#Petals and clouds zine

[platedpixels]

Here is my piece for the @flowerhusbandszine !! I created a piece to accompany amazing writing by @xmochilyx !!:D

I urge you to read their piece as it’s truly so amazing, and check out the whole zine for yourself! The zine is full of incredible pieces by amazing creators!!

I am truly so grateful to have been apart of this project as it was the first zine I’ve worked on, and it has been one of the most fun projects I’ve had the pleasure of being involved in!!!<3

Additional thing+ here’s my piece without lighting(truly a jumpscare i know), and the original sketch!

I might post my timelapse later, though it might be difficult as I switched canvases midway-through :,D

In total the piece took me about 18h of which is so crazy to me- it was so fun to create though!!

[sparkybells]

”I’m in a field of dandelions, wishing on every one that you’ll be mine”

My piece that I made for the @flowerhusbandszine! I wanted to make the third life wedding we never saw. Thank you so much to the mod team for putting this zone together and making this such a wonderful experience to participate in. Thank you to all the other artists and writers who participated. Please go check out the Zine and give all the artists your love and support!

[maggymations]

FLOWER HUSBANDS ZINE OUT NOW

My piece was finished in November (shivers) but I thought why not post it here anyways

It accompanies @ashalsdream writing so please give that a read too! it’s adorable

progress under the cut for funsies

the guys!! the guys in the corner! truly lifesaving for motivation let me tell you 🙂‍↕️

[birrdies]

'SUNBLEACHED' (1.6k words) Our collaboration piece for the Flowers in the Desert zine! writing by me (birrdies) art by @fishbloc

Sunflowers. 

Over the flat, endless plain they stretch as far as Scar can see. Roots and leaves branch like veins and arteries through the soil on the verge of something alive. The sunflowers face the limitless blue above— no beginning or end— the stretch so vast that time itself feels as inconsequential as a marble rolling around in his hand. 

Scar doesn’t understand it.

One second his feet had been on the stone where Pearl had fallen, where lightning had struck with finality, and the next he’s up to his waist in sunflowers. Each golden petal stands on edge. As if they know something he doesn’t. He reaches out to touch one of these petals; they tickle the pads of his fingers. Shy, pretty things. 

It’s quiet here and Scar isn’t sure if it’s a silence he finds comforting or damning. He thinks he should be afraid, but how can he be? It’s warm here. The earth smells of freshly fallen rain beneath his feet, despite not a single cloud in the sky above. The fresh, dewey scent that soothes him, almost convinces him that this is a good place to be. 

“You’re here,” a voice says behind him.

There, enveloped by the countless sunflowers, is Grian. His hair is pale, sunbleached, and his cheeks are pink. Everything about him has been touched by the light in some way, down to the faded red poncho draping his shoulders and the speckling of freckles across his nose bridge. 

He’s drowning in it— this light. He’s made of it. And Scar’s eyes fall to find the sunflowers around him withering and decaying quickly. The yellow petals curl and desiccate into gray husks, breaking off their buds and fluttering to the ground. They’re dying. Not by lack of sunlight, Scar realizes, but by an excess of it. Burnt to a crisp. 

And like the sun, his skin blisters. The skin of his hands and the redness slathering them have no beginning or end. Gashes and swelling bruises and split knuckles. The blood never clots, a constant red drip falling from the fingers held limp at his sides. A quiet drip, drip, drip the only sound across the windless field. Not even so much as the sound of a breath. Just that blood.  “Grian,” Scar says. “I’m here.”

He doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know why Grian’s here either. But he’s grateful he is. Their nightmare— or, had it been a dream?— ended long ago, the desert gone and buried several games past. The Grian in front of him now isn’t the Grian he’d fought with moments ago. This Grian was younger. More afraid. More capable of burning. 

“Where… where is here, exactly?” Scar asks.

Grian curls those bleeding fingers into the nearest living sunflower. As if he’s unsure whether he wants to caress it or yank it from the ground, roots and all. His face is twisted, it’s always twisted when Scar’s around. But he yearns for the days when that twist had been of wicked delight, the way green-lit eyes exploded into starbursts at the sight of their mutual destruction. 

“You won,” Grian says simply, taking a sunflower by the stem and starting to pluck the petals. One by one. “Congratulations.”

Scar falters. A victory. A bolt of lightning striking the earth, the loud thud of a gavel. It’s over Scar, he hears, a constant echo in the back of his mind. You won. Grian’s anger burns. A second petal falls.  “You’re upset.” Scar will do anything to make it stop, to untie the knot tied between Grian’s eyebrows, to take those cracked, bleeding hands in his own and mend them until the skin is whole again. To take away the pain, the regret, the guilt. 

Grian never left the desert, no matter how much he wanted to. And Scar could never go back. No matter how often he wished he could.

“This is your dream, Scar.” Grian turns his face away. “It’s been a long time coming— a victory.”

“I don’t feel like I’ve won anything,” Scar says honestly. A victory implies the heavy yet welcome weight of a crown, the fleeting yet intoxicating rush of excitement. But all Scar feels is the emptiness in his chest, the air around his crownless head. Blood on his hands that he can’t see, but knows is there all the same. The same way it stains Grian’s. 

Grian plucks a third petal. He barks a cruel laugh, but it sounds more like he’s about to cry. “How do you think I felt?”  Scar frowns. “It’s still about the desert? After all this time?” 

Grian plucks another petal. Four. It flutters to the ground to join the others, yellow petals torn and crumpled, slowly turning gray. The edge of his mouth tugs into a knife-like smile.

“I’m sorry,” he says. It’s all he can manage, though he doesn’t mean it. Nothing can make him regret that day, knelt in a cool pond with the weight of a diamond blade against the junction of his neck. The hand he used to hold onto it, digging it into his own skin— asking for it. “You deserved to win.”

“I deserved this? To be alone?” Grian throws his arms out to the sides, to the endless curvature of sunflowers drowning the both of them. Nothing to shield them from the unrelenting sun above. “Because that’s what winning means. You’re alone, Scar.” 

Scar’s heart plummets into his stomach. “You’re here.” 

“Am I?” A fifth petal. “Or do you just want me to be?” 

Scar stares at Grian, uncaring if the scalding brightness gives him sunspots, or if the pain of looking at the spoils of his own choices burns him up from the inside. You won, Scar, his voice echoes again and again in Scar’s mind, a scratched record. His fists curl up at his sides, into the black cloak sewn with lilacs and poppies along the hem. 

Is that what this is? A cruel illusion to make him realize what it truly means to be the man at the edge of the world, to be the last man standing? If this is victory— Scar grits his teeth and twists his fists into his cloak— then he doesn’t want it. He’s never wanted it. It was never about winning, it was about— 

“About what, exactly?” Grian snaps, plucking the through straight from his mind just as he does with a sixth petal. “Is it about this? Sunflowers? You can’t hide behind them forever. Not here. Not from me. Not from yourself.” 

“Stop it.”

Grian’s in front of him now, bloodied hands shoving him by his shoulders. Scar stumbles back and barely keeps himself upright. This isn’t right. This isn’t Grian— not the one he knows, not the one he needs. 

“Why aren’t you angry, Scar?” Another push. “After everything that’s happened to you. All the people that have betrayed you. All the times I left you behind.”

Scar grapples for self control, to reign in the flash of anger burning the back of his throat. “What are you trying to prove?” 

“Stop lying. For once in your life, look me in the eye and tell me you’re angry.” Grian yanks a sunflower from the ground and shoves it, decaying leaves and all, against Scar’s chest. “Tell me these are just a sham.” 

It’s on the tip of his tongue: the truth. A terrifying, bitter thing that burns crawling up the back of his throat. Because it betrays everything he’s worked so hard to build, the masks he’s sported like second skins, the confidence which he flaunts like a shield. Without it, what does he have left? He’s stripped clean, Grier’s hands against his chest burning like sweltering charcoal. Sunflower petals slip between his fingers. 

He opens his mouth to let it up, to tell the truth, and then—

The sky above him changes. Only slightly. If he had blinked he would’ve missed it. But clear as day he sees them overhead: clouds. Slowly rolling across a blue sky.  And he’s on his back, blinking spots from his eyes as breath rushes into his lungs. The air tastes fresh, crisp, like seawater. Eyes fluttering, he tries to remember what he’d just been about to say.  “Scar?” 

Eclipsing the sun beating down on him overhead, a head peers down at him. Dark, wide eyes, a slanted mouth. A sporting of freckles across dusty cheeks. 

Something knotted unravels in Scar’s chest. “Grian.” Grian’s lips wobble into an uneasy smile. He wipes sweat from his brow, and Scar catches a glimpse of his hands: dirty, packed with mud, but bloodless. “Whatcha doing down there, pal?”  Scar’s arms lie limp at his sides. He’s not sure he could move even if he tried. If he wanted to. Something about this peace is fragile, uncertain. As if simply breathing the wrong way will make the world shatter in two and send him back to that place. One wrong move and he’ll be alone again. 

“Dunno,” Scar says breathlessly. Stalks of wheat tickle his arms as the wind kicks up, ghosting over his body. A sunflower stands over him, waving in the breeze. “Appreciating the view. Clouds. They’re nice.”

“Come on.” A hand reaches out to him. “Stop trampling my wheat.” Scar has to stare at it to remember that it’s not covered in blood. That it’s just dirt from a long day tending to wheat and sunflowers. That the Grian smiling down at him is the real one. Not the one made to torment him. 

Scar reaches for that hand, allowing their palms to slot together. Grian’s skin is callused and warm. He’s there. He’s real. Scar isn’t alone.

[brioche-art-424]

my piece for @flowerhusbandszine !! was so fun to work on, everyone on the team was so nice ^_^ be sure to check it out!!!

details/yapping below cut!

OKAY GUYS I FINALLY REMEMBERED TO POST IT,,,

this piece was originally finished in november ish so it’s a bit old haha

i had a few other ideas for the piece’s theme, but ended up going with this one! it’s very vaguely inspired by the song “under the weather” by derivakat since it used to be on of my fave songs and i randomly remembered it while drawing haha

it’s also kinda related to the zine title petals and clouds with the rain and the flowers on scott’s sweater!

there’s a lot of random details that have some meaning:

Flowers on scott’s sweater: this part took a lot of time to draw! The flowers are poppy, daisy, sunflower, morning glory, violet, rose, forget-me-not, and forsythia!

The flowers have a bit of symbolism, unfortunately i forgot to write it down and don’t have time to look it up rn… may edit later if i find it somewhere

Patches on jimmy’s outfit: canary for canary curse, hearts for life series, snail for hermitcraft/wild life, bi flag since that’s my headcannon for his character, minecraft dirt block, and bread bc of bad boys+my username! there’s also some random colors and designs to fill in the gaps! he also has a cod keychain for empires 1 :)

Other stuff!

For some reason the rain effect was pretty hard for me to do, I couldn’t find any brushes that looked good :(

^ i think there ended up being three layers for just the rain?

i drew most of the grass blades by hand… was kinda fun even tho a lot of it ended up covered by the bushes 😭

I used 50 layers in the final piece (the maximum for the canvas size was 57!,?!)

There are 17754 total strokes! (even my more rendered pieces are about 5000)

13 hr 55m tracked time…

the procreate timelapse is 10 minutes 😭 may post it to youtube sometime

no bg + base colors + just lineart! (i ended up using a lot of effects on the lineart so it might look wacky by itself…)

sorry if this doesn’t make sense it’s really late at night and i don’t wanna wait to post this… if i forget anything i will add it later

[evil-mop-eating-sponge]

My piece for the Flower Husbands Zine :D

I had the pleasure of working on the @flowerhusbandszine

I teamed up with @gmeldoodles and @fluid-zeph to make two pages covering the theme "do you think we're together in every universe"

Our pages are 40 and 41 of the Zine!

We each covered two "canon" universes and two au's :3 mine were: empires 1 & 2, a creature au, and a college au

(click for better quality bcs tumblr hates me)

please go look at the Zine for the completed piece! It turned out amazing!

Thank you to my teammates for working with me! It was so much fun! :D

[mcytblrsource]

MONTHLY MCYTBLR RECAP: JULY 2024

CHECK PERIODICALLY FOR UPDATES!

REBLOGS ARE ENCOURAGED!

EVENTS:

May 12-Jul 7: Hermitcraft Guess The Author @/hermitcraftguesstheauthorevent

Jun 30-Jul 6: MCYT Subversion Week hosted by @/mcytsubversionweek

Jul 1-7: Gem Pearl Week hosted by @/gem-pearl-week

Jul 1-31: MCYT Musical Bingo hosted by @/mcytmusicalbingo [Check blog for more details]

Jul 12-18: MCYT Aspec Week hosted by @/mcyt-aspec-week

Jul 15-24: RedScape Week hosted by @/redscapeweek

Jul 15-21: HideDuo Week hosted by @/hideduoweek

Jul 15-21: fWhimmy Week hosted by @/fwhimmy-week

Jul 22-28: Hot Scarian Summer hosted by @/hot-scarian-summer-2024

ZINES & MAPS:

Jul 24: Petals of a Rose: Hideduo Zine @hideduofanzine

UPCOMING EVENTS FOR AUGUST:

Jun 1-Sep 30: MCYT Omegaverse Month (18+) hosted by @mcyt-month-of-omegaverse [Check blog for more details]

Jun 1-Aug 31: Niki Nihachu Summer hosted by @niki-nihachu-summer

Aug 4-Sep 21: QSMP Month(s) hosted by @qsmp-month

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Aug 16th: Dream SMP Sixteenth Day Event: Crack Month hosted by @sixteenth-day-event

Aug 11-17: Skizzleman Week hosted by @skizzlemanweek

Aug 12-18: Hypnotizd Ship Week hosted by @hermitrarepairevent

Sep 1-30: Your Cubito, Your Culture hosted by @yourcubitoyourculture

Sep 22-Oct 5: MCYT Non-POV hosted by @mcyt-nonpovs

—-—

TBA: @qpr-kersuma-week

CLOSED APPLICATIONS:

MCYT Non-POV: @mcyt-nonpovs Prompt submission closes Aug 3

MCYT Yaoi Exchange: @mcyt-yaoi-exchange closes Aug 7

Petals and Clouds - FRONT COVER ARTISTS: @flowerhusbandszine closes Aug 13

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OPEN APPLICATIONS:

NSFW Life Series Zine (18+): @nsfwlifeserieszine closes Aug 17

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MCYT Halloween Exchange: @mcyt-halloween closes Sep 23

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MCYT Couture Zine- MODERATORS: @mcyt-couture-zine Aug 17-31

The Great MCYT WIP Purge: @multidimensionbb Aug 22-Sep 3

MCYT Trick-or-Treat: @mcyt-trick-or-treat Aug 25-Sep 8

MCYT Playwriting Fest: @mcytplaywritingfest closes Aug 26 [Check blog for more information]

Colourful Crafters Colouring Book: @colourfulcrafterscolouringbook closes undetermined

—-—

Technoblade Cookbook- MODERATORS: @technobladecookbook Sep 1-10

MCYT Couture Zine: @mcyt-couture-zine Sep 10-30

Technoblade Cookbook- RECIPE SUBMISSION: @technobladecookbook Sep 14-Oct 14

Technoblade Cookbook- ARTISTS AND WRITERS: @technobladecookbook Oct 20-31

ZINES & MAPS:

Aug 5-Sep 2: @qsmpzine released for pre-order

Aug 10: @mcytsapphiczine released

[kairizine]

🌺 Merch Reveal: Bookmark 🌺

This breathtaking merch designed by CeCe (Potachuu) will be available for preorder in our three merch-inclusive tiers! The bookmark is 2 x 8 inches (51 x 203 mm) and is beautifully balanced with its double sided design.

Follow us @kairizine to see more merch reveals leading up to the Destiny's Embrace March 28th preorders!

[Image description:

The image is framed by clusters of flowers: pink hibiscus, pale gold dandelions and purple morning glories. Imposed on top of them is an angular, faceted frame with a Destiny’s Embrace zine-branded logo in the top right corner.

Inside the frame is a mock-up of a double-sided bookmark featuring Kairi. On one side, KH2 Kairi is shown from her side, but turning to face the front, her hands held to her heart and smiling warmly. Behind her, we see a sunset in pinks and yellows, and a group of beautiful orange and yellow sunflowers. On the other side, KH3 Kairi faces the viewers, her eyes are closed as she grins, one hand adjusting a flower crown of multiple flower types. A similar bouquet is cradled in her other arm. Behind her, we see a bright blue sky and clouds with many colored balloons and streamers all around her.

Beside the artworks, we see a handwritten title reading "Bookmark," and below that, bullet-pointed with flower petals, in a clean, modern san-serif font: "2x8 inchs (51x203 mm), Double Sided, Soft-Touch Lamination, Designed by CeCe." Below that, in bold, it reads, "preorders open March 28."

End Description.]

[kumeko]

A/N: For the Kamurocho Life zine! Goro and Makoto just hit all of my weak spots, I love this angsty trope. This is a companion piece for my other fic, that I posted months ago ahaha

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Goro was staring. Makoto was keenly aware of that, even as she sat on the bench with her eyes closed. While her sight was slowly returning, her other senses were still sharper and she felt a ticklish prickle under his gaze. The spring breeze blew gently, dropping flower petals on her open hands. On the street next to them, a pair of drunks sang wildly despite how early in the day it was. Her thin sweatshirt was just enough to keep her warm as the clouds drifted lazily over the sun.

And still, he was staring. Makoto cracked open her eyes, blinking at the sudden colours that burst to life. As she slowly focused, she glanced at him from the corner of her eyes. With his short hair and yellow jacket, he looked like nothing like she’d imagined all those months ago. Then again, he was a man full of surprises; why would this be any different?

“You’re staring,” she mumbled, cheeks red as she shifted uncomfortably, unable to take it anymore.

“’m not,” he immediately replied. After a beat, he flushed and looked away. “Why wouldn’t ah look at ya?” Goro grumbled, barely audible.

Makoto stifled a giggle. He reminded her of the alley cats she took care of, all gruff demeanor and stiff upper lips. Despite his act, he was a terrible liar and there was something comforting about it. Unlike everyone else’s lies, she could read through his like a soothsayer.

Still, she couldn’t blame him. Makoto glanced around the small park, barely bigger than their apartment. Even though she recognized nothing about it, from the bench to the vending machines in the corner to the kids who were racing cars on the dirt, she knew this place. How could she not? The last time they’d been here, she’d disappeared on him.

She lowered her eyes to her hand, to the pink petals resting lightly on her skin.

That was a sad thought.

Today wasn’t a sad day. Forcing a smile, she poked him lightly. “What’s next on the list?”

“We’re still doin’ that? Haven’t ya had enough?” Goro complained as he pulled out a wrinkled sheet from his pocket. Uncrumpling it, he smoothened it out on his thighs.

She leaned against him, her smile real now as he stiffened at their proximity. The printed text was still too hard for her to read and she bit back a sigh as she straightened up. “It’s fun.”

“We can have fun anywhere.” His nose wrinkled as he read the title on the article. “Top Ten Love Spots in Kamurocho. Like ah need a guide to tell ya what to do.”

“We’ve already done five of them,” she pointed out, holding her ground. “And my friends told me to try it out. Don’t you want to finish it?”

“Not really.” He held the sheet closer and squinted at the byline. “Who wrote this crap? Dragon? Who the fuck is Dragon?”

She frowned. “Please.”

“Fine, fine, ah’ll do it.” He ran his finger down the page, stopping when he reached the next point. “5. The Docks for Comfort.”

-x-

The Docks

Makoto was glad she had decided to wear a more practical pants and long-sleeves. Land-locked as she’d been, she’d actually forgotten how chilly it got near water, when the wind sprayed the water just so. The docks smelled of fish and oil, a scent she had remembered, and she wrinkled her nose.  Behind her, she heard a constant thudding, followed every now and then by a groan or the sound of something breaking.

It was nothing like Osaka’s docks.

“The docks.” Noticing her shiver, he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. While his skin was warm and his ears red, his tone didn’t change. “Who the fuck thought this was comfortable?”

“Maybe at sunset?” she suggested, gingerly leaning against him as she glanced at the water. A dull, murky colour, no amount of sunshine was enough to make it sparkle.

“Not even then.” Goro snorted, gesturing at the crates next to them. “These’ll block the view. And the smell. And whatever the fuck she’s doing.” He gestured to their left, to where a woman in yellow was hurling around crates in wild abandon. That explained the nose, at least.

“Is that training?” she asked, not sure if she was seeing things right. It looked like she had mannequins shooting at her. A crate broke in two, dropping money everywhere.

Goro looked at her, incredulous. “For what? A war?”

-x-

West Park

West park was warmer than the docks. It was also bigger than the other park, a stone pathway carving in between budding trees and sloping hills. The smell and sounds, however, were just as bad here as it had been by the water.

Which made sense. The canopy spread before her was blue, not green, made of vinyl and cloth, not leaves. A tent city had taken over most of the park, ragged-looking men sitting around as they played go or drank from brown paper bags. There was no way this many people could stay quiet.

Goro glared at the paper in his hand, barely restraining his anger as he growled, “Why would ah take my girl here? It’s full of bums and beer!”

Makoto barely listened as she quietly scanned each homeless man. It was no good; she couldn’t recognize any of them. Even their voices didn’t ring a bell; she’d been lucky enough to remember Goro’s when they’d bumped into each other after her therapy. There had just been too much that night: noise, people, events. Her brother’s death still hung like a shadow over it all, obscuring the small points of light.

Not for the first time, Makoto realized just how many people had carried her to this point. She bowed. “I’m glad we came.”

She hoped someone recognized her, someone saw her now and realized just how grateful she was.

-x-

Sega Center

Makoto squinted at the pixelated screen, at the tiny figures making their way across the screen. So that was what a game looked like. She couldn’t understand the appeal. Feeling a headache forming, she tore her eyes away from the machine’s screen and back to the man beside her. “This is the third spot?”

“Yeah.” Goro shifted eagerly as he scanned the large gaming center. Rows of identical machines boasted different games. Teenagers and adults taunted one another as they competed, buttons smashing quicker and quicker in a show of dominance. His fingers twitched. “The games are different than in Sotenbori.”

That surprised her. “You like games?”

“Maybe not games so much as the hot la—,” he made a strangled nose as he bit his tongue.

Panicked, she grabbed his arm. “You okay?”

His skin paled and he abruptly looked away. “Y-yeah, just peachy.” Clearing his throat, he gestured at the claw machine nearby and the stuffed toys carpeting the bottom of the box. “Ya want one?”

“Huh?” She leaned forward, trying to get a better look at him. “That doesn’t matter. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Ah’m fine.” He smiled at her, too broad and all teeth and definitely hiding something. The only good thing was that she didn’t see any blood, so despite his actions earlier, he really was okay. “The toy?”

“Sure.” Makoto frowned, following him to the machine. What had that been about, then? His profile looked almost feverish now, his ears red and skin sweaty. Maybe he was coming down with something. She’d have to get him medicine when they got back. “So you do like games?”

Goro’s fingers slipped on the toggle, the claw going down at a random spot. “Y-yeah. Only this one.”

The claw pulled back to its original position, giving him a chance to try again. Makoto cocked her head, perplexed. “You collect stuffed animals?”

“What?” Goro snorted. This time, the claw moved smoothly, picking up a purple puppy and a blue cat before retracting. He smirked as he turned to her, crossing his arms and leaning against the machine. ��See? Nothing to it.”

The animals slide out of the hole at the bottom and she squeezed the soft toys, amazed. “Which one do you want?”

He immediately shook his head. “None. They’re yours. Ah don’t collect ‘em. There was just this girl who wanted one and ah got it for her. That’s all.”

“A girl?” Somehow, that didn’t surprise Makoto. Despite what he said, he was kind, his heart big, and she didn’t think he could turn anyone down if they asked for help.

“Yeah, this li’l runt. She kept calling me Pa—” Immediately, he made a strangled noise as he bit his tongue.

Makoto flinched. “Again!?”

-x-

Maharaja

Makoto wasn’t much of a dancer. Even before her kidnapping, she’d been uncomfortable in big crowds, preferring the relative quiet of home and hearth. Maharaja was none of those things—the wide, open room reminded her of a firework show: all colour and sound. In the dimly lit areas, she could just make out the shapes of couples and friends as they drank, their conversation drowned out by the never-ending dance track.

Goro however, didn’t seem to have that issue. He looked comfortable as soon as they’d stepped, making his way to the glittering dancefloor as though he’d done it before. Maybe he had. He never talked much about his past and she never asked. Despite his annoyed expression as they’d made their way in, the second he’d stepped on the brightly-coloured tiles, the disco-ball bathing them in colourful lights, he immediately started dancing.

In all of her life, Makoto could state she had never seen anything like that before. He twirled, with the poise and grace of a professional, his hair looking even more messy, if possible. Below his breath, he hummed along as he sang. It wasn’t the kind of music she’d pegged him for and she giggled as he twirled.

Noticing her stare, he flushed and gestured for her to come over. “Ya should dance too.”

Immediately, she shook her head. “I’m not—”

“Come on.” Ignoring her protests, Goro grabbed her hand, pulling her under the bright lights. “Why even come here if ya don’t dance?”

His grip was warm and tight, and she stared at it for a moment before nodding. Part of point this whole list was to try new things, after all. “If you say—”

“That was some good dancing.” A long-haired man stepped out of the shadows, adjusting his glasses. Makoto jumped, not expecting him. There was a strange glint in his eyes as he appraised Goro. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen that much talent.”

A woman laughed, her blue dress shimmering as she followed. Every step was full of strength and grace, and Makoto wasn’t sure how she felt about her coy smile. “Ohh, and he’s good looking too. I think I might be a fan.”

For a long moment, they all stared at each other in silence. These strangers had smug smirks, like challengers in a fight, but neither of them made a move. Confused, Makoto glanced at Goro. “Huh?”

Unlike her, Goro just looked annoyed. Lips pressed into a thin line, he looked up at the ceiling beseechingly. “Is there no such thing as a normal club?”

-x-

Makoto hadn’t expected their date to end as it had started: in the small park. The kids were long gone now, their footprints in the dirt the only sign they’d even been there. Goro groaned, leaning back against the bench, and she glanced at him. He looked exhausted. Then again, she’d be tired too if she had been forced to dance against those two strangers.

Apparently, it was a popular thing to challenge good dancers to a dance fight. They refused to take no. Goro refused to lose. It had been the strangest battle Makoto had ever witnessed, but she preferred it to the bloody fists and pointed guns.

“You okay?” she asked, leaning forward to wipe his sweaty bangs out of his face.

He stiffened at her touch again, his eyes looking everywhere but her. “Ah’m fine,” Goro muttered, sounding embarrassed. “Didn’t think that’d take so long. Must have bored ya.”

“No, it was fun.” Makoto smiled as she sat on the bench next to him, her hands clasped on her lap. “I didn’t know you’re so good at dancing.”

“Ah’m not really…” Flustered, Goro glared at the garbage can as though it was at fault for what had happened. “Just picked up a few things here and there.”

It didn’t look that way to her, but she knew better than to press. Taking pity, she changed the topic. “What’s next?”

Goro raised a brow, confused. “Next?”

“On the list.” She interlaced her fingers, stretching her arms before her. “We just have the last one, right?”

“Oh, that.” He relaxed, pulling out the crumpled sheet again. It crinkled as he opened it. “Last, go to a love ho—” Goro choked, his face turning a bright red as he cut himself off. He glanced at her, then at the paper, then at her again. Before she could say anything, he crumpled the paper and hurled it at the garbage bin. “Ah’m goin’ to kill that bastard.”

“Huh?” Makoto stared at him, then the bin, not sure where to go first, what to ask first. This was like the game center again, and maybe she should really get him to go to a doctor. “Are you okay?”

Still standing, he grinned ferally, pulling out a box of matches. He lit one and toss it in the bin, laughing. “Ah’m fine. He ain’t.”

“Goro!” Makoto ran over to the trash can, but it was too late. Everything inside was burning. Just what could have made him go that far? Biting her lip, she grabbed his matches before he could do any more damage. “What did he say?”

“A…A…” Just as quickly as his murderous rage came, it disappeared, his skin flushing a bright pink as he struggled with his words.

“Was it bad?” she asked helpfully, squeezing his arm as she tried to guide him through it.

“Not really but…” Resembling a lobster, he suddenly jerked his arm free and stiffly turned around. “Lovely taikyaki. That’s what it said. Let’s get some.”

“What?” Makoto pinched herself, not sure if she was dreaming. It was the only way it would make sense. Unfortunately, all it did was send a jolt of pain up her arm.

“It said to get taikyaki. Some lovely taikyaki.” Goro turned back to her, his expression almost pleading for her to not ask any questions as he continued, “Ya want some?”

“That…” Makoto glanced at the still burning trash can. She’d have to get another copy of the magazine later. For now, though, she’d just have to let it go. “Sure.”

“Great.” He beamed brightly and she knew she’d made the right decision. Probably. “Wait here, ah’ll get it.”

Before he could jog away, Makoto grabbed his hand. When he shot her a questioning look, she smiled brightly. “I’ll go with you.”

Last time, she’d let go of his hand. This time, she wanted to hold it tight.

Besides, she wasn’t entirely certain he wouldn’t burn down the taikyaki stand.

[phoenix-downer]

Spring Birthday

After Sora’s return, Naminé’s friends celebrate her birthday with her. While her early days were lonely, her life is very different now, and she treasures each new memory with the people dear to her heart.

~1650 words. Post-Kingdom Hearts III and Melody of Memory. Gen, Friendship, Fluff. Naminé POV. Written for @naminezine​, and the banner art is by the lovely @somniumars​.

“Naminé, when is your birthday?” Kairi asked over breakfast one day, scones with jam and clotted cream, served with a hot cup of tea for both of them. They liked to visit this cafe together at least once a month. It had outdoor seating, and the weather was finally warm enough again for them to sit outside with light jackets. 

Naminé stopped buttering her scone for a moment and frowned. It was a simple enough question, and yet she found herself unsure of what to say. 

“Well, I suppose it was the day Sora released his heart to save you,” she said at last. “But as glad as I am to be alive, it feels strange to celebrate that day, considering what happened.” 

“I understand,” Kairi said softly. “Are there any other days you can think of?”

Naminé paused once more and thought as Kairi sipped some more of her tea. The only other day she could really think of was… 

“The day of my rebirth. It was spring on Radiant Garden. The sun was shining, the flowers were blooming, and the weather was perfect.” She sighed happily at the memory. “I’ll never forget what it felt like to walk outside for the first time in a body of my own.”

“Then why don’t we make that your birthday? I know we technically missed it last year, when we were all searching for Sora, but it’s coming up here soon.” 

“Sure, that sounds nice.” Naminé put one more cube of sugar in her tea to get it to just the right sweetness, then added a little more cream and stirred. “I’ve never really thought about having a birthday of my own before.”

“Well, you deserve to have one,” Kairi said with a determined glint in her eye. “You’re your own person. Always have been, always will be.”

The two girls chatted some more as they finished their breakfast, and the subject soon slipped away from Naminé’s mind. It wasn’t until she and Xion were gathering shells together on Destiny Islands a few days later when the topic of birthdays came up again.

“See,” Xion said as she picked up a thalassa shell, “I like these ones the most, with the pink centers and yellow edges.” 

“I like them too. Yellow’s one of my favorite colors.”

Yellow was the color of the sun. A hopeful color for a girl that had begun her life in a cage, longing to see the outdoors for herself. For that reason alone it was precious to her. 

“You like blue too, right?” Xion said. She placed another thalassa shell in Naminé’s palm, this one with a blue center and yellow edges.

Naminé nodded. “Yes. Blue is the color of the sky… of the waves… all the things I longed to see when I was imprisoned in Castle Oblivion.” 

“It suits you, and so does yellow,” Xion said with a smile. “Born from the waves, and reborn during the spring.” 

“Xion, when is your birthday?” Naminé suddenly asked. She realized she hadn’t really gotten to celebrate it with her before. 

“Oh, my birthday? I figured it should be during the fall. I don’t know why, but I’ve always been drawn to falling leaves, the seasons changing, that kind of thing.” She smiled ruefully. “I suppose because I felt like my time was limited, just like those leaves. Kairi actually asked me about it recently, I think because she wants to—”  

Her eyes went wide, then she coughed and craned her neck. “Look, I see some more shells over there!”

Naminé found Xion’s startled reaction rather curious, but she didn’t press her friend. It was just nice to spend time together sharing a hobby they both enjoyed. For a girl who had started life with no friends of her own, Naminé was lucky to have so many now. 

The next time she met with her friends, it was for a picnic on Rapunzel’s world, in a clearing in the woods near a small pool. The weather was perfect, sunny with a breeze blowing dandelions and flower petals through the air, and she and Sora and Rapunzel were all cloud gazing after a delicious lunch of sandwiches and cookies and lemonade. 

“See that one right there?” Rapunzel said, pointing up at the sky. “It looks like Maximus.” 

“It sure does!” Sora put his hand behind his neck and grinned. “The sky’s full of all sorts of interesting clouds today.” 

“I wish I had my sketchbook with me,” Naminé said with a sigh. “I’d love to draw all of them.” 

“Take a picture with your Gummiphone then,” Sora suggested. “You can always draw it later based off of that.” 

“I’d like to, but I’ve run out of room in my sketchbook. I could really use some new pencils, too.”

Sora and Rapunzel exchanged glances, and Sora grinned.

“Naminé, you should come to the castle,” Rapunzel said. “I’d love to show you some of my art supplies. Have you ever tried painting before?”

Naminé shook her head. “No, I haven’t, but I’d love to. Thank you for the invitation.”

“What are we waiting for? Let’s go now!” Sora sat up and sprang to his feet. 

The three of them spent the rest of the afternoon trying out Rapunzel’s art supplies. