#xelly writes

[xellychan040]

Slayers Fic: you escape with a smile

Fandom: Slayers Characters: Main Slayers Crew, no pairs unless you squint Word Count: 2001 Warnings: Gen. Lots of Food (breaks). Little 'Actual Driving' for a road trip, silliness and slice of life vibes

Summary: Three stops, no destination. You and you and you and you and me.

Notes: Written during the 2022 Slayers Secret Santa with @slayersweek for @dazzelmethat for the prompt "or a modern human au of them all going on a road trip. This prompt would focus more on them all as friends". I haven't written much at all this year, so I'm sorry it's a little rusty! But I really had fun trying to imagine the group questing and traveling together with modern conveniences! As per usual, I'm also posting this in the middle of the night, right after my birthday haha, so marry belated Christmas and Happy bday to me! Hope I got everyone's voices more or less right! ***

.hotel.

"Are you all packed up?" Zel knocks on the door frame, an eyebrow arching under his fringe as he peers at the disarray in the room. 

Lina blows her hair out of her face, huffing as she wrangles and fights with her suitcase. A snarl twists her mouth, a triumphant war cry escaping her as she shoves in a shampoo bottle and manages to zip her bulging suitcase. "It's all the same crap, so why is it so much harder to put back the second time around?" Lina huffs, passing her arm over her forehead, wiping away the sweat not caught by the headband. "God, I wouldn't need to pack the value-sized conditioner if Gourry remembered his."

Zel rolls his eyes, pushing into the room, patting the top of her head in passing. "You say that like you don't have as much hair as he does." Grabbing the suitcase handle, Zelgadis ushers her out of the room, hand on her wiry shoulder. "C'mon, check out is soon-- I know you want to dive into the breakfast bar before we go. I'll toss this in the van while you save me some coffee."

Immediately perking up, Lina cheers and hops in place with a fist pump. Bad mood entirely evaporated, Lina bounces up to hug Zelgadis briefly, dropping the handle of her suitcase in his hand. Letting go, she skips down the hallway, waving as she sing-songs, "Don't take too long, Zel! Or else, I can promise you'll have any toast to go with that coffee!"

Zelgadis snorts as he watches Lina's mane trail behind her before she disappears down the other hallway. "Hnn, at least she won't be irritated until lunchtime today."

Making his way down the elevator and into the parking lot, Zel patted his pants for the keys to the van Gourry had fixed up over the summer. However, there was no need, the Van's back was already open and occupied. Zel made a face as he drew near enough to see who it was. 

His exasperation didn't go unnoticed by the occupant as Xelloss covered the speaker of his cell phone and smiled one of the smiles that best dug under Zel's skin. Any other time with any other person, he was made out of stone against many annoyances, big or small, but something about Xelloss that never failed to get a rise out of Zel. And Xelloss knew that. Pitching his voice low so the person on the other end of the phone call wouldn't hear, Xelloss trailed his eyes up and down Zel, then winked, "Ah, doing our Majesty's bidding again, I see." Before Zel could retort, the conversation must have begun again as Xelloss straightened up and uncovered the phone, "I'm right here, I'm listening," Xelloss says, sliding down off the van and moving to lean up against the tire well instead. "It's fine, there's some connection through most of the roads, so I can still keep an eye on things. No, that won't be a problem, Miss."

Glaring at Xelloss through the corner of his eye, Zelgadis kept quiet out of respect as he organized the back and played luggage Tetris to get all the bags fitting without taking up too much space.

"Uh-huh, yes. I already sent in my research. And I made sure to tell Mr. Phibrizzo to kindly, as you put it, 'eat it'. I sent the gift basket you specified, as well, Miss Zelas." Xelloss laughs, the sound of it instinctively making Zelgadis' hackles rise and his shoulders bunch up around his ears in preparation for a snide remark, but a moment later Zelgadis relaxes, letting his shoulders drop. For once that laugh wasn't at his expense. 

Xelloss' conversation seemed to wrap up just as Zelgadis finishes up with his self-appointed chore. The cell beeps softly as Xelloss hangs up, a faint, lopsided smile tugging at his mouth.  

Knowing he shouldn't, Zel still opens his mouth, eyebrow arching as he comments, "Sooo," Zelgadis begins, voice desert dry. "What were you saying about Majesties?" Dusting off his hands, he motions for Xellos to lock the van before leading the way back inside.  

"What can I say, I admire strong, driven women." Xelloss laughs easily, tossing Zel the spare key to give back to Gourry. "The difference between my mother being my actual boss and Lina is that Lina thinks she's everyone's boss." Xelloss' eyes crease at the corners as he hides away a smile. "Not that you seem to mind. Neither do I, for the record."

Zelgadis rolls his eyes, but nods in agreement, albeit reluctantly. "Well. We've got a long trip; maybe you'll get your chance to be bossed around next if you enjoy it so much."

Laughter was Xelloss' only response as they walked into the hotel's dining room.

.rest stop.

"Woooooow!" Amelia exclaims, sticking her head out of the window as Gourry guides the van slowly through a curved road to the rest stop. "I can see the ocean from here." She closes her eyes, tilting her face up towards the sun's rays. Taking a big gulp of sea salt air, Amelia launches herself out of the van the moment Gourry parks. "Ohh, goshhh, feel that breeze..."

Stretching like a cat on the grass, Amelia made small noises of contentment as she shook the numbness out of her legs from sitting still for so long. Going onto her tippy toes, her tank top rolling up to show a patch of smooth belly, Amelia loosened a knot hiding between her shoulders. 

Back in the van, Lina was groaning too, but not with relief. "Ughhhh, I'm not stepping one foot out there if there's nothing to eat." Flopping against her rolled-up window, Lina let out a theatrical sob. "Everyone hurry and pee so we can get some good seafood soon."

Fanning her like a devoted servant with a tourist brochure from the hotel, Xelloss pats her back and makes a sympathetic sound. Despite the obvious amusement towards Lina's dramatics painting his face, he almost sounds sympathetic. "Aww Miss Lina, it's only another forty-five minutes to the beach. Oh! But by then, I wonder if vendors will still be open..." Xelloss contemplates aloud, his finger tapping his bottom lip, a little too gleeful at the moan of misery leaving Lina.

"Oh you guys," Gourry laughs, slipping out of the driver's seat to stretch his own legs. Sliding open the side door to let in fresh air so the van doesn't heat up, Gourry tugs Lina outside with a little smile, patting her face to get her to perk up. "Xelloss is looking at the dashboard clock! It's a few hours ahead, so the restaurants should still be open."

Not fully convinced, Lina drags in a weepy sigh, leaning limply on Gourry like a man with no strength to continue on. "R-really? Will I still get fresh from the ocean seafood?"

Skipping over, putting her gymnastics skills to use, Amelia vaults herself onto the van's hood. Peering down with a wide smile as she kicks her sandaled feet, Amelia gives a thumbs up to Lina. "Most definitely! And even if we did get there late, Mr. Zelgadis and I double-checked when all the seafood places close, so we're good Miss Lina!"

"Sweet, hear that Lina?" Gourry high-fives Amelia, his other arm looped around a slowly reviving Lina. 

Cutting a look Xelloss' way, Zelgadis rolls his eyes when the older man seemingly pouts when he can no longer tease Lina with imminent starvation. "Oh...joy," Xelloss says, voice heavy with a sigh as he slides out of the van, already rummaging for his phone. Another call to mummy, probably. For all that Zelas hardly seems to have a motherly bone in her body. More likely a business call, for all that it was essentially the same thing for Xelloss. 

Hip-checking Xelloss out of the way, Zelgadis digs out a plastic bag of road snacks he hid under his seat. Rummaging around inside, Zelgadis pulled out everyone's preferred snack, tossing a few to the guys, then handing Lina and Amelia their own. "Stop acting like you're wasting away. C'mon, if we stop, we'll just take longer to get there, so eat this."

"Zel's right," Lina says, scrunching up her nose as she tears one package open with her teeth. Gobbling her granola with crumbs falling free, Lina claps her hands harshly, shoving Gourry with her shoulder. Tapping Amelia's thigh as she passes, Lina shouts back at her group, "Chop chop people, I wasn't kidding about everyone hurrying with the peeing! Let's goooooo!"

Laughing, Gourry lets his huge frame be bullied by a tiny slip of a redhead, sharing an amused, commiserating look with everyone. "That's Lina for you, nothing gets her going like food."

.distination.

The sun was going down now, warm reds and oranges reflecting off the waters as the gloom of the evening chased the sunset. Gourry wipes sea water from his brow, feeling the sand on his forearm grit against his forehead. Trudging up the shoreline where Zelgadis and Xelloss kept watch over the towels and bags. "Getting chilly now, think now is a good time for that fire?"  

Zelgadis shrugs, meticulously using a bit of broken-off driftwood as a sculpting tool for his sand sculpture. It was his fourth one of the night. "I could use the light."

Husking a small chuckle, Xelloss nods back towards the water where Amelia hefted Lina up her shoulder and tossed her into an oncoming wave. "Miss Lina might appreciate drying off soon," He says, just as Lina's scream of rage gave way to burbling and the sound of water crashing into itself. 

A burst of water exploded as she rose again, spitting out a stream of saltwater, strand kelp in her hair as she roared at a cry-laughing Amelia, chasing her up the shore.

"Noooooooooooooooooo, mercy, mercy!" Amelia laughs, tears streaming down her face as Lina thunders after her, launching at the younger girl.

They both go down in a dust storm of sand, miraculously missing Zelgadis' sculptures and instead landing in a tangle of limbs beside a failed moat. 

"Never!" Lina cackles, wrangling Amelia down like a hog, a vindictive, fiery light gleaming in her eyes as she brandishes her hands in the shape of claws, readying herself for the tickle of a lifetime. "Prepare to suffer, little princess!" Sand kicked and flew as Amelia let out peels and peels of laughter, failing to escape as she fought to gulp air into her straining lungs. 

Gourry, knowing better than to get between Lina and prey, wisely crept around flailing legs as he gingerly stole the log bundle from beside the girls. "Lina," Gourry cheerfully admonishes, "stop picking on people weaker than you."

"Yeah, Lina, she's about to turn bluer than her blood," Zel snorts, pushing himself to stand, dusting off his legs as he gets the cooler full of corn and s'more supplies. 

Tickling Amelia one last time, Lina nodded decisively to herself before finally releasing her victim. Finally registering the chill breeze and lack of warm sun, Lina shivers and rubs her prickling shoulders, scampering towards Xelloss. Nudging his leg with her foot, she plops down beside him with an expectant look. "You've got a Hawaiian overshirt, give it to me." Her nose scrunches as she glares at him into surrendering his clothes."

Seeing no harm in it, since her tussle with Amelia left her mostly dry, except for her hair, Xelloss draped his overshirt around her shoulders, smiling bemusedly at how large it seemed on her. 

Before long, the fire lights and crackles merrily, eating away at the gloom of the evening. The cool air was replaced by the smell of roasting corn and the smell of melty butter. Lina sighs, happy and tired, leaning her head against Amelia's shoulder as the other girl passes around drinks. "Thanks, guys. This is just where I wanted to be."     

Clacking their soda cans together, the group cheered and murmured. "Same here, Lina."

[whexever]

I had ambitions to set out and find, like an odyssey or going home somewhere... Set out to find this home that I'd left a while back and couldn't remember exactly where it was, but I was on my way there. And encountering what I encountered on the way was how I envisioned it all. I didn't really have any ambition at all. I was born very far from where I'm supposed to be, and so, I'm on my way home.

- Bob Dylan

[xellychan040]

Sesshomaru has lived a very long life.

Sometimes in the soft, hazy grey hours before dawn, he becomes lost between *then* and *now*, the present melting away like dreams and he is left with only the past behind his eyes.

He has had a very long past, longer than most of his kind.

But whether it's the new millennium or the 1500’s, Kagome will always be there.

For a long time, it was *him* who was the one running, washed away by the sands of time, burying himself beneath the hour glass of eternity. And yet she waited, a small eternity, until he opened his eyes one day and stopped running only long enough to turn around and run back to her.

So when he's lost within those blurry mornings, he waits for the feel of Kagome's smooth hands curving along his jaw, her smiling face swimming into view, softly laughing and smelling of ocean scents and what ever she had for breakfast. "Hello," She'll say, "welcome to the future. I've eaten without you," she finishes, smiling mischievously, kissing his mouth and tasting like pancake syrup and longevity.

And Sesshomaru will brace his large hands around her waist, tucking his nose in her neck, pulling her back to bed and whisper rough voiced into her skin, "Thank you for waiting."

Chinese New Year of the Dog: SessKag Event

CREATIVITY EVENT! Are you a writer? Artist? AMV Maker? Cosplayer?

Well, you should join in on this week long SessKag event!

Celebrating the fact that this year is the Year of the Dog!

Starting Sat Feb 10, each day until Sat Feb 17 will have a theme (also read as prompt). Where you will reblog that day’s theme post with your submissions!

So come join us, and the fun.

Brought to you by the SessKagRevivialProject!

[fktonofwhatnow]

ok hold on. acomaf is my fave book out of the whole series (it's mostly out of emotional value, i read it when i was younger and didn't have a real understanding out trauma and abuse only that i saw a character i loved getting out of a bad situation and getting happy) so obviously i didn't mind feysand being endgame and the development all of the characters had. i can accept tamlin turned out like that is realistic due to his trauma, i can accept feyre had to flee because it wasn't right for her, but the thing is after acofs i see no point to feyre leaving tamlin when rhysand ends up doing everything they told us tamlin was evil and unredeemable for. hiding the risks of her pregnancy, putting on shields on her, having feyre need to compromise over it. i honestly felt so betrayed by that. i'm not saying feyre and tamlin were good for each other, but it doesn't feel worth it to dismiss the potential they had for what we got with feysand.

also, sarah learn to treat "ugly" trauma with respect challenge. no they don't need to learn to physically fight to fight it. no they don't need a love interest to overcome it. yes the behaviors acquired from trauma and abuse aren't pretty but that doesn't mean a person is undeserving of kindness and compassion.

i think i had a point somewhere but i can't get to it. so hope you don't mind my rambling. anyway i loved your meta about tamlin i think he deserves better too

HOLY SHIT THIS ONE IS SO GOOD OK IM SO EXCITED

Bro you are so fine, I'm the one who doesn't make any sense and I totally get what you're trying to say. (Acomaf was actually my favorite book in the series too ngl)

BUT FUCK YEAH LETS TALK ABOUT RHYSAND.

I don't think it's a secret that Rhysand is one of my least favorite characters in media, probably ever? (How do I even put this into words) He is a bad character and to me, laughably so. You know how if you've ever written a character, there's that little phase that's like "what if people don't like this character' and then you're sad for a little bit? That's how Rhysand feels to me. He feels like SJM looked at this character and thought "I can't stand the thought of people not liking this character because I love him so much" and then did everything in her power to make sure we know how great he is.

Idk if this is just me screaming into the void, but I get to this place with my characters where like, especially if they are a little more morally gray or their decisions have negative impacts, I understand that I don't need the audience to like my main character. they can stand on their own, they can own up to what they do and they can grow from it. Thats what a good character does. That's how you keep your audience rooting for them. You gotta knock them over sometimes.

SJm doesn't knock Rhysand over. She doesn't push him to make mistakes, apologize, own up and move on. Rhysand has never made a decision that ended poorly for him. Everything goes the way he wants it to, because SJm wants us to know how cool and great he is. People who are cool and great don't make bad decisions! SJm doesn't let Rhysand fail, and she doesn't let him suffer his own decisions. Everyone else suffers his decisions, not him.

Rhysand's reputation as a good person hinges entirely on the audience liking him and/or thinking he's hot. And then what happens when the audience thinks neither of those things? Ya get a rly long post like this by a lil enby who is mad all the time. Rhysand loses all credibility when you look at him through a critical lens. Not a single thing the man does makes any goddamn sense. Here I thought acosf would give us a different perspective on Feysand and I was desperately hoping that Nesta would tell us what she really sees in them and how people around them really feel, I hoped that SjM would throw us for a loop and tell us that hey, she does know that Feysand are fucking toxic as hell and ruin the lives of people around them and she wants to show us that from an outside perspective but noooOoOOOoOoOOOO...

Instead we get Nesta hating herself because Rhysand told her that she shouldn't tell Feyre that Feyre could uh die in childbirth. Hey what the fuck.

Now I don't actually ship feylin, I kinda always sorta knew, even without spoilers, that it wasn't going to work out. Tamlin isn't sjm's idea of a good partner because he's not charming and witty and dark and handsome ya know? We met Rhysand and I knew that I was going to fucking hate this romance. Which sucks because I found Rhysand so intriguing in the first book. Ngl all the time spent in the spring court was kinda boring and every time Rhysand showed up to throw dead faeries at Tamlin I was like "oooooo" and I wanted to know more about why Tamlin, this awkward, blunt and kinda shy dude had beef with this super duper sly and shady man from another court.

I don't know if I've ever said this before, but SJm doesn't let her love interests grow. Rhysand doesn't change over the course of the story because he was already a good guy and his motives were for Feyre's sake I swear, the same goes for Rowan in TOG. SJm doesn't give Rhysand room to change. She needs to get to the part where they fuck make sure everyone knows that Rhysand is a good guy and actually he was good all along so that we like him more than Tamlin. It backtracks on everything bad Rhysand has ever done because you know... He had a good reason! It's fine!

I know it's probably just because SJm doesn't actually know how to write a good character growth arc but... Like can you imagine if Rhysand stayed the bad guy? Or at least remained the bad guy through acotar and acomaf? And then when Rhysand comes to take Feyre for his bargain it really was only to spite Tamlin? What about Rhysand, taking Feyre to the night court with him once a week every month for a long time, if only to see Tamlin's eyes grow darker and emptier every time he goes, and then he really starts to fall in love with Feyre. He's been a monster all this time, angry and cold and cruel and then he actually starts to fall in love. And then to get Feyre to stay he really does try to change, he stops antagonizing Feyre, he stops throwing dead faeries at Tamlin, and he stops harassing the Spring court. He starts spending genuine quality time with Feyre, he starts to learn about her and all the things she likes and he stops trying to get her to come with him just so Tamlin will be mad. He starts asking her to come with him because he wants to be around her and he prays that someday she'll want to be around him too. What if SJm let him grow.

But nahhhhhh instead we have a character who always knows the right answer to things, and he always knows how to fix every issue, and he is always so innovative and outside the box except that he isn't. We get a character who does the same shit as Tamlin but it's ok because he had a good reason not to tell Feyre that she could very well die in childbirth. Uhhhh don't know what that is but uhhh I know he has his reasons because all he has are his reasons.

It would be so easy to hold a mirror up to Rhysand and say "look at this. Look who you are. Do you not look just like Tamlin right now?"

But nooooooooOoOOOo Rhysand doesn't get to be wrong. Rhysand doesn't get to look like Tamlin because Tamlin is evil and Rhysand is definitely NOT I SWEAR.

But yeah I think the point I'm trying to make is that Sarah thinks so highly of Rhysand that he could never do wrong. He could never be like Tamlin, despite the narrative literally telling us the exact opposite.

Like you said, we lost the potential of what feylin could have been if SJm didn't suddenly decide that her audience needs to love Rhysand as much as she does. I think feylin could have been slow and sweet and a story of true healing and learning about one another. I think it would have been kind and steady and lots of "are you ok"s and "I'm sorry"s and "talk to me"s. Everything about Feysand feels rushed and hard and fast and the rest of the world doesn't have time to catch up. It's fucking exhausting to read it ya know what I'm saying.

(also can we talk about Rhysand like dying and Feyre finding the suriel and learning he's her mate and then instead of being like "k let's put a pin in that and fuckin save his life first" she like throws him around and everyone is like "wtf woman" and she's like I neeD tO Be alOnE these people have no idea how to prioritize)

Truly, I think it's innocent to a degree. There is absolutely no harm in wanting people to like your character. The harm comes when you destroy another character with no reason or explanation other than you want people to like a different character. Villain arc? Completely out of left field. You gotta build to that shit or like... Make it so that when you look back you slap your forehead and yell at a wall "OF FUCKING COURSE I SHOULD HAVE SEEN IT"

anyways, SJm treat "ugly" trauma with respect challenge SECONDED.

WELL IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME WEEKS YO WRITE IM HAVING A HARD TIME I know it probably doesn't make any sense I can't find my braincells BUT thanks for the ask @xelly

Tell me all your acotar things I love yo hear them !!

[liminalweirdo]

hey, i was wondering if u had any gingersnaps fics that u enjoyed. i haven’t been able to find any that were well written (imo) besides yours, have u found any that u liked urself? i trust ur taste so i thought i might ask. thank u <3

I dooooo!

GS fanfic is like... notoriously difficult to find and I don’t know why?! I hope you find something you like in this reclist (Thanks so much for asking, btw, I LOVE RECCING FIC! Fic authors rarely get the credit they deserve imo).

So... I do find that the vibe of most(?) GS fic differs from mine which is probably a major reason why I felt the need to write what I did, but still, here are some of the ones I enjoyed.

° and in lupine ways, we’ll alleviate the pain by Xelly-chan ~ 2k ~ this is a ff.net fic (don’t judge me, i��ve been doing this for 10,000 years) and I haven’t been able to find it anywhere else. Still, this is the first one that came to mind because I just adore their writing style so much!? Told from Sam’s POV, in a shitty little inn in a shitty little town. Please heed the warnings.

° Out of Love by colorofakiss ~ 5k ~ There are several OCs in it, but I feel like they do serve to add to the story. It’s a unique piece within the fandom, significantly less dark than most. I do rec it highly because it’s so well-written and thought out, but it leans, for me, a little too far into a YA feeling, which is a genre I generally don’t care for. (I could get INTO how I feel about YA, but I won’t here. People, let me know if anyone cares. It’s NOT because it’s a genre for teenagers/girls, and is actually largely related to how it’s marketed, what gets published, character(!!!!!!) etc. I’ve worked in bookstores for nearly fifteen years before the pandemic. I have THOUGHTS.) Don’t let my YA bias tarnish this fic for you, it is good, and I’ve had it saved on my computer for years and still revisit it sometimes.

° Empty Nest by Northlight ~ drabble ~ Told from Pamela’s POV, but don’t let that turn you off this fic. Beautifully written, a tiny little sliver of a fic that delves deeply into her character and her... loneliness, I guess.

° Ginger Snapped series by Kount_Xero ~ 25k ~ A series in which my favourite part is 25s and the Royal Blues. The author is talented and is still one of the most unique writers, stylistically, that I’ve come across in any fandom. I still think about these stories, and I first read them almost ten years ago? I’m not always on-board with the characterization, but I feel like it’s always brought round to a place that’s true, if that makes sense. Like always, please heed the warnings.

° After Ginger Snaps by Kount_Xero ~ 12k ~ A little bit softer and less sad than Ginger Snapped series iirc. A fix-it (kind of) with a lovely ending. If the other one didn’t vibe for you bc of the heavier tone, this one might.

° Knotted by anenko ~ drabble ~ Sam POV again (we get so little of him in the film, and I feel like the film cut a lot of his important scenes...) some really nice lines, hints of the unhealthy G/B relationship, but not exactly overt?

Now, I definitely recall writing some Ginger/Brigitte subtext because I feel like that’s a major facet of the unhealthy nature of their relationship. I realize it’s not for everyone, but if you do want to venture into that realm where the pairing is explicit, here are some more recs:

° Fairytale Endings by anenko ~ 1k ~ Interesting, fun take on the ending of the second film -- Ghost-heavy.

Honestly, anenko’s done a lot of good stuff for this pairing, and I feel like they write the sex/desire aspect really well. Redefining Normal is also good, as is Some Girls Don’t.

° In Escape by Anonymous ~ drabble ~ Short little fic that displays the girl’s dysfunctional relationship with some pretty gorgeous lines.

° you run in my veins by clytemnestras ~ drabble ~ Lovely and sharp. Brigitte is becoming the wolf. you’re a wolf, girl, get out of this town.

Let me know if any of the links are wrong or broken and I’ll fix them. also, if YOU find a GS story you really like or one you wrote, and you think of it, please don’t hesitate to send it my way, I’d love to read it!

[lunapaper]

Album Review: ‘Meet Me At The Waterfall’ EP - Xelli Island

Although this past year has brought with it great isolation due to the pandemic, Xelli Island has always felt somewhat detached from everyone else.

