatever mindset you had been in finally fades away to panic. What are you doing? You are going to die here and it will be Just.

then your brain feels fuzzy, far too fuzzy for such sharp emotions like panic and fear, so those too lap away.

your name is Dirk Strider, and for no reason in particular, today is the day you are going to die.

[believingispowerfulmagic]

The Christmas Wish

Summary: Henry Mills and Roland Locksley are best friends who decide to ask Santa for one thing this Christmas: to be brothers. It's a wish which will have life changing consequences for all, especially their single parents, Regina Mills and Robin Locksley.

FFN | AO3 | Wattpad

Excerpt (Chapter 1: A Wish for Santa):

Christmas was supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year.

As a single mother, Regina Mills did her best to make sure it was for her darling son, Henry. They decorated their house the day after Thanksgiving when the weather was still agreeable, allowing the two to hang multicolored lights around their windows as well as the columns and railings on their deck. Regina also swallowed down her fear of heights to climb up a ladder and place a lit-up Santa in his sleigh as it was pulled by his reindeer, including Rudolph and his blinking red nose, on her roof. Illuminated snowmen and blow up scenes were set out on the lawn, making sure they never missed their house throughout the month of December.

It still didn’t hold a candle to how bright Henry’s smile was and that alone made it all worth it.

Two weekends later always found them out in the forest around their little town of Storybrooke, Maine, where the best Douglas firs grew. She bundled Henry up in his warmest coat, a festive hat and scarf as well as his thickest gloves before donning similar apparel herself. Hand-in-hand they walked through rows of trees, searching for the right one to live in their living room until the New Year. Regina was willing to pay any cost for the best tree and drove their pick carefully home. They then spent the rest of the night decorating it with ornaments Regina had collected over the years and ones Henry had made since starting school. Beautiful glass orbs hung with handprint Santas and clothespin reindeer. All with a star on top, ready to shine down on the mount of presents Regina made sure he had to open every Christmas morning.

Getting that mound of presents, though, meant fighting crowds at the mall every year, which disrupted the tight schedules she created to help juggle mommyhood and her career. Yet she still managed to get Henry up, dressed, fed with a healthy breakfast and off to school with an equally healthy lunch each morning. Then she went off to either her office or court, depending on her cases as an assistant district attorney.

After a day spent arguing both in court and out of it, she picked up Henry from the school’s aftercare program. Tuesdays were for soccer practice while Thursdays were his scout meetings before a home-cooked meal and homework. Henry knew he was to take a bath and then he curled up next to her on the couch for an hour of reading. Once he was tucked in for the night, she returned to the couch for some good television and a glass of wine.

Their weekends were spent together, doing every fun thing Regina could think of. Day trips, movie marathons, games and the like filled those days and nights. Saturday nights were also bath nights for her, a chance for her to unwind from the week once Henry was asleep. Regina loved her weekends. It was a schedule that worked throughout the rest of the year and that Christmas screwed up. There were many trips to the mall either after work or on the weekends so she could find all the gifts she needed for Henry and her family. Because of this, there were more dinners spent at restaurants or fast food places than she would like. However, it was easier than trying to cook after being pushed and jostled by less than merry shoppers.

Yet the piece de resistance was the visit to Santa so Henry could tell him what he wanted.

Henry pulled her through the crowded mall, knowing the way to Santaland by heart as it was always set up in the dead center of the mall. “Come on, Mom,” he said. “We don’t want to miss Santa!”

“Slow down, Henry! Santa is not scheduled to return to the North Pole until seven o’clock,” Regina said, trying to rein in her son as she dug in her heels.

It didn’t appease her son. He only tugged her hand harder. “Come on, Mom. We’re going to be late.”

“Henry Daniel, I told you Santa’s not leaving for several hours. We won’t be late for him.”

“I’m not talking about Santa! We’ll be late meeting Roland!” Henry explained, looking exasperated. He looked like her, to be honest, even though they shared not a lick of DNA.

Regina knew she had a similar look on her face as they finally stopped. She blew out the side of the mouth, trying to get a loose tendril of dark hair out of her eye as she took stock of her situation. Her son had made plans with his best friend and forgot to tell her about them. Typical Henry.

Then again, he was only seven years old.

[grandhotelabyss]

A free excerpt from behind the paywall of my novel Major Arcana, Part One, Chapter 4, "Out of Time."

She kept an Instagram account for the store updated at least once a week with enticing photos and descriptions  of new arrivals, and she followed everyone back who followed her. She kept her eye on the DMs for business inquiries, but she inevitably found either obscene demands (“tits or GTFO,” “feet?”) or, still more obscene to her mind, messages deploring her because she had not issued this political statement or that, which she never did, since she wasn’t one for the news either, being, as she’d been informed by her uninvited ethical tutors, a “privileged bitch.” 

She did see a meme in the feed one day, however—the day after Jakey’s funeral in fact. Though she’d guessed that it had been meant as a dark joke, like most memes she ran into, commiseration in shared suffering and a shared laugh from some despairing boy in some suburban basement who couldn’t get laid (is that why Jakey had despaired? no, he was surely too young, or had been too young, young or old as he’d ever be, to have worried about that). Instead of giving her a grim chuckle at the often unspoken truth, however, this meme so succinctly but also strangely and beautifully expressed what she thought of as her dilemma that she, who had not cried at her son’s viewing or his funeral, began to shake and sob right there behind the counter, beneath the encyclopedia set, in her mercifully empty shop.  The meme showed a little blonde girl, five or six years old. She looked dutifully into the camera, squinting or wincing more than she was smiling, a look more of apprehension and resolution than childish cheer.  Above an expanse of grass behind her reared the old skyline of the city she somehow thought, even now, that she would eventually somehow run away to, the skyline as it had been for the whole last quarter of the last century, commanded by those two columns, those giant bars of glass challenging the sky, proclaiming the dominion of man, of commerce, of America, for better and for worse, over the face of the earth.  In the grass between the little girl and the Twin Towers lay what appeared to be a couple indistinct on the old pre-digital film, too far away to see, but probably laughing, probably staring with new lovers’ inexhaustible appetite and fascination into one another’s eyes. The sky was clear but somehow ominous—probably the meme artist had with some digital tool or other exercised poetic license—not quite blue as a clear calm sky is blue, like the sky that Tuesday morning over two decades ago had been, but storm-darkened halfway to an electric indigo.  The color reminded her of when a pleasant dream slowly curdles to a nightmare. You’re in the car with your father; you’re on your way to a party; it’s a sunny day. Then it’s not sunny anymore; he turns his eyes from the road to face you; those black marbles aren’t his eyes; that man is not your father; a party, you somehow understand, is certainly not where you’re going. In this purply unnatural monsoon sky above the girl, the couple, and the Towers, the meme artist had typed, in a typewriter font evocative of the middle 20th century, the slogan: The world you were raised to survive in no longer exists. Whatever it meant exactly—whatever political message the mememeister had intended—she thought it described her problem exactly. She could have been that girl on that day. Over a long weekend when she was a girl, her mother had taken her on a Greyhound to the city shortly after her father left. They’d shopped and dined and gone to museums; they got dressed up and went to see Miss Saigon. How could it be that she was 38 and had already lost so much?

And not to spill the magician's secrets, but one formal principle of the novel, which is set between the 1970s and the present, is that its temporality is always hazy, floating, dreamy, you never quite know exactly what year the characters are in—except that both 9/11 and the pandemic are constantly alluded to, as the brutal tears in/of 21st-century reality, history's nails on which humanity has been hung.

[madamemachikonew]

Tuesday - Baizhu x reader (3k, romantic fluff, Baizhu's birthday)

A bit of birthday fluff for my favourite dendro man.

An excerpt from my Baizhu x fem reader fic, A Flower Without A Seed. I wrote this a while ago and had called the chapter 'Tuesday' to avoid having to commit to guessing an actual birth date, but coincidentally it did fall on a Tuesday this year.

