#ao3 port

[faded-mage]

The Story of the Dread Wolf & His Emerald Knight Solas & Avise Lavellan Solas felt a strange mixture of pity and annoyance as he watched the unconscious prisoner at his feet. She looks so small. Fragile. A simple, mortal thing. He did not expect her to last long in her current state but he needed her to. The elf below him lay motionless on the floor with her wrists bent at an odd angle due to the shackles that adorned them. Delicate pointed ears poked through the curtain of dark hair that spilled across the stone floor. Dalish, he noted, the vallaslin that curved across her face indicated as much.

Part I:

Chapter 1: Ashes to Ashes Chapter 2: Dust to Dust Chapter 3: Facing the Breach Chapter 4: The Inquisition Returns Chapter 5: Of Refugees & Dreams Chapter 6: The Non-Elfy Elf Chapter 7: Cold, Wet & Angry Chapter 8: Curiosity Chapter 9: The Man from Tevinter Chapter 10: Return to Haven Chapter 11: Mending Bridges Chapter 12: The Moment of Truth Chapter 13: Tarasyl'an Te'las Chapter 14: The Flooded Town Chapter 15: Dirth'ena Enasalin Chapter 16: What Was Lost Chapter 17: To Save a Spirit Chapter 18: A Heady Blend Chapter 19: In War, Victory Chapter 20: In Death, Sacrifice Chapter 21: Maraas-Lok Chapter 22: The Forgotten Mage Chapter 23: The Lost Inquisitor Chapter 24: Stolen Moments Chapter 25: Din'an Hanin Chapter 26: The Well of Sorrows Chapter 27: Loved and Lost Chapter 28: Into the Desert Chapter 29: Attempts at Compassion Chapter 30: The Final Piece Chapter 31: Doom Upon the World Chapter 32: Bittersweet Dreams Chapter 33: Trespasser Chapter 34: A Murder & A Sanctuary Chapter 35: Under the Earth Chapter 36: Memories in the Fade Chapter 37: Vir Dirthara Chapter 38: A Race of Time Chapter 39: The Wolf & His Knight

Part II:

Chapter 40: A Lost Decade Chapter 41: Chaos in the South Chapter 42: The Key Chapter 43: Tell Me More Chapter 44: Simple Regrets Chapter 45: Hidden Treasures Chapter 46: Welcome to the Lighthouse Chapter 47: Reminders of Hope Chapter 48: The Emerald Knight Chapter 49: Ar Lasa Mala Revas Chapter 50: Vhenan Chapter 51: You Bring Life Chapter 52: Epilogue

Spoilers:

Heavy lore spoilers for Dragon Age Inquisition, Inquisition DLCs and Veilguard.

AO3: Honey & Wildfire Are Both the Color Gold

AO3: Golden Thread Does Not Bind

[fraisaa]

IM DYING LMAO

I'VE BEEN LAUGHING AT THIS FOR THE PAST 10 MINUTES LMAO

I dont loke Mori but this shit is too funny

[aunnokokyuu]

what if YOU were a poor little animation studio who kept straightifying the very homosexual moments between a tiger and a malnourished victorian child in order to make the anime more appealing to the general public. but THE MANGAKA HIMSELF said NO here’s a scene where said malnourished victorian child sensually bites the tiger’s neck while he’s transformed as a vampire and U HAVE TO ANIMATE IT THIS TIME BCS ITS IMPORTANT TO THE PLOT!!! now bones if you straightify that scene like you did to akutagawa telling atsushi to run you fool then you can trust that i’ll find you more than you trust in god

[mackerel22]

Dazai, whispering to Chuuya's ear during a pm meeting: I'm sure that no one here has as big of a dick as you.

Chuuya: WTF?

Dazai: Sorry, I misspoke. I meant no one here is as big of a dick as you.

Chuuya:

Chuuya: Sure...

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Sky Pirates

Some of you may have noticed that I love to re-imagine concepts and adapt them into different settings. So, today, I present you with yet another dpxdc fantasy AU, and this time, it's Pirates.

Only just 'pirates' seemed not exciting enough, so I have Sky Pirates.

Amity Port, a place on the outskirts of Gotham - a floating continent under the rule of Waynes. A town on the edge of the world, with only the Vast Skies beyond its piers. Flying ships moored in the docks, sails of all the colors you can imagine, taverns, inns, and shops run by all the people you know: Old Kinght Fright, Jinnee Desiree, and Lady Lunch, to name some.

Royal Guard Valerie Gray, who left Amity nearly a decade ago, is now back, and she brought guests with her. Two Princes of Gotham, straight from Bristol: Tim and Jason. Only they are not here for a simple visit.

A Sky Curse over both of them, with feathers piercing their skin from inside, causes them to seek the help of a skies witch since none of the mages, witches, or warlocks all throughout Gotham could help them. But sailing the Vast Skies with no clear destination is a task for no battleship.

They need something else.

A crew of pirates who never back down from adventure when offered a fair price. A ship that had sailed far beyond any trade would go. A captain that their Royal Guard can trust, even if begrudgingly.

And, maybe, a new friend that also has feathers under his sleeves.

Is this an advertising post for my new fic? Yes, yes, it is. 'Free as the Wind' by corkinavoid, here is a link, enjoy.

