#this took so much work and time... writing + formatting wise

[floriealis]

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗥𝗜𝗧𝗘 𝗢𝗙 𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦 — 𝗬𝗩𝗘𝗟𝗟𝗔 𝗩𝗔𝗟𝗘́𝗥𝗬’𝗦 𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗜𝗢𝗡 “        What’s left of me dreams backwards.        ” — Yvella Valéry

WHAT IS THE RITE OF NINES?

The Rite of Nines is one of the most forbidden and devastating magical rituals in witchcraft. Ancient, pre-colonial, and suppressed by nearly every known coven, it grants the practitioner immense sacrificial and ancestral power — a permanent connection to the Ancestral Plane, and the ability to channel magic from the dead without needing a living conduit.

To complete the ritual, a witch must sacrifice nine witches, each from a different coven, and mark their deaths with the sacred Emblem of Nothingness — a rhombus crowned by an “X” carved into the forehead, symbolizing severance, death, and reclamation.

The best-known failed attempt was Eva Sinclair, who planned to use nine children, one from each New Orleans coven, linked together so their deaths would occur simultaneously during the final spell. But before she could complete the ritual, she was stopped — imprisoned, silenced, and eventually possessed by Rebekah Mikaelson.

But what most witches never knew is this: the ritual did not require linking. It required intention, sacrifice, and symbolic completion. And Yvella Valéry was the first — and only — witch to complete it without error.

YVELLA’S VERSION — THE BLOODY MIRACLE

Yvella Valéry, the Sacrificial Witch, completed her version of the Rite of Nines in 1914 — just before the events at the Dowager Fauline Cottage. Unlike Eva Sinclair, Yvella required no children, no chains, no wards of containment. She did not link her victims. She hunted them. One by one. Quickly, cleanly, and with meticulous efficiency. Where Eva relied on theory and desperation, Yvella relied on design.

THE ORIGIN OF HER RITE:

The seed was planted long before 1914. When Yvella was still a girl, curious and ambitious, she found a hidden trunk in the attic of her family's Tremé home. It belonged to her aunt, Eloise Dupont — a vanished Valéry whose name was spoken rarely and with unease. The trunk was filled with grimoires written in ash-black ink, stitched in human hair and sealed with tallow. In them, Yvella found her first mention of “Le Rite des Neuf.” At the time, it was only a myth. Nine sacrifices, one from each coven. Great power. Forbidden. Suppressed. The pages were incomplete — some burned, others scratched out. But the idea remained, like a worm in the root of her mind. It wasn't until more than a decade later, under the reluctant mentorship of Kol Mikaelson, that the rite transformed from fantasy to possibility.

WHY SHE CHOSE TO DO IT:

Kol had brought her into his circle when he sought to make a weapon to use against his brother, dabbling in Kemiya to reach this goal — a blend of alchemy, dark Egyptian sorcery, and old witchcraft. Together, they pursued dangerous knowledge. Yvella learned quickly, reveled in it. But it was the Mikaelsons as a whole, especially Klaus, who showed her the stark truth of the world: witches were vulnerable. Disposable. Tools or threats. Klaus spoke of witches as parasites. Disposable when no longer useful. He did not realize she was listening — or how deeply his words took root. Yvella realized that if witches were to survive the likes of him, they needed more than magic. They needed supremacy. Power not granted by ancestral bone or collective consensus — but power taken, stolen, built on blood. The Rite of Nines would give her that.

THE PREPARATION:

By the time she committed to the Rite in late 1914, she had already spent months rebuilding the pieces. The grimoires of Eloise provided the outline. But it was Ione Leclair — her on-again, off-again mentor and ritual historian from Marigny — who unwittingly taught her how to fill in the blanks. Ione spoke often of the ancient rites, including the Emblem of Nothingness — L'Emblème du Néant — a sigil carved only into the heads of the damned. She dismissed the Rite of Nines as myth, but her notes confirmed it had once been attempted centuries ago, with catastrophic failure. Yvella studied failures as blueprints. Over the course of six months, she charted every major coven. Not just names, but weaknesses. Leaders. Internal politics. Her face was known, her bloodline unmistakable, so she couldn’t hide behind a mask. So instead, she slipped between the cracks: bribed gatekeepers, forged invitations, exploited old favors, preyed on chaos. She moved like a shadow wearing her own skin. She kept notebooks inside other books, stitched into the lining of her coat. She tested poisons on pigs. Practiced carving sigils on dolls. And all the while, she kept Kol and the others none the wiser.

SECRECY AND STRATEGY:

Yvella never performed magic where it could be traced. She used ancestral routes, crumbling backroads of Tremé magic few even remembered. She hid in plain sight, played the charming prodigy, the gifted pupil. To Kol, she was merely clever. To others, another pawn in his games. But Yvella was already building her own kingdom. Quietly. Precisely. She left no bodies behind — not right away. She used glamours, misdirection, and in at least one case, pinned the murder on a vampire attack. She kept her tokens locked in a consecrated altar under her family’s crypt, where no coven could sense the convergence. She worked fast. Nine kills in nine weeks. Never hesitated. Well — except with the last.

THE RULES SHE FOLLOWED

To complete the Rite of Nines, Yvella had to:

Kill one powerful witch from each of the nine major covens — with no overlap or mercy.

Carve the Emblem of Nothingness — an ancient rhombus-and-cross sigil — into the forehead of each at the time of death.

Take a personal token from each victim — a piece of bone, blood, or magically-bound object — to bind to her ritual altar.

Complete all nine sacrifices within nine weeks, or the convergence would collapse.

Finish the ritual in a Neutral Ground — a sacred space unclaimed by any coven, where no ancestral spirit could interfere.

Offer a piece of herself — blood, magic, and something irrevocable, to seal the rite. Yvella gave all three.

It became known among those few who knew of it as The Bloody Miracle — not just for the speed and success, but because no one believed it was possible. Witches do not kill witches. Not this many. Not with such surgical grace.

But Yvella did. Because she believed witches deserved to be feared. And if fear was the price of freedom, she would be its collector.

THE SPECIFICS OF HER SACRIFICES

Each victim was chosen not for cruelty, but for significance. Yvella didn’t kill children. She killed the pillars of each coven — the ones whose deaths would shake the bones of the community.

[ #1. ] Colette Rousseau ( Garden District ) — Sigil Archivist Death: Crushed in the archive vault. Books bled ink for hours after her death. Token Taken: The tip of her right index finger, bone and all — the hand she used to draw sigils.

Colette was the first. Cold, brilliant, and aloof — a master of the written word, feared for how precisely she could bend magic with pen alone. She once rejected Yvella’s request for forbidden texts, calling her “half-formed, half-blooded, half-mad.” Yvella smiled and waited. Years later, she rigged the archive vault to collapse as Colette decoded a cursed page. It wasn’t personal. Not yet. But as the ink poured down the walls like blood, Yvella felt something change. The ritual had begun.

[ #2. ] Lucien Duprès ( Gentilly ) — Spellwright Death: Impaled by enchanted iron quills mid-incantation. His tongue was missing when they found him. Token Taken: His severed tongue, wrapped in parchment inked with his unfinished incantation. It dried shriveled, the runes burning through the page beneath.

Lucien was arrogant, brilliant, and deeply petty. He and Yvella had crossed magical swords many times — he stole her spellwork, mocked her innovations, and even tried to have her barred from a symposium of southern spellwrights. She returned the favor with a gift: a false incantation wrapped in gold ribbon. When he began to chant it, the room exploded in shards of ink and quill. She took his tongue to silence him forever. He would have hated how poetic it all was.

[ #3. ] Camila Desrosiers ( Ninth Ward ) — Weather Witch Death: Electrocuted during a ritual storm, her body smoking in the rain. Token Taken: A braid of her singed hair, still crackling faintly with static when wrapped in cloth.

Camila was tempestuous in every sense — volatile magic, sharper moods. But she had once sheltered Yvella during a storm of her own: a political fallout with the Tremé witches. Camila brewed sweet tea, cursed her enemies, and said, “ The world doesn’t care if you drown, but I do.        ” Yvella held that memory even as she summoned the storm that killed her. Camila never saw her face. But the lightning that struck her was inscribed with Yvella’s magic. A mercy, and a betrayal.

[ #4. ] Ettienne Marchand ( Algiers ) — Warlock Death: Heart stopped during spellwork. He died clawing at his own reflection. Token Taken: A shard of his spell mirror, darkened with his dying breath.

Ettienne terrified Yvella when she was young — all booming voice and bladed teeth, a warlock who never bowed to the Ancestors. He taught power through fear, and Yvella never forgot it. Later, he became an obstacle: ancient, revered, and in the way. So she inverted a soul-scrying ritual, turning his own reflection against him. He died screaming, not at her, but at himself. She watched him claw at the mirror, and in the end, he called her name. That part haunts her more than she admits.

[ #5. ] Ione Leclair ( Marigny ) — Ritual Historian Death: Wrist-to-wrist, face-to-face. Yvella carved the sigil while she wept. Token Taken: Ione’s old ribbon, still warm with her body’s final magic.

Ione wasn’t just a mentor — she was the foundation Yvella built her magical identity upon. She offered structure to Yvella’s chaos, reverence to her rage, and a deeper understanding of the sacredness within dark magic. Their bond was one of intellect and intuition, forged over countless hours spent dissecting ritual theory, pouring through forgotten texts, and shaping dangerous ideas into refined practice. When the time came, there was no trickery, no ambush. Just an ending that felt like a beginning gone wrong. Ione didn’t fight, and Yvella didn’t hesitate until it was already done — until her trembling hands were wet with blood and the ribbon she had so often seen tied in Ione’s hair slid from her wrist like silk. The guilt never faded. Not because it was her greatest sin, but because it felt like the closest thing to being seen.

[ #6. ] Anika Beaufort ( French Quarter ) — Bone Reader Death: Poisoned mid-ceremony with monkshood tincture. She predicted her death, but could not stop it. Token Taken: Her bone saw, ironwood-handled and stained with years of rites — still warm when Yvella took it.

Anika saw the worst in people, and delighted in being right. She and Yvella had a long-standing truce built on mutual distaste. Still, Anika was powerful, precise, and uncannily accurate — her readings often struck too deep. She once told Yvella, “        You’ll ruin the world, and convince yourself it was mercy.        ” Yvella didn’t dignify it with a response. She only poured the monkshood and watched the prophecy unfold. She didn’t apologize. Not because Anika didn’t deserve it — but because she would’ve enjoyed it.

[ #7. ] Mireille Gaspar ( Les Flammes Noires ) — Pyresmith Death: Consumed by black flame— her death kindling for the final rite. Token Taken: A vial of ash taken from her pyre, sealed with salt and bone-dust, and a charred sliver of bone, still smoldering.

Mireille was flame incarnate. A creator of magical fire, a keeper of dangerous heat. Yvella admired her, perhaps even feared her — not for her strength, but her detachment. Mireille lived by one rule: “       Fire doesn’t love. Fire destroys.       ” So Yvella turned that truth on her, binding her to a ritual flame that consumed her entirely. Mireille didn’t scream. She smiled faintly as the fire took her — as if she knew what her death was for, and didn’t mind. Yvella saved a single blackened bone. It still burns when she calls on it.

[ #8. ] Soraya Delmont ( Deschamps Circle ) — Dreamwalker Death: Killed in her sleep. Never woke up. A smile frozen on her lips. Token Taken: A silver dreamcatcher pendant soaked in lavender oil.

Soraya was the kindest of them. That was the tragedy. She lived half in the real world and half in the dreamscape, and never lost her softness in either. Yvella once confessed to her — not the whole ritual, but the weight of darkness pressing on her spirit. And Soraya, in her strange, echoing way, simply said: “      When you cross the line, I’ll meet you on the other side. I don’t judge the ones I love.        ” Yvella killed her in her sleep, not out of cowardice, but reverence. She couldn’t kill Soraya awake. Not when Soraya might offer her a blessing. Not when she might forgive her. The dreamwalker died smiling — not because she was unaware, but because, somehow, she understood. She chose to make her peace with it. Yvella has never touched the pendant since. It remains warm when the rest of the tokens grow cold.

[ #9. ] Lélia Valéry ( Tremé ) — Elder. Yvella’s mother. Death: Slain with a ceremonial blade passed down through their line. She was the last, the most intimate. Yvella sobbed as she carved the sigil into her mother’s brow, whispering, “        You should have been proud.        ” Token Taken: Her wedding band and a lock of Yvella’s childhood hair, bound together.

There was no version of the ritual that didn’t end with Lélia. It was always going to come to that — not because she was the most powerful, but because she was the root. Lélia raised Yvella with rigid faith, pride, and fear braided tightly together. Her love was conditional, measured against tradition and the memory of a daughter already gone. And though Yvella craved her approval, she had long stopped needing it. Killing her wasn’t just sacrifice — it was rebellion incarnate. Patricide not out of hate, but because Lélia had become the last gatekeeper between Yvella and freedom. Her death was not an act of vengeance, but a release. And yet, even now, Yvella carries both the wedding band and the lock of hair — not out of sentiment, but because some pieces of the past must be kept, no matter how sharp their edges.

THE EMBLEM OF NOTHINGNESS

Each body bore the sacred sigil: a rhombus crowned by a sharp, symmetrical “X,” its lines etched clean between the brows, just above the Third Eye. Not drawn, not inked — but carved. Deliberate. Deep enough to scar spirit as well as skin. It bled in ways ink never could.

This mark is known as:

L’Emblème du Néant — the Symbol of Nothingness.

It is not merely a symbol, but a severance. It annihilates mortal lineage, strips the soul of name and inheritance, and binds it instead to ancestral fire. No heaven, no peace — only the weight of magic and memory, forever. The Emblem must be carved in the instant of death, as the soul tears loose from the flesh. Too early, and the bond will not hold. Too late, and the spirit will drift, unclaimed.

The blade used must be obsidian — volcanic glass, consecrated under a new moon, forged in a mixture of oil, ash, and silence. The silence is important. The knife must never hear a name, a whisper, a word. It is an instrument of unmaking. Yvella named her blade “Tranquille.” Not for peace — but for the stillness before ruin.

THE FINAL RITE

Yvella performed the closing rite in the ruins of an orphanage on the outskirts of New Orleans — Neutral Ground, sacred and dead. The things she did:

Constructed a spiraled stone altar with the tokens taken from her victims.

Lit the altar with her own blood and the flames of Mireille’s pyre ash.

Offered a vial of her own tears, a lock of her hair, and the blade that killed her mother.

Spoke the names of all nine victims in reverse, slowly, carefully, as the sigil seared itself into the ritual floor in burning chalk lines.

THE NINTH NAME IN REVERSE:

The night was dead. Not sleeping. Not quiet. Dead. No stars to bear witness. No wind to carry the sins. Just breathless walls, ancient and aching, the orphanage exhaling time as Yvella drifted barefoot over blackened bones of wood. Her blade — a lover’s weight in her grip — hung blood-heavy, whisper-slick with the ghosts of yesterday. Her throat? Ravaged. A ruin of silence. She hadn’t spoken since her last offering. ( What was the point, when the dead already listened? ) She lit the altar with blood. Hers. Of course. Always hers. One by one, the relics. The reliquary of remembrance. Each placed with reverence. Each with its truth.

— Colette’s bone:  feather-light, hollow as a lullaby.   “  You remembered everything.  ”   The memory of a girl who refused to forget.

— Lucien’s tongue:  red-grey, still warm in memory.   “  You spoke too much.  ”  No more lies now. Just stillness.

— Camila’s braid:  singed and frayed, humming rebellion.   “  You danced with storms. Now storms dance for me.  ”  Inheritance, electric.

— Ettienne’s mirror shard:  light bent, fire caught.   “  See yourself.  ”   She turned the truth inward. It cut, as all truth must.

— Ione’s ribbon:  grief-worn and trembling.   “  You taught me how to begin. I’m sorry this is how I end.  ”   Her hand faltered.  ( Grief is a god with no altar, and she had worshipped long. )

— Anika’s saw:  teeth still sharp. No words. No apology.   Some violence needs no name.

— Mireille’s ash:  a circle drawn in grey.   As it fell, the flames rose — they knew her. Fire remembers the ones who fed it.

— Soraya’s pendant:  a silver dreamcatcher, delicate as lace, soaked in lavender oil.   It hung warm from her neck, threaded with sleep. Yvella took it gently.   “  Sleep well, witch of velvet eyes.  ”   She kissed her fingers. A farewell. A blessing.

And then — Lélia. Her wedding band. Yvella’s childhood hair. A daughter’s last tether.

Yvella knelt. The blade beside her. The sigils already hungry. Her voice cracked — shattered — on the name she’d never stop carrying. Her mother’s token, center bowl. Blood tracing sacred maps across old Tremé stone. Tears like ink across spell-lines.   “  This is where I stop being your daughter,  ”   — barely a breath —   “  and become something else.  ” Nine names. Spoken in reverse. An invocation unraveling. The world held its breath. Then— Crack. The veil split. Flames rose like hands. Nine shadows howled their last. The sigil burned,  deep and permanent.

And Yvella Valéry was not a girl anymore. She was the answer to every question they died asking.

WHAT THE RITE GAVE HER

The Rite of Nines was never meant to be completed. The original architects — long-forgotten witches who carved spells into flesh instead of paper — designed it as a trial of impossible sacrifice. The power it offered was immense, but only if every term was fulfilled with perfect cruelty. Yvella did not flinch. And the magic obeyed. Here is what she became.

SACRIFICIAL MASTERY:

Yvella no longer needed channels or tethers. No ancestral prayers. No bloodlines to beg from. She could draw raw power from any body freshly dead — human, witch, vampire, werewolf — without ritual, without fanfare. A glance, a whisper, and the soul peeled open like wet paper. Where others required offerings, she became the offering. More terrifying still: the magic didn’t just respond. It clung to her. Death became a language she spoke fluently. Her fingers blackened at the tips for weeks after. A stain of death that never quite scrubbed away.

ANCESTRAL AUTHORITY:

Within New Orleans, her magic became supreme. The ancestral plane — that hallowed realm where dead witches whisper judgment — bent to her. Spirits recoiled or bowed. Even the Elders, those titanic forces who governed ancestral spellwork, could not refuse her command. Her rites silenced cemeteries. Her footsteps disrupted séances. Witches who summoned their ancestors found only silence when Yvella stood nearby. Some began to call her the False Matriarch — others, the Witch Queen in Ash.

WITCHLINE ACCESS:

Most witches can only pull power from their own coven. The bloodline is everything. But Yvella’s ritual connected her to all nine. With every sacrifice, she carved a path into their magic — not just their names, but their histories, traditions, and hidden rites. She could wield fire like the Les Flammes Noires,  dreamwalk like Deschamps, fracture bones like the Beaufort line. Even after the covens cast her out, she still felt their echoes. She was a coven of one — but inside her, nine screamed.

RESILIENCE:

Yvella did not seek immortality. But the ritual touched time. From the moment she completed the ninth kill, her body changed. Her heart slowed. Her cells ceased their withering. She did not age, not truly. Wounds closed quicker. Poisons diluted. Mortal disease fled her like prey sensing a predator. She is not unkillable. But she is very, very hard to kill. There are legends that she stood still during a thunderstrike and felt only heat. That a vampire once tried to drink from her and screamed until his throat burned shut. No one knows for certain. But her skin has never wrinkled. Her eyes are still the color of dark molasses. And she has outlived everyone who tried to stop her.

LEGACY:

Her name became legend. Then curse. Then silence. Witches tell their children stories of the Sacrificial Witch — how she moved through the city like a blade, how she fed on the covens, how she vanished before justice could find her. Some say she died. Others say she still walks, watching, waiting. No coven speaks her name aloud. But every child in Tremé knows it. Yvella Valéry. The Bloody Miracle. The Witch Who Ended Nine.

WHAT THE RITE TOOK FROM HER

Power always costs. For Yvella, it cost nearly everything.

HER HOME:

She cannot return. Not truly. Though she was born in Tremé, though her bones are made of New Orleans soil, no coven will welcome her. Witches spit when they speak of her. Mothers clutch their children closer. Altars flare and crack in her presence. She walks her city like a ghost. A myth wrapped in flesh. A whisper behind every ward. Only the dead greet her now — and even they do not love her. They bow because they must. They rise when she calls. But their silence is not peace. It is penance. And when she passes, the cemeteries hold their breath.

HER MOTHER:

Lélia Valéry — her last sacrifice. The woman who taught her candlework, who sang to her in Creole lullabies, who once bound her scraped knee with thyme and salt. The woman who warned her of ambition, of the line between hunger and monstrosity. Yvella crossed it anyway. And Lélia became the ninth. She used a ceremonial blade passed down through their line. She whispered apologies no one heard. She carved the sigil into her mother’s brow with trembling fingers. Now, every year on the anniversary, Yvella dreams of Lélia’s voice in reverse. Like a record spun backward. Like magic dying in her throat.

HER SISTER, ANIELLE:

After the ritual, the covens rose as one. They came with fire, salt, and iron. They meant to kill her. Yvella did not run. She stood in the square and waited, ash-laced and unrepentant. Anielle, younger and kind-hearted, did not know. When the spells flew, she stepped between her sister and death. Took a binding curse meant to stop Yvella’s heart. It stopped hers instead. In the chaos, Yvella vanished. Let them believe she died too. Anielle was buried as a martyr. Yvella never spoke her name again. Except in the dark. Except when she’s drunk, or bleeding, or tired.

HER FULL POWER — OUTSIDE NEW ORLEANS:

The ritual made her a living anomaly — but it also anchored her. Her power, vast and unruly, is built on ancestral bones. It feeds off New Orleans, off the soil, the dead, the history. When she leaves the city, it begins to fade. Not entirely. She remains dangerous. But her spells crack more easily. Her control wavers. It’s as though part of her soul remains behind, buried under the nine she killed. Some say she’s tied to the city like a spirit herself. Others think she likes it that way.

HER SANITY — MAYBE:

Once a year, on the anniversary of the ninth death, Yvella relives them all. She does not mean to. The visions come unbidden. She tastes the ash again. Sees each face. Remembers the heat of Ione’s blood, the smell of Mireille’s flame, the sound of her mother’s final breath. It never gets easier. The memories sharpen with time. She does not scream. She does not run. She locks herself in a room with no candles and no mirrors. And she waits until it passes. And when it does, she smiles like Soraya did. Soft. Sad. Knowing. Because this is the cost of power: To remember. To ache. To survive anyway.

[sauron-kraut]

AO3 Wrapped

Thank you so much for tagging me in this @crackinthecup - I know I'm late, but hey, here we go with a little 2024 Wrapped.

Total words published at end of year: 25,110

Fandoms: The Silmarillion

Top 3 ships: Mairon/Ar-Pharazôn, Mairon/Khamûl, Mairon/Witch-King of Angmar

Top 5 tags:

Not Beta Read (lmao)

Ficlet

Explicit Sexual Content

Akallabêth

PWP

Top 3 fics by wordcount:

Prey (Mairon/Khamûl; 3,260 words; rated E)

Of Gods And Monsters (Mairon/Ar-Pharazôn; 2,322 words; rated E)

Seal It With a Kiss (Silm; multi (collection of ficlets for Tumblr kiss prompts); 1,517 words, rated E)

Highest everything (raw kudos, hits, comments):

Hits: Sacrificial (1,260)

Kudos: see above (88)

Comments: Seal It With a Kiss (15)

New things I tried:

Wrote some new pairings like Mairon/Khamûl and Mairon/Amandil, which I really enjoyed (I cannot seem to write Mairon with basically anyone without making them do unholy things) and got more into true drabble formats, which I love as a challenge and art form.

Fic I spent the least time on:

A Lesson on Worship, I believe. The idea for this triple drabble struck me while still in bed; then I rolled out of bed, took my cup of coffee and wrote it down REALLY quick compared to my normal pace of writing.

Favourite thing(s) I read:

All Your Potential, Spurned by lovely @saintstars, a haunting, cruel and beautiful silvergifting fic from Mairon's 1st person POV. This literally altered my brain chemistry.

veinlet by my beloved @lvsifer, a little ficlet he gifted me on the day of my surgery when I got my throat cut. It's about the Witch-King of Angmar cutting his own throat in a gory ritual and incorporates some background lore to mine and especially @lvsifer's headcanons about him. Read it in my hospital bed while bleeding from my own neck; it was quite the experience and the fic is PURE ART.

Night Moth, also by @lvsifer, in which Mairon makes his move to seduce the Witch-King (IF YOU EVER FINISH THIS I'LL BE ON MY KNEES)

Wait for You by @crackinthecup. This fic made me cry. It is so full of sorrow, of grief, and just a beautiful read.

Dead Heart, Still Beating by the sweetest and kindest @cilil, an Dior/Amras ongoing long fic, NOT a ship I ever even thought of or thought I would get into, but she made it work for me and more than that, this fic is simply delicious and the characterization of these two is incredible! Cannot wait to see how this continues.

Overindulgence, a Mairon/Ar-Pharazôn Non-Con fic by @admirably-abhorrent (🖤!) that is so deliciously gross and depraved and decadent, I cannot stop myself from re-reading it again and again. Thank you for writing this gem for one of my favorite ships ever.

Writing goals for 2025:

Getting more into writing long(er) fic I guess, writing more original fiction and probably looking into some other fandoms writing-wise. Learn a thing or two about plotting maybe. :)

Not tagging anyone since I'm making this post so delayed, but feel free to do this if you haven't done it yet, of course!

[epitomereally]

Celestial Navigation by @sabrecmc

18 year old Omega!Tony finds himself Bonded to Captain Steve Rogers. He isn't happy about it until he is.

An absolutely gorgeous story of learning to love yourself, even when you feel like you don't fit in & that you grew up wrong. I'm so happy to have gotten to bind this mammoth work for Sabre & as a gift exchange for @mourningmountainsbindery (who bound me this beautiful copy of Astolat's Let the River Run—JUST LOOK AT THAT COVER!).

Also to anyone who has @ed me lately (looking at u, em @powerful-owl & tacky @tackytigerfic particularly) & I've been derelict in responding, here is WHY.

This has been the longest binding project I've undertaken, both in page count and in time. My original message to Sabre was on March 16th—can't decide if I want to use the laughing or crying emoji here—and the colophon says I made the book in April 2023 (which was when I started typesetting, maybe). I had been randomly perusing dying videos on Youtube in bed on a Saturday morning, as one does, and came across a video showing how to spiral tie-dye. I IMMEDIATELY had a design premonition of the full design for this fic as a two-volume set, planted into my brain wholesale by the binding gods. I learned many new techniques throughout the process (edge painting, edge trimming/sanding, tie-dying/dyepainting, embroidery, typesetting meta from tumblr which copy-pastes with the worst goddamn formatting in the world, kill me now). Overall, alternately extremely painful & wonderful, and I'm extremely proud of this set.

Design-wise, I went whole-hog with the scifi stars theme. Endpapers are recolored versions of the star charts from the Apollo 11 mission:

Title page & chapter titles are both rips in the galaxy:

Epigraphs both star-themed:

Some more glamor shots because I'm so proud 💕

8.6 lbs // 3.8 kgs worth of books (~3000 total pages) 🥰

Celestial Navigation is also INCREDIBLY popular, and Sabre has been incredibly generous answering asks on her tumblr + writing additional one-shots in the universe. There is also a veritable volume of fanart. I was so inspired by seeing @robins-egg-bindery copy of ********, with its appendix of fanart & meta, that I promptly copied them.

fanart redacted because lots of the artists are no longer active on tumblr but just know i am ECSTATIC about the amount of art in these books

Lastly, I love how @clovenhoofbindery includes their 'Illustrator mess' with their bind posts, as a behind-the-scenes look into the wild process of designing these books. I don't actually have an Illustrator mess for this book (the chapter titles & title page pretty much came in one take), but I do have a DYING MESS. It took me sososo many tries to figure out how to get the dye to look how I imagined in my head. I ended up 'dye painting' instead of tie-dying in the end, but my inbox is always open to chat hand-dying/tie-dying/dyepainting (or what I did differently between any of these attempts). Numbers are the dying attempt.

Last process shot: I hand-dyed variegated linen thread to match the colors of the bind, which ends up being incredibly difficult to see on the finished bind, but was super fun while I was sewing!

Materials:

Body font: Kepler

Title font: Compaq 1982

Chapter number font: aliens & cows

Endpapers: recolored versions of the star chart used by Michael Collins during the Apollo 11 mission (archived at The Smithsonian)

Bookcloth: dyed using Dharma Trading Procion Fiber-Reactive Dyes

Title page and chapter headers: designed in Photoshop using the Ultimate Space brush pack by jeffrettalyn on DeviantArt

Metallic embroidery thread: Cosmo Nishikiito thread

I would dye for this embroidery thread. It is LIGHT YEARS better than the classic metallic embroidery thread from DMC: much easier to work with & much more sparkly. Literally so eye-catching; it truly doesn't translate to photos.

Paint for edges: Daniel Smith watercolor tubes in Iridescent Sunstone and Prussian Blue

Note: these are GORGEOUS watercolors. The color is so saturated and strong and beautiful BUT I don't think I'd recommend watercolors for edge painting. They went on very differently depending on the grit of the sandpaper I used for the edges + they sometimes bled into the pages + they had to be set with fixative, which then stuck the pages together.

[babsvibes]

Balsamic Vignette for director’s cut

Eeeee I LOVE Balsamic Vignette! Thank you for being my hero ♥♥♥

I adore writing AUs but am deathly allergic to finishing them beyond the one scene I want to write, so that’s where this fic came from. The summary could easily be "5 times Babs didn't complete a wip and the one time she said fuck it and glued them all together"

If I had to rank the AUs by favorite, it would go: Ghost AU, Powers AU, Robin Hood AU, Age Swap AU, Secret Kid AU. This ranking of course changes daily

I joked a little bit, but I do think these stories actually work in this format. I get to focus on what I love instead of the parts I find boring, which is the great part about fanfiction!

I've probably spent the most time daydreaming about the Powers AU because I'm an xmen girly, but I really never thought I'd write it because it's so visual-driven and that makes me mourn not being an artist (I don't know how y'all have the patience to make the pictures in your head into pictures in real life, seems insane actually). The next most built out worldbuilding-wise is the Ghost AU because I do have other scenes in my head but they all get a little x rated, but I've also like figured out how ghosts work in that universe so def most fleshed out (ah ha, flesh, because... he's a ghost).

Secret Kid was a surprise that I actually put down because ch*ldren are not a very Babs-friendly topic, but I DO like the idea of trying to hide something from someone for a very long time and going to greater lengths to pretend everything is okay when it's not. It's that sweet, sweet denial~ .. but in any case, I wrote it once, I got it out of my system, now I never have to think about it again yayyy

And I took a couple of risks with the Robin Hood and Age Swap AUs. I'd honestly love to write more dubcon some time (just to be clear, it's because I think it's hot in a freak way), and the prince and thief dynamic seemed perfect for sticking my toe in the water. I also don't normally focus on the age gap portion of my ship, but in the age swap AU it was veryyy in your face. What's funny about that one was I was thinking hm... people would probably see their relationship as less problematic if Logan was younger and Louise hadn't been as much of a bully to him.... better introduce more problematic elements to balance that out! And thus, she used to be his babysitter. Fiction writing is a wonderful tool for exploring all kinds of stories, so it felt like new territory!

Balsamic Vignette filled a hole in my heart where a bunch of incomplete WIPs used to live, and it makes me so happy to think about, thank you!!!

[sannirio]

I DO

wc: 611

fluff, no cw. if there is please let me know.

A/N: im so sorry for being gone for so long. work and my mental health has been just yikes but i promise ill be back too writing!

i hope you guys enjoy!

there will be a part 2 i just wanted to give yall sm to read in the meantime <3

everything was perfect, he thought. san was standing at the altar, nervously. today was your wedding day, finally it had arrived. there was a crowd of people all sitting in classic neat rows, the gorgeous french inspired château off in the distance, the stained glass just barely visible from where san stood. all 7 of his band mates were off to his left. hongjoong, mingi, seonghwa, yeosang, jongho, yunho and wooyoung were standing, arms behind their backs. matching black tuxedos had been supplied to them all, making the guys all look super composed which rarely happened. seonghwa’s small black sunglasses made him stand out but what could he do? san chuckled at the sight of those dumb glasses.

the aisle ahead of him was a bed of soft white marble, lined with stones and moss. those were to represent the mountains in which he was named after. nestled in between the rocks, like little elf lanterns sprouted tiny snowdrop flowers. he had chosen these specifically because not only was it your favorite flower, but they reminded him of his future partner. delicate, graceful, fragile, yet so elegant. the altar was just as extravagant. wisteria had been draped like a blanket over a thin steel frame, mixing with branches to conceal the industrial structure. poking out in a loosely scattered formation, korean roses dotted the structure giving symbolic colour to the basic toned lattice behind him. on either side of the altar were these gorgeous flower bushes that had hidden lights in them. the effect was almost ocean-like. as if there were glofish dancing around in the dark. making these bushes look like rain clouds, water drops were pouring out from different parts, almost creating flower fountains. the scenery was gorgeous. the sound of a violin tore san from his trance, it was time.

it was hard to see through the wight veil that curtained your face. the sweet pull of a violin flowing from the quartet graced your ears.

“wise men say… only fools rush in”

goeuns voice was ethereal. you were so happy your best friend said yes to singing at your wedding, she knew how much it meant to you. your first bridesmaid took her first step down the aisle. one after another your closest friends made their way to the altar, their grace and poise reminded you of how you visioned your happiest day to be. the soft tug on your arm pulled you out of your daydream. your father was now standing beside you, his arm linked with yours. he gave you a smile, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. he was very obviously trying to hold in his feelings, for at least the time being with little to no avail. your father was so proud of you. before the two of you started your walk down the aisle your eyes meet your mothers. she's in the front row, handkerchief in hand, the same look your father has adorned her face as well. she was dressed in lovely soft lilac accented hanbok, similar to san’s mom who wore green.

you took your first step, your father matching your stride. you could feel butterflies dancing around in your stomach. the last time you felt this nervous was when you had first met san. it was an amazing feeling, like young love all over again, or the honeymoon phase. you took another step, and what felt like the blink of an eye you were standing at the altar, san across from you. was he crying? how sweet. he couldn’t hold in his emotions, the happiness, the joy, the love, it was overwhelming. “this is perfect he thought.”

[auxtowns]

ND events brainstorming

Obligatory @doodlingwren

Unlike the Classic's events, I didn't get to think a whole lot about ND as I'm writing this. So far, I only have a very rough idea of what it should be, and how it contributes to reaching where we are in the Classic's setting.

Aesthetic/Sprite-wise. I'd be following G/R/B/Y's look and rudimentary af sprites for ND. This is mostly a mental note for me, when I get around to working on them.

ND should take place at least 30-50 years before, the Classic's setting. There's a HUGE window of time between the settings which most certainly could explain:

People seemingly forgetting about Hades squad's antics in ND. Only older people genuinely seem to have a vivid memory of what happened, and the sense of "they must have been disbanded a long time ago, right?". This also means that Hades is indeed VERY old, but somehow maintains a mostly youthful look (dhermatologists hate this guy);

This also explains why in the classic's setting there is barely any acknowledgement to the previous GLs and E4 members, or even why PC never runs into them (they have either retired/moved out of Sanctuary);

The underground tunnels aren't that big, and they still retain its natural formations. They may connect a city to another dungeon/route but, nowhere NEAR the level that we observe in Classic's setting. It sure explains why it took Hades THIS long to conclude the tunnels and properly execute his plan;

It would also explain why the likes of Dohko could have obtained, seemingly ancient time's species (they used to be a lot more common way back then).

ND's setting is all about the introduction of the Pokemon League in Sanctuary's grounds. PC will be seeing how there's a lot of work that has yet to be done (some GLs have recently been assigned to their positions), and how it is still in its infancy. As well as how it became, the perfect breeding ground for the antics of an organisation like Hades'.

For Worldbuilding flavor, this also implies that a good chunk of cities we see in Classic either don't exist in ND. OR they are MUCH smaller and barren in comparison.

PC talk & notable NPCs

While in Classic's setting we had PC with a bunch of R2F characters (as well as its Shoko's route alternative). In ND, it's a lot more straightforward. With the only PC being Tenma, and his only friend rival that turns antagonistic in Alone. Tenma's story is there to illustrate how in a way, he became the poster boy to promote and boost the League's image to the public (in order to help it establish itself in Sanctuary).

I have talked in another post- and I'm bringing it here. Meanwhile, Alone's entire character is corrupted by taking on Hades' sponsorship deal. Thus, becoming another pawn in Hades' schemes;

Sasha wouldn't be a playable character. She is meant to be the Chairwoman, in charge of organising and running the League. But PC and her would often run into one another, throughout the journey.

Talking about Suikyo, he is still kinda of an enigma to me. I still haven't come up with something for him but, he could be a notable character from Hades' squad. He'd still have his connections to Shion and Dohko so, his role could be to further illustrate Hades' coersion abilities, and how trainers would willingly join his organisation.

Odysseus takes on many roles at the same time, given the early stages the League finds itself. He isn't a professor per se, BUT PC would for sure get their starter pokemon from him. Odysseus also fills the role of a placeholder champion, until he is officially beaten by Alone, crowning him as the champion (that will be shortly after be defeated by PC). Odysseus is also the NPC that will take PC to be registered on the Hall of Fame.

Now the fun stuff in League members talk

The order wouldn't be the same one, we see in Classic's setting. I'm sacrificing the zodiacal order, if it means we get to highlight the most notable ND golds <3.

Gym leaders:

Gestalt: Galar - Flying - Skarmory

Cardinale: Kalos - Grass - Tsareena

Ox: Kanto - Normal - Taurus

Shion: Sinnoh - Dragon - Salamence

Mystoria: Hoenn - Water - Walrein

Dohko: Johto - Fighting - Mienshao

Izo: Sinnoh - Rock - Kleavor

Abel & Kain: Unova - Psychic - Gothitelle / Espathra

E4 members:

Écarlate: Paldea - Poison - Sneasler

Kaiser: Kanto - Fire - Pyroar

Deathtoll: Alola - Ghost - Cofagrigus

Shijima: Johto - Fairy - Flutter Mane

PC wouldn't really get to fight Odysseus so, his ace pokemon is kinda of up in the air to what it would be. I also feel like that he wouldn't have a type specialty. BUT it would probably either be Hisuian Braviary, OR Ursaluna.

And that's what I got so far!

[leviathans-watching]

Hi! I really like your content, and I've been following you for a while but never done one of these before.

I was wondering if you had any tips for creating a writing blog?

thank you so much for the support! hopefully what I include is at least somewhat helpful!

first, i think it's important to note that a lot of my success comes from the circumstances surrounding the startup of my blog. i began to write for obey me during 2020, with my first work getting posted around may. this is important for two reasons: not only we're we in lockdown, leading to an insane increase in engagement from 2020-late 2022, but also since the game released in dec 2019, I was one of the first people to write for it, thus meaning I was filling a niche that had in increased demand. my point in this is to say that I attribute a lot of my success to these factors, and not necessarily to any actions that I took or inherent talent lol

also note that these tops are based in my experience and experience only, not in any science or data!

general tips:

don't expect to blow up overnight! i've been writing fanfiction since 2018 and i only started gaining traction in late 2020 haha. and in that time, don't be afraid to just throw stuff at the wall until you find something that sticks. set boundaries! if you get to a point where people are being demanding, unkind, leaving hate, asking for too much, doing anything to rub you the wrong way, shut it down. thankfully I've only had to do that like twice (as usually my followers are lovely and understanding), but it's important to remember this is your blog and your rules

writing tips:

play around with style, tone, themes, elements, etc until you find your groove. my works do span stylistically, thematically, plot-wise, etc, but commonly they're lighthearted and sweet, as I find that's what I like to write the best. find what you like to write the best! edit edit edit! once you're done writing, read through it once or twice to find typos/stuff you don't like, then when you move it from wherever you're writing (as I do not suggest writing in tumblr) look through it again as the new format and sizing will allow you to catch more. then, if you're still unsure, wait overnight and look through it again the next day before posting. but it's also not the end of the world to have typos if you get constructive criticism (given in a kind way ofc)... it's in your best interest to at least evaluate your work before deciding to take it or not. don't just dismiss it. reflection leads to improvement! when I first started writing I didn't even put dialogue into different paragraphs and without some nice comments who knows how long that might have lasted lol if you're struggling with writing block or can't seem to finish up a piece, give it a break. don't keep kicking a dead horse. I've had pieces that I start and don't come back to until like 9 months later lmfaooo

technical tips:

blogs that are centered around 1 (to 2) fandoms tend to do better. this is because ppl don't like to follow creators if there's also a bunch of random stuff appearing on their dash in between works. this is why I utilize sideblogs (i tend to post obey me and haikyu (to a lesser degree) on this one, and i have one for batman, one for another book series, and one for more personal poetry and stuff) a good and aesthetically pleasing layout is going to really go far. if you're blog and works look professional and attractive, they're going to pull people in. what this means is to come up with a blog theme/layout that is unique and fits the vibes of you and your writing, have a unique pfp (so not one of the of tumblr ones), and make sure your works are organized with a clear layout that's standard across your blog (this also helps create a 'blog identity'). feel free to look at mine for inspo obv or as you scroll through popular blogs/tags try to pick out elements that you'd like to incorporate. tagging is your best friend. i always start with the most important/broad ones (i.e. #obey me, #obey me game), then go into relevant relationships (i.e. #mammon x you, #mammon x mc), then characters (i.e. #mammon obey me, #obey me mammon), then anything else. this order can be changed if you have trigger warnings, which i'd say to put first. also, do not spam tag or tag thing's that aren't related in an effort to gain viability as that will actually make people less likely to engage. as with layout, try to standardize your process/blog specific tags so they create a 'blog identity' (such as my #leviawriting or #from: levi tags) be kind and interactive! if people leave you nice comments, respond to them! answer asks, have conversations, make new friends! this will make your experience much more fun and bring a lot of joy, and also make people want to talk to you

that's really all i can come up with right now! obviously if anyone has more tips feel free to tack them on and if you have questions send them my way!

[montybuggershop-hooty]

Wow the end of 2024. It feels so futuristic.

New years is a holiday I enjoy because it’s a great time for reflection.

It’s strange to be here and strange to think about all the people that aren’t. Things are never the same again but they do continue to happen. It can be really lonely and sad but I’m still excited to see what 2025 will be like.

In 2024 I was lucky to get back in touch with someone from my distant past, and I was delighted to be able to see friends irl a few times and met a bunch of new work people. I’m always so grateful that people have patience for me and are willing to tell me about their stuff. (Even when they don’t have patience…)

2024 was also an EXCEPTIONAL year for me in terms of treasure acquisition. And I began work on probably the most engaging and beautiful cartoon I’ve ever had the luck to work on thanks to an amazing coworker who heavily vouched for me. I really truly can’t wait for people to see it.

This was the first year I got to experience co-DMing a DnD campaign I helped write and it was really nerve wracking. When it was finished I proclaimed I would never do it again.. but I will.

Health wise this wasn’t the best year, I got put on and off new medications that all fucked me up and had to settle for one that still gucks me up but to a level I can accept. I don’t feel confident going outside or being in public or travelling but I’m glad I got to! I’m hoping to travel more in 2025! Visit friends abroad and if I can muster it, return to Tsuwano and eat genjimaki. I miss my little home there and I’m often not quite sure why I left to live in a country having a housing crisis, but here I am.

Last year my resolution was to go to more live shows and to not buy any new clothes. I managed to go to at least 15 shows. Unbelievable. I only felt shaky at one and that was a standing situation so I will count it as a vestibular condition success! I didn’t buy any clothes except for Christmas where I needed something a bit dressy, and replacing some jeans that I wore through with powerful legs and one really good T-shirt but it glows in the dark so I think it’s exempt.

This was also the first year I ever published a fan book! It was so much fun to gather everything up and format it into what in my opinion is a pretty cool little book! And receiving the finished thing (after receiving the fucked up version where I fucked up the page order) felt so huge. I loved it and I’m so glad 8 whole people wanted one.

I want 2025 to be the year I buy a house. If I can stay working at the studio I’m at right now I might be able to check the right boxes and make it happen. I have no dream house. I will make anything into a place I want to be.

I also want to be healthier in 2025. I’m losing a bit of weight and hope to come off some medications, but even if stuff stays just as it is right now that’s good enough.

I really want to be more active socially in 2025 too. It always breaks my little heart to see people regularly having fun in these friend groups. This is something I didn’t nurture well in my 20s due to anxiety and other stupid bullshit and then just kind of took as a given, but I’m going to try be more out there. I will have* bought a house so I’ll be able to invite people to visit or eat food or whatever.

* If anyone has any Maneki Neko they want to give me in aid of this I’d appreciate it.

I hope things look up for everyone in 2025. Whether we make it or not we can east some good food and see some cool stuff in the meantime.

Happy new year!

[crehador]

for asks, 5, 11 and 30

for 11, I mean longest maybe not time wise, but which daily stumped you the most overall? maybe an idea took a while to finalize but after that it was fast to write?

thank youuu for the ask! (っ˘ω˘ς )

5. what work of yours got more feedback than you expected?

honestly i think i will have to go with the one with the clones for this one because it was just. such a ridiculous crackpot fever dream idea that spiraled wildly out of control all thanks to the encouragement of my lovely horny regulars

i definitely didn't expect to spend as much time as i have with the clones (and would have probably tackled their story in a different format if i had) and i probably wouldn't have if not for the feedback! so thank you to everyone who has been following along with that hot mess lmao

ALSO HELLO ARKNIGHTS AU?! i mean that didn't get a ton of feedback or anything but it definitely got more than i expected, which was none. it is such a niche fusion that honestly i didn't expect anyone to like... read it while also knowing what arknights is, so i was thrilled to see you there lol and i want to write more of it one day!! snow leopard samatoki distant cousin of the silverash clan my beloved

11. what work took you the longest to write?

so whenever i sit down to start a daily, i create a new page in scrivener and title the page with the number. so if i'm working on daily 123 for example i'll title it "123." then start writing and add a more descriptive tag to the title after it's complete

but if i start writing something and don't finish it on the same day, i'll often just add another page above it and make that the new 123 without changing the previous one...

which is basically to say sometimes, when one idea stumps me for a while, my numbering system ends up looking like 156, 157, 158, 159, 123 lmao

anyway all this is to say, this has definitely happened a few times throughout the year, where one number just kept getting pushed down and down. i can't say for sure which one took the absolute longest

BUT ONE THAT I KNOW took a heinously long time was the prince/pirate request from a beloved mutual! i wanted to write that like as soon as the prompt came in because prince/pirate! what could be better!!

it wound up taking months, i think. (once again sincerest apologies dear mutual who had to wait. for. months.) i went through a whole bunch of different ideas, i think largely because each one wanted to be something bigger than a daily. something longer, more plotty, more substantial

(and so there may be at least one prince/pirate au coming next year lol)

so to answer the actual question here, it might have been that one, but more broadly speaking when a daily took a long time it wasn't usually for lack of interest in the idea, it was usually just Too Ambitious ideas that got me hung up

30. biggest surprise while writing this year?

honestly just... the fact that i actually did it. one fic a day. for samaichi/ichisama. every day. FOR A WHOLE YEAR. i mean okay the year is not quite over yet and i don't want to jinx it but it's pretty much mid-december already and i haven't missed a day?!

like. i had covid for the first time this year. and i didn't miss a day. not even god could stop me at this point. i'm fine. i'm normal

i've done "write every day" challenges before and even challenged myself to write and post every day before this at one point, but my longest streak lasted 50 days. and i'm coming up on 350 now so... yeah. definitely a surprise and a pleasant one at that lol

in terms of specific works... i'm a little surprised by my whole, like. high school au fugue state from earlier this year. where i committed to writing high school aus only for the entire duration of the samaichi high school au event in arb (which wound up being even more samaichi than it originally seemed WHAT DO YOU MEANNNNNN IT WAS ICHIRO'S DREAM ahem. anyway)

like i have nothing against high school au and i find it generally cute and occasionally fun to write, but i don't think i would say it's one of my top favorites. so a bit of a surprise that i was able to keep it up, and i remember having a ton of fun with it too! yes i cheated on occasion and had them as teachers instead of students BUT IT WAS STILL IN A HIGH SCHOOL SO. i say it counts lol

ao3 wrapped asks

[xmoonlitxdreamx]

Notes/thoughts/interpretations/critiques on p. 1-7 of the junker short story "a friendly rivalry"

I'm not much of a reader but I thought I'd try to read the junker short story since it's available for free now. I took page-by-page notes on my thoughts/impressions while I was reading, which I'll put below. :0

This is only the first 7 pages because the latter half of the story was kind of confusing for me (a lot of combat that wasn't making sense to me), but I'll try to give those a proper read some time too.

(Please note that I'm critical at times because it's easier for me to write about things that don't work rather than do work, so if you don't like reading critique this might not be for you. I try not to be too negative or upset sounding but idk not totally sure how I come off in these notes. personally I'm like Extremely Neutral™️ about the story because I don't really care much about reading in the first place so lskdfjlsdfj)

This will prob not make much sense unless you have the story open at the same time, just a heads up;;

Page 1

Narration is 3rd person mostly limited to Junkrat’s thoughts/impressions (aka narration is in 3rd person but comments/etc made in the narration is indicative of Junkrat’s perception of things)

The cover art made me think it was gonna be from Roadhog’s POV but nah it’s mostly Junkrat

Narration refers to Roadhog as Junkrat’s “best mate” (implicitly Junkrat’s thoughts, so Junkrat thinks of Roadhog as his best mate)

Roadhog possibly nervous & Junkrat is able to pick up on it OR Junkrat is nervous & projecting his nervousness onto Roadhog (as the story progresses, it becomes clear that it’s the latter)

Junkrat calls Junker Queen “Queenie”; can be interpreted as affection for her or disrespecting her

Junkrat thinks he and the Queen have a mutual respect; Roadhog disagrees; indicative of Junkrat’s inability to accurately assess his relationships with other people I guess

They sell boba at a bar in Junkertown apparently LMAO?? I always interpreted it to be that Junkrat picked up the taste for boba from traveling around the world during his heist spree (tho honestly Junkrat’s boba interest was just a fun thing they added based on a fan question about Junkrat’s canteen iirc so I kinda get not taking an earnest route with this lmao)

Sludge pit = some sort of punishment for criminals in Junkertown I guess. Also Junkertown has a jail. I guess there is some sort of criminal justice system in Junkertown idk.

Footnote on p. 1 is kinda funny (meant to emphasize that Junkrat’s a blabbermouth) but tbh I always took Junkrat’s “secret treasure” to mean “Junkrat has a treasure but no one knows what it is,” not “Junkrat has a secret and it’s a treasure.” (Junkrat telling everyone/bragging about having a treasure is in line with my headcanon though)

Unclear if this story takes place before or after their heist spree. Honestly continuity-wise it doesn’t make much sense either way; it kinda more feels like the heist spree never happened.  (If it was before the heist spree, its weird that Junker Queen would try to execute them here but then just exile them later. If it was after the heist spree, it’s weird she let them back in Junkertown just to execute them since they’re not her problem anymore.)

Page 2

Roadhog’s “worried look” was apparently just him waiting for Junkrat to shut up, cementing that Junkrat’s perception of Roadhog’s emotions was just Junkrat projecting his own worry onto someone else

This is a formatting thing but I don’t like when books have big blocks of text on the page from stuff that hasn’t happened yet LMAO why are they showing me spoilers.

It’s reveal on this page is that they’re here to be executed. Tbh this is kind of tonally weird to me, like I know Junker Queen wants Junkrat and Roadhog killed but it’s kind of at odds with the kind of cartoonishness of how the story’s written. (cartoonishness elaborated on in later bullet points)

Anyway the execution reveal also reveals that Junkrat’s perception of him and Junker Queen having “mutual respect” is something he made up

Junkrat is social in Junkertown and he seems to likes the people there, but he isn’t liked by the people (exemplified in part where someone throws an egg at him); apparently has some sort of sentimentality for living in Junkertown even if no one likes him

Scrumbo Wigley is a ridiculous name.

Scrumbo Wigley’s name & someone throwing an egg at Junkrat = cartoonish tone of the scene

Roadhog taps Junkrat on the shoulder to get his attention -> kind of a light touch from Roadhog which is cute to me, but tbh it’s probably meant to just shift the attention of the scene lmao

Page 3

Idk why “look” was italicized here, it felt kind of unnecessary since “gave him a look” already means “gave someone an irritated look.” (I’m just an italics hater in general tho dslfksdjfsd)

Junkertown has a premium sausage stand

The Outback Bill bit kind of emphasized the cartoonishness of the scene again; entire listing of the crimes bit intended as humorous. (Outback Bill part in particular felt so random to me, like trying to do an “avatar cabbages guy” bit in like 3 sentences)

Outback Bill crime suggests Junkrat and Roadhog blew up some people for fun (I guess the sausage stand was their target but some customers also got blown up; unclear if just injured or killed, but given the intended humor in the scene it’s probably not supposed to be anything serious)

Cartoony tone makes it feel kinda wild that they’re getting executed but I guess it’s more of a Colosseum battle than an execution

Junkrat is apparently not intimidated by Junker Queen given that he banters with her about her not wanting to fight them herself (though later he’s scared of her when she comes down to the battlefield thing so maybe that was just fake confidence.)

Junker Queen apparently finds Junkrat and Roadhog funny/entertaining (biscuit incident) which tbh makes it all the more random to me that they’re getting executed imo

This doesn’t exactly work tonally imo (again, hard to tell if there’s any gravity to this battle or if it’s just supposed to be wacky silly) but Junkrat getting pissy and saying “unbelievable” like a disappointed grandma about having to fight Wrecking Ball is pretty funny

Footnote on this page says that city factions (demolitionist, wrecker, etc) apparently work together or something I guess. Not really sure what they’re trying to suggest with this footnote; I guess it emphasizes the idea of Junkertown being self-sufficient or something. Or that they’re all destructive and violent, but like. In a community-building way.

Page 4

Roadhog pulls Junkrat out of danger (this isn’t new, he did this in Going Legit)

Junkrat eagerly joining in with the bantering/heckling conversation (?) in the crowd -> emphasizes his chatty/friendly personality, wants to make friends

Junkrat largely unaware of what Roadhog does during combat & focuses more on himself; incorporates Roadhog into his plans when it’s convenient for him; possible that it usually works out/Roadhog usually does what Junkrat asks given that it seems to be a regular occurrence (“Roadhog, catch me!” happens at the end of the story too)

Junkrat uses “wicker basket” as a swear. (???????) Again, this kind of just highlights the cartoonish/silly tone of the story

Page 5

Wrecking Ball’s reveal is also very cartoonish/unserious. Personally I don’t really know what to do with Wrecking Ball’s reveal in this story; it’s kind of not cohesive imo but I guess it’s sillay which seems to be the main goal of the story so it’s like fine I guess

Junkrat saying “It’s alright, Roadhog!” is another instance of him projecting his fear onto Roadhog and comforting himself in the guise of comforting Roadhog

Idk I’m not an action story reader (or a reader at all LMAO I never read) but the action feels kind of slow paced. Maybe because it keeps getting interrupted by jokey cartoonish things

Writing kind of too literal at times for my taste (eg: “He threw the grenade.” -> not much rising tension to this moment, almost seems like he does this casually. For example maybe there could’ve been a tense moment between the heckling from the crowd messing with Junkrat’s confidence or something (knowing that he seems to value the approval of people in Junkertown or is at least affectionate to them) but idk the scene ended up feeling very literally like “the crowd chanted -> Wrecking ball started spinning -> Junkrat aimed at Wrecking Ball -> Junkrat threw the grenade” without much investment)

Outback Bill gag happens again on this page (more cartoonish tone) but like he’s not bothered by it so good for him I guess

Junkrat’s scared of Junker Queen on this page; wasn’t much explicit indication of his worries or fears about Junker Queen before this (mostly just the implicit stuff with him projecting onto Roadhog which was very light), so idk to me this felt kind of out of nowhere for him to be explicitly scared especially since he bantered with her earlier. There’s also been like very little feeling of gravity through the whole thing (see: cartoonish moments) so it was hard for me to feel scared with him.

Apparently no one cares about Junkrat’s treasure. This suggests that Junkrat hires Roadhog just to protect him from the Queen’s men who want him dead since he’s a troublemaker. Tbh this is totally at odds with Wasted Land, where the Queen’s men are threatening him to give his treasure to them or something. Personally I think it’s just better drama for Junkrat to be wanted by the Queen and other greedy people in Junkertown for his treasure, with that being the main reason he hires Roadhog. Plus I think it just kind of ties in with his apparent theme of wanting to be liked by people: there’s something interesting to the notion of a guy that no one likes or wants to be around being literally wanted/coveted for his treasure

Junkrat’s kind of hurt when the crowd groans at him in annoyance but acts proud about it; suggests he’s not oblivious to people’s opinions of him and does get bothered when people find him annoying and don’t like him

Page 6

Crowd kind of feels like a studio audience or something at times LMAO kinda just emphasizes the cartoony/silly tone of the story

The reason given for Junkrat finding the final door is kinda wild lmao like he just fell in from holes in the roof??? Guess it’s again just supposed to emphasize his ~zany nature~. Either that or he like maneuvered his way in like a rat, but the phrasing makes it kind of unclear exactly what he did imo.

Junkrat’s “saucy wink” at Junker Queen meant to emphasize the importance of his eye and also make him flirt with Junker Queen I guess

“The crowd considered this” again kind of literal writing; I guess here it’s especially supposed to be snappy comedy but idk if it was working for me

There’s an abrupt free-for-all for Junkrat’s eye, which is kind of at odds with earlier where no one seemed to want or care about Junkrat’s treasure. I guess they’re all that curious to know what’s behind the final door? Idk the free-for-all would make more sense if the previous part about no one caring about Junkrat’s treasure wasn’t included.

Point of the free-for-all idea here that Junkrat revealing his treasure was supposed to be something he used to get the upper hand, but instead became something that gave him the lower hand (?); aka shows Junkrat is not able to read the room, is poor at manipulating/negotiating, and is always flubbing things

Page 7 (last page I read carefully)

“I thought you were gonna say idiot” -> suggests Junkrat values Roadhog’s opinion of him, insecure about himself (overcompensates when he suggests “Junkrat you’re a genius?” because he’s insecure)

Junker Queen saves Junkrat from a knife, so I guess his plan to reveal his treasure to Junker Queen did kind of work as leverage to get her on his side

 Junkrat never told Roadhog what his treasure is or where it is; not sure what’s meant to be implied here, it’s kind of weird that he’d never tell Roadhog especially since this story emphasizes Junkrat being a blabbermouth. It’s possible that he was saving the details specifically for a situation like this so he could use it to his advantage. Initially I thought maybe Roadhog said he didn’t know either as a lie (because he doesn’t trust Junker Queen) or because he forgot (suggesting he doesn’t actually care much about Junkrat’s treasure), but the end of the story makes it seem like he really just didn’t know anything about the treasure.

Roadhog agreeing about looking forward to Junkrat dying was kind of mean-spirited imo LMAO like I guess supposed to be just a joke given the overall cartoony tone of this story + the unserious atmosphere it’s created surrounding execution, and I usually don’t mind when Roadhog’s kind of an asshole to Junkrat, but that was kind of out of pocket for me lskfjldsf

Other misc notes:

2nd half of the story is kind of action-heavy (since there’s no heckling from the crowd anymore) which is kind of at odds with the cartoony tone of the first half imo.

Specific detail I liked: the idea that Junkrat projects his fears/worries/nervousness/etc onto how he interprets Roadhog and that he talks “Roadhog” through his “worries” as a way for him to verbalize his own fears and work through them. Basically this quirk allows him to believe he’s still a cocky, self-confident person when he actually has worries or insecurities. (Like “These aren’t MY problems or worries, they’re Roadhog’s!” but like they’re clearly his.) I guess it is kind of a selfish reading of Junkrat in that it seems like he doesn’t really understand Roadhog but idk for me I think it makes sense for him to be kind of a self-centered person most of the time.

I also kinda liked Junkrat being chatty with some people in the crowd and him being sentimental for Junkertown and its people. Honestly all the details I liked were so minor; I kind of wish they were somehow expanded on a little more. Especially think there could have been a lot more tension between the crowd & Junkrat’s desire to be liked or whatever vs how that might affect (and distract) him in combat. I mean it was literally a crowd, they could have very explicitly made him try (and probably fail) to be a crowd-pleaser. (Like there was a little of this but not much and not in a way that I found super compelling while reading. imo)

I think the main thing for me is that the writing was very straightforward or literal so most of the time was spent describing things that were literally happening instead of writing with a particular theme or goal in mind. Unfortunately I don’t really have a ton of examples of what I mean so. Whatever LMAO;; I think this kind of story just isn’t really my taste in the first place since I like moody/introspective stuff more than combat-heavy stuff. The lightheartedness was like fine I guess but I did feel like it was frequently awkward when couched between the combat scenes. Again I don’t have examples/evidence of this off the top of my head so I may be totally off here but the writing style felt a bit like describing an action movie or cinematic rather than being a work that utilizes writing to portray action scenes. That’s not really a big deal to me because I’m not expecting like amazing writing from Overwatch (it’s primarily a fps not prestige literature) but idk maybe it would’ve worked better for me if it was animated or a comic or something.

Sorry for the Junkrat-heavy notes; the story was mostly from Junkrat’s POV in a way so it was easier to write notes about him than other characters. maybe I'll have more to say about other stuff when/if I try to reread the last couple pages of the story.

Anyway thanks for reading if you did! Hopefully it was interesting to someone!;;;;;

[chevvsgotanumbrellatattoo]

Sleepless, Stormy Bracelets

Synopsis: you decide to go bother the boys, finding them very sleepy, hyper, and fixated on bracelet making.

Warnings: cuss words, mention of a b!ohazard symbol

Word count: 1,018

♤♡◇♧♤♡◇♧♤♡◇♧♤♡◇♧♤♡◇

HI BEANS!! This is a short little fic-let I came up with about four goofy little vampire boys who definitely still reside in the Cave in Santa Carla :3

I had so much fun writing this, and it made me even happier knowing that I was writing for a new friend (@checkitoutmikey , here u go!)! Also, big shout-out to @fandoms-are-my-friends-1321 for proof reading and to my sib for hyping up my random bits of dialogue I am absolutely head over heels for.

Please bear with me, formatting wise. I have never done this before and I am.. very sleepy. Also, please give credit where credit is due!🥲

Enjoy!

**********************************************

Dreary. Gloomy. Overcast. Drizzly. Any word along this vein would work, but it was not yet storming.

The day had crawled by. By 7 p.m., you couldn't stand it any longer, taking your bike out to the Cave to bother your boys a bit earlier than usual. It was still drizzling. The water on your face was a welcome change to the sweltering sun that usually enveloped Santa Carla. Dodging squirrels and asshole drivers, you made it to the cave, parking and ducking inside.

"Peaches!" Paul tackle-hugged you the minute your feet hit the floor.

"Hi, Pauly." You laughed. "Couldn't sleep?" He shook his head, still squishing the daylights out of you.

"I can never sleep when it's stormin'," he planted a giant kiss on your temple before wandering off to do who knows what.

"Hey, sweetheart." Marko called from his cozy position on the couch. It was easy to see that he was still very tired. You plopped down next to his legs, jostling the smaller vampire.

"Still sleepy?" You cocked your head. He nodded.

"Paul wakes us all up when he's hyper as shit—which just so happened to be at 3 in the afternoon." Marko yawned. "Just another hour would be fantastic."

"I'll see what I can do." You tossed a blanket over the dozing boy, finding Paul looking through an assortment of beads he very clearly pilfered.

"Check it out!" He beamed. "There's a bunch of really sick charms, too!" You looked at the amalgamation of plastic charms; dinosaurs, fruits, hearts, cards, numbers, and more.

"Have you made bracelets before?" You asked. The blond looked offended.

"Duh!" He rolled his eyes before adding sheepishly, "It's just been a while."

"Let's go set up in my corner. We'll make everyone a bracelet." Slight relief washed over you as he took the bait. Did he know you were trying to keep him semi-quiet so the others could sleep? Yes. Yes, he did. Did he care? Not a bit—not as long as he was with you.

It was 9:30 by the time the others 'rolled out of bed.' Yawning and rubbing the sleep from their eyes, the three made their way over to where you and Paul sat surrounded by an arsenal of multi-colored beads and string.

"Thanks for letting us sleep, darling." David pressed a kiss to the top of your head in greeting. You smiled.

"Not a problem." You grabbed your finished gifts. "Lookit—Paul and I made bracelets."

"We can see that." Marko grinned, still waking up. You smacked his arm, laughing.

"What do they look like?" Dwayne asked. You gave them all their respective bracelets, heart warming as their faces lit up.

"Sick! Thanks!" Marko immediately slid his on. The multi-colored beads matched his jacket, no rhyme or reason to the colors—simply put, it looked cool.

"We did all black for you, David. The charm was a last minute decision." Paul said. David smirked at the black and white biohazard symbol, chuckling. The sound sent a small chill up your spine.

"Is this glitter?" He finally asked.

"Shit, I tried not to grab ones with-"

"It's fine." David slid it on, just above his other bracelets, a silent thanks. You shared a look with Paul, both stoked that the hard-headed ring leader liked it.

"Paul, what's this little guy?" Dwayne singled out a bead.

"A rabbit. We couldn't find any jaguars. We chose the blue because it was the closest to gray."

"Then we did the greenish beads to look like grass." You added. Dwayne smiled, sliding it on and adjusting the rabbit to sit on top of his wrist.

"I dig it. Thank you," he said. Paul looked elated, having been very worried about the selection of beads for his brother.

"Paul, do you have one?" Paul showed Marko the bracelet you had made; red and light brown with a guitar charm. Marko grinned.

"What about you?" Dwayne pressed lightly. You stopped. It hadn't occurred to you to make one for yourself.

"I didn't make one." You shrugged. The four stared at you for a moment. You busied yourself with the beads, feeling like they were about to start singing 'Happy Birthday' or something.

Talk about awkward.

"It's alright, really." You insisted, standing. Paul and Marko stood with you, David helping you pick your way around all the beads.

"Why don't you go pick something to listen to?" David's syrupy voice was slick to the touch. You smiled, going off in search of Paul's rock-box and the impressive hoard of cassettes the boys had amassed.

It took 20 minutes to find the damn rock-box, and another 10 to find the box of cassettes. Why the four couldn't keep them both in roughly the same spot was beyond you, but you didn't comment, instead shuffling through the rows and rows of music.

"Hey, what'dyou think? Billy Idol or Metallica?" You called to the strangely silent group. They were still huddled in the corner, voices hushed and giggles arising from Paul and Marko. You rolled your eyes. They think they're slick, you thought, popping in Metallica and reading the inner pamphlet. The guitar scratched just the right spot in the back of your head, making you smile.

"Metallica. Good choice." Marko dropped onto the couch next to you. The other three perched in their varying spots around you, grins on their faces.

"What chaos did you commit now?" You raised a knowing eyebrow. Paul stuck his tongue out at you as David lightly grabbed your wrist, flipping your palm up and setting the bracelet in your hand.

"Your favorite colors," Dwayne smiled at the awe on your face.

"Boys, it's beautiful." You beamed. "'L B?'" David chuckled weakly.

"It's us. Our… moniker, if you will." He explained. It clicked.

"Lost Boys." The word was a breath.

"We have a piece of you to take with us everywhere," Paul showcased his bracelet for effect. "And now you have a piece of us." Tears welled up behind your eyes as you realized just how much thought went into making the bracelet.

"I'll never take it off."

[ciaossu-imagines]

C Nanbaka Romantic Match

So, as I've mentioned before, I find it hard to do matches for you when we talk about your (and my own) faves so much so I already know who you're in love with. So, of course, I'm going to match you and ship you with SAMON GOKUU!

Neither you nor Samon are people who rush into things, especially romantic relationships. In fact, romantic relationships are not something that is top priority for either of you and, as cliché as this is starting to sound here on the blog, I see the two of you starting off as polite acquaintances, growing into friends. I also think this is a friendship that takes a while to grow into a really solid one, just because Samon is so busy with his job that he doesn't always have the amount of free time needed, or even that he'd like, to really spend a lot of time building solid friendships outside of his fellow guards. But a friendship definitely does develop between the two of you and both of you are content and happy getting to know and learn about each other. Neither of you rush things, even when one of you starts to develop feelings beside friendship for the other. In fact, when Samon does realize his feelings aren't entirely friendship based, he'll be really confused about it. He's not stupid, he knows what romance is, but he has such little experience with it and it's likely to really be the first time he's felt serious romantic interest in someone. Whether those feelings would potentially ruin the wonderful friendship the two of you had developed also took the two of you time to wrestle with and something the both of you really had to deal with and come to peace with before the two of you had the discussion needed to change the relationship from purely platonic into the sweet and innocent romance it did become.

And I do say innocent because, of course, there is never going to be a sexual component to your romance with Samon. It can sometimes invite judgment, and definitely confusion, from others around you, but the fact that you are sex-repulsed and Samon not only respects that, but honestly is perfectly content without sex himself as he's lived his whole life a virgin and has never considered his life poorer for it, means that not having that sexual component is what works the best for the two of you. Of course, while you might sometimes be upset about people's judgment and remarks, you largely accept them and stay quiet or deal with your emotions on your own, whereas Samon is definitely ready to fight anyone who dares to judge not only him but you.

Now, going into the rest of it, it's not going to be any particular order or any set format as to how your relationship developed or anything like that but mostly just me acknowledging the two of you are in a relationship and hey, this is what some of the parts of the relationship look like and I hope you don't mind that's how I chose to do it! It not only made it a little easier for me, writing wise, but it just made more sense in my head.

So, starting off by repeating once again that Samon is not at all stupid. He's quite smart in his own way but he can be a little simplistic in some ways in that he really does take a lot of things at face value. And because of that way of thinking of his, he really appreciates your lack of a poker face. Once he gets to know you well enough, he can almost always figure out what you're thinking, even back when the two of you were just friends. By the time he gets into a relationship with you, he can always tell what you're thinking and feeling. It makes it a lot easier for him because he never really has to guess if you're happy or if you're upset. And he's actually a little proud, when he can read you completely, that he can, especially if those around you can't do that all the time. It's just a little reminder for him, and something that makes him smile and kind of swell with that pride that you're his and he knows you just as well by now as you know yourself. If you can do the same to him, it will really make him ecstatic.

While it takes Samon a little while to fully understand that sometimes, when you are upset or feeling really emotional, you really do need some peace and time to yourself. He's someone who really is compelled to take everything on himself and he wants nothing more than to solve all your problems for you and the fact that you can't always let him do that might frustrate him at first. It really takes him a little bit to get over it, to swallow his pride enough to learn that sometimes you just need to get some time to yourself, some space, and that there are some problems you really do need to turn around in your own head and solve yourself. Once he learns that, if the problem is big enough for you, after you do have that time to yourself, you're more than willing to talk to him about it, that you still do depend on him in tough times, then he's more willing and able to comprehend that need of yours and give you that time and space.

Samon really does hold a lot of respect for you. Being someone who is so energetic, so disciplined and so used to very physical work and training, it took him a little bit to get used to the fact that you didn't have as much energy or the physical ability to do everything he could do or that most people could do. However, because he did grow up with Noriko and she also had her own issues, though nowhere as severe as you, he was a little more ready to accept and deal with it than some of the other guards and prisoners were. He also, through really getting to know you and how you live every day, grew to really respect you. While you might have days where you don't have the energy to do everything, he sees how hard you work to do everything you need to for physio or to keep your body as healthy as it can be. He knows those things are sometimes really hard for you, painful, or sucky, but he sees that you try your best, each and every day despite your disabilities. And that's a thing that will always gain his respect - effort and, of course, your positivity in the face of everything. He's definitely going to encourage you to keep as healthy as you can, to do the hard things, and to be the best you can be, but he realizes that can look different on different days. He's also going to make it clear that he's proud of you when you do do the difficult things, though it won't always be verbal praise since he can sometimes struggle a little with that. I see him being more head pets, or a small treat or just comments about how great you're doing rather than him physically saying that 'I'm proud of you'.

Now, I do see a sticking point between you and Samon being your real lack of planning. Samon always has a routine, a schedule…he knows what he's going to be doing every day, knows what he needs to do throughout the day and such. Your more lackadaisical approach to your days, where you don't set much in stone, really throws him off and he doesn't understand it at all. He doesn't get your habit of being easily distracted because it's so different from how he is. That being said, while he'll never understand it and doesn't necessarily think it's the best way to live life, he tries hard not to judge too harshly and does see that living like that makes you the happiest. He largely lives life his way and tries to let you live it your way. However, he can get frustrated if, during time spent with him or conversations with him, you space out or get distracted too often, mostly because he really does want your full attention. When you do explain that it's just your brain really never shutting off, that there's always noise up there, he will understand a little bit better, as he's someone who is also always mentally on in some way, even if it's just focusing in on training and sensations, but he'll still never fully understand. He also does expect plans for the two of you to be made in advance and for you to be able to stick to them if at all possible. He will occasionally do spontaneous visits or plans, but because of his work and his training and all that, he really does need plans done in advance.

Samon is someone who, while he does everything he can to remain realistic and even optimistic, can fall into brooding or dwelling on his issues and inferiority problems and can sometimes fall into doubting himself a little. He really does depend on you, more than you'll ever know, during those times, which you often won't even know are happening. You're positive outlook on people and life in general really help him, as does how very positive you are about him. You never leave him any doubts that you not only truly love him, but see him as this really amazing man, with all these lovely things about him. You remind him, in his darkest moments or the moments when he starts to doubt, to not only see the best in people, in life, but also in himself.

Both you and Samon also have very strong moral codes that really do link up well together. You're always very empathic and you really care about others. Not only are you always willing to help and lend a hand to those in need, but your passion and conviction that innocents should always be protected and that 'bad' people should really be punished does align with his own beliefs, though he does tend to believe more in rehabilitation and helping those bad people become better or at least useful to society. He loves and finds it something to admire in you that you really do have a healthy respect for the rules. While you might break rules that you see as unreasonable (which even Samon himself can sometimes do), you do see the reasoning behind a lot of the rules and do your best to follow them and he appreciates that and how well it aligns with his own beliefs and the way he lives his life.

I will say that one area that you and Samon might run into problems and little arguments in is that he'll often push you to try for a little better in this or that. He really does shoot for the stars and pushes himself to higher and higher limits at all times and as much as he tries to respect the fact that you know yourself and your body and your abilities better than anyone else, he can sometimes forget that fact or some of his comments might make it seem like he's not respecting that. You can see what he's thinking is encouragement and positivity from his as negativity or unrealistic expectations and it can sometimes cause little arguments. Thankfully both of you are quick to forgive and move on and put aside those petty squabbles once hurt feelings are soothed a little bit and the two of you have a chance to kind of communicate a bit. While saying he's sorry is something Samon struggles with verbally doing, you'll know he regrets making you feel bad and you'll see the efforts he's making to make it up to you.

Once you do develop a good friendship with Samon and settle into feeling really comfortable with him, one of the most pleasant things for you is that he does allow you to be unrealistic and silly with him. While he'll have no trouble talking about serious things with you, and does so surprisingly well at times, he's also perfectly happy to keep things light and fun, to talk about unrealistic or impossible things. In fact, he really likes to do so with you, to try to get you going and to make you laugh. He's always so proud of himself whenever he makes you laugh, after all, and it's one of his favourite sounds.

That being said, Samon can sometimes have a bad habit of dominating your conversations with him. It really comes down to how loud and talkative a person he is in comparison to your more quiet nature. He'll happily talk your ear off and it excites him that you never shut him down or tell him to be quiet or insult him in any way, like he's used to some of the other Nanba staff doing. You always make it seem like you're perfectly happy to listen to him for any length of time and he can sometimes fall too much into that happiness and doesn't always remember to give you the space to talk as well. He does try really hard though to remember, even with his slips now and then. And honestly, given his really great sense of hearing, he's one of the few who always does hear you start to speak, even if you falter or have to restart. He has a cute habit of really leaning into you to make sure he catches everything you say, since you do have a quiet little voice, that often made you a little embarrassed by the closeness and proximity of his body and face to yours at first.

One of the things that Samon really does admire about you is how easily you can accept that people don't like you. You don't really let it bother you, and you'll readily admit that there are things about you that might be annoying to some people or that people might have reasons not to like or to be upset about. He struggles with feeling disliked and he struggles with feeling not good enough, so admitting his own shortcomings and becoming okay with being disliked is something he does need to work on and does need to improve on. He knows that, but it is hard for him and how effortless you make it look really does impress him.

Samon does little things to try to protect you. Of course, he obviously sticks up for you whenever he thinks anyone is being unfair or outright mean to you, but he also tries to protect you in little ways, and sometimes those little ways can annoy you actually. The one that really does bother you the most is that he will sometimes hide his own issues, his problems, or things he thinks might upset you from you. He really is only doing it because he does want to protect you from any upset or bad emotions, but you have to remind him that you are more than capable of handling your emotions and you really want to be there for him, no matter what is happening, and that you are an adult capable of understanding that sometimes the world is not a perfectly kind place. Another little, and more happiness producing for you, way that Samon tries to protect you is that he'll do everything he can to find the least crowded places to take you or to be with you because he knows that crowds do give you anxiety. He also does everything he can to keep the area quiet when he's with you, or to forewarn you of any strange noises you might hear, as he knows how much unexpected noises bother you. He'll also try everything he can to keep people from just barging in on the two of you or will warn you of the possibility that people might, knowing that unexpected interruptions also give you anxiety and make you freeze up, though you always try your best to really make the best of the situation and figure out how to proceed (and boy, is that another thing he really does respect).

Growing up in the mountains as he did, and then dedicating himself to training and work, Samon really doesn't know much of anything about pop culture or media in general. Once he does learn how much it means to you, your shows and movies, your YouTube videos, and your occasional novels, he really does try to get more into pop culture and media. He largely takes his guide on what to watch and read from you though, and some of the other staff members. He likes best letting you guide him towards things though, because it gives him someone to watch something with (though he's horrible for talking during shows) or someone to really talk to about his opinions on something you recommended for him to read. While he won't grow as attached to fictional characters as you will, he will definitely gain his own favourites and will happily talk to you about both his favourite character's cool moments and your favourite's really cool moments. He's not hugely imaginative though, and doesn't really think about the characters beyond what is really shown plain out. Again, Samon is kind of a guy who takes what they see at face value. While you won't have his very first cinema experience with him, he's definitely someone who goes to the theatre more because of your influence and it becomes an easy date night idea for the two of you, if something is playing that he knows you want to see.

You'll probably end up getting Samon into not only more media and pop culture but also at least one cheesy, fun little phone game. Where you have that one game you adore, that he finds you playing while you zone out to music, and given how happy he sees it making you, he can't not try it out. Samon has at least one phone game you introduce him to that he can figure out how to play and do well at (since honestly, he's kind of terrible at tech).

Maybe it's because Samon really isn't someone blessed with a lot of creativity himself and a real active imagination, but your creative nature really does impress him. The things you think up, the effort and skills you show in crafts like diamond painting or latch-hooking, and especially the stories you pour your effort and time into…they all really astound him and it really is because those are all things that Samon just can't do. He is someone who cannot help but respect people who can do things that he can't, after all. He also sees how happy these creative pursuits make you, which makes him like them more. He's always happy to read your stories if he has the time and he'll always find things to compliment about them. He listens to your thoughts and to your headcanons about not only your favourite characters but your original characters and he'll give his honest opinions. That being said, because Samon is who he is, there will be times he pouts or gets upset when you get on a roll about your favourites or will kind of go quiet on you after reading some chapters. It all boils down to him being pouty and jealous because 'do you like them more than you like me?' Yes, that's right, he definitely will sometimes get jealous of completely fictional characters.

Like I've said, Samon is someone whose very face value and who, while observant, doesn't really delve too deep into why people act the way they do, why they react certain ways, why they do the things they do and really doesn't analyze or think too hard about people and their distinct personalities. And because that is the sort of person, he really doesn't get how much you love doing that, though he definitely respects and is a little blown away by how much knowledge you have on that subject. The amount of research you do, how much time and effort you put into learning, and how passionate you are about personality types is something he doesn't understand but that he really does enjoy listening to you talk about. He does everything he can to learn about them, to remember what you tell him about them and he tries to be a good student because of how important the subject is for you. And you can definitely see his efforts and how much attention he does actually pay to you when you talk to him about it, because you'll bring up a personality type and he'll mention 'oh, that's the type that are like this and this, right?', going off of prior knowledge you've told him, and I think it does matter to you and is something you find sweet, that he puts in that effort to learn and share about something that you do love so dearly.

On top of trying to protect you in little ways, Samon will also try quite hard, though it doesn't always show, to make you comfortable. One of the most obvious examples, and the most noticeable one, is that he'll learn how important your study is to you. It's your safe space, the place you feel most you and the most relaxed and since there is travel in the two of you seeing each other, he'll do everything he can to recreate your study in his own place, just to allow you to always have that comfort space and that 'you' space. He'll even hunt down and pay extreme amounts to have exact duplicates of your plushies in that study, including your beloved Haikyuu!! plush.

Samon really does eat minimally and treats food very much like fuel. He's very health conscious and doesn't think much about food beyond its nutritional value for the most part. He does have his few guilty pleasure treats, like his popsicles, but he tries hard not to really find a lot of pleasure in food, just because of how strictly he was raised. It's through his relationship with you that he develops a slightly more balanced attitude towards food. While you don't overeat or really over-indulge in food, you do have a much more pronounced love for it and you encourage Samon to try out different types of foods and to allow himself those moments of food indulgence. He also sees that there are times you really do allow yourself to indulge, to really enjoy how amazing some foods can be, and that you remain largely healthy (and happier because of those moments), so he starts to relax about his finicky food habits and does find joy in food, especially in the shared meals together with you.

You and Samon both do find a lot of beauty and peace in being in nature and it's another thing that becomes an easy and relaxed date for the two of you. He'll enjoy showing you the beautiful gardens and ponds of Building 5 or of finding easy to maneuver parks, forests, and mountains that you can reasonably manage walking in for dates. The fact that you will need breaks to rest actually makes it even better, as the two of you sit in largely companionable silence and just enjoy the beautiful views. He's always happy to point out things that he really likes or finds especially beautiful about the view and he expects and encourages you to do the same.

Your need for peace and alone time works out well in your relationship with Samon. The truth of the matter is that his work really is incredibly important to him and that his work will keep him away from you for periods of time. He'll have periods where he'll be too busy to really spend a lot of time with you or do more than message or have a phone call with you. And you really do use those times to get the space and peace you need. He never feels like his job, his goals, and his dedication to those goals is a huge inconvenience for you, because you never let him feel that way and you find a way to make that time apart beneficial for yourself.

You can often make Samon laugh, sometimes even without really trying. Bad puns and word play always gets to him, and the fact that that sort of humour is up your alley means you can always gain at least a smile and a joking 'that's so terrible' from him.

You and Samon actually are very similar in the things you dislike or the things that bother and upset you. While Samon can sometimes come across as rude or impudent towards others, you always know he's coming from a good spot and he's actually someone who does dislike rudeness and bullying from anyone. He hates seeing people be used, abused, mocked unfairly, or treated badly and he's always going to stick up for people when he can or he'll try to find a way to help them. You consider that one of his best qualities and it is something that really matters to you.

Both you and Samon dislike liars. Nothing will bother the two of you more than finding out someone has been lying to you, especially if they're justifying it by saying they had to lie to spare your feelings. You never have to worry about Samon lying to you, because while he might try to hide some emotions or problems, he'll always be honest with you. He doesn't have it in him to really lie and deceive people, especially those he really cares about. And knowing that you're a truthful sort of person really is something that allowed Samon to grow as close a bond to you as he did develop. To him, honesty is a sign of trust and respect, and he not only needs to feel that towards you but needs to know you feel the same towards him, so your honesty with him is one of the ways he is able to know it.

This can sometimes be a little unwelcome though, as Samon will call out your less than positive traits, often accusing you of being a little stubborn. Of course, you will often call him naggy in return, since he will ask you repeatedly to do something. It's one of those things that make you feel pressured and annoyed, so you drag your feet on doing it, which makes him nag more, and it's one of the few other things I can see the two of you arguing about.

Samon is an intensely loyal person. He truly loves so few people and those he does love? He's going to be fiercely loyal, protective, and those people will always have his support. There could be a big fight, things could go south and the two of you might not talk for a week…heck, you could go a month or two without talking while feelings heal but if at any time, even with his feelings hurt, you contact Samon and need his help, he's going to drop everything the second it's possible to help you. That's just the amount of loyalty this man possesses and the fact that you will return that in kind, to the point where you will put aside your distaste for conflict to speak up or fight, is part of what makes this relationship as strong as it is.

It's in Samon that you find that perfect blend of best friend and romantic partner. He's someone who never judges you, though, as mentioned, he will call out your more unsavory traits or will tell you when he thinks you're in the wrong. However, he always does so as gently as someone like him possibly can and he only does so when the two of you are alone together. He always has your back publicly. He always does his best to see your point of view too before he rushes to snap judgments. You know that no matter what, you can always go to Samon to talk about anything and everything, serious to silly, and find a listening ear, a protective guardian, a true friend. The two of you create so many happy, wonderful memories together that you both treasure. He's uncomfortable a bit to begin with in both verbal and physical affection but he grows more comfortable with it, especially since he's relatively touch-starved as a person. He grows to not only love the physical affection you show him but initiates cuddling, hugs, and non-sexual touches himself. One of his favourite ways of showing you physical affection is either head pets or through sitting you down and brushing out your hair for you and then using his fingers to trace the curves of your ear or your shoulders, just because he gets to feel useful while also getting to smell you, feel your warm body, and touch your soft skin and ways that also feel nice to you.

There are so many little things about you that just make you 'you' and they're all things that Samon considers irresistibly cute, to be honest. You laughing to yourself because something you thought of amused you, the way you carry on conversations with yourself out loud, the way you're fidgety in small ways, like your fingers always tapping. It's all so very adorable to him.

Runners Up: Seitarou, Nico, Musashi

[macfrog]

firstly you are so talented it makes me want to gag and die and climb a mountain 🫶💘 second i’m about to start posting my first fic ever and i was wondering if you had any suggestions for more logistical stuff to make the thing better to read? like formatting/time to post/adding pictures etc etc. sending besos y abrazos💓💓

hey dude! waaah thank you for this you're far, far too kind 🩵

how exciting!! i just checked out the little preview you posted and what a beautiful little droplet of writing!!! i cannot wait to read the rest. please please please tag me when you post it; jackson joel is my favorite joel and i am soooo intrigued to read and devour 🍓

formatting-wise, i pretty much just laid things out how i thought they looked best. you always want your warnings to be visible just in case there's anything that might require a heads up for some readers, also helps to include a summary of the fic somewhere, and i always pop a word count on there, too...but whatever works for you! i guess just consider what info you look for before reading a fic and piece it together that way.

i took inspo from many other writers on here with the whole three-photo header thing. i just pick three images that either capture the vibe of the fic or literally just pieces of the plot lol and put them up top. i try my best to be as inclusive as possible so where i can help it: i try not to use specific skintones or hair colors, body types etc. this isn't always perfect, though, and it's something i always want to be improving on. (straying from specific bodies in your mbs does mean that you can get a little more creative with em and use fun art over real-life images, which a lot of wonderful writers do!)

as for posting: i have posted at all times of day before...in all honesty, i'm not sure when is best as a. there are so many readers on here from all over the world who will eat up your work at any time, and b. i typically hit post and then toss my phone for a few hours - but i guess the later in the day, the better for exposure and engagement? as people will be home from work and school etc., and have the time to check it out.

try not to get hung up on this part, tho! i live by the mantra that the people the fic is for, will come across it one way or another - and not all fics are instant hitters. that's ok! sometimes it takes time for something to gain eyes on it. post for yourself. have fun with it. numbers mean nothing 🤍

if there's anything else you wanna ask or chat about, feel free to dm me anytime! can't wait to read when you post the rest! sending love right back to ya 🫂🩷

xx

[rolloollor]

Abandoned Draft of an Unnamed Mallerollo Dragon Sacrifice Fic Part 2 and 3

The first part is here. Just note that this isn't polished and I didn't double check it for typos or anything before posting it because it's scraps. Always be sure to keep your discarded writing because even if it didn't work, you might want to reuse an aspect (especially a description of something). There's no conclusion, this is just a novelty to see another AU and also how Bound by Briar evolved from this.

Chapter two

He could not see.

It took less than a few minutes of walking for the void within the cavern to swallow all light. The world narrowed to the cold all around him, the sound of water droplets hitting wet rock, and his own cautious footsteps.

It was stupid. Perilous. At any moment, he could fall down a pit or encounter some beast lying in wait for foolish humans to stumble blindly in the dark. His body still ached. Each pace sent an aching twinge up his legs, demanding he pause and sit down. But who knew when the dragon would return? Better to put distance between them.

He tread slowly, testing the integrity of the ground before he shifted his full weight on it. At times, the surface rose and fell, growing slippery and treacherous.

Tingles dribbled down his spine, telling him to retreat. The gloom seemed a physical thing now, heavy, thick, enveloping him and everything else to the point that he was breathing it in. It occupied his lungs, making him unable to inhale properly—he had to pant. Doubtless it hoped to lead him astray. If only he had a torch…

He frowned, stopping in his tracks. In a way, he did have a light source. He could illuminate the area if he used magic. Though engulfing his body in fire once more did not strike him as wise… The dragon had claimed that the variety of magic he had used was too much for him without a ‘mage stone,’ whatever that was. If his heated clothing was any indication, Malleus knew far more about this than Rollo did, so it would be prudent to believe that statement.

Could he create something smaller? An ember, perhaps?

Rollo held out his hand in front of him, though he could not see it. He envisioned a spark catching on a candle wick and eased a bit of power through channels still sore from his earlier efforts.

A flame as long as his middle finger appeared in his palm.

The sight of it sent a brief stab of panic into his heart as he imagined it swallowing him like it had Jehan. For that moment, the flickering orange grew, doubling in size. But it did not hurt. There was nothing to be afraid of.

The glow shrank back.

Rollo stared at it, gritting his teeth.

How dare it not consume him? Why had it killed Jehan, but did not deign to singe him? What had Jehan done to deserve such a miserable end? He was only a child!

He trembled. Did magic have some will of its own? Had it spurned Jehan in favor of Rollo? His fingers itched to extinguish the flame he had conjured.

Doing so would leave him adrift in an ocean of black. He had little choice but to rely on the inexplicably placid flare against his skin.

Rollo’s gaze finally left his hand. The area around him was more open than he had expected—across from the wall where he stood, the faint light he had created faded without reaching an obstacle. Stone formations the shape of pointed teeth reached down from the ceiling, crowding each other like the mouth of some misshapen beast. The ground rippled, but was much better than what dwelled overhead.

Man had neither the right nor the ability to live in a place like this. Rollo continued on, regardless. He had to find a way out.

The cave grew narrower as he walked. After what could have been ten minutes or an hour, Rollo found himself faced with a passage so tight that he would have to step through sideways. He swallowed. What if it never widened? Would he become stuck and starve to death? That could be worse than getting eaten… Then again, he would at least have the satisfaction of denying the dragon a meal.

As he considered this, a sound overcame the silence. Somewhere beyond this hindrance, water flowed, rather than merely dribble.

Could it lead to an exit? It was at least moving. This might be his best chance.

If he could get to the other side, of course.

Rollo shoved his hand into the miniature couloir. The light danced against the cramped space and his fingers cast long shadows against the craggy slabs. However…

Something furry occupied the area, as well.

A creature dangled above. It was only a bit larger than the fire Rollo held. Leathery wings wrapped around itself.

A bat.

It stirred, the fire likely disturbing its slumber. The bat turned its ugly face toward him, its nose akin to a pig’s with some added deformity. Beady red eyes met his.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Run. He had to run. There was something wrong with this animal, some strange intent he couldn’t discern.

His flame went out.

Rollo’s heart leapt into his throat.

Wings beat against the air as the bat swooped past him, giving short, piercing shrieks as it went. The sound drilled into his ears. He covered them with his hands and crouched down, waiting until the noise faded into nothing.

Now what? The darkness pressed against him again, seeping into his eyes, frigid and deadly. He tried to summon fire again the way he had before—by picturing it in his mind’s eye and allowing that despicable force to move through him.

It did not work. He couldn’t remove whatever blockage prevented magic from sliding out of him without his consent.

What had he done to deserve this?!

His head pounded. His breath came shallow, scraping his throat.

Faintly, in the distance, a deep voice called his surname.

The dragon. Had the bat gone to fetch Malleus? Perhaps there were more waiting all around this cave. Maybe he had passed some before he had come to this obstruction and they had left, too.

“Flamme?” came the voice again, bouncing around the walls, louder now. He was coming closer.

Until this point, the cavern had been open enough for a beast of Malleus’ size to wander through. He could not fit through this passage.

Rollo shoved half of himself into the crevice. Uneven rock abraded the right side of his body, biting through his clothes to get at his skin. He could deal with the consequences later—if he could just get to the water, he might be able to escape!

He squirmed his way through, the area so tight around him that he couldn’t take a full breath. One step, two, three—!

His right foot careened downward and encountered nothing but air. Rollo yelped, his stomach lurching. He clung to two jutting stones, his arms straining to hold him upright. Pebbles and bits of sediment tumbled down around him. Water splashed somewhere below, but how far he could not tell.

He was going to fall, he was going to drown, he was going to freeze to death, and his life had amounted to absolutely nothing.

Warm fingers closed around his left wrist. Rollo screeched. A man? Woman? Demon? Whatever it was, when Rollo turned his head its way, two green eyes glowed in the dark. The dragon? But these had pupils and were much smaller… They hovered only a few finger-widths above Rollo’s own line of sight.

“Do you intend to go for a swim?” Malleus asked, his tone placid. “It would be your last. Come, Flamme. You stand to hurt yourself if you go any further.”

Rollo had no retort. The dragon had caught him. Running was not an option now.

A moment later, the jaws of the cave vanished. He stood before those chartreuse lights, faint as they were. Had Malleus moved him with magic?

“Hm, you have ruined your clothing and injured yourself.” Malleus breathed in through his nose. “And you have continued to use magic after pouring out so much earlier… You smell of ink. It is a good thing Lilia restricted your channeling when he did, otherwise...” A pause. “How do you remain on your feet?”

Rollo said nothing. His body screamed at him to lay down, but he did not have the luxury.

“What a strange creature you are, Flamme.”

“Hmph. You’re one to talk,” he said, a wheeze to the words. “Why did you grab me with a human hand?”

It must have been some projection or a false creation made to, what, soothe him? It was better than claws or teeth, at least…

“Ah, I suppose you cannot see me.” Malleus released him. “It is far easier to maneuver around the vicinity in this form, constraining as it is. Now, hold still.”

He could occupy a humanoid body? Grotesque. It must have the wrong bones and misplaced limbs—a frightening thought.

Then he had told him to ‘hold still.’ An absurd thing to say. What did he think Rollo was going to do? He couldn’t bolt if everything was black.

Hot prickles spread along his stomach. Rollo grimaced. They soon faded and Rollo brushed his fingertips against the area and felt nothing but smooth skin. Of all things, Malleus had healed him.

“Why?” he blurted.

“Hm?” The pair of eyes tilted.

“Why bother?”

“You would rather keep your wounds?”

Rollo scoffed. “What does it matter if you intend to eat me regardless?”

There was a long pause. In the darkness, it seemed to stretch on forever, and it left Rollo wondering if Malleus hadn’t used magic to depart.

“Eat you?” Malleus asked at length. “You believe I will eat you?”

“What else could you possibly want from me?”

“Was I unclear? Hmm… You have used a great deal of your strength today, so I suppose you aren’t thinking properly. Know this: I do not integrate food into my household.”

That statement sank into him piece by piece.

It could have been a lie, but why would that be necessary? In truth, Malleus could consume his flesh whenever he saw fit. Whether it be in this cave or out in the fields. As a goatherder who had stood out in open plains without any companions save animals, he would have been an easy target, as could a number of other occupations. And yet, he had never seen a dragon until today. Indeed, outside of stories, he had never heard of a dragon eating anyone.

Maybe he was not in mortal danger. Which would mean he had tried to flee through the caves for nothing…

“Regardless,” Malleus continued, “I thank you for this amusing game of hide and seek, but you need rest. Let us return.”

Another trek was the last thing his body wanted to accomplish. Still, he readied himself to move.

Then, within the span of a blink, his stomach twisted. Bright light slammed into his face. Rollo cringed and covered his face with his hands. A breeze fluttered about him, its temperature mild.

When the streaming sun no longer hurt, Rollo looked around. They had returned to the entrance. The dragon lounged nearby, watching him as the trident tip of his tail wiggled back and forth.

Rollo sat on the floor and let out a long sigh. More magic. His legs ached and his feet throbbed, so he supposed he could not complain about the way they had skipped another hike.

Each time he allowed his eyelids to close, they threatened to refuse to lift. It had been a long, long time since his body had yearned for sleep like this, rather than forcing him to lie awake at night.

“Flamme. I have prepared food for you.”

Rollo turned toward the voice. Atop its head, in between its horns, the bat with the ugly crescent nose from earlier perched. So the dragon had allied itself with flying rats.

Next to them was an entire cow lying on its side. Its chest did not rise or fall, but its coat was pristine.

“Go on. You still hunger, do you not?” Malleus gestured one of its claws toward the cow. “No need to hold back.”

Oh, he did not have the endurance for this. Did Malleus expect him to bite into a cow, hair and all?

“Raw?” He shook his head. “No. I’m too exhausted to eat, anyway.” Rollo eased himself down so he was lying on his back.

“You will doze?” the dragon asked.

“I intend to try.”

“I will assist you.”

Assist? What did that…?

He did not have time to finish that thought as his consciousness faded. Each of his muscles relaxed, some for the first time in months if not years. Rollo fell into a deep, deep slumber.

***

Malleus stared at his human pet as he slept.

Such creatures were so fragile—a mere thimbleful of magic-use more would push Flamme too far. And yet, he had been able to stand and even speak. What allowed him to do so? Was he unique among humans? Malleus had, thusfar, few dealings with them, despite the fact that they were his subjects as much as any other being that dwelled on his land.

Lilia hopped off his head and flew up to the ceiling. He gripped onto it and hung upside down.

“And where did you find this slippery human?” he asked.

“Did you notice that surge of magic some hours ago? It was beyond our forest.”

One of Lilia’s large ears twitched. “He was the source?”

“Yes. His control is childlike, but he can force a dangerous amount out into the world at once. It would have killed him.”

With a thoughtful hum, Lilia wobbled side to side until he was gently swinging. “I see. But why bring him here?”

Malleus turned toward Flamme again. His gray eyebrows had furrowed, which made him appear as though he was irritated that he was asleep. Did his oddities ever cease?

“I saw an opportunity in him. Despite humans’ ignorance of magic, they are a species not incapable of learning. If I teach him how to control and harness it, perhaps I could send him back into the world so he could then inform others, who would then spread that knowledge further. After many generations, this could prevent most human overblots.” He paused. “Though his herd would not likely accept him back… but there are others.”

Lilia slowed his swaying until he came to a stop. “Hm! Your grandmother would never have considered taking a human under her wing.” Lilia grinned, showing off tiny, but sharp, teeth. “Yes, it is an unorthodox idea, but it is suitable for a youth such as yourself.”

Malleus’ tail swished against the stone floor. “The humans of this land are my subjects as much as the fae and the animals, after all.”

And, like it or not, humans were the only beings creating gargoyles. Fae did not need them and animals had no concept of them, but humans had a fascination with functional decoration.

“Indeed!” Lilia chirped. “Ah, you are maturing so well. I remember when you still had eggshell on your snout…” He pretended to sniffle, but quickly dropped the façade. “You are quite lucky that I’m an expert on raising mammals.” Lilia shuffled his feet around the small outcropping he hung from until he looked in Flamme’s direction. “First, you should make him a nest.”

Most creatures did prefer to sleep in some sort of structure. Malleus did not mind sleeping on the floor, but he did not have a hoard that lent itself to a comfortable night’s rest.

“What sort of nests do humans use?”

“A variety. I see them when I have a craving for blood of the animals they keep.” Clawed toes released and Lilia was on the air, gliding over to Flamme. He flew in a circle around him before returning to Malleus and landing on his nose. “He’s of the variety that sleeps inside a square. I can tell.” Lilia brushed the nails on the tip of his wing in four connected straight lines.

“Inside a square?”

“Yes, they build them from tree carcasses and go inside, as though crafting their own tiny caves. Some have triangles formed of mud and straw on top. They also light fires inside them, the silly things.”

This had more complexities than he had previously imagined. But Lilia was much older than he was and more worldly, so he knew a great deal about these things compared to Malleus.

Thus, with his instruction, Malleus crafted a proper lair for his pet. Building it from wood did not strike him as wise considering Flamme’s affinity for fire, so he opted for a facsimile. Four walls of stone in the shape of stacks of logs and sticks rose around Flamme in a tight square, scarcely larger than the man himself. As far as Malleus knew, prey animals preferred tight spaces. Nothing lower on the food chain than a dragon could be a pure predator. Doubtless he would feel safe.

As for the crowning triangle, a mix of mud and dead grass struck him as too base and mammalian for his cave. More rock would do just fine. This did result in Flamme becoming trapped inside his little home, so Malleus took one of the walls away.

Finally came the flooring.

“Humans line their burrows with straw,” Lilia said. “The ground is too hard for him.”

Why were humans so particular?

Rather than fetch any plant matter, Malleus turned the area beneath Flamme into sand. That would be good enough.

Lilia crawled around the newly formed hovel. He moved one limb at a time—first a wing with his single thumb claw scratching against the cavern floor, then a leg, then another wing, and so forth. What he lacked in terrestrial prowess he made up for in silent flight. When he had done a full revolution, he gestured for Malleus to lower his head. He did so, placing his chin on the ground. Lilia then climbed up his face to settle between his horns once more.

“How long will you have him slumber?”

Malleus glanced up at the opening of the cave mouth. The light outside was shifting into pinks and purples.

“When the scent of ink fades.”

“It will be sunrise before that. Hm, and the sun is setting at this very moment!” He tapped a limb on Malleus’ head. “I should call upon Silver and see if he is all right. It would do him no good to fall asleep standing up again.” Lilia hurled himself into the air and flew toward the sky. “Until morning, Malleus!”

And then he was gone.

Malleus peered at his pet once more. His feeble chest rose and fell, but that frown of his had not retreated in the least.

To think that Flamme had thought he planned to eat him. Would he not be shocked to find himself a comfortable little human home when he awoke? How grateful would he be? Immensely.

But Malleus could not sit and stare at Flamme all night long. No. He had important business to attend to.

He hadn’t visited his hoard in hours.

In a flash, he teleported to a hidden chamber of his den. There, exactly eleven pieces of masonry waited.

Gargoyles.

Malleus curled up in the corner and let his gaze roam around his prizes, each doubtless created for him. Humans had named them after his great-great-great grandfather Gargouille, which was evidence enough that they meant them as offerings. Some took the forms of ugly birds or humanoids, but the oldest, and his most treasured, donned a reptilian appearance with roaring mouths and outstretched wings.

Each was beautiful in its own way. He did not begrudge the craftsmen for giving the gargoyles different shapes—variety made his collection more vibrant. His heart swelled at the sight of them.

Humans alone created these works of art, all in the service of honoring dragons. It would be rude to spurn them. He accepted any and all that he saw, but he had not seen many in his flights around his land as of late.

If he treated Flamme well… could he convince him to craft a gargoyle? He may even do it of his own accord. Malleus could make his own, of course, but that would be pointless. The appeal of these objects was the worship that went into them.

Oh, the possibilities!

Hours passed as Malleus turned these thoughts over in his mind. What sort of creature would Flamme carve? Where would he place the waterspout?

Only time would tell. And Malleus had plenty of that.

Chapter three (just stops when I got bored)

Rollo woke and found himself encased in uneven stone. 

A tomb.

Sweat trickled down his brow as his mind raced. Had the dragon been some hallucination he had conjured as he was dying? Or had it been something he had dreamt as his fellow villagers had buried him alive?

A rush of hot air swept across his feet all the way to his head. He turned his gaze toward it.

A massive green eye blinked.

Well… Maybe he hadn’t woken up after all.

“Flamme,” the dragon said. “It is morning.”

“...Is it?”

“Yes. Now… Tell me your thoughts about the nest I made for you.”

The what?

Rollo reached over and touched the ceiling above. It hovered perhaps a hand width over his head, offering him little maneuverability. Grains of sand cascaded off his arm. Why? It was all around him.

The dragon had made this? 

“It’s cramped.”

“Yes,” Malleus said, as though he complimented it.

Rollo frowned. “I thought it was my tomb.”

There was a pause.

“Is it common for humans to die in their nests?”

Rollo let out a long sigh. There was little point in expecting a dragon to know how humans lived, he supposed. It had made an attempt to give him a comfortable place to sleep, which was kind, even if he had failed.

“It can happen. Would you move? I must crawl out if I hope to leave and you’re blocking my exit.”

It obliged, shifting its mass away. Rollo, scarcely able to turn himself over, inched out backwards on his hands and knees. 

Once free, his stomach growled, more insistent than it had been the day before. Malleus gestured to the bovine carcass again.

This was going to be a long morning.

First, he had to relieve himself. Malleus insisted he do it outside of the cave, which suited Rollo just fine. When he was out there, among the grass and the trees swaying in the wind, he considered running. But if the dragon had no intention to harm him, then what reason did he have to leave? His village would do him harm in a heartbeat, as would others in the region once they heard about what had happened. Not that it was his fault, of course. They had threatened his life—he couldn’t be blamed. Not that it would stop anyone from doing so.

In the end, he had returned to the dragon of his own volition. 

Then came the matter of breakfast. He had to explain that humans skinned and cooked animals before they ate them. He could accomplish this—someone had to slaughter and prepare the goats that served no other purpose—but it would take time. If he wanted to eat sooner, it would be better to find some fruit.

The dragon had tilted his head. “So particular. Well, if it must be that way, then so be it. I will dissect the cow for you.”

That did not sound promising.

“In the meantime,” it continued, “I suggest you wander about the forest. There are plum trees and mushrooms and so forth.”

The dragon did not seem at all worried about him bolting, which in turn meant that ensuring he remained was not significant. He genuinely must not intend to crush his bones between his teeth. 

Malleus lifted Rollo with an invisible force—magic, no doubt—and brought him to the mouth of the cavern. Then Rollo was on his own. 

So much had changed in the span of a day. Yesterday morning, he had woken on his bed made of straw and prepared to tend to the village’s herd of goats. Now, he lived with a dragon. To what end? Malleus must want something from him, unless… unless he saw him as a pet? 

He wrinkled his nose at that thought. Did he want to spend his life sleeping in that ‘nest’? 

For the moment, he had to at least recover his strength. He need not make a decision on what to do next so soon.

Light streamed through the canopy of leaves. The endless storm of the past week or so had ended. The elders that had survived must have been happy about that. 

As Rollo wandered, the scent of greenery, of life was all around him. Birds tittered and flitted from branch to branch while bugs inched along the ground, seeking sustenance. Not unlike himself, he supposed. 

It did not take long for him to stumble upon a tree bursting with golden mirabelle plums. He plucked one and devoured it, heedless of the juice that dribbled down his chin. No one was around and he could not be blamed for being sloppy when he hadn’t eaten in over a day.

Rustling leaves sounded behind him. Rollo whirled around. Fool that he was, he hadn’t considered what dangers might lurk in this forest.

Some paces away, a fallow deer with shining silver fur stared at him with eyes of swirling pinks and purples. It sniffed the air, its ears pointed at Rollo. From its thick and sturdy antlers hung an ugly bat, its wings tucked about itself like a blanket. 

Did those cave bats have allies all over this forest? It couldn’t be the same one he had stumbled upon the day before, could it?

The buck took a cautious step forward and paused, its gaze never leaving Rollo for an instant. It strode forward again and stopped. It then lowered its head. Was it trying to bow…?

“You must be the human Lord Malleus brought home,” it said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Rollo leaned backward. A dragon being able to speak was one thing. Malleus had shown himself to be a magical creature with its own intelligence. A deer was a common animal, so how could it communicate? However… the coloring of its fur and the fact that it had approached him did imply it was something more than the average deer.

“Do all the animals of this forest speak?” he asked flatly.

The buck blinked, its long eyelashes briefly resting against the fur of its face. “No. Only fae or those under Lord Malleus’ employ.”

Fae… Long ago, it was said that fae and humans lived together, but repeated conflicts had driven the two apart. Never in his life had he taken these tales seriously. He did have to admit that they were far more plausible now that he had met a dragon…

He should have paid more attention to stories of that nature. As it was now, he knew next to nothing about fae.

[marzules]

the strangest thing I've ever seen

oh my cod.

this took so long.

I started this back in October so I would have something nice to look at when I checked in for Nanowrimo... obviously I did not finish it by November lol but it was still fun to do!!!

here's some process photossss:

(I drew a terrifying amount of thumbnail sketches. It was in my head so clearly but it was so difficult to get)

I think this photo makes me look like a very skilled artist. also I think it's pretty. Look at that lighting yes it is wonderful to work in

chaos (I worked so hard on that toilet and that lamp and both of them are covered dude. For the sake of not making this any longer than it already is I won't include more photos but imagine perspective lines everywhere. Every color. Red (Red Rose) Blue(-da-ba-dee) green yellow cyan orange okay I don't think I got that far but it was bad so many layers I kept drawing on the wrong layer it was soo bad

this is the first version of the piece I finished in... December... for an art assignment. I don't know how I forgot to put a soap bottle on the sink when Sophie washes their hands in this scene... like it's the whole main focus....

Also the colors are different because my laptop colors absolutely suck and make everything more blue and desaturated. I asked like 10 different people and it is definitely a problem with my computer so I adjusted the colors in the top image... started doing that at 7:09 pm today thinking it would only take 20 minutes and it is uh. 10:40 pm. sobs

the colors are very accurate to what I am seeing on my screen though I promise you

anyways one more yapping section THE LORE!!! so basically REDSHIFT is a thing I've been working for a couple of years now, started as a book in like journal entry format and now it's flip flopping between a very small animated series or a very small movie I don't know which one. anyways

[i changed the lore. sorry guys. give me a bit]

Anyways back to where this thing even happens it's a dystopian sci-fi story!!! which means. It takes place in a dystopia. And it is sciency. Their planet is really nice you know they've been the most environmentally friendly planet for the past 117 years in a row!! Did you know that they contribute to the largest space arsenal in the universe and they have some of the best technology??? WOw good for. them. okay im tired man I want to be done writing this it's late lol. Also there's Steve I didn't mention Steve because he's kind of irrelevant big happenings wise only character development wise but he's very cool and I think u guys will Love Him he becomes Sophie's friend :))

anyways one more thing about half of the population here are kind of just... voids. Like space voids. Like you look at them and they're just a silhouette of a person and you just see space through them. It's a bit inconvenient at times yeah you can't tell people apart unless they're wearing clothes yeah there are other planets with only humans and only spacey peoples and other planets have other species entirely but they're all pretty much in their own bubble and this one's got flesh humans and space humans. They've got quite a history I think you will find. Very big on science... experimentation innovation whatever... personal improvement. just want to make their world a bit better you know...

okay that is all. goodnight

[starshifter]

All the additional notes I wrote for myself for 'my hopes the wind done scattered' that are too amusing/potentially interesting for me to just throw them away. Think of it as bonus material. Very messily formatted bonus material

-

Honestly, the idea for this came from a list of prompts for malevolent mermay 2023. Sadly, I had not yet heard of this fandom at that time so im paticipating late ok …and without any mers. I do not control the way prompts get interpreted. I just write. Sometimes. (the prompt in question was leviathan)

Yes I’m aware canon KIY is probs around 11 ft but I’m making him better ok. It’s what he deserves

Look, Cthulhu is like a mile tall and he’s (probably) Hastur’s half brother so why is Hastur so fucking tiny in comparison? No. No, I am fixing this

My first idea for a possible title was Arthur Dreamhouse so that’s a thing

He has his full powers back if he’s fully integrated. Have him fetch Arthur via a dream. Pull him out of a dream about the Pits while sleeping in that little cabin. He can heal Arthur’s legs in the process since this is an Arthur doesn’t flip that coin AU so Kayne hasn’t healed him. (How long has he been in that cabin then? And how bad off is he health wise? You got a lot to fucking fix here Hastur)

This is honestly just Rascal Arthur: the fic. He just doesn't like being told what to do. Haha (i swear kayne brain is contagious)

King tore john out because reintegrating them was changing him and he was scared of what he was becoming, in canon this results in dark world 2: electric boogaloo, in this au he decides being broken is worse

For emotional whiplash, please imagine King walking around like this: https://www.tumblr.com/without-ado/724427056746807296/cutie-pie-of-the-sea-x (if you actually want to know how I was imagining him moving tho, look up videos of feather stars swimming, it’s the closest thing I can compare it to, except he’s not feather star shaped but rather a creature of cloth and shadows and tentacles sort of, depends how much body he’s manifesting on a given plane of reality at any given time)

Schrodinger’s body: It’s there and it isn’t there but you can’t tell which because there’s a yellow cloak in the way

Hint: they are not fingers. The king does not have hands

Me, who has never touched vicuna wool in my life: what if I gave the king some sort of dreamlands vicuna wool equivalent for his cloak? Cue me staring at images of clothes I cant even afford to touch and trying to decide what they would feel like: hmm, it’s probably soft but silken doesnt seem right at all, better not use that word

Arthur gets re-traumatized and then gratuitously pampered: the fic

The King casually failing to mention that the mosaic in the center depicts him. Arthur wasn’t ready for that knowledge yet 😔

The dancers (at least in this fic, i have so many different ideas i want to explore for the dancers) are a bit like living puppets. They were made from the King’s power and they took on some degree of life due to it, but they’re still an extension of his will. So the laughing…. Was just the King laughing cause Arthur is ridiculous and adorable. Also up for debate if they actually looked away or just moved back a bit. What are boundaries to a god?

The dancers are made of a material that can best be described as elastic ceramic. Yes I don't know what that means either but I know in my heart it is true. I also imagine them walking in permanent pointe, because that's how their ankles work. They also have knife fingers. But they were being nice to Arthur so he didn't really notice

My friend pointed out that Arthur could have been using fancy wine as soap and my fucking god y’all I missed a golden opportunity there

It’s not a guest room, Arthur. Arthur, it’s a harem room for artists. Arthur.

The fabric wrapped around Arthur's arm is actually a part of the King's body. His mantle is part of him and the tattered ends of it work like fabric tentacles

And then arthur continues to fail to reconcile john being the king in yellow because wow that boy is stubborn and really needs to believe john is different in order to function. He’ll get there eventually

Athur’s so desperate not to be alone that he’d do anything, accept almost anything, as long as he can keep his loved ones close and alive. Absolutely delicious

I had to actively fight with myself not to put a “big, am I?” joke there at the end. I hope you appreciate my sacrifice

Hastur never actually gave Arthur his name. Dumbass