The fic is fem reader, but there are no pronouns used in this chapter, so anyone can enjoy it (which is why I've used gn reader in the tags). Also, while this chapter is fluffy, the main fic contains some smutty chapters, so proceed with caution if clicking the link through to the main fic.

Enjoy.

---

Having surprised you with the sudden revelation of his birthday, you wracked your brain for ideas about how best to celebrate it at such short notice. You only had a few more days in which to come up with something. Should you take him out for a date in Liyue Harbour? If so, a fancy meal and some opera, or would he prefer something simpler and more relaxed like a meal at a storytelling restaurant in Chihu Rock. Or maybe he just wanted a cosy night in? What about inviting other people? While Qiqi and Gui would probably like to be part of it, what if Baizhu preferred something just the two of you?

You laid your head on Baizhu’s chest as he sat in bed reading a book. He held his book in one hand while his other arm was wrapped around you, holding you close. You took a break from your own book, folding it closed around your finger to hold the page.

“Darling?” you began.

“Hmm?” He looked up from his reading.

“Anything in particular you’d like to do for your birthday?”

“Ohh, you don’t have to go to any trouble on my account, little finch.” he replied.

“I know I don’t have to. But I want you have a special day.”

“Every day with you is special, my love.” He smiled and kissed your head lightly. You could see right through his ruse; he was trying to charm you into abandoning the idea or not make a fuss over him. And yet from Baizhu’s perspective, he meant every word.

“But Baizhu~” you whined, frustratedly. You felt his warm chest vibrate against your cheek as he laughed.

“But I mean it. Just having you with me will be quite sufficient.” He gave you a squeeze. You sighed with exasperation.

“Alright.” You said dejectedly. “Well at least tell me this much; is there anything that you don’t want.”

“Ah, now that’s very easy. No parties. Especially not surprise ones. Pure anathema.” he said, resolutely.

“Got it. And can I tell Gui and Qiqi your birthday?”

He cocked his head in thought. “Hmmm, alright then.” Baizhu yawned. “Shall we call it a night, my dear?”

“Yes, I think so.” you agreed. You put your book away on the nightstand, marking the page with a bookmark. Baizhu blew the lantern out. He held your face, then laid a sensual kiss on your lips. Slipping his tongue into your mouth, he took his time to properly indulge his senses. He released your lips and, stroking your cheek with the pad of his thumb, he gazed at you with a tender smile.

“Goodnight, my love.” he said softly. “See you in the morning.”

He waited expectantly for you to roll over, so that he could spoon you as he did most nights you spent the night together.

“Actually,” you said, “can I be the big spoon tonight?”

Baizhu laughed gently. “I would like that very much.” With a contented smile, he rolled over with his back to you. You snuggled close, wrapping your arm around him, with your face nestled in his abundant, fragrant hair. You sighed happily and gave him an affectionate squeeze, then closed your eyes to sleep.

---

When the day itself came, you greeted Baizhu with a gentle kiss when he woke.

“Happy Birthday, my love.” you whispered. Baizhu smiled, his eyes fluttering dreamily.

“Thank you, my little finch. Waking up to you certainly does make it a happy one.”

You presented Baizhu with his gift. You had bought a pair of intricately carved antique brushpots. They were made from tortoiseshell, the tortoise being a symbol of longevity. You knew how fond Baizhu was of doing calligraphy so figured they would make a fine addition to his stationery implements.

Baizhu sat up in bed and unwrapped the gift. He gracefully pulled them from the box with slender fingers.

“Oh my love, these are exquisite!” Baizhu was genuinely impressed and looked at each one closely, turning them in his hands to inspect the detail of the fine craftsmanship. “Thank you so very much. I shall use them right away.” He leaned across the bed, reaching to you and pulling you to him for a kiss.

You both got up and got ready for the day. You left Baizhu to finish his preparations and headed into the kitchen. When Baizhu found you, Qiqi and Gui were sitting at the kitchen table for the occasion. Gui leapt from his seat reverently and bowed deeply to Baizhu.

“Many happy returns Xiansheng!”