What I did was I took the concept of 'Danny has Wings' and the idea of space pirates from 'Treasure Planet', mixed it with some 'Pirates of the Caribbean' aesthetic, threw in some magic, added a generous amount of fantastic skyscape worlds and a dash of adventures that end in love, and winged it.

Also, have some art I shamelessly found on Pinterest to set the mood:

P.S. The fic has soundtrack links included

[artie88]

Atsushi calling Akutagawa after walking in on Dazai and Chuuya making out:

Atsushi: Aku! You’ll never believe what I just walked in on!

Akutagawa: Why should I care???

Atsushi: I just saw Dazai and Chuuya making out!

*no response from Akutagawa*

Atsushi: Aku?

And Akutagawa is just getting all these flashbacks from when he walked in on soukoku during Dazai’s port mafia days.

Akutagawa: Just be glad they were just making out.

Then he just hangs up, leaving Atsushi confused and scared as he turns around and locks eyes with a disheveled Dazai.

[lonelylesbian2]

God Atsushi rant.

I'm in my god Atsushi era and have a lot to say abt it.

Ok so duh we all know Arahabaki (Chuuya) is a god. So we know that 'gods' exist in the bsd world. But like Byakko IS a god, right? Right?? SO SO TECHNICALLY Atsushi could also have a god for an 'ability'. And we know nothing of Atsushi's life before the orphanage or his parents. Sooooo I kind of have free reign with this theory. And maybe (like other AU's which I may or may not have stolen this base idea from) god's pick their 'vessel' or their human body and tend to co-exist in it once they find the one they want. Atsushi could have been picked by Byakko but with Chuuya, Arahabaki was more forced into his body with the experiment (if that makes sense) instead.

And I love the theories that Ara (Im putting this instead of Arahabaki now bcz its so bloody long) talks to Chuuya in his mind and is sentient as he is a whole 'other being'. So Byakko could also talk to Atsushi as an 'other being' but bcz of Atsushi's hatred towards both himself and his 'ability', she never did. But when Atsushi accepts his ability in DA Byakko is able to talk to Atsushi and explains all this to him (and more yada yada) but bcz Ara was FORCED into Chuuya's body, he just doesn't want to explain or talk to Chuuya out of hatred for the humans (N) who trapped him in Chuuya.

And I have so much more to say abt this HOWEVER I am making it into a fanfiction and would hate to spoil the plot (this isnt a spoiler bcz it's literally the BASE of the whole story). Also this is a Atsushi get's chosen for the ADA member who goes to the PM au!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I have no idea if I want to make the ship chuuatsu bcz I am a sucker for rarepairs and when ur a god time doesnt matter so 4 years isn't shit. But I loveeee sskk and kinda want that ship. But I don't want both bcz I want one of them to be besties, so if I do chuuatsu I want sskk to be besties but if I do sskk I want chuuatsu to be besties. But yeah I might put it in a wheel and decide or just see how the story goes.

Btw if u want to read the story my ao3 is 2waesabii2 (It's not out yet but I'm thinking of calling it something with the word 'god's' in it so we'll see abt the name.)

[blackstar-prime]

Ahhh I still can't draw Alice properly 😫

I was rereading chapter 9 a few days ago and realized these three actually fit the saying "See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil", so I decided to make this little piece 😉

If you want to check out the fic, just click here 😉

He looked at the bodies once more and frowned. “Are there always three of them?” he asked, turning back to his mentor. The woman nodded and asked right after:

“Do you think it matters?”

“Well, the number '3' has a very broad symbolism. The Holy Trinity, a triad, the three heads of Cerberus… It’s a symbol of harmony, a unity of mind, body, and spirit. And there are also three wise monkeys – see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil. If I were to guess…” he paused for a moment and looked back at the corpses. At first glance, their injuries seemed random, and they mostly were, but each body had something special about it. The first had – Atsushi realized – a cut-off tongue. Another didn’t have eyes. And the last one had dried blood running out of its ears, so it was most likely impaled there with some kind of skewer. “I’d say it's about the last one. It’s not much and tells us almost nothing, but-”

“No,” Alice cut in, suddenly standing next to her student. “It tells us everything we need.

[owlarchimedes]

My New Bungou Stray Dogs Oneshot

Ranpo and Chuuya's Romp Through Poe's Novel by owl_archimedes on ao3! (that's me)

Summary:

Ranpo and Chuuya are trapped in Poe’s mystery novel, much to Ranpo’s amusement and Chuuya’s anger. Ranpo is keeping the Port Mafia executive occupied while the ADA handles the rest of the mission, but he also gets to spend one-on-one time with the most attractive member of the PM. And really, who would pass up on this opportunity?

