#yotp2023 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Premium Tumblr themes are available from anywhere between $9 to $49.

yearoftheotpevent · 6 months

Text

November!! we're closing in on it now, y'all!

friendly reminder that, while the event will not be running again next year (rolling from finishing this year directly into more monthly prompts seemed like a lot), the YOTP 2023 ao3 collection will remain open through 2024. there are, at time of this post, over 1300 works in the collection. y'all are amazing!! keep working at it, interpret the prompts in the way that works best for you, post them in the order that makes you happiest, and don't worry if you're falling behind (we are too)

that said, the prompts for november are: life changes, de-aging, secret relationship (reveal), "be careful what you wish for", growth, music/band au

happy creating!

#yotp2023 #yotp23 #yotp 2023 #yotp 23 #year of the otp #november prompts #prompt event

22 notes · View notes

nooowestayandgetcaught · 8 months

Text

Sometimes You Gotta Give In

read on AO3

1.7k, Sophie Hatter/Howl Pendragon, No Rating, for @yearoftheotpevent's August prompt "meet cute/blind date" Summary: Lettie encourages Sophie to visit the neighborhood tea-shop and meet with a gentleman asking for her: Howl in disguise.

#howl's moving castle #howl no ugoku shiro #sophie hatter #howl pendragon #sophie howls moving castle #sophie hmc #howl jenkins pendragon #howl x sophie #sophie x howl #howl hmc #yotp 2023 #yotp2023

19 notes · View notes

sadbean609 · 2 months

Text

Just the Way You Aren't : March — Acceptance (Part 3)

Hinata's POV

A scroll down the Twitter feed...

“Hinata!” Kiba called from the car. Shino was driving, and Kiba was sticking his head out the window like a dog. “We found you!”

Hinata sniffled, her sleeve fully over her hand. She winced at the amount of snot she got on her, but she couldn’t bring herself to care fully. She tried to pull her sleeves even more over her hands, but they wouldn’t go further down. She opted to stand and dust herself off, now that she had calmed down enough to stop crying.

She stumbled into Shino’s car, sighing as she sat back against the backseat.

“You looked great today, if it’s any consolation,” Kiba said, fully turning around to talk to her.

“Thanks,” she whispered, pulling out her phone. She first looked at the messages she missed from Shino and Kiba, scrolling up to backread what she didn’t see when they came to get her. She hovered her thumb over the groupchat with Ino, Tenten, Obito, Rin, and Genma. She closed her phone instead. She couldn’t bring herself to read what they were saying about her. They were probably all thinking that she ruined the plan, and that they shouldn’t have asked her in the first place, not if she was going to act like that. The tears started to come back. And she was just starting to feel comfortable with Genma, too. He probably hates her now.

Her phone vibrated, causing her to look at it out of habit. Her heart leapt in her throat at the action, but she was puzzled instead when she saw who it came from.

Genma's POV

Part three - March - Completed

Masterpost | <- Prev | Next ->

---

I'm also adding a little author's note in here all the way at the end. Hello!! Sorry for the hiatus!! It's been literally almost exactly a year since I've posted this, and I'm sorry for not explaining myself, especially when I planned to post this throughout last year. Honestly, life got hectic, buncha shit happened, i got sad, I stopped writing, etcetcetc. but it's here! Does it count for the event anymore? Probably not. But that's okay, I still want to do it, even if it takes longer than I meant to.

I hope to just continue chugging away at this, but I can't make any promises, especially how that went last year xD hope you like it so far! I made this one extra long to make up for it. Also a lot needed to happen in March. Now what will happen in April I wonder? Stay tuned to find out!

#GenHina #Genma/Hinsta #Hyuuga Hinata/Shiranui Genma #Hyuuga Hinata #Shiranui Genma #naruto #social media au #Minor KakaSaku #Minor ObiRin #Minor TayuAnko #March #Acceptance #Just the Way You aren't #my works #Year of the OTP Event #Year of the OTP #Year of the OTP 2023 #Year of the OTP Event 2023 #YOTP2023

2 notes · View notes

marirah · 10 months

Link

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: DCU, Batman - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tim Drake/Dick Grayson, Jason Todd/Slade Wilson, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Respawn & Jason Todd & Slade Wilson Characters: Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Slade Wilson, Damian Wayne, Respawn (DCU) Additional Tags: Dick Grayson is Batman, Dick Grayson is a Talon, Tim Drake is Nightwing, Damian Wayne is Robin, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Slade Wilson is Deathstroke, Established Relationship, Relationship Reveal, Conversations, Jason Todd is Damian Wayne's Parent, Jason Todd is Respawn's Parent Series: Part 11 of Year of the OTP/Year of Jason and Slade 2023 (combined), Part 22 of DickTim Works Summary:

Dick isn't sure what he was expecting when his little brother brought Deathstroke over for dinner, but it certainly wasn't this

written for @yearoftheotpevent June prompt "downpour". will not make sense without reading the rest of the series

#link #dicktim #jayde #dick grayson/tim drake #tim drake/dick grayson #year of the otp 2023 #yotp2023 #timdick #dick/tim #fanfiction #dc fanfiction #dick grayson #tim drake #jason todd #slade wilson

6 notes · View notes

noellewrxtes · 1 year

Text

four am

pairing: itachi/shisui

rating: m to be safe

word count: 702

warnings: shisui dips his toes in the dark side like, the tiniest bit; casual discussion of murder but also this is naruto so

summary: The night of their first anniversary, Itachi walked into a dingy inn room that Shisui had bought out for the week with marks along his neck that were left to him by someone else.

ao3: link

#this is not aftermath #i know #aftermath is still coming #i added scenes to it i'm so sorry #naruto #shiita #yotp2023 #this is my january submission #the prompt was mission fic #one day i will let them be happy again #today is just not that day #four am #noelle writes

10 notes · View notes

ziva-david · 1 year

Text

I’ll admit that I’m a fool for you. | AO3

AN: Hi everyone, this is fic in honour of Nick’s birthday! It is technically an accompanying fic to “the one who are left behind” but idk how to make a collection on AO3 lol.

Please let me know what you think!

#ellick #ellick fanfiction #ellick fanfic #torres x bishop #ellie x nick #nick x ellie #nick torres #ellie bishop #ncis #my writing #yotp2023

6 notes · View notes

prahacat · 5 months

Text

Bend, Break

It's been three days since Dooku saved his life, and all Obi-Wan can do now is push until they break. Continuation of Brush, Bend, an AU where Obi-Wan and Dooku desert in favor of exploring their weird, obsessive relationship dynamic. This also (very liberally) fills my Obi-Wan x Dooku YOTP2023 December prompt "moving in together". cw: (mild) sexual content, mentions of abuse and violence. 3k words.

The black clouds hang so low, Obi-Wan can almost split them with the tip of his blade. Not much longer now and it will rain. An icy wind whistles across the bare plains, where nothing, no trees, no grass, breaks through the volcanic rock. Obi-Wan lifts his saber and swings it in a flurry of swift strikes. Far away, the horizon flashes red and orange below the crushing mass of clouds. He slashes at empty air until sweat soaks through his tunic and drips into his eyes, until he is trembling and breathless, and the first cold raindrops pat against the back of his neck.

When he looks up, the lone figure watching him from the terrace turns and melts into the shadows.

Obi-Wan lowers his lightsaber, and the blade, purple like a dying star, extinguishes in a hiss and crackle.

They haven't been warm for days. The ruins offer hardly any protection against the harsh climate, or against each other. What remains of the collapsed tower nestles between the basalt rocks and the leaden sky, and it's cold inside, always too cold; in the morning, a silver sheen of frost covers their blankets. But there is no point in leaving. Out here, on this bleak hunk of a planet, nobody looks for them.

Obi-Wan mounts the hewn stone steps into the room that was once, presumably, the tower’s main hall. Time has chipped away the golden mica on the ornamental carvings, and the ceiling painting has faded beyond recognition. The fireplace takes up most of the back wall, a black mouth spitting sparks and soot. Apart from them, the sole guest who visits is the wind: it barges in through the broken terrace doors, fans the flames, and tugs at Dooku's cloak before it lets up when he doesn’t react. He stands like a statue below the arcades that frame the terrace, his back turned toward Obi-Wan as he stares somewhere into the far distance. Black sheets of rain now curtain off the world beyond.

Obi-Wan slips out of his clammy boots and wiggles his bare toes. Frozen, numb. "Have you eaten yet?"

A cup and a half-empty bottle of wine sit on the table, the glass fogged up with the cold. They look lost among the few pieces of equipment they have salvaged from their ship and arranged into a makeshift command center. Two datapads, the map, a radio—and the encrypted com that has been silent for nearly seventy hours.

Dooku watches the clouds churn and flash along the horizon. "An electromagnetic storm." His voice, though quiet, echoes through the cold hall. "Communication is out. No signal penetrates these clouds."

"She'll find a way to contact us." Obi-Wan throws a broken chair leg into the fire. Ventress is more loyal than he will ever be, a relief as much as it is an inconvenience, and Obi-Wan wonders whether that knowledge doesn't also pester Dooku in quiet, calm hours such as these. "We should eat something. She'd make me berate you if she were here. Let me warm some soup—"

"Leave me."

Slowly, Obi-Wan rises to his feet.

Dooku's back remains turned. Obi-Wan listlessly regards the bottle. "The wine won't help with the pain." But Dooku ignores him with a stubbornness that annoys Obi-Wan more than any rudeness would. He drapes his drenched cape over the mantelpiece. Steam rises as the wool begins to dry. Dooku stares at the storm in stony silence, and Obi-Wan thinks: I could grab the bloody ship, I could fly off and leave you stranded here, but it'd never make you stare at the sky like this, longing for me to come back. He wipes the damp hair from his forehead. "There's no need to worry yet. If the Jedi had captured her, we would know. They would make demands or try to negotiate."

"If the Confederacy had captured her, we would know as well," Dooku says dryly. "We would be under attack already."

"You think Ventress would betray our location?"

"The Confederacy has recently invested considerable resources in the development of new torture droids.”

Obi-Wan rounds the table and joins Dooku below the arcades. "Maybe we should move." His gaze lingers on Dooku's side, but the dark tunic covers any hint of bandages. "How is your wound?"

"Fine." But there's not much privacy when you've been stuck together for three days between walls that no longer have ceilings. In this hollow tower, Obi-Wan can always hear the whisper of Dooku's tired footsteps somewhere, and it's only late at night that he catches him leaning against walls and archways, resting his weight, letting go. This morning, Obi-Wan saw Dooku hunched over the edge of his bed, eyes closed, the hazy light melting on his face, one hand pressed against his stomach as if he was afraid of tearing and falling apart as soon as he stood up.

There's a feverish shine to his eyes now.

Without thinking, Obi-Wan says, "The Jedi would help us."

"The Jedi." Dooku grimaces. The wind has tousled his hair and a few stray strands fall into his eyes. "Always the Jedi. And what do you expect the Jedi to give us? Forgiveness? A pardon for your crimes? Pity and a bowl of hot soup?"

"Protection, I should imagine," Obi-Wan says. "They would at least see to Ventress' safety."

"You are willing to trade her safety for our freedom?"

"What freedom? All we do is run." He gazes out into the pouring rain. In the distance, the mountain peaks float above a sea of darkness. "We have no allies, no supporters. A temporary truce with the Jedi would grant us some respite at least, and a place to lie low. Ventress could reunite with us at the Temple. Once we know she is unharmed, it will be easier to decide on a course."

"So it is Ventress who worries you?" Dooku turns toward him. "Or do you seek to save your own hide?" His black cloak parts and flows like dark, heavy water that Obi-Wan needs only to step into to wash away what remains of him. He wants to. "Bravery and dedication," Dooku says, "those qualities come easy when you believe to be backed by the establishment. But only those who are not afraid to fend for themselves will bring about actual change in this galaxy."

Obi-Wan scoffs. "As if you ever knew what it meant to fend for yourself, Dooku. You only ever made a move when you had something to cushion your leap: a new, comfortable life as a Count, your wealth, your armies, Palpatine's protective hand. Now you have lost all of it and look where it got you. Ex-leader of the Separatists and disgraced Count of Serenno, hiding in a drafty—"

Dooku grabs him by the neck and yanks him close. "Don't insult my intelligence, Obi-Wan," he says, his voice low. His thumb digs into the soft skin behind Obi-Wan's ear. The smell of burnt wood and thunderstorms clings to his cloak; the fabric rustles against the length of Obi-Wan's thigh. He's right here, and Obi-Wan touches his wrist, allowing his fingers to slide into the warmth below the sleeve, where Dooku's pulse is thumping as fast as his.

"I know what you are after," Dooku whispers.

Do you, Obi-Wan wonders, and the thought sends a sudden rush of heat through his body: want; fear.

"It would be such a relief for you if I swallowed your bait." Dooku tightens his grip on his hair and pulls Obi-Wan's head back to gaze down into his face like Obi-Wan once saw a butcher do with a nerf calf to inspect its teeth. "If I took the choice from you and dragged you back to everything you betrayed." This is how he used to hold Obi-Wan after frying or strangling him with the Force, but as the cruelty has grown rare, so have the caresses. Obi-Wan leans in, and the sharp tug at the back of his head eases.

"How you dream of liberation," Dooku murmurs. "You cannot bring yourself to break free from your torn existence. Freedom scares you, but misery has become a familiar comfort. How do you want to cope without it? You are truly lost, Obi-Wan."

"Then so are you, considering we're stuck in the same place." Obi-Wan presses his nails into the tendons on Dooku's wrist.

Dooku smiles and lowers his eyes. The fire pours a river of gold over the left side of his face. "I've seen the color of your blade," he says softly. Obi-Wan feels his touch on his belt, fingers brushing the hilt resting at his thigh. His skin tingles, but he keeps his eyes on Dooku's face, watches the flames paint strange blue shadows along the sharp lines of his nose and under his lashes. "What a shame your lightsaber no longer knows what it is supposed to be," Dooku says, but he can't even begin to imagine how terribly wrong he is. It's not misery Obi-Wan can't do without, but this: the feeling of being hollow and porous, so close to all these fleeting, liquid secrets; gold and shadows and melting light, and Dooku's blood pounding against his fingers.

Outside, rain and wind battle for possession of the tower, for this whole rotten, forsaken planet.

Obi-Wan lays his hand flat on Dooku's chest, pressing against the half-moon scar and his heart: strong and steady, but chained to its own obsessions. Dooku's face is a mask, unmoving except for his slowly drooping eyelids, like he is about to fall asleep. Idly, Obi-Wan brushes the moisture from his cloak. Dooku's body simmers under his palm: warmer than the fire. "The state of my lightsaber doesn't concern me as much as the state of your mind, Dooku," Obi-Wan says. "You've already lost everything. What is left that you're so afraid of losing that you growl and raise your hackles?"

Dooku sighs and lifts his gaze to the vault where nothing is left of the murals that must have once depicted gods and creatures, men and beasts, floating in the skies and glimmering like golden stars. He closes his eyes as if the sight gives him a headache. His grip on Obi-Wan's hair loosens and he caresses it with his fingers instead, carefully combing down the wet strands Obi-Wan is sure stick up in every direction. Dooku bends down toward him; and something caves and swells inside Obi-Wan's chest when Dooku presses his mouth against his sweat-damp forehead. "What you did three days past, during our attempt to seize the droid factory," he hears Dooku murmur into his skin, and his voice floods Obi-Wan like ice water, "you will never do that again."

(What part of it? The taste of Dooku's blood, the smell of his skin, rust and sunlight, and his eyes: wide and dark like liquid amber? The cold tingle of Bacta, the rustle of the gauze? Dooku's limp weight and the faint thump-thump-thump of his heart when Obi-Wan laid his head against his chest? What part of it? The heated discussion in the factory's control room?—how Obi-Wan stormed off, first blinded by rage, then by the sudden detonation, then by something else altogether when he crawled from below the debris and Dooku's bleeding body? What part of it does Dooku want to forget?)

Obi-Wan pushes at him; he needs to see his face.

But Dooku pulls away. "You are not a prisoner.” He retreats behind the table and lowers himself into the chair, the movement stiff and without his usual grace. "If you wish to leave, the door is right there. Although I must warn you: I will not give up the ship without a fight."

Obi-Wan lifts an eyebrow. "You are injured, Dooku."

Dooku pours himself a glass of wine. The cold has tinted the skin beneath his nails an unhealthy, bluish shade. "That should level the field somewhat."

"Going at each other won’t improve my mood, let alone yours."

"Stabbing me in my sleep would be the most efficient strategy, though I wouldn't think you a spineless coward who—"

"Just shut up!" Obi-Wan plants both his hands onto the table, leaning toward Dooku. "Who are you trying to distract with this petty jabber? You cling so desperately to your belief that everything has to be paid in misery and suffering that you’re denying yourself even the slightest bit of—"

"The last thing I need is your pity," Dooku hisses.

"Oh trust me Dooku, I do not feel sorry for you."

Dooku stares at him from over his glass. "Get out."

"I'm not leaving," Obi-Wan blurts out. Dooku keeps staring at him with that dumb face, and the heat rises inside Obi-Wan. It crushes his lungs, pushes against his throat, and his body tingles with the urge to move; shake it off, crawl beneath the table, maybe throw more logs to the fire, or hit Dooku. He swallows. His mouth is so dry that his tongue sticks to his palate like old gauze to a wound. "I'm staying."

Dooku straightens in his chair and raises his chin. "And yet, moments ago, you were entertaining the idea of crawling back to the Jedi."

Obi-Wan clutches the edge of the table. "You know that's not what I said."

"Isn't it?" Dooku samples the wine, his eyes never leaving Obi-Wan's.

"Kindly cease twisting my words, Dooku," Obi-Wan says coldly. "And stop drinking. Are you hoping to make this tower your grave?" He snatches the wine glass from Dooku's hand and downs it himself. The alcohol is bitter on his tongue, but it sends a pleasant burn down his throat.

Dooku's hand snaps up and grips his wrist. Wine spills over Obi-Wan's sleeve; the glass slips from his fingers and shatters onto the floor. Obi-Wan knocks forward, his knuckles grazing Dooku's throat before he braces against the backrest of the chair; it creaks and shudders.

Beneath them, a thousand tiny shards gleam upon the floor, like stars, like teeth.

Dooku has no eyes for the destruction. He is staring up at Obi-Wan, his right leg awkwardly stretched underneath the table to reduce the pressure on his wound. Scabbed scratches litter the left side of his face, and all Obi-Wan can think about are the scars hiding below Dooku's clothes, the ones he put there, the ones Dooku put there for him. He shivers; a gust of wind sweeps under his wet tunic, but Dooku's face is warm when he touches it. Dooku presses into his hand, tentatively, as if still wary whether this will veer into care or cruelty. Obi-Wan exhales soundlessly: don't, he wants to say, don't do this, don't trust this, me, us. He brushes his thumb along the corner of Dooku's mouth.

Dooku closes his eyes, licks his lips. "Obi-Wan ..." he mumbles.

What remains of Obi-Wan's reason burns up in that breathy whisper. He falls forward and crushes Dooku's mouth beneath his. Dooku stiffens, then opens with a groan, and his hands are back in Obi-Wan's hair, both of them, burying into the wet strands, just like Obi-Wan buries himself in Dooku. He sways and falls, or maybe Dooku pulls him; the chair scrapes over the stone tiles as Obi-Wan crawls onto Dooku's lap and wraps himself around his heat, and it's all Obi-Wan has been craving: Dooku's body against his when nobody is watching, because everybody is gone.

Their teeth clash; Dooku angles his head and his fingers clench in Obi-Wan's hair as he kisses back, his breath heavy and wet and his nose pushing against Obi-Wan's cheekbones. The taste of him makes Obi-Wan dizzy. Wine, he thinks, something that is bitter at first but reveals layers of addictive sweetness the more you drink of it. When Dooku gropes at Obi-Wan's back and makes a noise like he's drowning, Obi-Wan's stomach gives a startled twist. He rolls his hips, grinds down until he feels Dooku growing hard beneath him. Dooku breathes wetly into Obi-Wan's neck and groans again; maybe with pleasure, maybe with pain, Obi-Wan doesn't care, and he isn't even sure which possibility arouses him more. He tilts Dooku's chin toward him and pushes his tongue between Dooku's bared teeth into the soft, searing warmth. Dooku's eyes change color like Obi-Wan's saber: they're soot and smoke and embers that swirl in his irises. He keeps them open while they kiss, watches Obi-Wan from below heavy lashes, and it's weird how this sight ignites a giddy heat in Obi-Wan's guts, similar to when he finally sunk that knife into Dooku's chest after weeks of skirting him. This, he thinks, I can still win this, I can still wound you, you feel this too. He slides a hand below Dooku's tunic, runs his fingers along the wound where the skin is hot and swollen, and Dooku moans around Obi-Wan's tongue.

When they part for air, they are both panting like animals. Dooku cups Obi-Wan's face in his large hands and traces the curve of his cheek with his thumbs.

"Stay with me," he breathes against Obi-Wan's mouth; it's barely louder than the wind howling against the tower, but Obi-Wan is close enough to taste his words on his tongue.

"Stay." His mouth grazes Obi-Wan's neck.

"Obi-Wan." He draws him flush against his chest.

Obi-Wan's hand is squished between their abdomens. He presses harder; digs his fingers into Dooku's ribcage, the softness below, and it's all so familiar and yet strange, the same skin he has touched and ripped apart and restitched countless times. He can feel the rise and fall of Dooku's chest and the pulsing heat trapped between his thighs where Obi-Wan straddles him. The blade guard on Dooku's saber stabs into Obi-Wan's stomach.

Obi-Wan drops his head on Dooku's shoulder. Distantly, he realizes that he is warm, almost hot, for the first time in days.

Outside, he can hear it: the last, gentle drip of water as the storm finally dies down.

#star wars fanfiction #obi-wan kenobi #dooku #yotp 2023 #obi-wan x dooku #dookuwan #this has been one exiting year in the fandom #seemed appropriate to end it with a bit of spicy goodness about my two favorite idiots #they're allowed to have some good things too #prahacat writes #my ff

25 notes · View notes

ao3feed-brucewayne · 1 year

Text

He Will Love Me; He Will Suffer On My Account

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/4dy9tZl

by JusticyWusticy

Superman intrudes on Batman's patrol. Batman and Bruce talk. Superman has a bad time and needs therapy.

YOTP 2023 April Prompts: Unrequited Love, Peace

Words: 1648, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 4 of YOTP 2023

Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne, Original Male Character(s), Original Characters, Original Batfamily Member(s) (DCU)

Relationships: Bruce Wayne/Original Male Character(s), Bruce Wayne/Original Character(s), Bruce Wayne/Batman - Relationship, (one sided) Clark Kent/original Character(s), Superman/Batman (one sided), Clark Kent & Bruce Wayne

Additional Tags: YOTP2023, Anna Karenina reference, Sentient Gotham City, Gotham doesn't like Superman, Bruceman, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Bruce Wayne is Not Batman, Clark Kent is Superman, Unrequited Love, Unreliable Narrator Clark Kent, Unreliable Narrator, Clark Kent has a bad time, Clark Kent Needs a Hug, Fluff and Angst, Angst, Fluff, Inspired by the fic that got me into this ship

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/4dy9tZl

#IFTTT #bruce wayne #batman #the dark knight #the cape crusader #gotham #dc universe #ao3 #ao3feed

1 note · View note

our-flag-means-death-ao3feed · 1 year

Text

Different Pages, From the Same Book

by SpaceCadetGlow

Izzy only shares Edward and Bonnet's bed when asked. Still, it shouldn't have taken him so long to notice the old caning scars that Bonnet bears. It doesn't make sense, based on what Izzy assumes about Bonnet's comfortable life before running away to sea. But as Edward says, everyone has their scars.

Edward sighs. “Iz. Do you want to keep doing it? The three of us, I mean?”

Izzy’s guts start to roil and churn at even the suggestion of taking it away. He still doesn’t know what they are, doesn't think he and Bonnet are anything at all, but he’s never needed to put a name to things like this before. He checks his posture, stands up straighter. “Yes, captain,” he says.

Edward stops to think, his mouth doing something complicated, eyes flicking down to the desk and back up again. “Boarding school,” he says, trailing the quill along the edge of the desk. “You want to know more, you ask him yourself.”

Words: 8980, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 3 of SCG's Year of the OTP 2023

Fandoms: Our Flag Means Death (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M, Multi

Characters: Blackbeard | Edward Teach, Stede Bonnet, Israel Hands

Relationships: Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet/Israel Hands

Additional Tags: YOTP2023, Getting Together, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Threesome - M/M/M, Miscommunication, Past Child Abuse, Past Torture, Period-Typical Homophobia, Nipple Play, Scars, Emotionally Repressed, Canon-Typical Violence, Creampie, Caning, Flogging, Developing Relationship, Trust Issues, Past Corporal Punishment, Israel Hands-centric, Israel Hands is Bad at Feelings, POV Israel Hands, little bit of that Stizzy bitch4bitch energy, Post-Canon, Izzy makes a lot of assumptions about Stede, And you know what happens when you assume

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/45410020

#Our flag means death #ofmd #https://archiveofourown.org/works/45410020

1 note · View note

yearoftheotpevent · 1 year

Text

Hey all! I'm a day late but we are swinging smoothly past the quarter mark of the year and into APRIL Once again, I'm ridiculously thrilled with how the collection is growing: we currently have 626 works in 268 fandoms and it's *wild* I want to take a moment to just mention a few relevant things: 1) we've already decided not to do YOTP next year (and give everyone a break!), so if you're falling behind or just now joining us, don't fret about playing catch up! Start with whatever month you can, and then wrap around into 2024 if you have to -- the collection will remain open through next year! 2) Please remember that there's only 2 of us running this event (and honestly, one of us only makes these check-in posts, so the other -- incredible, wonderful, thoughtful -- human is doing the reblogs 99% on their own. Forgive us if we miss a couple here and there <3 3) Our collection is OPEN AND UNMODERATED -- There is another, very official looking, collection on ao3 that is moderated. I don't know what the purpose of that one is, but it's not the one being run by this event. Go forth and conquer! Write! Draw! Create dramatic tableaus! Celebrate the ships you love! Follow the prompts that inspire you and make awesome things! April's prompts are: pranks, canon divergence, (seemingly) unrequited love, "no, I'm not dating your brother", peace, and university AU

#yotp2023 #yotp 2023 #year of the otp #prompt event #prompt list #ao3 stuff #fanfiction #fanwork event #art event #writing event

57 notes · View notes

nooowestayandgetcaught · 8 months

Text

Not Everything Is Fleeting

read on AO3

~1k, Héloïse/Marianne, M-rating, for @yearoftheotpevent's August prompt "you're the only one I could turn to for help" Summary: Héloïse realises what her sister had done wrong: she never ran.

#portrait of a lady on fire #portrait de la jeune fille en feu #femslash #marianne x heloise #femslash fanfic #femslash fic #yotp 2023 #yotp2023

19 notes · View notes

sapphicblight · 11 months

Text

a crown of thorns for your halo - a vegaspete oneshot

Year of the OTP 2023 June prompt: "you aren't what i expected” They’re still learning how to be together when Vegas uncovers a detail of Pete’s past.

key tags: post-canon, referenced patricide, found family

#vegaspete #yotp 2023 #yotp2023 #kinnporsche the series #fanfiction #fic #fanfic #writing #mine #sapphicblight #vegaspete fic #ao3 #no creative tags i just woke up im barely a person

49 notes · View notes

ellie-tarts · 1 year

Photo

March: Fairytale AU

Shinichi as the prince cursed as a child to fall into a deep slumber until true love’s kiss wakes him up

I’ve never drawn a kiss before, so I drew on top of a screenshot from the movie, the original is below the cut

#dcmk #detco #heishin #shinhei #hattori heiji #kudou shinichi #year of the otp #yotp2023 #my post #my art #digital art #sleeping beauty

22 notes · View notes

sadbean609 · 1 year

Text

Just the Way You Aren't Masterpost

Pissed that their friend group can't hang out anymore, Hinata and Genma's friends orchestrate some elaborate scheme to reconcile their friends.

A Hyuuga Hinata x Shiranui Genma Social Media AU

~*~*~

Yes I know that LwB is not done yet, I will continue working on it. This is a side project for the event Year of the OTP. Each month I will post a new installment and hopefully wrap it up by the end of the year with one post a month.

General Info

- Everyone is the same age, around 23/24 - I made this take place in 2021 on accident because I made Hinata have her birth year in her user then made her 23 and so I had to be mathematically accurate or I'd hate myself forever - Thus, Covid is not a thing, even though I made this have exclusive America vibes (which I apologize for but there was nothing I could do) - Minor KakaSaku, ObiRin, and TayuAnko. There are more relationships but they will be revealed in due time. As they get revealed, I will update this list - Time stamps are more accurate than usual, especially since this will be updated throughout the year - There will be more abundant written parts in this one that go on for longer amount of time, which is why I hesitate to post it on Twitter - Also cross posted to Ao3 (will provide link when I publish - likely tomorrow, it is midnight and i am a fool. i must sleep)

Installments

0. Meet the Cast

January — A Proposition (Part 1)

January — A Proposition (Part 2)

February — Interest is Piqued

March — Acceptance (Part 1)

March — Acceptance (Part 2)

March — Acceptance (Part 3)