Baizhu chuckled, “Thank you, you’re most kind.”

Qiqi monotonously said “Happy birthday Baizhu.”

Then she presented him with a handmade card that you had helped her make. He took it carefully from her and seemed genuinely touched.

“Why thank you, my dear Qiqi. What a precious sentiment. I shall treasure it.”

He gave her gentle hug and a light kiss on the head. Then he put the card on display in full view on the kitchen dresser.

“Ok, breakfast is ready!” you called, setting down a portion of pancakes and fresh fruit at each place.

You had researched recipes and found one from Mondstadt which looked perfect for the occasion. Baizhu looked slightly abashed at all the fuss, but nevertheless quietly enjoyed himself in the midst of the happy chaos of his quasi-family.

---

Gui cautiously knocked on the door of Baizhu’s study and entered when he was called. He gently closed the door behind him and stood before Baizhu’s desk.

“Gui!” He said cheerfully, “Is everything alright?”

Gui took a deep breath. “Xiansheng! May I humbly offer you my wishes for your longevity on this auspicious day!” He bowed formally and held his arms out stiffly, presenting a small package, wrapped in tissue paper decorated with turtles. “May you live as long as Mount Aocang and may the adepti protect you!”

Baizhu went wide-eyed and tentatively accepted the package and set it down on his desk. He carefully unwrapped it and his mouth fell open in surprise when he saw the book. He let out a soft gasp involuntarily. It was a rare first edition of a medical treatise that Baizhu had tried on many occasions to track down, unsuccessfully.

Shaking his head, Baizhu whispered, “Gui…I can’t accept such generosity. This is too much.” He was genuinely moved.

Gui shook his head firmly. “Think of it as the equivalent of what I would have spent on all the birthdays since I’ve known you.”

Baizhu looked troubled and almost embarrassed. Unlike Baizhu, Gui was not wealthy, though he received a proper wage for his work. The gift would have been expensive. Baizhu made a mental note to give Gui a larger bonus for his Lantern Rite and birthday gifts; he resolved to repay the cost in a way that would not seem obvious or injure Gui’s pride.

Baizhu stood up and bowed deeply to Gui.

“Gui, thank you, from the bottom of my heart. It means so very much. I promise to cherish it always.”

“Xiansheng…” Gui was almost embarrassed at the sight of his mentor bowing so formally to him.

Baizhu sat back down and picked up the book to admire it. He gestured for Gui to sit.

“You know, I recently just missed a copy of this at the Wanwen Bookstore.”

Gui smiled mischievously and scratched his head bashfully.

“Ahhh, yes, that would have been me. I had been planning on giving it to you to commemorate the anniversary of me starting my apprenticeship under you, but I thought this would be a nice occasion instead.”

“Gui! You don’t need to give me anything for that! It has been a pleasure working with you all of these years. I can rest easy knowing that the pharmacy will be in good hands in the future. That’s the best gift I could possibly wish for.”

“Don’t say that as though you’re planning to retire soon!”

Baizhu smiled and shook his head.

“Not if I can help it. But it would be irresponsible to not plan ahead, don’t you think?”

The bell rang at the front counter. Gui bowed to excuse himself and left to attend to the customer. Baizhu sat, enthralled, looking at the book. He smiled softly as he reflected on the fact that Gui had used a birthday formulation for an elderly person. It was a subtle act of kindness and respect, for though while Baizhu was not old, they both knew he was closer to the end of his life than most. It was strange and bizarre to Baizhu’s ears to hear someone else call his birthday auspicious; the day had ultimately led to a path of tragedy after all. But without such misfortune, perhaps he never would have found himself surrounded by wonderful people.

---

You had decided to treat Baizhu to a romantic meal at the Liuli Pavilion, as a throwback to your first proper date together. While the waiting list was normally very long, it seemed that Baizhu’s name was enough to move your booking to the top of the list. Both of you dressed up for the occasion in formal Liyue style outfits. However, no sooner had the first course arrived when the manager of the restaurant approached the table, a grave look on his face.

“Doctor Baizhu, I must apologise for disturbing your meal but…”

As the manager bowed and talked discreetly into Baizhu’s ear you knew what was coming and your heart sank. Baizhu dabbed the corners of his mouth delicately with his napkin as he listened and nodded. As he got up from his chair he gave you an apologetic look.

“I’m so very sorry my love.”

You shook your head and forced yourself to smile for him. He pressed his hand to your head to comfort you as he passed your seat and went to fetch his overcoat.

As Baizhu prepared to leave, you called the manager over and asked him to box the meal to take away. He nodded compliantly. You gathered your things and made your way to the exit. The manager returned, laden with boxes in a paper bag. You accepted them and paid the bill. The manager then draped your long overcoat over your shoulders. When you got outside, Baizhu was already deep in a conversation with a frantic woman. It hit you that your inconvenience was very trivial compared to whatever emergency was going on in her life, not to mention the patient. Herbalist Gui stood aside, holding Baizhu’s kit bag, having sprinted from the pharmacy to fetch him here. You took it from him.

“It’s alright, I’ll carry it.”

You smiled. Gui looked at you, his face a frame of pity.

“You had such a lovely evening planned.” he said sympathetically.

He gently squeezed your upper arm to comfort you. You shook your head and bit your lip, forcing a smile. For some reason, hearing someone else be sad on your account made you want to cry.

“It’s alright, we can do it another day.” you said.

Baizhu turned to you, ready to leave, and observed the kit bag in your hand.

“Oh, you’re coming too?” he asked with surprise.

“Yes!”

“Oh! Alright then, if you’re sure. It won’t be much fun for you though. There won’t be anything for you to do except wait around.”

“That’s alright.”

“Very well.”

To save time, Baizhu hailed a rickshaw. The woman gave the address and directions to the driver and followed in a second one. The two of you sat silently, squeezed together. You held the bag of food and Baizhu had his kit bag on his knee. He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, but then didn’t speak. Instead, he put his hand on your knee and gave it a gentle squeeze. You put your hand on his and interlaced your fingers with his own.

The rickshaw arrived at a small house in the outskirts of town outside Chihu Rock and the two of you got out. Baizhu gave you his mora pouch to pay the driver and hurried into the house, where another member of the family was already waiting with the door open. After you had paid the driver, you went inside and heard the chaos. Someone was very obviously in pain. The head of the family had been out hunting and had been gored by a wild boar, leaving a serious wound that needed patching up urgently. One of the other family members led you through to wait in the kitchen and made you some tea. It was an awkward moment; you didn’t know what you could say to reassure them. After all, you weren’t the doctor. All you could say with sincerity was “He’s in the best possible hands. I know Baizhu will do everything he can.”

Baizhu eventually emerged into the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up and his hands covered in blood. He washed them at the sink and one of the family ran to hold a towel ceremoniously for him to use. He wiped his hands methodically and then accepted the cup of hot tea that was offered to him. He took a tentative sip before sitting down at the kitchen table opposite you. He smiled and reached his hand across the table to grasp yours. His pale skin was now spotless. It never failed to blow your mind how these lithe and gentle fingers had the power to manipulate life and death.

“How did it go?” you asked.

“All stitched up now, thankfully. But he lost a lot of blood. He should pull through though.”

“That’s a relief.”

Baizhu nodded. The woman who had found him at the restaurant tentatively hovered with a mora pouch in her hands.

“Doctor, how much do we…?”

Baizhu waived his hand dismissively. “Gui will deal with that in the morning when you collect the prescription. Everybody should get some rest for now. And besides, we need to be heading home.”

“Oh, of course. I’m very sorry we disturbed your evening.”

“There’s no extra charge if that’s what you mean.”

“Well, not just that. It’s just that it seemed like a special occasion.”

Baizhu smiled and shook his head.

“Please don’t worry. Every day with my sweetheart is special.”

You blushed at his words and he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. Normally he was very private about his personal life, yet tonight he was unashamedly flaunting you as his.

“Now, we really should be going.” He stood up to leave and they fetched his coat and kit bag.