‘Sometimes feel quite alien because I feel isolated in the way that I process things, but I know that I’m not,’ she recently told Variance, ‘so I write songs in hopes that others can relate to the music.’

Teaming up with longtime collaborator and producer John Zott, the Detroit-born singer-songwriter (aka Lianna Vanicelli) ruminates on loss and love, ‘[n]ot just romantic love, but learning to appreciate what’s in front of you. How powerful love is, how it lingers, how it hurts’ on her debut EP, Meet Me At The Waterfall, made up of wistful birdsongs and downtempo chill pop.

On ‘Bad For You,’ her youthful lust is a celestial swoon filled with rippling synths and cloudy 808s, the kind you could imagine Grimes or Jessy Lanza crafting if they decided to make the shift into lo-fi coastal pop. Her infatuation, however, suffers a cruel fate on ‘When You Go, You’re Gone,’ with Vanicelli pleading ‘Lover, what do I do/How can I move on/Once I've had you?’ as gritty, hollow beats add to her confusion and woe.

‘02 20 20’ captures life in a pre-COVID world with woozy mellotron and arcade bleeps, tapping into Vanicelli’s breathless excitement as she counts down the minutes before reuniting with her lover.

‘I Know I’m Only Dreaming (Nag-iisa),’ meanwhile, is a sombre ode to Vanicelli’s Filipino roots. Sung mostly in Tagalog, the singer mourns for those who have long passed, an otherworldly hymn utilising piano, electric strings and rainforest sounds that proves eerily poignant in the midst of a pandemic.

The aptly titled ‘Solitary Creature’ will also resonate in these tough times as Vanicelli, surrounded by heartfelt mementos, reminisces about a road trip romance. Yet, she also finds comfort in solitude, the song both an introvert’s guide to heartbreak and a hesitant step towards independence; the rose-coloured fog slowly clearing as she vows: ‘Oh, If I ever/Love again/If I give my heart/To another/And it feels pretend/I'd rather remain/A solitary creature.’

Meet Me At The Waterfall is a subdued body of work, but one that’s high on emotion.

Like a bohemian dance party for one, its sparse, punchy synthwork, ghostly atmospherics and hooky yet confessional lyrics feel reminiscent of Lykke Li’s dark, seductive turn on 2018’s so sad so sexy, but with a much earthier vibe. Even Vanicelli’s wispy vocals have a rather Scandipop feel.

A beautiful haven for sound, Meet Me At The Waterfall reveals Xelli Island at her most human...

- Bianca B.

[shemakesmusic-uk]

Xelli Island shares new single ‘02 20 20′

LA pop singer-songwriter Xelli Island has released her new single ‘02 20 20′. The song pairs her ethereal vocals with an upbeat melody, resonating with fans of Little Dragon, Grimes and Men I Trust. The track will be featured on her debut EP, coming later this year. 

She writes, "the track was written during a really unique peak of momentum in my life, earlier this year. It’s about experiencing serendipity. I was adjusting to a new routine and thinking about the millions of little things that have to work properly in order for anything to happen, (like every tiny part on my car functioning to find a parking spot to get on the train on time, the train running on time to get to work at the restaurant on time for a busy serving shift that is a monster in itself, so that I can make enough money to support myself, so that I can continue to live here and create music, and so on..). This mindset becomes even stronger when applied to my close friends and collaborators on this project, and how we all came together at the perfect time. We continuously lift each other up and it is truly the most beautiful and productive support system.”

Xelli Island · 02 20 20

Photo credit: Olivia Purugganan

[xellychan040]

you reach out to be consumed

Fandom: Slayers Characters: Lina Inverse/Xelloss Word Count: 2004 Warnings: uhhhh, xelloss. Also vague smut in the form of slutty nihilism.     Summary: ”All human are you.” Notes: Written during the 2018 Slayers Secret Santa for @shathereal / @mazoku-and-sorceress  . I’m so so so so very sorry this is as late and short as it is. I loved your prompt, but I’m awful and life is so time-consuming. Besides all that, I had fun writing this! Thank you, I hope you like it! Title lifted from Interpol - Flight of Fancy

And we will walk the path of destruction together.

Unnatural stillness fills the long, dreaming moment after Shabrinigdo's second death. The lord of nightmare's power hung like an oppressive pall over everything, snuffing out the remnants of Ruby Eye's boiling hatred, leaving nothing behind. All that remained was a void, suffocating even to a monster. Xelloss' wounded, shredded existence creaks under the weight of emptiness, each moment he lay prone threatened to wear him away. Slowly, stutteringly, Xelloss begins to pull his shattered astral body together, achingly reforming his physical form. When the stumps of his arms regenerate, Xelloss crawls painfully towards Lina, where she's slumped in the rubble, the threads of his unfinished body dragging behind him. Her hair hangs limp, a funeral shawl of silver spider webs instead of vibrant waves of auburn. There's a fragileness to her frame that wasn't there before. Her slight body appearing infinitely breakable as if the wind will take her away in a carousel of ash and dimming embers. He scrapes himself closer, the oppressiveness of the Lord of Nightmare's presence somehow stronger and weaker the closer he gets to Lina. As if a fragment of that power remained inside her but was dormant now, falling into a deep slumber in slow increments, and yet always present. The pressure of that power rasps uncomfortably against his astral being, but it's a curious, lukewarm feeling; not quite enough to be truly painful, but as the power recedes, he feels instead as a keen loss. Like a thread of his existence is being pulled and unraveled, whittling him down a little at a time. Perhaps it was The Mother of All's way of reminding her children that from nothing they came and to nothing they could return. Xelloss rasps a laugh despite himself, the taste of ichor sweet on his tongue. The air shudders, a slow collective breath as the humans awake from the stupor of terror after bearing witness to powers far beyond their comprehension. From below, the pain, fear, confusion, and dread from the Talforashia citizens and Lina's comrades begin to filter to his astral body, healing him. The flavor of their emotions is bittersweet with the relief of survival. To him, it tastes like an overripe fruit beginning to turn, sweet and a little bit like iron and rot. Slowly at first, like grains of sand in an hourglass, his body begins to knit together, and then as the shock wears off the gathered humans, their emotions pour into him all at once like a dam breaking. The taste floods his mouth, but he doesn't pause to consider it, merely clenches his newly formed left fist and heaves himself that last, infinitesimal distance. Xelloss allows himself a brief study of Lina herself. Shadowed eyes, mottled bruises, and small gashes peek through tattered clothes, discoloring fair skin. She hasn't moved once during Xelloss' slow crawl towards her. A muddle of sensation clouds through his being, an unfamiliar hesitation creeps upon him as he reaches for her. His fingers hover over her cheek, not quite touching her, but close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her skin. Xelloss mouth thins, his eyes open dark and pensive as he stares at her pale face, searching for traces of gold beneath her skin. After a long moment, he closes that last, infinitesimal distance, cupping her cheek against his palm. His fingers fan across her cool skin, thumb tracing the swell of her bottom lip, wiping away a thin stream of blood there. He leans forward and presses his mouth to hers, tasting dust and sweet, warm, mortality. "All human are you," he whispers against her lips, voice low and longing. Lina shifts and groans, eyelids fluttering.  Lingering, still searching for fragments of gold and creation, Xelloss catches a glimpse of something bright, something unbendable. "Xell-?" Lina breathes. He tastes his name on her lips. "Wha-?" Xelloss smiles against her mouth and vanishes. *** I dreamt a long dream. "Are you still watching that one, my pet?" Beastmaster asks, lounging luxuriously among her wolves, the bright end of her cigarette ashing into a golden tray. The shade of gold is too light, pale and clean, yet Xelloss thinks of a golden sea raging inside a small, red and earthy vessel, black lightning cleaving an empty sky asunder. Xelloss smiles an easy smile. "It's what you ordered me to do." Beastmaster laughs in an exhale of smoke. It smells like burning, smoldering villages. "Oh my. When did my cute little creation become such a willful child?" She crushes her cigarette in her golden tray, then summons the crystal Xelloss had been idling beside. Xelloss says nothing, placid as his master turns the heavy crystal between her manicured claws, glimpses of fiery curls flashing along its surface. "Such a small thing," Zelas says at last, bemused. Still considering the crystal, she lights another cigarette. Her claws clink along the surface, tracing the sweet curve of Lina's face. Xelloss folds his hands over his lap politely. He does not bother himself with feigning disinterest. "Ms. Lina is very small indeed, but her potential is..." Xelloss taps a finger across his bottom lip. Remembers the taste of iron and sunlight at dusk. He smiles. "Well, there are reasons you have me watch her." "Don't put this on me," Zelas says. "You're going above and beyond your original mission parameters. So far, you've kept yourself almost undistracted." There's a mild rebuke in her tone, but her expression remains bemused. The threat is barely implied, but it's there nonetheless Xelloss bows, not denying it. "Well, carry on." Beastmaster allows, at length. Idly drawing on her cigarette, she waves the crystal back towards Xelloss. He catches it, smile serene, eyes open. Fire red curls flash between his fingers. *** You who present me dreams of ruin. Perhaps Beastmaster is becoming sentimental. More likely, Beastmaster feels secure with her power. She's gained much after the defeat of so many Dark Lords, after all. He's a favored creation, but nothing will stop her from erasing him and starting over with a new subordinate. Perhaps one without so many idle curiosities.   Though his work does not suffer, the threat of distraction stays hovering over his shoulder should he slip too far. It's especially present at times like this when he finds a lull between his missions, and there's nothing in particular for Xelloss to do.   So he searches across the astral plane for that singular soul. Despite everything, there's little reason not to. Lina's soul isn't much different from any other human soul. It shines more or less with the same flickering brilliance as most other souls. It's the color of the morning sun, a pale, blushing red as it rises from the horizon. It's lovely, if only because it belongs to her. A small, warm, human light, unremarkable in its mortality. Xelloss feels his astral body shudder, unraveling at the edges as he circles closer to Lina's soul. He reaches out, the blackness of his form coiling around her light like a serpent. Her soul pulses. A flicker of gold. Through the thin veil of the astral plane, Lina says, "I know you're there." Xelloss stills. A long moment passes before unwinds his astral body away from her soul, then slides into the physical plane besides Lina, smile in place. "Quick as always, Miss Lina," he says brightly, giving her a jaunty little wave. Lina snorts, flicking her hair over her shoulder arrogantly. "Of course I am." Her mouth is like the curve of a blade, sharp and gleaming when she smirks at him. "Quick enough to know you want something." "Do I?" Xelloss asks, smiling. He touches his finger to his cheek, tilting his head. Her hip cocks to the side, hands braced at her belt. Her eyes are very bright. Lina steps closer to him, close enough to touch, expression expectant. Just a little smug. "Well sure," she tells him. "Or else you wouldn't be keeping such close, personal tabs on me." Lina smiles. The setting sun on the horizon drapes her in a halo of burning, molten gold. Xelloss feels himself burn with it. "Am I right?" *** You who dreams of golden dreams (be destroyed with me) "It's rare when you're alone, Miss Lina," Xelloss says. The door closes behind him with a soft click. "Is that the reason behind your impulsiveness, this evening?" Lina scowls, nose wrinkling. She lifts her hair off the nape of her neck and lays it over her bare shoulder. Her cape and mantle lay draped over the small writing desk provided by the inn, her talismans in a neat pile on top. It was strange to see Lina without her tunic and breeches or her various gear. "I don't think I like the implication there." Xelloss lays aside his staff, smiling peaceably. "I wasn't implying anything sordid, Miss Lina." He pauses, then laughs as he sits on the bed. "Or rather, nothing more sordid than undressing in front of a monster." "Don't besmirch my maidenly virtue," Lina drawls, moving to stand before Xelloss, stance wide and challenging. As if she wasn't in her white undergarments but instead staring down a bandit, her next target, destruction in her hands. Something primal inside Xelloss' astral body tightens in anticipation under her gaze. His fingers twitch against his thigh in response to the sensation. "I'll kick your ass if you do." "No," he agrees, voice low. "I would never." He tilts his head up, exposing his throat. His eyes catch hers, the flickering candlelight on the bed stand makes her irises look like burnished gold. He's seen those eyes before, in a dream, in a nightmare. Xelloss feels his physical form waver, bubbling excitement races through his being, not unlike bloodlust, but fuller. Deeper. A strange, hollow hunger. Perhaps Lina isn't the impulsive one here. Xelloss' smile curls into itself; he is all too aware of what he's doing. Moving slow, his fingers fan across the swell of her hips, thumbs smoothing over the indent of her waist. The skin is soft and cool, her belly dipping as she sucks in a breath when he presses his lips beneath her navel. Nuzzling against her warming skin, lips fluttering along her hipbones, the line of her ribcage, Xelloss asks, "Why are you letting me touch you?" Lina's hands tangle in his hair, tugging firmly. "Why do you want to touch me?" She asks, her nails scraping along his scalp. Xelloss shudders, fingers tightening over her fragile flesh. "I want," he says, the words heavy and dangerous over his tongue. His astral form quakes; distantly he can smell the smoke from Beastmaster's cigarette. Lina pulls his hair, catching his drifting attention. The sharpness of it sends a shock across his astral body. He breathes, leaning up to nip at the edge of her brasserie. "You've touched the sea of chaos. I want to taste it." *** an empty dream. Strange. So strange. Like a void. Heat and breath and sensation. He remembers this feeling, surrounded on all sides by an immense pressure, the marrow of his being whittled away. Lina's fingers lace and tangle in his hair, pulling him towards her sweaty, salty neck. "You think too much," she gasps, arching into the slow roll of his hips. The candlelight catches in her hair, spilled carelessly across the ruined sheets. Xelloss clutches at her thighs, slotting himself impossibly closer, mouthing at her pulse. Wet heat, hazy gold, encroaching darkness, such a nostalgic feeling. He trails his mouth from Lina's neck to her jawline, pressing his smile against her ear. "I'm not thinking, Miss Lina. I'm worshipping."

"Idiot," Lina chokes, chasing his mouth with her's.

Yes, he must be, he thinks.

Xelloss kisses her, tracing his hand along her side until he cups her face. He tastes molten metal. He tastes fire.

He tastes his end.

He tastes her beginning.

He tastes golden creation.

Xelloss laughs into the join of their mouths.

[xellychan040]

i’ll place the moon within your heart

Fandom: DBZ/ Dragon Ball Characters: Bulma/Goku, mentions of Chi-Chi and everyone else Word Count: 1113 Warnings: Schmoop, wildly AU, breaking up canon and my own fav pairing to make this, the rarest pairs of rare pairs. Bulma’s barely restrained horniness underneath the flowery prose. Summary: "You're right," He says, smile going soft. "But then, you're always right."

Notes: So yeah. Wild au. In order for this to be complete fluff instead of fridge angst, assume Yamcha and Bulma were already broken up at this point. In regards to GoChi’s marriage promise, assume Chi-Chi never got to fight Goku in the tournament but revealed who she was to Krillin and Roshi. Bulma over heard and had a moment of “wait no, i like him a lot too”. Chi-Chi was probably bummed but was just like ahhh well. Title is from As The World Falls Down - David Bowie.

i.

"Hey monkey boy," Bulma says. Her chest feels tight and her face feels hot and Goku is such a beautiful boy.

Goku laughs, the sound of it like bells and the wind in the rolling countryside. His grin is wide, unashamed; his eyes as black as the sky at night and as bright as stars. He takes her hands in his, all calluses and warm skin, and Bulma likes the feel of it, his fingers against her wrist. "I'm happy you're here," He says, simple and easy. Everything about Goku is, and it twists Bulma up inside sometimes.

This is not one of those times.

Not when he's tugging her close and there's nothing else she wants but to go with him, pulled into his orbit to bask in his warmth and simplicity. She smiles, overly aware of his gaze on her red, red mouth. "Of course you are, you'd be lost without me now that you're not up in the clouds."

His eyes are the stars and his laugh is like windchimes and he feels like light and the sun, and Bulma is suddenly, horribly, perfectly, ferociously in love.

"You're right," He says, smile going soft. "But then, you're always right."

ii.

This is a crossroads.

This is an intersection of fate and prewritten destiny.

Bulma has seen too much, gone through too much, lost and won too much, to let even her scientist's heart disregard what she can't see and touch with numbers and stacking lines of math.

She looks at Chi-Chi's milk-white skin and her fierce eyes, then looks across two branching paths. One has a tulle wedding dress and a small sleepy cottage in the woods, Goku's sweet face sleeping in another woman's bed. The other has sea salt wind blowing through her hair, her heart in her throat and Goku's hand around hers, an endless blue sky unfolding beneath them.

Bulma's hands tighten where they're clasped over her heart. Her legs feel rooted to the spot, staring down at twin iterations of herself. A Bulma who lets Goku go and a Bulma who is too selfish to even think about it, Chi-Chi's face a lovely ghost in the peripheral of her vision.

"Goku," Chi-Chi says. The veil of the wedding dress lifts at the end of the first path.

Bulma vaults over the rubble and breaks into a run down that second path, her hand reaching out for warm skin and endless sun before Goku's eyes can meet Chi-Chi's. She barrels him over, arms around his neck, the gasps of all their friends are loud in her ears. Someone shouts, "Careful!"

But Bulma doesn't need to worry.

Goku catches her because it's impossible to think of him doing anything else. She's laughing, fat tears rolling down her cheeks, blurring his beautiful face until he's a wash of colors and dark, endless eyes.

"Bulma, why are you crying?" he says, and hearing her name from his mouth brings forward a fresh flood of tears. His sturdy, gentle, kind hands cup her face and wipe her tears, inelegant and smudging her makeup. She probably looks a mess, but her vanity is her least concern because now they match; a mess but alive. Even with the sensu, he still looks like he just finished fighting for his life, dried blood at the corner of his mouth and in his hairline, dirt, and ash smeared over his face.

She fits her hand in the back of his neck, going up on her tiptoes to bring their foreheads together, intimate and close. "I don't know," she says, something low in her stomach going hot. "Maybe it's because you've gone and done the impossible again."

She's being selfish, she knows, keeping Goku's attention all on her even though he's gone and saved the world again. All their friends, all the people here would love to congratulate him, thank him, bask in his presence. But she found him first, her selfishness and love eclipse's everyone else's and he's her's if he'll allow it.

Goku laughs, nuzzling their noses together like it's nothing. "Nah, it wasn't impossible. I guess it's just what happens when you and I are together, this is just like everything else we've done."

Heart knotting up in her throat, Bulma kisses him.

Just a simple thing, lips pressed against lips, but she tastes the iron tang of his blood at the corners of his mouth. His skin is soft, but there's an electric current where they touch, she can feel it all the way to her toes. He makes a surprised sound in his throat, yet his hands stay steady on her waist. His finger's curve over her hip bone, and she shudders, drawing in his body heat like a cat soaking in a sunspot.

And then it ends. A slow, warm parting.

Her lips tingle, as if she's been kissing him for hours instead of moments.

Goku blinks down at her, a slow dust of pink touches the tips of his ears.

iii.

There's stardust in her eyes, and her skin is singing as they fly over the glittering water towards the sinking moon.

She's draped across his back, arms locked around his shoulders, and face pressed into his neck, laughing as the wind steals all her breath. The air is full of salt, bitterly cold, yet Goku's back is like a furnace. His skin smells sweet, like trees and rain and pastries. There's nowhere else Bulma would rather be but here, the stars and the sea spreading out before them. The waves crash into far-flung shores and somewhere out there is an infinite number of lonely stars collapsing in on themselves, and here on the nimbus, they'll visit each one.

It's an unspoken promise given to her when Goku pulled her up unto the golden cloud, his arms wrapping around her waist and his smile pressed secretively into her hair. Their friends waving goodbye with wet eyes, the ruined tournament grounds sinking into the distance. Insignificant in the face of their next adventure.

Goku's hand reaches up towards Bulma's where they're clasped around the jewel of his throat and tangles their fingers together.

"Take me to the edge of the universe," Bulma says. There's no need to ask if he'd follow her there, the answer is held in the absence of space between their bodies. She presses her lips to the side of his neck, soft and lush. Her lipstick has long since worn off, so she lingers, leaving her desire there.

His smile is in his voice, and Bulma knows what his happiness tastes like. "Alright, I promise. Just lead the way, because I'd be lost without you."

[xellychan040]

I'm writer myself but do you have any advice for me cuz sometimes its hard to write English not being my first language and sometimes i cant even write nsfw 🌷😅

Waaaah, writing is hard enough, but writing in a second (or third) language is, like, unbelievably difficult. You have all my kudos and respect. In fact, I should probably be in your inbox, asking for pointers.I’m still learning how to write myself, so I don’t feel like I’m at a place to give concrete advice, but I can tell you some tidbits I try to follow myself. Present tense is one of the easiest tenses to keep constant. 

Whatever you’re writing, whether it’s a chapter or one-shot, keep it in one character’s perspective. you can switch perspectives in the next chapter or fic.Don’t get too bogged down describing things or actions, just get out the pertinent things. Your readers’ imaginations can probably fill in the blanks as you keep your flow steady. You can just as easily call a character pretty instead of spending 3+ paragraphs explaining their exact body measurements.As for nsfw, god. Me neither. Writing risque scenes is super hard and I never feel like I do a good job of it. Tbh, my only advice is to look at gifs and vids of smut, focus on the little things you find aesthetically pleasing, and try to describe it in your head. And then reframe those aesthetically pleasing things in the context of whatever characters you’re writing about. Example. I like the way the spine curves when a person is laying on their tummy with their hips up in the air; so I think a lot about bendy flexible characters like Wade Wilson or Kuai Liang or Son Goku twisting and stretching, showing off the flex of muscles in their shoulder blades, the dip of their spine on their lower backs. And then I just write what I think would also be pretty.I’m sorry, I’m probably not the best giver of advice, but i’m flattered you’d ask me anyway. Thank you~  

[xellychan040]

DBZ Fic Saiyan History: An Overview by Daokin, 3rd Class

Fandom: Dragon Ball (Z, GT, Super) Characters: Yamoshi (mentioned), The Vegeta Lineage (mentioned), Bardock (mentioned) Word Count: 5704 Warnings: Character death. Referenced violence and warfare, Massively AU, Canon vs Fanon, Akira Toriyama Has No Sense Of Scale (And I foolishly try to fix it)

Summary: May Rutaba and Yamoshi guide our race to glory among the stars.

Notes: I wrote this in around three days motivated solely by spite. Did you know Saiyans only ruled planet Vegeta for, like, half a decade? And the Vegeta line only stretches back TWO generations? I did. And now I'm filled with nerdish anger.

I always felt slighted that DBZ never really had a space traveling arc outside of the Frieza saga and maybe GT, and any time space was talked about in show the scale was ridiculous. You could reach the edge of the universe in a day, in one of the movies.

Anyway, this whole silly endeavor started because I wanted to write a Planet Vegeta never explodes/The Saiyans don't work for the PTO AU. And when I went to research the Tuffles and Yamoshi's legend I stumbled upon the official Daizenshuu timeline and had my very delicate suspension of disbelief shattered utterly. And thus...... This. It's all fanon and conjecture on my part, with a dash of abusing sub/dub inconsistencies (like yamoshi appearing either 1000yrs ago or 3000yrs ago), but for my purposes, it works. Take it all with a grain of salt.

Final note. I'm ignoring all the time patroller stuff for the most part. So Xenoverse and Heroes don't apply to this au. Read it here or on ao3 for better formatting

Salada Golden Period(circa. 3000 years ago)BCA 2240

Modern, pre-space faring period.

In terms of advancement, it’d probably be half a century or so more advanced than humanity’s current society on Seeded Planet 359, colloquially known as Earth. Incidentally, there are some similarities with Earth’s ancient pre-space faring cultures, namely Roman and Greek city-states in terms of infrastructure and politics.

At this point, there's no central government. Large clans absorb smaller clans in a complex fiefdom of constantly rearranging territories.

BCA 1840

Some 400 centuries after, Overlord Yasai conquered and unified most other clans and their territories after a prolonged period of infighting. It pacified the infighting for several decades, but Yasai’s brutal, totalitarian policies caused their own internal problems.

BCA 1790

An upstart Warlord named Rutaba challenged Yasai for change. It’s not clear if he won, but his actions contributed to a unified central government in which Saiyan citizens could participate.

Salada and Saiyans

Brief overview

Modern evolved Saiyans have been on Salada 400,000 years. Civilization, as it was known before their mass exodus of the planet, was around for an estimated 12,000 years.