Relevant Tags:

Edogawa Ranpo & Nakahara Chuuya, Could Be Canon, Canon Compliant, Nakahara Chuuya is So Done, Edogawa Ranpo is a Little Shit, we have no idea what happened in the book so this could've happened, soukoku if you squint, Sorry Not Sorry

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

Summary: Davy Jones is single, and Will is horny for tentacles. A "what-if" timeline divergence with Davy Jones as a tyrannical coffee shop owner, Will as his employee, and Elizabeth as a marine biologist who falls for the goddess of the sea. --- Will Turner, fired from Starbucks and dumped by the mayor's daughter, is press-ganged into service for The Flying Dutchman, the last artisanal coffee shop left in quickly gentrifying Seattle. The Dutchman is...still The Dutchman. After the fall of piracy, the ship pulled into port and converted into a coffee shop, under the leadership of the still-very-much-an-octopus-man Davy Jones. Beloved by the city for their strange appearances, they've become a tourist / thirst trap (monsterfucking is IN.) City Councilman Cutler Beckett is out for blood. Part-time realtor, part-time politician, he's determined to snatch up the prime locations of both The Dutchman and Calypso's Corner, the oldest bookshop in the city, run by the mysterious Tia Dalma. Nobody knows she's been living there for centuries, except for Jones himself--a secret they share. (TIA DALMA REVENGE ARC) Fully original overarching plot, EXPANDED LORE, new major character!

Author: @beemovieerotica

[faded-mage]

Cry for the past - only there does glory dwell. For here, the bow was strung, the sword bequeathed, the vows sworn. So glory was born within the hearts of elves. Sing for the past - where rests those who came before. For each Knight, a seed was sown, roots twisting with their brothers and sisters. So the forest grew, a reflection of our might

Solas

This is not the outcome I wanted, he thought to himself. The elf had believed he was above these mistakes, that his brashness only eased with age. That he thought through the possible consequences of his plan. Clearly not. The state of the elves and how far they had fallen was on his shoulders and his actions continued to hurt more and more of them over the years he spent asleep - spreading them to hidden corners of Thedas hiding from humans or under the boot of some oppressive human city.

The Dalish didn’t listen when he stepped forward to correct their ways, their misguided devotion to the elven gods blinding them from the truth. Despite that he was enraged at the treatment of what came of his People, these modern elves are not my people, he corrected himself firmly. They were shadows of what the Elvhen once were and a constant reminder of his own pride and failures. That was no matter though, all would be fixed once he pulled the Veil down and remade the world to be better than this one, before his disastrous mistakes.

Solas felt a strange mixture of pity and annoyance as he watched the unconscious prisoner at his feet. She looks so small. Fragile. A simple, mortal thing. He did not expect her to last long in her current state but he needed her to. The elf below him lay motionless on the floor with her wrists bent at an odd angle due to the shackles that adorned them. Delicate pointed ears poked through the curtain of dark hair that spilled across the stone floor. Dalish, he noted, the vallaslin that curved across her face indicated as much.

The markings were delicate, the intricate swirls danced across her skin in a fine white ink. It brought him memories of times long ago. Slave markings. They were symbols of what he fought against, what he rebelled against. But now they adorned themselves with the blood writing willingly to honor the ‘gods’ who merely enslaved their people before. Solas was unable to push away the disgust at the sight. For a people so determined to never be enslaved again they knew so little of their own past. A patchwork of incomplete stories guided them and most of them wrong. The markings she bore, he did not recognize however. Kneeling next to the woman, he reached out a gentle hand to move the curtain of hair from her face. This design is not tied to any of their gods. Or not one that I recognize, he mused. The lines were sharper than what he had seen before. If she survived, maybe he would even care enough to ask about them.

He felt the presence of the humans in the room with him, their bodies filled the air that pressed heavily against him. For most they would appear to be standing still but Solas could feel the pressure of their small movements while they watched his every move. Sighing heavily Solas pushed away the discomfort. They were waiting for him to give some indication that he knew the prisoner at his feet. That they were in league with one another to cause the destruction of the Temple and murder thousands of people at the Conclave. Solas refused to become their scapegoat and if he could help it, he refused to have the Dalish woman be blamed for his mistakes. The elves had suffered enough with his actions.

Solas’ lips pressed into a line as he pushed away the flurry of emotions that sat in his chest. He was well practiced at it, the look of indifference and eerie stoicism. Haven’s Spymaster, Leliana, was sitting in the corner to his right. He assumed she had been tasked with watching him despite her seemingly working on paperwork in the edge of his vision. From what he could tell she was good at her job. Her interactions with her scouts and others at Haven indicated that she was not to be underestimated, however pride swelled within him as he was confident that she could not and would not see through his facade. He had known the game much longer than she. The dungeon itself held a few torches for light, casting everything in the room with an eerie orange hue, that is until the magic lodged in the prisoners’ hand flared again. It bathed his face in a sickly green light.

The guards stationed in the room shifted uncomfortably, on edge due to the events of the last day. He couldn’t blame them, not really. Thousands of people dead at the Conclave - Thedas’ first real chance at a possible peace between the rebel Mages and rogue Templars that waged a war across the continent. Their only lead to those at fault was the unconscious prisoner that lay before him, who happened to be an elf. Humans had long seen the elves as lesser and savage, the Dalish even more so. Solas turned his attention downward, watching the woman carefully. The magic that rolled off of her in waves was not only caused by the mark that marred her hand but also her own magic. The woman in question was not only a Dalish elf, she was a mage and from what he could tell, a decently powerful one. This made her an easy target for the Chantry.

Solas pushed away the thoughts once more. Anger and a bit of shame stirred within him. He gently picked up her left hand and sandwiched them between his own palms. Tentatively, he pushed his magic into hers, tasting and testing it and the magic of the mark. It pulsated just under her skin like a heartbeat. The mark flared green again, the magic that settled in her palm was his magic and it was slowly killing her. No mortal, elf or not, was supposed to hold that much power inside of them. How did this happen? How did it go wrong? The man he had given the orb to, the one who was supposed to die after unlocking it for him survived and created the hole in the sky in the process. The Breach, a hole in the Veil that connected their world and the Fade. Where did the woman fit in to all this? As the Breach above them expanded, so did the mark on her hand. Eating away at her slowly, painfully. Nothing he could do would pull the magic from her. It was stuck, anchored there at least for now. For a brief moment Solas considered letting her die. If she died, would the magic die with her? Would he be able to regain the magic? Solas resigned himself to the fact that he needed to try and keep her alive until he figured out his next steps or at least learned new information.

A door behind him opened, the familiar steps of the Seeker walking into the dungeon with him. Cassandra, a Seeker, was frightened. Terrified even. Her guilt and desperation never did sit plainly on her face but Solas could tell it was there - he knew that feeling all too well. Her overbearing presence hung over him like a cloud as she approached. Solas had gone to Haven, dropped his staff to the ground outside of its gates and requested to speak to whomever was in charge. He had the knowledge, the experience and he wanted to help them in closing the Breach that threatened all of Thedas. He was immediately met with suspicion. While not surprised by the reaction, he was annoyed by it. That deep part of him remembering how the Dalish cast his knowledge aside because it contradicted what they thought they knew about the world. Those at Haven had no idea that he was their best hope at figuring out what to do next.

Cassandra’s thick Nevarran accent rang out behind him, “Anything?”. It echoed in the small dungeon room, startling him slightly as he pulled himself back from his musing. He was not a prisoner, not like the elven woman whose hand was still nestled between his but all they could see when they looked at him was pointed ears and the fears of abominations and magic. This world has been disappointing. The prisoners’ hand was cold to the touch as the green flare of magic faded from the mark. Shaking his head, he placed her hand down gently and stood so that he could speak with the Seeker. “Whatever this mark is, it is killing her. Each time the Breach expands, so does the mark but I still believe it may be our best chance at closing it. She needs to be kept alive.” Mostly for his own plans. Having to find a new source of magic to tear down the Veil could extend his plans by decades at minimum and he was growing impatient.

The Seeker made a disgruntled grunt, turning to the Spymaster in the corner. From what Solas could tell Cassandra did not trust him. Which likely was wise on her part but not beneficial to his own goals. A silent conversation appeared to occur between the two women, eventually Leliana shook her head and Cassandra nodded. As much as Solas had assumed, Leliana was there to see if he knew the prisoner - they were perhaps working together at the Conclave, that they were both somehow at fault. Thankfully, Leliana came to the decision there was no colluding between the two elves. The Spymaster had been sitting there the entire time watching Solas with the prisoner and despite Solas’ intentions he knew she would see no familiarity because there was none. Solas did not even consider himself of the same People.

Cassandra turned back to him, stepping forward. Her movements were aggressive, humans always resorted to aggression when they were afraid. “Then you will find a way for her to awaken and to slow the progress of the mark so we can get her to the Breach.” It wasn’t a question, merely a demand and it was asking a lot. “If you do not, you will be tried as an apostate.” So now his survival was placed on the unconscious woman, the one who physically fell out of the Fade. Great. The threat was not subtle, Solas bristled. The more he spent among the humans, the more he felt the world was broken beyond repair. Knife-ear. Rabbit. Halla-rider. Savage. He held back his tongue, his distaste sitting on his lips as the Seeker turned to stalk out of the room leaving him with a handful of guards and the Spymaster.

Another flash of the green light brought his attention from the door, a small groan escaping the woman’s lips. The best he could was to add barriers around the focal point of the mark, hoping to slow the spread for now. If he could give her more time, maybe he could figure out how to use the mark through her? The Dalish were generally not fans of humans so appealing to that side of her and having her leave with him could be quite easy. If she were awake that is. Solas turned to kneel again, his hands moving gently as he applied barriers deep within her skin and pumped healing spells into the rest of her body to repair some of the damage the magic had inflicted. Her movements and sounds of pain subsided and he found she was as stable as she could be. His steely gaze redirected towards Leliana in the corner, “She is stable for now. But I will need to get closer to one of the smaller rifts before I can do much more.” His brain hummed as he considered how much information would be enough to appeal to the woman, “If I am correct the magic in her hand is the same as the magic pouring from the rifts. If I could test the theory I could be more certain if her mark could have any effect on them.”

He knew what caused the rifts and what kind of magic came from it but he was not convinced the prisoner was going to live long enough to be able to assist them and he wanted a backup plan. If she, by some miracle, survived he also wanted to ensure he had enough information prior to stealing her away from the Chantry, the elven woman somehow making herself the center of his plans - and his failures. Solas gestured to the prisoner at his feet, “If she wakes then she could be brought to a smaller rift and we can test this theory… But we should be proactive in case her body fails her.” Hoping that was more than enough information to entice the Spymaster in assisting him and giving her a taste of what could be at stake to expedite her decision to aid him. After a few quick heartbeats, Leliana stood from her chair. She watched the apostate with interest, “Do you believe she caused the Breach?” The woman asking him tentatively, Solas could truthfully shake his head no, “I highly doubt she, or any mage, would have the power to do so.”

- - -

With the inspection of the prisoner complete, Leliana escorted Solas from the dungeon only stopping once to inform their healers to work on an elfroot tonic to continue to keep the prisoner stable while Solas was absent. He was in a precarious position. Did he wait to see if the woman pulled through? Did he cut his loses and run, finding another method to enact his mission? Did he run to the farthest corner of Thedas to find another way to deal with the Breach? All of his plans up to this point, including the Veil, had failed or gone incredibly wrong. The world as it was attested to that. The other part of him, the academic, the seeker of knowledge, wanted to see if the woman survived. If she did, she had experienced something that no one else in that world had and the knowledge she would have of the Fade called to him.

He hoped getting closer to one of the rifts, studying it up close may give him more answers than questions and give him better footing on what his next steps were. Somehow he had convinced Leliana that studying the rift up close was important, important enough for her to bring it up to the Seeker. Solas requested a few soldiers and himself to find a nearby rift to study up close. If it weren’t for Leliana’s persistence, Solas feared there would be no way in swaying Cassandra.

Varric Tethras, a child of stone, was another one of Cassandra’s prisoners. Though he was not chained up in the Chantry dungeons like the elven woman. From what Solas gathered on their brief meetings with one another, Varric had information that the Seeker wanted him to speak about at the Conclave. With the Conclave destroyed, his involvement was no longer necessary. He stayed anyway. Solas and the dwarf only met a handful of times since he arrived at Haven and they developed some familiarity with one another - mostly at the insistence of Varric himself. Solas did not mind him at all. The dwarf was significantly more pleasant than any of the humans he interacted with up to that point but there was something about how the man looked at everyone - like he could absorb their secrets and Solas had plenty of those he wanted to hide.

The elf and the dwarf stood outside of Leliana’s tent, mirroring each other as they folded their arms across their chests. Inside the tent they could hear Cassandra and Leliana speaking heatedly, whispers about what to do next. “They fighting over you, Chuckles?” Varric breaking the silence with his attempt at humor, glancing up towards Solas before his attention returned to the tent. Solas’ lips quirked at the edge, “Not in the way you are hoping, Master Tethras.” Varric blanched, looking at Solas in surprise. A wide smile dancing across his lips. “Chuckles. Did I just hear you right? You have a sense of humor?” The child of stone could be abrasive, just as stone itself can be, Solas mused but his humor was disarming and he earned the half-smile on Solas’ lips as they spoke, waiting for the final decision.

From the sounds wafting from the tent, Solas was concerned that Leliana was losing. After a few more minutes of angry whispers the two women exited the tent. Cassandra scoffed before stalking back towards the Chantry, presumably to watch the prisoner. The Spymaster made her way towards Solas and Varric, her face betraying that she had won the discussion. “You will be escorted to a rift that has appeared between here and one of our forward camps. You will have a few of my scouts and a Templar with you.” Solas raised an eyebrow slightly. A Templar? He assumed the soldier would be there to protect others from him and not to protect him. He was in no real position to argue and he had gotten the majority of what he wanted from the exchange. Besides, if he were honest with himself he was faster than a Templar even in his somewhat weakened state so if he did need to flee for any reason he would be gone before anyone noticed. “And a dwarf!” Varric announced besides him, patting the crossbow that sat at his shoulder with his hand. Leliana did not seem to care or hear as she did not argue with the addition to the party. Eventually the Spymaster turned to follow Cassandra back to the Chantry and Solas and Varric were left to prepare for their departure.

- - -

It took little time for Solas and Varric to ready themselves and they found their entourage just outside of Haven’s gates. Just as Leliana had promised, there were a small number of scouts and a single Templar. Solas could feel the weight of the Templar’s gaze on him from behind his helm anytime he moved, so the elf opted to keep his movements minimal when possible. Did not want the soldier to get nervous for no reason and end up with a sword in his back.

Once they set off the trek to the small rift was uneventful. The whirling Breach in the sky was oppressive and the majority of the group did not speak during their journey at all. Even the scouts gave Solas a wide berth, though that did not surprise him at all. Varric on the other hand seemed pleased enough at being outside of Haven to try and strike up conversation with the scouts, once again disarming those around him with his charm and wit. Solas was impressed by the dwarfs’ ability to ease the tension and was silently thankful for it. Even the Templar’s body language relaxed.

As they approached the rift, demons and other horrors began to crawl through the opening into their world. First seeing sharp claws tearing at the edges of the rift. The group dispatched the small group of demons with ease. Approaching the rift slowly, he could feel the undeniable pull of the Fade. The feeling was like being home. He had enough time to raise his hand, pushing and pulling at the magic that swirled around the rift in the Veil until pools of green appeared on the ground around them, sparking demons and horrors to crawl through to their side once again. At least today would not be boring.

[ghostpebble]

i love when everyone in a community collectively agrees that something that hadnt really affected a character in canon too much is actually a source to write ptsd in fanon

[ladytauria]

for ur ask game! would love to see a scene from “to have, to hold, to own” 👀👀

heheh

i decided to do tim's pov! it... got longer than i anticipated dfghjk also i only gave it a cursory proofread so i may have missed typos and stuff haha

also this got so long i'm linking the ask game at the top rather than the bottom like usual lmao

hope you enjoy anon!

[ fic author ask game ]

01. Write a scene from [insert fic] in another character’s POV

[main fic link]

“Dick, have you seen—” Tim stops abruptly, taking in the scene before him.

It takes entirely too long, as if his brain doesn't want to accept what his eyes show him to be true. He blinks once, twice, three times before the scene clarifies in his mind.

Jason is there, naked as the day he was born. Blue rope twines over his skin, holding him in a kneeling position while also emphasizing the shape of his chest, the dip of his hips, the swell of his ass, the thickness of his thighs. Contained and on display all at once. It's a position Tim has had him in before, though those ropes had been red.

His face hadn't been nearly as lax then, either—not even when he was deep in subspace.

Drugs? But—

"Hello, baby bird."

His gaze is drawn back to Dick. Something is—off about him. He looks the same as he always has, of course, but there's a subtle menace in the air. It's more Nightwing than Dick, but... no, that's not right either. Nightwing's menace is different.

And never directed at Tim.

There's something else, too; something niggling at the edge of his memory. He'd seen something, he thinks, when he first opened the door. But what was it—?

Jason stirs. "Timmy?"

His voice is slow, confused. It tugs at something in Tim. Something protective. Jason hardly needs his protection usually—but this isn't usually.

Something is wrong.

(But this is Dick's place, and Dick is safe. He's— Dick is safe.)

He swallows once. Twice. "Dick. What's... what's going on?" His own voice sounds almost distant. That's not good, he thinks. He needs to be here.

Dick smiles. It's the most beautiful thing Tim has ever seen. "Jason and I are just having a chat," he says. "You should join us."

"A chat." That sounds—nice. Tim enjoys talking to Dick. He enjoys talking with Jason, too. He finds himself drawing closer.

He's rewarded with Dick's presence at his side, an arm draping over his shoulders. Dick is— He's not quite as warm as usual, but his presence is solid. Comforting. "Yes," he says airily. "A chat. A tête-à-tête, if you will.”

Dick's hand drops from his shoulders. Tim doesn't have time to be disappointed, not when it finds his way to his ass instead, squeezing with intent.

Tim's breath hitches.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. About Gotham, about Bruce, and, well… us. And I’ve come to a conclusion.”

Tim swallows. There's something— Something almost hypnotic about Dick's voice. His gaze darts to Jason again. Jason can't quite look back at him; his gaze is cloudy, glassy. Not quite there.

Not good, whispers the voice in his brain. You need to get out. Now.

Dick's lips brush his ear. Tim can't help his shiver. "We belong together, baby bird." Dick whispers it like it's a secret, only just loud enough for Jason to hear, too. "Us Robins. Being apart only makes us miserable. Gives Bruce more opportunities to twist things, manipulate us to his liking."

Tim opens his mouth—not to argue, necessarily, but to defend Bruce. A knee-jerk reaction. He's been working on it.

Dick beats him to it.

"Oh, all for the greater good of course. But we deserve more say, don't you think?"

Yes, of course, they do, but—

“Well, yes, but— why…” He looks at Jason again, and then back to Dick.

Dick just shrugs at him. "He's pretty."

...

What?

Tim blinks at him, vaguely aware of the way Jason's breath hitches.

"Don't you agree, baby bird? I wanted to look at him… to see what you see when you spend time with him. I know it was presumptuous, but— Well. Surely you understand the temptation.”

Tim does. Jason's gorgeous, especially like this; wrapped tight in rope and trusting Tim to take care of him, to fulfill his deepest desires without ever stepping too far.

Drugs are too far.

"I... Dick—"

"Shh." Dick cuts him off. "I asked you a question. Don't you think Jason is pretty?"

"Of course I do."

Jason's breath hitches again—followed by a whimper. Tim loves that sound. These days, it's his and his alone to hear... or it should be. But Dick is here, impossibly beautiful with a voice like a siren, clouding Tim's head, making it so hard to fucking think—

He shakes his head, hard enough it almost hurts. "Dick... I'm serious. What's going on?" His voice is more solid, sure; less like it's coming through water. He searches Dick's face. He doesn't know what he expects to find, only that Dick has to know something.

Dick cups his face. His hands are cool. People are never cool when they touch Tim. "What's going on is... I love you." Tim's heartbeat ratchets up at the confession. "Both of you. All of you, all of my Robins. And I want to keep you safe, and close, and mine."

There's something almost like a growl on that last word—Tim can't help the way he shivers.

The predatory light in Dick's eyes gleams brighter. "You want that too, don't you?"

Dick's whisper is one of the most tempting propositions Tim has ever been offered. "I— Dick." He swallows. His eyes flutter.

His head is getting cloudy again.

"I know," Dick says, voice dripping with sympathy. "Come on, Timmy. It's alright. Come sit with us."

Tim looks at him, searching his face again. He's always thought Dick was beautiful, but he's never been this beautiful, has he? Perfect, seemingly unblemished, looking like he just stepped off the cover of a magazine? Tim shakes his head again, harder, his hand coming up to clutch his temple.

It hurts to fight off the fog.

But he has to.

He has to.

"Shh, baby bird," Dick whispers, drawing him even closer, pressing his mouth against Tim's skin. "Let it happen. I’ve got you. Both of your big brothers are here.”

Tim shudders. There's a part of him, one not nearly as small as he'd like it to be, that wants to give in. But—

He rips himself out of Dick's arms.

He can't.

He can't.

He presses the heels of his palms to his eyes as he stumbles backward, hoping that the pressure will help ground him. "Stop it," he snaps. "Stop— Stop it. Whatever you're doing to me—to him."

“I’m not doing anything, Timmy." Its a lie. He's lying. Tim doesn't know why but Dick is lying. This can't be Dick. It has to be—mind control, maybe. Or something pretending to be him. It does his mannerisms well, but not as well as it could. Dick is never so still. “Jason is here because he wants to be here. Isn’t that right, Jason?”

Jason's him is distinctly agreeing. "He kissed me," he reports. His voice is—dreamy. "My neck. It felt really nice, Sir."

God.

Normally the title would make Tim feel hot under the collar, but now— It's ice down his spine. A welcome chill, though. It makes things a little clearer.

“Don’t you want to join us?”

"Stop it," Tim snaps again, mouth twisting. "Let— Let us go. Dick... This isn't you."

“Oh, Timmy. This is me. I’m just finally doing what I’ve always wanted.” Dick draws closer—Tim draws back. "Please don't fight me, baby bird. I don't want to hurt you."

Dick keeps advancing.

Tim slows his retreat. As soon as he gets in arm's length, Tim lashes out with a fist.

Dick dodges, leaving Tim to stumble. He curses at himself; he's too off-balance for this.

He half-expects Dick to trip him, but instead, he manages to right himself. At the same time, he hears the door click shut behind him.

Fuck.

There's still the windows. Tim doesn't have his gear on him; he'd brought it in a backpack, but— It's fine, that's fine. Dick's apartment is near the roof. He can climb up, get to the stairs. Dick could follow him, but that would mean leaving Jason unguarded, and— Jason might be drugged right now, but, once he's separated from... whatever influence Dick has over him, he'll be able to think more clearly.

And if Dick doesn't follow him—if he stays with Jason—

Then Tim will be back. With back-up.

Or, well. Probably not back here. Dick's too smart for that; he'd leave. But Tim would track him down. He won't stop until he knows for sure Jason is safe and Dick is— Whatever needs to happen to Dick.

“I… I don’t know what happened to you, Dick, but— I swear I’m going to fix it," he promises.

Dick doesn't look discouraged by that in the slightest.

"What's... What's going on?" Jason again. He sounds clearer now. Tim can't risk looking at him, but Dick does. He takes that moment to creep backwards a little more, toward the window.

As much as Tim wants to alert him to the fact they're in danger— Jason is so loopy, his distress wouldn't be productive. He needs to stay calm until his moment to escape comes.

"Don't worry, Jay." His voice softens. "Everything is going to be okay. I've got this."

The last part is more to himself.

Dick beams at him—Tim glares back.

They circle each other slowly. It becomes clear Dick isn't going to make the first move. Fine.

Tim lunges at him.

It's not the first time he's fought against Dick. They spar all the time—or they used to—and well. The nature of vigilantism means they're exposed to all kinds of substances; sometimes they end up on opposite sides through no fault of their own. Tim knows how Dick fights. But there's something different about the way he moves, now. He's faster, stronger. Tim's hits land, but they don't seem to do the damage he expects.

Tim realizes, even before his back hits the ground, how this fight is going to go.

That doesn't stop him from trying valiantly, to get away from Dick's grip. "Let—let me go." His voice cracks around the last word.

He can feel Jason's eyes on them. He's only inches away from them right now. If Tim's hands weren't trapped, he could reach out and touch him.

This time, Tim can't stop himself from looking at him. Jason's eyes are still cloudy, but less so than before. He's fighting. Of course he is. Jason fights like most people breathe. He doesn't give up. Even if Tim fails now, they'll— They'll be okay.

He hopes.

Dick shifts on him. His cock presses against Tim's stomach. It's hard, hot, even through the fabric of his pants. Tim stills.

Dick grips Tim's wrists in one hand. The other cups his cheek. The show of strength is— Tim swallows. A new picture is painting itself in his head, and he doesn't like what it shows. Because if it's right...

This is Dick.

And he's beyond Tim's ability to save.

He'd called the killer Jason and he were tracking a vampire as a joke. He should have known better. All the crazy shit they've seen, it was only a matter of time before they crossed paths with a real one.

But...

Did it have to be Dick?

"No more fighting, Tim," he says gently. It's not a request. "Let me take care of you."

Tim's nostrils flare. Oh. Fuck him. He snaps his teeth, nearly catching Dick's thumb.

Dick frowns. “That wasn’t very nice. Where are your manners, Timmy? You’re usually such a polite boy.”

Tim snarls, thrashing against Dick's grip. Even one-handed, it holds strong. "Fuck you."

“What am I going to do with you, baby bird?” Dick asks, humming thoughtfully. “It’s not very polite to barge in, especially not when I’m trying to spend time with little wing. I neglected him, you know. You got all the attention, baby bird. I don’t see why you have to be such a brat about sharing.”

About—

"I— I'm not..." Tim shakes his head. He can feel the anger coursing through his veins, heating his body. "That's not why I'm upset and you know it," he snaps.

Dick raises his eyebrow. “Isn’t it? You never have liked to share me, baby bird. Remember how you acted when Damian came? You threw such a fit!”

It would have been kinder if Dick had slapped him. How dare he.

Tim reels back like Dick had slapped him. “I— You’re twisting things!”

“Am I?” Dick counters, his voice low. “Just admit it, baby bird. You don’t know how to handle sharing my attention. It’s partially my fault, I know… I indulged you for too long. You were just too cute!” He boops Tim’s nose, causing Tim to blink rapidly. “Don’t worry, Timmy. Your big brothers are here. I’m sure Jason will be glad to help teach you a few lessons about sharing.”

The words are spoken so lowly, so sweetly that Tim— For a second, he almost buys into them. Almost lets himself be lulled into belief that that's all this is; some petty scrap between himself and Dick over Jason.

That second passes quickly.

His struggles renew—harder this time. Dick's grip loosens, and Tim doesn't waste time, forgoing grace for speed as he scrambles to his feet and makes toward the window.

"I'm sorry, Jay," Tim says over his shoulder, voice cracking again. "I'll come back for—"

A sudden strike to the back of his neck cuts him off. His body crumbles under him—arms catch him before he hits the ground. Dick lifts him easily.

"Tim?" There's a panicked note to Jason's voice now, and if Tim could move—

If Tim could move he'd already be gone.

“It’s okay, Jay,” Dick soothes immediately. Tim glares at him. “Timmy was mistaken. He doesn’t have anywhere else to be today, so all three of us are going to spend some time together. That sounds nice, doesn’t it, little wing?”

Jason hums. It's agreement, but there's doubt laced in it.

Please, please, Tim thinks. Figure out what's going on. I know you can, Jay. Between the two of us we can get out of this.

Dick sets Tim down by the bed. He pulls out a box. There's nothing good in there, Tim's sure. Sure enough... Dick pulls out more of that blue rope, the same kind that's binding Jason. He doesn't bother undressing Tim the normal way. He just rips right through Tim's clothes—Tim's leg twitches slightly. He can't kick him, but oh, he would sure like to.

Dick makes quick work of binding him in the same position as Jason—with one exception. He secures Tim's hands behind his head rather than his back.

And then Dick gets out a muzzle.

Tim's eyes go wide—but he can't fight it, can't do anything at all as Dick secures the bit inside the muzzle between his teeth and then locks the contraption behind his head.

He pats the side of Tim's face when he finishes—condescending.

The anger burns. It fills his chest, making it tight, heavy; there's no way to express it, not when the nerve strike is still keeping him limp, pliable.

When he gets out of this...

When he gets out of this, he's going to make Dick regret this.

[becca4leafclover]

im missing my hermitpad days I miss writing Tree of Life and Icarus and Vexations!! Tree of Life is the one everyone cared about but Icarus was my BABY. Tattoo AU was also fun but too long of a commitment and I was afraid to make any hermit an antagonist cause this was back in the days of S6 where you couldnt make anyone except DocM an antagonist or you got slaughtered in the comments but Tattoo AU NEEDED several antagonists to work.

[mydeepestfreakingsecret]

Hello, beautiful people! Fellow BSD fan here, and I need your help. I'm thinking about writing my first BSD fanfic about Transmigrator!Chuuya, but I’m not sure if anyone would even be interested in reading it. (Please keep in mind that English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any typos or mistakes!)

I’m planning to write an SKK fic, but of course, ADA and PM members will also make an appearance (very often). The story will be Chuuya-centric because, honestly, I’m so done with the mischaracterization of my favorite character.

The plot: Chuuya gets thrown into a world inside a book (or does he?) that he found one day, and his mission is to save everyone.

What can I promise you?

Chuuya and Dazai shenanigans as they slowly learn to trust each other (and more, of course). At first in PM, and later... who knows?

Longing, pining, tension (so much tension!) and "Who did this to you?".

Hurt/comfort.

Slow burn romance.

Less trauma for BSD characters because they deserve it.

Yosano and Chuuya friendship moments.

Oda alive (!!).

Chuuya protective of younger kids.

Tought decisions.

Ranpo being Ranpo (with a side of mischief).

Other side ships (no spoilers!).

Yosano and Kyouka being the queens they are.

Kunikida slowly going gray from stress.

Canon Divergence.

And many, many more!

Let me know if you’d be interested in reading it if I posted it on AO3. I’m also open to constructive criticism!

I’ve written something like an introduction. Let me know what you think!

P.S. I'm not sure about the title, so it may change later!

[smokeys-house]

Travel Log Series Masterpost

Supplemental works (not required but provide a lot of context):

The Cane King's Daughter

TCKD: A Story for Another Time

I'd also recommend reading at least a few from the prior series, but that's mostly flavor rather than context

Series in chronological order:

A Note on the Door

Travel Log 1 + South, For What Ails

Travel Log 2

Travel log 3

Travel Log 4

Robbery at the Hemulen Homestead!

Travel Log 5

Travel Log 6

Travel Log 7

Three Fish, Two Birds, Whetstone

Travel Log 8

Travel Log 9

Travel Log 10

Travel Log 11 + All the Sea's a Stage

Travel Log 12 + Reciprocal Lacuna

Travel Log, Final Page