The two of you left the house and started to walk back towards Chihu Rock. As you walked, hand in hand, you saw all the stars out. It was a clear night and the moon was up. The perfect night for stargazing.

“What an absolute disaster!” you sighed, half laughing. Baizhu playfully swung your clasped hands back and forth as you walked.

“It wasn’t all bad, my love. At least the fee covered the cost of the meal.”

“Speaking of which, I expect it’s gone cold by now.”

As you walked, Baizhu tugged your hand to pull you off the main path towards a small elevated patch of grass overlooking the harbour. The giant moon was reflected on the waves below. Baizhu set down his bag and laid his coat on the grass. He sat down, cross-legged, and patted the spot next to him for you to sit. Then he opened the bag of food and started pulling out the containers, inspecting the contents. You smiled and felt warm inside at his considerate attempt to rescue the evening. The two of you ate the food together, enjoying the view of the Harbour below and laughing between you.

When you had finished eating, Baizhu lay back on the grass. He drew you to him so that your head was resting on his chest, looking up at the stars.

“Do you know anything about astronomy?” he asked.

“Only the basics. Enough to get me home if I get lost.”

“That’s already an impressive amount.” He elegantly pointed at the sky with one hand, caressing your head with the other. You felt his warm chest gently rise and fall under your head.

“See that arrangement there? That’s your constellation. And that one there…that’s my star. The one I was born under.”

He singled out a dim twinkling star. It was not as bright as the others, but it shone with all its might.

“It’s beautiful.” You whispered, trying to memorise its location in the sky.

“It’s funny, Gui called my day auspicious this morning. But truth be told I was born under a very unfortunate configuration. It grants success but always at a terrible price. That said, life is full of surprises. Things have a tendency of working out.”

You both silently admired the heavens for a while until Baizhu said with a sigh, “Well, I suppose we ought to get back, or Gui will come looking for us. And as nostalgic as that would be, I’d prefer to save him the trouble.”

He stood up and shook the grass off his coat before putting it on. He fastened the buttons on your coat and fixed your collar. Then he held you by your upper arms and said sympathetically,

“I’m sorry things didn’t go the way you planned tonight, my love. I know you’d been so looking forward to it.”

You shook your head and smiled. “It’s alright, it wasn’t your fault. I just wanted the day to be perfect for you.”

“But it was perfect, my little finch. I had a very happy birthday indeed.”

“You did?”

“I did. I got to spend it with you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

“I had a happy birthday today too.”

“You? How so?”

You wrapped your arms around him and held him tightly, clinging to him so that your fingers almost dug into him.

“I’m happy that you were born. I’m happy that you’re alive.” You whispered. He smiled.

“I’m happy to be here, my love.” He said softly, caressing your head.

[avelera]

Dearest diary, Hob thought as he and Dream stepped out into a brisk spring morning. He’d never kept a diary as such, too much risk of putting evidence out into the world that could make his unusual longevity a matter of public record. But sometimes he imagined what he might write if he did. It is half six in the morning on a Tuesday, April 29, in the year of Our Lord 1817 and I’m on my way to work. Sorry I haven’t written in some time. I just learned the Devil exists. But it’s alright, because I am the husband to the Ancient Greek god of dreams and he assures me that my soul is safe. Not because I cannot die, but because he and Lucifer are friends and that would be bad form. 

Excerpt from Ch. 8 (WIP) of "Come live with me and be my Love" (Hob/Dream, Canon Divergence, Regency Era get-together historical romcom where they have to be "fake" married for a year etc etc.)

Yes, I know I owe you all the next chapter of "Giving Sanctuary" too but sometimes you bolt out of bed on a Sunday morning after finally catching up on your sleep because a line like this pops into your head XD

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Friday, July 14

Buffy bursts into Spike's crypt. Spike is sitting atop one of the coffins, painting his fingernails. SPIKE: Morning, sunshine. If you've come around for eggs or sausage, I'm fresh out. Buffy grabs the lid of the coffin and pulls it out from under Spike so that he tumbles backward into the coffin. He sits up. SPIKE: Hey, careful! These are wet. (Holds up his hand)

~~Blood Ties~~

The Sunnydale Herald is looking for at least one new editor. Contributing to the Herald is a great way to get your Buffy on! Find out more here.

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Five Times Angelus Got Down on his Knees by girlpire (Angelus/Darla, Angelus/Drusilla, Angelus/Spike, Angelus/Buffy, T)

I can’t believe you’re alive. by Lilacsandorangeblossoms (Buffy/Spike, Dawn/Connor, M)

He's Your Uncle? by SnarkyGranger1 (Faith/Hermione, Giles, Harry Potter xover, T)

Training at the Frat by wnelson001 (Xander/Dawn, E)

In Sickness And In Health by JamesTheIceQueen (Gunn/Wesley, T)

Lost by Joan963z (Buffy/Spike, PG)

What’s Always There… by nastieswewhispered (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Poems Within Moments by FoolForSpuffy (Buffy/Spike, PG)

Honeymoon, Honeysun by Joan963z (Buffy/Spike, PG)

Feed The Fire by Joan963z (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Pinch by Joan963z (Buffy/Spike, G)

Illusion of Control by Joan963z (Buffy/Spike, G)

Wish Upon a Star by Joan963z (Buffy/Spike, G)

[Chaptered Fiction]

There Should Be Groveling - Ch. 11 by slaymesoftly (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Mission: Oops - Ch. 1-2 by Joan963z (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) COMPLETE!

Pillow Fight - Ch. 1-2 by Joan963z (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) COMPLETE!

The Littlest Bit - Ch. 3 by violettathepiratequeen (Buffy/Spike, R) COMPLETE!

Scenes from the FAA-Verse - Ch. 24-25 by Willow25 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) COMPLETE!

Yahtzee! - Ch. 1-4 by honeygirl51885 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Chuck's Night Out - Ch. 1-3 by Lady Emma (Buffy/Spike, R)

Buzzkill - Ch. 4-7 by Blackmysteria (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Don't Fall for Rock Stars - Ch. 9-15 by scratchmeout (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Spuffy Drabble Moments - Ch. 2 by Spuffyfangirl28 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Part of the Family - Ch. 15 by Harlow Turner (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

The Art of Dying - Ch. 11 by disco-tea (Buffy/Spike, R)

In Another World - Ch. 4 by Amina (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Neon - Ch. 21-23 by ClowniestLivEver (Buffy/Spike, R)

The stories we could tell - Ch. 10-11 by Julikobold (Buffy/Spike, G)

Ephemera - Ch. 22 by HappyWhenItRains (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

The (bad) Poems of William S. Pratt - Ch. 11-12 by Julikobold (Buffy/Spike, G)

To Still Be Wanting You - Ch. 18 by simmony (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

The Text Message Memories of Buffy & Spike - Ch. 13 by Julikobold (Buffy/Spike, G)

Through the Years - Ch. 13 by DarkVoid116 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Dream - Ch. 33-36 by Dusty (Buffy/Spike, R)

Becoming Us - Ch. 47-48 by BewitchedXx (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Jigsaw - Ch. 16-17 by Dusty (Buffy/Spike, R)

Excerpts - Ch. 16 by Holly (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

More Found Family Ties - Ch. 4 by Julikobold (Buffy/Spike, G)

There Should Be Groveling (sequel to Redemption Redux) - Ch. 11 by slaymesoftly (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Presumably Dead Arm - Ch. 12 by tragic (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Encased by Sunshine - Ch. 18 by acb6293 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

The Neighbor's Point of View - Ch. 27 by the_big_bad (Buffy/Spike, PG)

From Hell with Love - Ch. 17 by temporarytitle (Buffy/Spike, R)

Under The Rubble - Ch. 33 by Geliot99 (Buffy/Spike, R)

Written in the Dust - Ch. 21 by Indi_Shaw (Buffy/Spike, R)

Cross Purposes 4 - Ch. 1 by DianeCastle (Willow, multi xover, FR13)

Fate Plans and We Laugh - Ch. 12 by Hermionetobe (Buffy, Dawn, Batman xover, FR15)

The Littlest Bit - Ch. 3 by violettathepiratequeen (Buffy/Spike, R) COMPLETE!

The (bad) Poems of William S. Pratt - Ch. 1-12 by Julikobold (Buffy/Spike, G)

Don't Fall for Rock Stars - Ch. 12-15 by scratchmeout (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Ephemera - Ch. 9-22 by HappyWhenItRains (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Tethered - Ch. 4 by Double Dutchess, Cosmic Tuesdays, flow, Niamh, Dirtyaim, Rea (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Holy Ground - Ch. 4 by honeygirl51885, Chelle, VeroNyxK84, Tessa, ClowniestLivEver, LJ94 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Best Wishes - Ch. 4 by bookishy, Dusty, Grief Counseling, ashcrashed, MaggieLeFay, womanaction (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

More Found Family Ties - Ch. 4 by Julikobold (Buffy/Spike, G)

There Should Be Groveling (sequel to Redemption Redux) - Ch. 11 by Slaymesoftly (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Encased in Sunshine - Ch. 18 by Acb6293 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Dawn the Vampire Slayer - Ch. 19 by LJ94 (Buffy/Spike, R)

The Mystery of the Disappearing Scoobies - Ch. 4 by sandy_s, Megan, SomeKindOfADeviant, JSBirsa, Yummysushi17 , Harlow Turner (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

[Images, Audio & Video]

Artwork: BTVS “Every Outfit” “Bring On The Night” part 2 Xx by whatshisfaceblogs (Buffy, worksafe)

Artwork: I’m creating an art piece for every episode of Buffy and Angel by trevorcarlee (Buffy, worksafe)

Gifset: Buffyverse Characters - First and Last Appearances - The Scooby Gang by thepunkmuppet (BTVS ensemble, worksafe with some death scenes)

Gifset: Buffyverse Characters - First & Last Appearances - Angel Investigations by thepunkmuppet (ATS ensemble, worksafe)

Gifset: Buffy the Vampire Slayer | 1997 - 2003 five episodes per season ~ season two by slayerbuffy (Spike, Drusilla, Angela, Buffy, worksafe)

Headers: BtVS Season 4 headers by onegirlinallthewrld (Faith, Buffy, Sineya, worksafe)

Icons: Willow Rosenberg — Buffy the Vampire Slayer, 1997 by nostalgc (Willow, worksafe)

Lego Video: Lego Buffy - Spike taunts Angel behind Joyce's back! by TrevorCarlee (Spike, Joyce, Angel, Buffy, worksafe)

[Fandom Discussions]

... in buffy basically all the main characters female love interests are killed off... by nicholaes

I need to know what some of your Buffy and Faith songs are... answered by coraniaid

SoS: Giles in Season Four by nightshade

Rank the seasons of both shows updated by Dogs of Winter and The Xandyman

Where would you put the music demon (Sweet) in Angel? [ATS] by whimsiebat

Rewatching “The Weight of the World” by pilatessong

Just A Thought That Made Me Smile [de-aging Buffy scenario] by princess_platinum8

Did not know this. Thoughts? [The Body] by Actorclown

Buying clothes from the show. by Own_Band_3839

Anyone else sad that we never got the Ripper spinoff that was rumored? by scipio0421

POLL: who would win in a fight Xander or Cordelia by iwillremember4sure

What are some Buffy episodes you find overrated? by emperor-spriggan

Willow Rosenberg is One of the Greatest Characters in the Buffy Series by Antwuan89

The "Lone Gunmen" - Andrew, Warren, and Jonathan - refresh my memory by 65TwinReverbRI

What are some BTVS scenes you always hit replay(rewind) on? by Opening_Knowledge868

How would you continue.... [S8 redo] by Dappich

Angel Season 5 by amelianm16

s5e20 The girl in question by Fun_Lime7212

[Articles, Interviews, and Other News]

James Marsters to Attend FAN EXPO San Francisco 24-26 November via dontkillspike

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