Salada native, pre-Dark Age Saiyans had long life spans, with particularly powerful, healthy Saiyan’s living to at least 800. Loss of information and vital data archives makes it unknown if lifespan estimate can be lengthened.

It was during the last 3,000 years of Salada’s existence that many advancements and cultural shifts took place.

In the Saiyan home solar system, Salada was the perfect distance from its parent star to reflect a perfect amount of Blutz waves from the moon. Adding to the rarity of full moons, coming once or twice every century, Saiyans transformed into Great Apes retain all sense of self. Though naturally and culturally conditioned to seek improvement and challenge through battle, the balanced intake of Blutz waves made Salada Saiyans less aggressive overall than compared to their Planet Vegeta and post-Dark Age descendants.

Planet Salada itself was naturally abundant with resources and wildlife. Its large size supported a plethora of climates, regions, and a diverse terrain. Even during population and technology booms, along with massive Saiyan appetites, Salada remained able to support its occupants.

Birth of Yamoshi

BCA 1540

Not enough information remains in Data Archive to accurately confirm, but Yamoshi seems to have come from a distant branch of the Yasai Clan tree. Possibly related to Overlord Yasai.

A hypothesis from historians posits Yamoshi’s lineage also includes a link to the Rutaba Clan

Separating Fact from FictionAccounts of a Golden Warrior from the post-Golden AgeFrom the files of Daokin, 3rd Class Historian. Age 729

Little is known about Yamoshi, despite his long, varied life. In the chaos of Salada’s last few decades, not all historical accounts made it into the Saiyan Ark’s data bank. Time, distance, and outside influences have corrupted certain data files and entirely lost others.

What data has survived bolsters certain empirical evidence from witness accounts, though possibly somewhat embellished with folklore elements.

Considering his possible lineage, Yamoshi is hypothesized to be the son of lesser royalty. Though there are many accounts of his varied travels, it’s impossible to determine if he was an Ambassador of sorts or merely a renegade aristocrat looking for adventure.

What is known, however, is Yamoshi’s actions gained him five companions, each powerful Saiyans of note. Much of their backgrounds are lost to time, but what survives suggests they were all from varying clans and castes, but extremely respected in their endeavors.

There are many testaments to Yamoshi having an honorable disposition, yet a few accounts hint at a mischievous and determined personality.

During Salada’s most turbulent years, Yamoshi and the five other Saiyans are the ones responsible for managing to suppress the initial aggressive outbursts from Blutz wave infected Saiyans.

Space EraTechnological Boom (200 years later)BCA 1590

Evidence of an Advanced Race is found. Further investigation reveals Advanced Race as possible Seeders, releasing their DNA on viable worlds in hope distant descendants will evolve there.

Saiyan spacefaring begins to close-by neighboring planets in the solar system and star system. Scientists work to learn more about their Seeder Precursors.

Cosmic Disturbance Looms

Renewed civil unrest

BCA 1240

A neighboring sister sun in the closest solar system begins to give off an unprecedented amount of energy. Solar flares and emissions begin to have disastrous effects on Salada’s home solar system, shorting out technology and disturbing the delicate Blutz wave output.

Any plans to colonize planets in the current solar system and star cluster is put on hold.

The unpredictable surge of Blutz waves creates an uptick in aggressiveness. Pockets of infighting begin away from capitals. Fear for the future spreads.

A massive lash of solar energy during a rare lunar event sends the 1/4 of the population into a berserker state. Mass casualties. Panic and anger sew the seeds of a civil war.

Attempts to pacify populous is met with mixed results.

Exoplanet colonization plans are reopened when scientists discover a star map left behind by Advanced Seeder Race. Locations of viable, possibly genetically compatible, evolutionary similar life-supporting planets are found. As the civil unrest grows and star system situation worsens, a new plan for a large, race saving Ark is drawn up.

The scramble for resources to construct an unprecedentedly large starship capable of voyaging through unexplored dark space begins just as war breaks out.

Certain individuals of strength from various walks of life band together to stifle the fighting. As the Blutz wave influx gets stronger, their efforts become less effective.

The Saiyan Ark is finished just at the peak of fighting, which is beginning to have a disastrous impact on the planet. Scientists estimate the neighboring sun’s next massive energy outburst will have dire consequences for the entire cluster, Salada will not be spared, even if it survives the fighting.

The rush to fill the Ark with a varied populace begins. Resources and gear to survive the long voyage and subsequent landing on Seeded planets are loaded.

A direct Yasai clan successor is among those chosen to go into cryo.

Ascension in DeathYamoshi Becomes LegendBCA 1190

Yamoshi, leader of the pacifying group is nearly overtaken by Blutz wave affected Saiyans. To protect the Saiyan Ark while finishing preparations, he had led a full assault on the devolved, berserker state Saiyans infected by overexposure to Blutz waves. By now, most of the population not protected by Salada’s capital were afflicted by Blutz waves, the odds Yamoshi was up against were astronomical.

Many of Yamoshi’s pacifying group were killed in the conflict, but he and his five companions managed to lead their soldiers into pinning back the aggressive Saiyans far from the capital’s borders, holding the line far away from the Ark.

The standstill did not last long, a break is formed in the protective circle as several Saiyans reach an unnatural Great Ape transformation through the Blutz waves despite no full moon. With no other alternative, Yamoshi and his five companions return to the Ark and warn the remaining unaffected Saiyans to take off while they launch another assault with no hope for survival.

Determined and set on course for what is almost assuredly a suicide mission, Yamoshi and his companions band once more together to buy as much time as they are able.

Just before take off, Blutz wave infected berserker Saiyans nearly destroy all hope of take off for the Ark. It is saved only when Yamoshi unlocked an unprecedented level of power, ascending forms into a Golden Warrior that the Ark can safely leave Salada.

A 787 Year Long Voyage BeginsUncharted Dark Space, Salada Home System Destruction, and Near ExtinctionBCA 1180 - BCA 403

Though Saiyans had been beginning to explore their solar system and star system with a fair degree in success, they were nonetheless ill-prepared for a venture such as this. Even with revamped FTL engine designs based on Seeder Precursor technology found and the translated star maps, without any warp gates or reliable knowledge of what lied in wait in the darkness of the stars, there was slim hope they’d all survive the centuries-long drift.

Harsh galactic elements, dwindling resources, and other obstacles make space travel fraught with chances of utter failure. Even running on revolving skeleton crews while the rest of the population sleeps, there was little that could be done in the event of a disaster.

Even with lengthy lifespans and hearty physiologies, Saiyans skeleton crews were not mentally or emotionally equipped for prolonged, comparatively slow space travel. With much trepidation, they eventually set the Ark on autopilot, following the preprogrammed charted path towards the nearest seeded planet. The Ark’s population monitoring programs were also adjusted; in the event of critically low supplies, life support will cut off non-critical persons and redirect resources to both younger civilians and important crew.

This turned out to be a wise choice when several centuries in the Ark collided with space debris and lost valuable resources along with a batch of sleepers.

Anomalous Energy Detected Est. BCA 975

About 200 years into the voyage, the Ark’s sensors pick up a massive explosion of energy originating from Salada. The cause of the energy is unknown, but consensus says the unstable neighboring sun wasn't the culprit.

Point of No Return, Saiyan Home System is Destroyed Est. BCA 844

Unstable Sun gives off another dangerous flare, the energy readings far eclipsing previous outputs, triggering a chain reaction. Entire star system takes massive damage. In the unlikely event Salada managed to survive the infighting and previous energy emissions, there was little hope the planet would survive that final pulse.

Planet Fall on Planet Plant10 years after reaching Tuffle Home SystemBCA 393

Destination reached at last. The Saiyan Ark has finally made it to a Seeded world, there was hope for survival after centuries of strife.

However, the landing had its own complications. The Ark had sustained massive damage on it way into the system, losing several hundred sleeper pods, some housing leaders and Saiyans in positions of authority or holding critical knowledge. Though pre-take off designs had implemented each sleeper pod with its own nav system towards the Ark’s destination and its own limited resources, there was no guaranteed chance of survival. Of the pods lost, only 34% made it to Planet Plant intact. Of that number, only 28% of their passengers survived.

Upon atmospheric entry, the Saiyan Ark collided with the in-progress Tuffle orbiting Dyson band, inflicting damages and casualties to both races. The collision veered the Ark off course causing the massive starship to crashland in the arid red deserts of Plant, several Kilometers from a large Tuffle metropolis.

Saiyan Dark Age400 years of lost culture, costs of acclimatization.BCA 394 - BCA 3

The journey through Dark Space had taken its toll on the Saiyan Ark and its inhabitants.

Not only was a sizable percentage of the limited population lost, but electrical storms and the rough landing had damaged many of the starship’s computers, losing large chunks of valuable information. What resources were left that didn’t get used or lost en route was wouldn’t support the surviving population, even small as it now was.

Another unforeseen, problem was the effects of the latent Blutz wave overexposure. Combined with the prolonged cryo sleep and depleted nutrients meant generations of unprecedented Saiyan health problems that would linger at a genetic level.

Increased aggression, mental and hormonal imbalances, drastically shortened lifespans, and reduced fertility were among the most prevalent ramifications.

From a cultural perspective, many things were lost as well. A majority of lives lost en route to Plant had been older Saiyans through a combination of resource rerouting and other factors. 67% of the sleepers that awoke on Planet Plant were Saiyans in their early adolescence to early adulthood.

On top of the changes brought on by unbalanced hormones on a new planet, young Saiyans were left without enough elders in authority who could offer guidance through this turbulent period of settlement.  Few of the survivors were mature enough to help the younger or new generations cope with natural biological and emotional changes, let alone the unnatural changes brought on Blutz wave overexposure and prolonged cryo sleep.

An even greater detriment would be insufficient technically skilled Saiyans. While on Salada, many Saiyan’s had lived partly on the fat of the land, yet modern, technological convenience still played a major part in even the most simple aspects of society. The rough reentry had damaged part of the Ark hull where Saiyan’s most suited to help the population settle had been sleeping.

Though they had brought along DNA banks of viable food sources like livestock and produce, they had little means to produce them, even if they had landed in a more fertile area

While the surviving Ark crew attempted to salvage what they could, there was little to do for the star ship’s damaged computers and archive banks. Art, sciences, family trees and bloodlines, key documents, and various more would be lost for years to come.

Stripped of the advantage of several millennia's worths of knowledge, the Saiyan survivors would have to make do with word of mouth instruction, hard work, instinct, and the goodwill of their new world-mates.

Settling In and Continued Losses

Planet Plant was not kind to its new residents. For the Saiyans of Salada, who were used to an abundance of natural resources brought by plentiful jungles, the harsh, barren deserts of Plant could provide little.

Already weakened from the prolonged sleep, it didn’t take long for several Saiyans to go into critical condition due to starvation and malnutrition.

And still, others had begun having unexplained, violent outbursts. It was quickly discovered those with more moderate to severe cases of latent Blutz wave overexposure were susceptible to heightened ambient Blutz waves generated by Plant’s twin suns. Already pumping out an imbalance of aggressive hormones from the increased exposure back home, the surviving Saiyan’s biology had no time to slowly acclimatize to Plant’s sudden assault on their endocrine system. Over time, the increased Blutz waves would affect every Saiyan on Plant, continuing on to affect subsequent generations as well. It was an unideal outcome, but one they could do little about.

From insufficient food, shelter, and medical care, Saiyan numbers began to falter. Lifespan estimates soon followed.

However, Saiyans are resilient. They pushed on through by whatever means necessary, yet it would be generations before they could truly make Planet Plant a hospitable home.

First ContactForging RelationsBCA 394 - BCA 3

Tuffles were not unmoved by the plight of their new neighbors, yet they were still cautious. The average Saiyan stood a full head and shoulders above most Tuffles, possessed large predatory fangs, and were several times stronger, even weakened. Still, the Tuffles sent out aid in the form of food, water, and supplies.

Eventually, due to the Saiyan’s current inability to repair their Ark, the Tuffles negotiated a trade: Ark components in exchange for Tuffle technology (namely food processors, agriculture and livestock based genetic modification, and small-scale terraforming tech).

While the Tuffles had already mastered limited space flight, they’d yet to perfect FTL engines. The Ark along with recovered Seeder Precursor data would launch their technology decades ahead. So much so, that their ambitious Dyson band was completed in half the time of their previous best estimate. Within this time period, Tuffles would advance even beyond their own expectations, converting the singular energy harnessing Dyson band into two gigantic scale orbiting stations. If Planet Plant was viewed from their moon, it would appear to have two planetary rings.

In a show of good will, the Tuffles had used a combination of replication and cloning technology to salvage, and in some cases cross breed DNA of Salada life forms, slowly introducing it to Plant’s ecosystems. Several species of Salada livestock and plant life were once again made available to Saiyans, genetically improved to support Saiyan metabolism even while on emergency rationing. The Saiyan starvation epidemic was drawn to a slow halt now that they had a limited, but nutrition and calorie-packed food source.

It not only gave Saiyans a chance to be self-sufficient, but it allowed the two races to maintain a respectable distance from each other. There was much to do before either side would regain some semblance of normal.

Tuffle ExpansionReaching the StarsAge 217

While combing through the Ark’s recovered databanks, Tuffle scientists restored as information as they could. By orders of their King, they were to especially be on the lookout for references to The Seeder Precursors, seeing as they were possibly the Tuffles’ ancestors as well as the Saiyans’.

Seeing as their Technology Age was already far eclipsed many other sapient species around their current age, the Tuffles decided to combine the wealth of information they received with their advanced capabilities and literally reach for the stars. While certain aspects of the Saiyan technology were less advanced, the fact that only several generations ago Saiyans were once seasoned star voyagers and colonizers put the Tuffles behind several centuries.

It was a gap they were most eager to close, for various reasons.

With the completion of their two orbiting stations and the harnessing of near limitless renewable, clean energy, the Tuffles set their sights high. Close by, just beyond the solar system they had surveyed and marked several exoplanets with habitable atmospheres; each an excellent opportunity to expand.

Starships when under construction, routes were charted and teams underwent exceedingly difficult training all in preparation for the upcoming journey. It wasn’t long until the first fleets and Exploration teams left the safety of Plant in search of an expanded frontier. Every Tuffle left on Planet waited with bated breath as the Exploration team sent back data compiled from the journey as well as each individual landing.

While given longer to prepare under favorable circumstances, along with a much smaller distance between destinations, the Tuffles found colonizing new planets to be more of a challenge than previously expected.

Some planets had climates and terrains that, while technically livable, would be difficult to settle. When scientists back home got word of the slow progress settling, they got together with politicians, financial backers, and the Exploration teams to come up with a plan of action to speed things up.

The answer came in the form of the Saiyans.

Upliftment or ServitudeAge 224

Despite the unbelievable strife the Saiyans had gone through, they showed marked improvement. With Plant as their new home, both pre and post-Salada born Saiyans would never quite be the same as their ancestors, yet their eventual adaptation to their surroundings was nothing short of phenomenal. Due to the extreme climates of Plant’s vast desert areas and dangers associated, Tuffles never bothered to settle far beyond the natural borders of their plentiful oases, and yet Saiyans, once the starvation crisis was addressed, had managed to nearly adapt overnight. Blutz wave overexposure or no, all Saiyans were sturdy and survivalist, taming the harsh lands and building small if low-tech, villages that were meant to last.

That adaptability, along with their immense strength gave one Tuffle scientist an idea.

After the initial first contact and aid given in return for valuable data, Tuffles and Saiyans seemed to have come to a mutual, somewhat unspoken agreement of indifference towards one another. It was somewhat exacerbated by the races’ first shared full moon, many Tuffles made wary by the Saiyan’s large, imposing transformations. But it seemed it was time to once again open up methods of communication. Another deal was struck, the rerelease of reconstructed Archive Data from the Saiyan Ark in return for help on the expansion of the Tuffle Frontier.

With their powerful bodies and quick ability to adapt to various environments, the Saiyans would act as the heavy movers and shakers in paving the way to settle more unruly landscapes. As if controlled by muscle memory from another time, Saiyans seemed to slide right back into the motions of space travel and territory expansion despite most Saiyans having never even set foot on a starship before.

It was an exciting time for all parties involved. Once again, progress marched forward at a speed Tuffle scientists never dared dream of. As for the Saiyans, the chance to test themselves against new challenges and return to their place beyond the stars beckoned them forward with little hesitation.

Things were moving for the Saiyans who stayed in the desert as well. Even with the Saiyan Dark Age officially ending just over 200 years ago, the release of data files was the most effective balm on Saiyan culture. From technical blueprints and scientific dissertations to a surprising amount of literature and history texts, the Saiyans were awash with the rediscovery of their culture. In fact, the emergence of the Cultivar Historia— a data drive containing notable lineages and bloodlines or cultivars — would soon play a major role in the future of Planet Plant.

And yet, what goes up must come back down. Back on the expanding frontiers, the Tuffle exploration teams were being urged to speed up their already incredible progress. Much of their speed in settling frontier worlds depended on the skill and effort of their Saiyan counterparts once Tuffle teams finished time extensive terrain scanning to ensure the safest route of action. But at the behest of their superiors, the exploration team slowly began to lessen the amount of preliminary scanning on new worlds, sending out Saiyan teams without extensive knowledge of potential dangers or obstacles. In the end, Tuffle superiors got the numbers they wished for, exoplanets settled and viable at an exponential rate, but at the cost of dozens of Saiyan teams.

While Planet Plant, and in particular Tuffle cities, were being flooded with resources and myriad of cosmic treasures, the Saiyan death toll began to quietly rise.

A New LineageThe Rise of the First VegetaAge 276

Since their landing on Plant, Saiyans had adopted a more tribalistic way of life, with descending from a combination of modified military ranks and individual skill level. The higher in rank you were on the Saiyan Ark, the more likely you were to assume a leadership position after landing, with a similar outcome if you were equipped with skills that would help the population survive various obstacles during difficult periods. It was a lifestyle that more or less remained unchanged as the centuries rolled by on Plant, however, the appearance of the Cultivar Historia brought another, more obscure facet to leadership:

Bloodlines.

It was revealed that, barring a few cases, most of the Saiyans currently holding positions of authority were able to trace their family history to cultivars listed in the Historia. However, none would hold so impressive an ancestor to their name other than Vegeta the First, an off-world team leader on a particularly treacherous exoplanet. An exoplanet that had claimed the lives of at least half a dozen Saiyan teams in the process of settling it. When Vegeta returned home to Plant bearing the news of more losses, he was informed of his connection to Salada Royalty. Fitting, as his name was a modern translation of Overlord Yasai’s.

Burdened by the loss of many strong Saiyan lives and now in possession of this new information, Vegeta would formulate a plan for the future of his race.

Not even half a year later would Vegeta set his plan into motion, rallying both on-world and off-world Saiyans together under one goal: Saiyan Dominance.

Saiyan RevoltClaiming the PlanetAge 277 - Age 287

When news of a Saiyan in the frontier had been killed by a Tuffle after an unexpected complication during a routine mineral site survey, Vegeta used the resulting outrage to spark a mass protest against the Tuffles’ continued disregard for the Saiyans.

Leaving the deserts to march into the Tuffle metropolis where the Royal Tuffle family ruled, Vegeta, backed by the flames of Saiyan discontent from his large group, challenged the king to a formal audience to listen to their grievances. However, the Tuffles took this as an act of aggression and stopped their advancement with a large cadre of guards. Vegeta, out of patience and taking this as a refusal to hear his people out, decided there was no possible avenue for diplomacy and signaled his group for a preemptive strike.

That was the start of a war that would last ten years. Both sides would take heavy casualties, however, Tuffle cities and civilians would take the brunt of the carnage as the entire planet became a battleground. While the Saiyans had sheer power and increased durability to their advantage, the Tuffles compensated with their far greater numbers and technology.

Particularly detrimental to Saiyans were the Scouters, which the Tuffles used to avoid and prepare for sneak attacks or ambushes. Another crucial tool on the battle feild was Energy Siphons, technology that absorbed Saiyan battle energy in a limited radius and converted it to power barriers and heavy artillery.

Saiyans fought back with scorched earth tactics, targeting manufacturing facilities that weren't yet protected by the Tuffle military, either ceasing or slowing down production of arms and materials. They also employed pack hunting strategies to corral and guide Tuffle squads into pinned positions, after which they placed the Tuffles under continued fire, systematically destroying their Energy Siphons until they were stripped of all protection.

When word reached those who were stationed off-world of what was happening on Plant, there was an immediate divide between Saiyan teams and Tuffle Explorers, smaller scale battles ensued over the control of the outposts. There was a mixed bag of wins and losses on both sides, with the resulting winners taking command of the starships stationed on the exoplanets, loading it with resources and materials, before returning to Plant to aid their people.

The war waged on, both sides in a deadlock with contested territory constantly falling in and out of hands.

However, the stalemate wasn't long to last. Nearly 8 years into the conflict a major tide would turn as the moon reached its zenith, rising full in the sky and unleashing its full force of magnified Blutz waves, triggering transformations for Saiyans everywhere on the field. In a strange echo, Vegeta was once again en route to the Tuffle King’s encampment when the moon broke cloud cover. Breaking through the King’s protections, Vegeta slaughtered the guard station there, eradicated the royal line and took the crown. A decisive victory for the Saiyans and a death knell for the Tuffles.

Tuffle resistance became scattered and thinned out. With their king dead and a majority of their cities devastated, the Tuffle army began to lose all sense of cohesion as they were picked off. Finally, in another ironic echo, having lost all ground, the Tuffles scraped together as many survivors as they were able and made their escape off the planet in a fleet of starships. They ran to the far edge of the star cluster, to a small planet they had surveyed with long distance scan but were years away from any settlement plans.

Planet Plant now belonged to the Saiyans. Vegeta was hailed as the new King for his strength and roll in their victory and Plant was renamed in his honor.

It was now time to rebuild.

Neo Saiyan RenesainceA new culture is born from the ashesAge 337

From the day of the Saiyans’ victory, there came a 50-year long renesaince. As they rebuilt the planet and moved into abandoned Tuffle metropolises, the Saiyans also worked to blend rediscovered culture with their current culture.

First order was establishing the royal court with the newly crowned King Vegeta at its head. Those that proved themselves in battle were made generals and commanders of the newly made official Saiyan Army. Those with impressive Cultivars were also given impressive titles, such as advisors or councilors with wide jurisdiction. Still, more Saiyan individuals would make names for themselves as they repurposed Tuffle technology or updated designs on Salada blueprints.

Outside of the court, many common Saiyans began to explore a wealth of new opportunities.

Even with the long war, the material and resource surplus from off-world remained in decent condition, and Saiyans from all walks of life took advantage. The newly named Planet Vegeta was once again flooded with unceasing progress.

As the skylines rose higher, quality of life became comparable to Salada during its Space Age. Birthrates and life expectancies were also on the rise. It wasn't long into his rule that the next Vegeta was born, thus setting the stage for the new Saiyan royal line.

War on the Frontier The Start of 200 Years of Conflict Age 339

Of course, the animosity between the Saiyans and the Tuffles would not be so easily forgotten. Far off in the edges of the star cluster where the Tuffles had been forced to run, they came into contact with roving bands of unaffiliated space mercenaries. Trading what they could spare for new technology and expendable men, the Tuffles began a slow campaign to reclaim their lost exoplanets and the resources there. The aim was to build a stockpile of material in hopes of sieging Planet Vegeta to reclaim it in the future.

During the time spent rebuilding on Planet Vegeta, the Saiyans hadn’t paid much attention to their claimed exoplanets, only sparing a handful of soldiers to be stationed on each outpost to continue mining for resources. But as the Tuffles began to make their way back to their home system, the lightly guarded outpost turned out to be excellent listening posts. The stationed Saiyans sent back word of incoming hostiles, after which generals sent back reinforcement towards the various outposts.

This would be one of the first opening volleys of a series of prolonged skirmishes. The Tuffles and their occasional mercenary allies would keep the Saiyans on high guard but would fail to make any decisive wins against them. Any and all plans to launch an orbital bombardment, while occasionally working on an outpost, failed when it came to Planet Vegeta. Vegeta the Second, now a decorated general himself, had commissioned the retrofitting of the Tuffle Dyson Band into serving as the Saiyan Space Fleet’s barracks and deploy station, but also an anti-orbital defense turret.

Once again, Saiyans and Tuffles came to a deadlock in the form of a series of back and forth ground wars on various exoplanets. The Saiyans growing stronger with each battle as the Tuffles raced to make their technology more devastating, building prefab military bases with ginormous Energy Siphons that stifled battle power in large, kilometer-wide radiuses.

Though the less bloody than the first Saiyan-Tuffle war, it was no doubt costly.

ArmisticeBrokered PeaceAge 709

During the birth of Vegeta the Fifth, the intergalactic community could no longer allow things to continue as they were. Merchant and civilian class starships were being caught in the crossfire, dealing millions of credits in damages and loss of uninvolved lives. The fighting was beginning to seep outside of the star cluster, causing major disturbances in the progress in construction of a warp gate.

After an unfortunate incident in which a cruiser class starship carrying an important figure was blasted over the atmosphere of a Tuffle controlled exoplanet, the Galactic Patrol was called in to negotiate a ceasefire.

Though several generals and advisors called to show the full force of Saiyan might against the Galactic community at large, the King and his moderate members of court worried over an extented war theater while they were already locked into a   conflict. Finally, after months of tense negotiation, an Armistice was declared.

At least in an official capacity. Unofficially, the Tuffles and Saiyans still fought small, undeclared skirmishes, but only on exoplanets not belonging to either side or isolated dogfights between starships.

Current Era

Age 710 - ongoing

On Planet Vegeta, progress still marches forward but at a much slower, organic rate. School and military training are heavily linked, with young Saiyans receiving a general education until their 12th year, after which from the onset of puberty onwards far into adulthood, most continue on into the military.

Birth castes factor into a Saiyan’s individual projected career path within the military, with 3rd classes typically filling in as infantry or leading small infiltration squads. 2nd class Saiyans are usually promoted to officer rank fairly soon, with the 1st class and Elite typically groomed and trained to become generals and councilmen from birth.

Should a Saiyan decide not to follow a military career, there’s some light stigma against the individual not being “Saiyan enough”, but as time lowers the genetic aggression brought on by Blutz wave overexposure, the stigma has lessened into generally light-hearted teasing. There’s also a practical reasoning in that a society would function very long with no other infrastructure beyond a military arm. And thus various other careers and academic ventures are offered elsewhere.

As our Saiyan society stands now, we are at a precipice of joining the galactic community at large. Though some argue for continued isolation from the Intergalactic Government, other say it’s only a matter of time.

Author Notes and Dedications

Daokin, 3rd Class Historian. Age 716

Well, this textbook has been a long time in the making. Since before the birth of my son Bardock, even. He’s five now, and a handful, just as brutal as his mother ( haha ). Not a day goes by that I don’t need my mate to rescue me from his roughhousing.

Speaking of my mate, thank you Commander Parsni for putting up with me as I whined more than our toddler when my deadlines loomed. I know more than once you were tempted to ( and nearly did ) frag me out my misery. Yes, but even this un-Saiyan recluse has something to live for, and my passion has always been our lost history. I hope it serves our next generations well.

May Rutaba and Yamoshi guide our race to glory among the stars.

Resources

The Salada Canticles, Vol. 3

Conflict Chronicles: An overview of notable wars in the cosmos, Argus Nox

Tracking the Past: Ancient Civilizations, Dar Ech

Cultivar Historia, Potaro, 2nd Class

Beyond Our Reach, Straba, Tuffle Scientist

[xellychan040]

and your glaciers are melting apart

Fandom: Osomatsu-san Characters: Osomatsu Matsuno/Ichimatsu Matsuno, Karamatsu Matsuno (mentioned) Word Count: 3481 Warnings: incest. straight up filth. copious smoking. minor sado/maso

Summary: he smiles like he always smiles, awful and shit eating and unreasonably charming, sending Ichimatsu heart into a confused dither. Notes: i can write neither a straightforward narrative nor smut and yet here we are. Titled after and written almost entirely to Young Monks - Bad Bad Freddy

*** His first kiss tasted like his first cigarette, acrid and full of tears and Osomatsu’s faint smile.  

He remembers that, laying on the floor in the dark, Osomatsu’s shoulder warm pressed against his as the room cools as the last of the winter day drowns into evening. The entire room smells like cigarette smoke despite the open window where an overflowing ashtray sits precariously on the sill.  Another ashtray sits between them, next to Ichimatsu’s cheek and he can see the cherry red glow of his brother's cigarette in his peripheral when Osomatsu taps off the ash.  

“Hey,” Osomatsu says.  Ichimatsu can hear the smile in his voice, deep and thick and warm like he's replaced all the air in his lungs with smoke. It flows over Ichimatsu, the scent of Osomatsu’s favorite cheap tasting brand getting embedded his clothes and hair, the reverberation of Osomatsu’s voice through the tatami mats against his back warming the blood in Ichimatsu’s veins, latching onto the bones of him.

“What?” Ichimatsu says.  It comes out croaked and quiet, and he feels self-conscious over it for no reason at all. He's a pack behind Osomatsu who smokes like a chimney anyway, but his voice has no right to sound this vulnerable. He rubs the heel of his hand hard against his cheek, feels ash sprinkle onto his skin from his own cigarette, streaking into the cold sweat dotting his hairline.

Osomatsu pushes himself up, leaning over Ichimatsu, his cigarette clinging to his lip and casting his face in an orange glow that reflects in his eyes like two fiery pinpricks as he smiles like he always smiles, awful and shit eating and unreasonably charming, sending Ichimatsu heart into a confused dither. “Call me oniichan like you used to,” he says. He lowers himself closer, smile stretching wider, toothy and anticipatory. His entire body radiates an uncomfortable amount of warmth like a space heater, pressing in on Ichimatsu like a physical thing.

Ichimatsu feels his free hand twitch with the desire to twist in his big brother’s hoodie and pull him closer, leech out all that intoxicating warmth. Osomatsu has always run hot, and he remembers when they were kids he and Totty would fight to crowd around him during the winter months because he was the warmest and they often got the sickest.

(he remembers their second year of high school when the heating gave out in the shitty, older section of the building; Osomatsu’s flushed cheeks, his grin as he backed Ichimatsu against the wall in the frozen over second-floor bathroom no one else was stupid enough to go into. Mouth hot and wet on his, sloppily fucking his tongue inside until Ichimatsu thought he was going to melt, warm hands on the small of his back, fingertips dipping teasingly beneath his waistband, the hard line of his big brother’s cock rubbing eagerly against his hip.)

He wisps away that memory out with like so much smoke, balling his fist and shoving it uselessly into the pocket of his pullover.

“Fuck off, oniichan,” he says, baring his own teeth in a grim smile. The kind of smile that would make Karamatsu back off. But not Osomatsu (and Karamatsu isn’t here anyway, is he).

Not Osomatsu the eldest, who just looks amused and leans in closer until they are sharing breath and smoke, the shape of his smile pressed against the corner of Ichimatsu’s mouth. “That’s cute,” he hums. His voice is white noise to Ichimatsu as a warmhotburning hand is suddenly skirting along his stomach, dragging rough, short nails over his skin, raising long red welts and rucking up his hoodie beneath his arms. Ichimatsu hisses, arching into the dull pain. His cigarette is sent rolling over the tatami, dotting ash everywhere, but Ichimatsu doesn't have time to worry about it burning a hole in the floor because Osomatsu is suddenly there; taking advantage of the way pain lowers Ichimatsu defenses, Osomatsu makes a space for himself between his little brother’s thighs.

Teasing and entirely too smug, Osomatsu nuzzles his nose along the line of Ichimatsu’s jaw to his ear, lazily rubbing the bulge of his dick still in his sweats against Ichimatsu’s ass. “But big brother knows his little brother can be even cuter.” Osomatsu chides, his voice a dragging husk that sends an electric thrill down Ichimatsu’s spine, settling somewhere low and hot in his gut.

He feels his brother reach up and dash out his own half-finished cigarette in the ash tray. A rarity for Osomatsu will take drags off the filter if he can get away with it.

“Shut up,” Ichimatsu hisses through gritted teeth. He doesn't sound half as upset as he thinks he should. Instead, he sounds breathless, voice entirely too soft where it’s caught up in his chest, drowning in the moan he can’t quite bite back. His mood has been low since this morning, and was only just beginning to level out; he’s not sure wants to play whatever game Osomatsu wants to amuse himself with now. He prefers being fucked to being played. “What kind of big brother are you,” he says, not strong enough to resist rolling his hips back against Osomatsu, slow and dragging, “luring me here with cigarettes and beer.”

“The best, obviously,” Osomatsu answers, easy. The hand playing along Ichimatsu’s ribs drifts down to grip at his knee, hiking it around his waist, practically lifting Ichimatsu into his lap. His other hand cups Ichimatsu’s cheek, soft in a way that feels both mocking and familiar.

The same touch that had, at one point, defined the later half of his teenage years. “The worst,” Ichimatsu pants out, bottom lip snagging between his canines. His other leg comes up of its own volition winding around Osomatsu, the easy rocking of their hips rolls into a molasses slow grind, agonizing and tight.

Everything Ichimatsu wants, the friction is good-- so good, stopping just short of painful; the shape of Osomatsu’s cock is a burning line against the crease of his thigh.

“Yeah, that too,” Osomatsu agrees, unapologetic. There’s laughter in his voice, a secret he isn’t sharing with the rest of the class. Osomatsu’s warm, papery palm against his cheek draws Ichimatsu’s attention with shuddering start, his breath hitching at the feel of his brother's thumb tracing his mouth, pressing in on the divot of his bottom lip, opening him up. “You were looking so lonely, big brother just had to come over.”

Ichimatsu leans up into the touch, tongue flicking out with a teasing hint of silver, tasting skin and salt, tracing the whorls of Osomatsu’s thumb, lips parting obediently, but Ichimatsu likes being disobedient and Osomatsu likes the challenge, darting forward to catch Osomatsu’s mouth with his, teeth sharp and eager. “Shut up,” Ichimatsu says, hips rolling hungrily against his brother, hard enough to hurt.

The taste of iron floods his mouth where blood is beading up, his or Osomatsu’s it doesn't matter, as he licks it up, filthy and wet, tracing the seam of Osomatsu’s lips with his tongue, the steel ball of his piercing dragging smoothly as he goes. Osomatsu laughs again, catching the bar between his teeth, metal clicking as he tugs playfully and just a little spiteful. It’s uncomfortable, and Ichimatsu moans into it, his cock jumping in his boxers already wet with precum.

Osomatsu lets go, dipping down to place overlaying bites down Ichimatsu’s throat, then back up to Ichimatsu’s red, swollen mouth.

At some point the streetlights outside flickered on, their yellow light slipping lethargically through the windows, pooling beside their locked bodies inches from Ichimatsu’s fingertips, hands thrown above his head clawing his nails into the tatami. (It’s funny and it brings back memories rolling through the back of his mind, curls of smoke, warm and familiar as Osomatsu’s firm weight above his body. It started on a day a lot like this, the afternoon melting into dusk, and dusk dissolving into evening; sitting on the roof with tears streaking down his cheeks and face buried in his knees, Osomatsu’s back against his a warm counterpoint to the chill shivering through the damp air. The remnants of the school festival being packed up, the stupid play Karamatsu had been so excited for already swept away hours ago.

“It’s not all bad,” Osomatsu had said then, the first to speak in just as long. His voice has sounded worn and thick, having taken a deep drag off the cigarette he held loosely between his fingers. Ichimatsu could smell the tobacco and nicotine when he exhaled, the scent mingling pleasantly with the fading scents of festival food still flavoring the air. “C’mon, you had to know something like this would happen someday. Especially if you never even said--”

His big brother’s words weren't unkind. But Ichimatsu had just experienced inevitable, devastating heartbreak and he doesn't want to-- can't-- listen to anything over the pain if feeling like his ribcage is sprung open, showing the raw, seeping wound rejection has left behind.

“Niisan, please.” He had said, mopping pathetically at his face with his uniform jacket. “Please not now. Just--” his voice cracked, tears bubbling up, bottom lip trembling. Not now, not ever, he thought.

He felt Osomatsu shift against his back, turning to look him. As if he'd read Ichimatsu's mind, he said, incredulous, “Kid, Ichimatsu, I love you but don't be stupid, this isn't something that's just gonna go away-- Karamatsu is--” Heat displaced the cool air at the nape of his neck where Osomatsu was jabbing his cigarette at the air, as if he could make his point stick by burning it between them.

But the half buried muddle of emotion he’d been unsuccessfully trying to swallow down whirled up like maelstrom within him, a tempest of tears boiling away into hurt, useless anger as Ichimatsu swung around to face his brother, face salt stained and strained, the still lit cherry of Osomatsu’s cigarette dangerously close to burning his skin or setting his clothes on fire and if the eldest didn't jerk away at the last second in surprise, his own face contorting into concerned anger.

Except at the moment, Ichimatsu was incapable of caring one way or another if Osomatsu was getting angry if he’d been burned or not: His entire being felt like one exposed nerve, raw and vulnerable from repeated prods, dimly, he thought what’s one more thing. “Yeah?” he said, hoarse and pained. He wanted to scream, he wanted to shout and rage, he wanted to burst into even more tears, he wanted to curl up into a ball somewhere no one would find him until eventually, everyone forgot him and he forgot Karamatsu and the play and his feelings for Karamatsu and that girl and her feelings for Karamatsu and Karamatsu’s feelings for that girl. Instead, he said, “Yeah? You think I don’t know that-- you think I haven’t thought about that every second since I realized I was in---” Ichimatsu bit down hard on his lip, unable to bring himself to say the damning truth, the delicate chapped skin splitting under his teeth. His voice softened, then had broke, eyes welling and spilling over as he dropped his forehead against Osomatsu’s shoulder. His back shuddered with sobs, knuckles going a bloodless white where his hands clenched in Osomatsu’s uniform jacket. “He’s my brother, he has my face and I have his and I am in…” Ichimatsu shut his eyes tight, tears escaping regardless.

“Yeah, I know,” Osomatsu said, because he does, and even if he didn’t he could guess. He brought up his cigarette to his lips, filled up his lungs with smoke.

“Let’s make a deal,” He said and gently tipped Ichimatsu’s face up, dark eyelashes clinging with glimmering tears, impossibly pretty. A doll’s face and sorrow in repose all at once. He smiled, pressed his lips to Ichimatsu’s, licking into him, opening him up slow. Osomatsu swallowed Ichimatsu’s shuddering sigh, breathing out smoke in return into the join of their mouths. “Just between you and me--)

“--It’s been too long since I’ve fucked anyone with half as bad an attitude as you,” says Osomatsu, positively delighted. His hands slip back under Ichimatsu’s purple hoodie, ripping it off without regard or warning, just a bright shit eating grin that draws attention to the teeth marks on his lip. “No one else is as fun as you,” he tells Ichimatsu, oddly sincere.

Ichimatsu rolls his eyes, tries to ignore how oddly touched and warm that makes him feel. He blows his windswept bangs out his eyes, leveling a flat look at is brother before winding his arms around Osomatsu’s neck and pulling down, flipping their positions with feline agility until he settles straddled across his brother's lap, a smug smile of his own beginning to curl faintly. “Oh yeah?” he says, voice sweetening into something syrupy and poisonous, “I’m sure your girlfriends would get some pretty bad attitudes of their own if they knew how much you get off on fucking your little brother, Oniichan.”

Osomatsu moans at that, thrusting up jerkily, trying to renew the friction on his cock against Ichimatsu’s ass, “Yeah, fuck yeah.” His hands cling on to Ichimatsu’s hips, greedy, peeling down his sweats. “Bet it would make them cry,” he says, fucking sadist. Getting off on it. A laugh bubbles up in his throat, and Ichimatsu can feel the pleasant reverberation, wants to feel it more so he leans down and drinks it up.

He’s so focused on it, he doesn't hear the slide of a door down the hall, footsteps padding closer. His focus is zeroed down to the feel of Osomatsu’s smile stretching wider beneath his mouth, his piercing moving against both their tongues, slick and wet, saliva slipping down their chins fucking sloppy. Doesn’t register the quiet, shocked gasp that comes from neither of them when Osomatsu’s hot, dry fingers tag against his opening, just enough pressure to tease-- the fucker-- petting down the soft skin of his perineum to his balls. Osomatsu’s other hand smooths a path down his spine, sweeping his too hot palm between Ichimatsu’s shoulder blades to the small of his back, forcing Ichimatsu to arch his spine dramatically, chest flush against Osomatsu’s and hips raised.

“Look at you,” Osomatsu says, “Such a slut when you wanna be-- bet you’ve been sulking all day waiting for me to do this to you.” The hand between Ichimatsu’s legs slides back up, rubbing a thumb in slow, maddening, downright mean circles on the thin, delicate skin of his perineum, pressing on his prostate, sending shocky thrills shooting through his limbs.

Ichimatsu’s mouth drops open, saliva trickling down his chin, his breath panting out and misting in the cool air.  “Yes,” he agrees, shameless, “I want oniichan’s attention on me and only me.”

“Fuck,” swears Osomatsu, vehement. His cock straining so hard in his pants it’s beginning to get painful, the anticipation killing him: has been killing since Ichimatsu sprawled down next to him, snagging his freshly lit cigarette, dark circles under his eyes, and took a long drag, lips pursed and cheeks hollowing enticingly.

Suddenly Osomatsu is all motion, sitting up and taking Ichimatsu with him, spinning his brother around, practically bullying Ichimatsu into draping himself across the low table, knocking off scattered, mostly empty beer cans to the floor.  Another ashtray goes crashing to the floor, scattering buds and ash everywhere. Both of them could care less, the whole night-- no the whole day has been leading up to this moment since Karamatsu stood up at this very table and announced he had a date. A low, guttural moan is pulled from Ichimatsu when Osomatsu fists a hand in his hair, forcing him down onto the table, grinding his cheekbone painfully, his other hand tearing down his sweats the rest of the way down his thighs.

“You like that,” says Osomatsu, that same perverse delight coloring his voice as he shoves once again, harder, until the grind of Ichimatsu’s cheekbone against the wood is nearly audible over Ichimatsu’s helpless needy keen, only to let go, hand slipping from soft, sweat lank hair. Both of his hands go to Ichimatsu’s ass, kneading and rough, spreading his brother apart to stare, ravenous, at that pink greedy hole, fucking his hips forward, giving himself just a taste. “Your masochism is so worrying to big brother,” he lies cheerfully, snagging a foil packet from his pocket before rucking his own pants down, his cock springing free and leaking precum generously, sliding perfectly in the crease of Ichimatsu’s ass.

Ichimatsu makes another drawn out needy sound, tilting his hips up and rocking in short, impatient little rolls, a litany of hurry up hurry up you got what you wanted oniichan fuck me fuck me you promised spilling from his mouth.

Osomatsu hums obligingly, tearing the packet open with his teeth and upending it over his cock and Ichimatsu’s ass, hurriedly fisting himself to spread the lube down his shaft. He curls his fingers around the base of his cock, squeezing so he doesn't come as soon as he feels the sweet heat and tightness of Ichimatsu’s insides then he's pressing in and in and in, so good, so worth the wait. His hips stutter as he fucks himself inside to the hilt, Ichimatsu going almost impossibly tight as he rears up, spine arched in a perfect curve as he goes stiff with pleasured shock. Osomatsu licks sloppily at the notches of his spine, scraping his teeth over pale, salt slick skin, pulling his hips back and thrusting back in, driving deeper. Osomatsu slips his arm beneath Ichimatsu’s thigh, hooking underneath his knee and pulling his leg open wide, so it’s all Ichimatsu can do but take it, his brother’s cock splitting him apart hard and fast, Osomatsu’s other hand closing around his throat, pressing against his windpipe debauched and divine.

The room is flooded with the sound of skin slapping against skin, the slick squelch of lube and precum stirring up inside Ichimatsu. Ichimatsu is getting intoxicated on it, barely hanging on as he drags his nails into long grooves on the table surface, breathlessly babbling nonsense like ceaseless brook, tears streaking down his face as he details all the filthy things he wants Osomatsu (and one other, his brother who has his face, who he hates because loving him is not an option) to do to him.

Except--

Except-- Ichimatsu is coming, no warning at all and untouched, orgasm punched out of him mercilessly, a soundless scream strangling itself in his throat, his bones liquefying as his dick jerks and spilling all over his stomach and table where he slumps, fucked out and spent.

Osomatsu is still going behind him, chasing his own finish line as his thrusts lose all sense of rhythm, ceaseless curses spilling from his mouth like laughter. He unwinds his fingers from Ichimatsu’s throat, a dim part of his brain admiring the already forming bruises, and slays his fingers across his brother’s back, holding him down, pulling back and slamming back in, brutal, sending the remaining cans on the table crackling to the floor noisily and making Ichimatsu release tiny, whining noises, too over stimulated, caught between the drugging lethargicness of his recent orgasm and the agony of his cock wanting to fill again as Osomatsu keeps hitting his prostate. Just before it becomes too much, Osomatsu lets out this wrecked, helpless sound, and wet warmth is filling Ichimatsu to the brim dragging out a satisfied groan he feels it overflow, trickling down his thighs in a mess of lube and come. Osomatsu collapses against him like a dead weight trapping him there, both of them sticky and stinking of sweat and sex, steam practically rising from their skin.

Eventually, Osomatsu drags himself up off his brother, sitting back on his heels then plopping down on his bare ass, fishing out a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his discarded pants. Mind coming back online in fits and starts, Ichimatsu hears the flick of a lighter and the sound of his brother exhaling a long line of smoke, then the chill of the air coming in from the window and blowing across his damp skin, raising gooseflesh. His body is another story altogether, though, too spent to do more than melt bonelessly into the table, regardless of the soreness building in his knees and the shivers beginning to wrack his frame. His brother is also apparently too busy basking and admiring his come still leaking out Ichimatsu to be chivalrous, but Ichimatsu is too used to Osomatsu’s habits to really care, contented exhaustion starting to weigh down his eyelids.

Before he slips completely away, he hears Osomatsu ask, distant and far away, “Did we forget to close the door all the way?”

*** .End notes: this was going to be longer and filthier but it’s three in the morning so i pruned certain things, but also it’s three in the morning so trust none of my editing decisions. happy birthday to me.

[whexever]

[xellychan040]

"Never Have I Ever..." written high school AU

ONCE AGAIN, MAGNIFICENTLY LATE.

Technically, not really? I mean, I’ve written about teachers in a school setting that is basically supernatural battle high, but an HS au in of itself? No. No, wait. I’m lying. Yes, I wrote a flashback scene to high school? I wonder if that counts. 

Both the above examples are messes through, where the character’s skip class and huddle out on a blustery winter’s day in some shadowed, hard to reach corner while smoking. And then they bang messily with another character against an uncomfortable surface.

Honestly, my experience in HS sucked as was a bit irregular, so i don't have anything to base it off or romanticize, thus it’s never been my cup of tea. 

[xellychan040]

No xelly! The other day i remembered your writting a book, what is exactly about? :0

Oh my gosh, you mean my oc universe? It’s true I someday wanna turn into a book, but idkkk. Anyway, I was talking about it in the discord chat the other day so I’ll copypasta that lmao

“ .......it's....a fantasy sink kitchen. Ahh. Have you ever seen Slayers? The setting is similar...at first. Basically a high fantasy land LOTR style, but with magic and technology pretty much side to side. And instead of taking inspiration from the typical European influences, there a lot of Latinx and Native American touches.

As for what it's about, hmm, the main story follows an amnesiac boy named Kane, who awoke in a decimated lab with a few other experiment specimens. He has very strong Empathic powers that allow him to see memories, feel past and current emotions from the people and things around him. Unfortunately, it's too strong to control, and often times takes a physical toll in his body. From there, he wanders between a world unsettled by different fractions in a power struggle, from the demonic researchers who had captured him, to an order of holy knights who resort to extreme and questionable measures, and finally, an upstart mercenary group who attacks both sides in a grab for power and the protection of the universally looked down upon Breeds.”

I *am* also thinking of writing an urban latinx inspired fairy tale with someone right now too. So far it’s just brainstorming tho.   

[xellychan040]

BEFORE THE BEGGINING

BEFORE THE BEGINNING — three sentences (or more) about something that happened before the plot of my current project

"He's gone." Raditz shuffles uncomfortably on the screen, avoiding his prince's hard gaze.

The universe grinds to a halt and somewhere, millions of stars burnout and die. A black pit opens up in between Vegeta's ribcage, crushing into itself; more fear than anger, more desperation than rage.

His hand tightens on the arm rest of his attackpod, denting the metal. "You know where Kakarot's gone, don't you?"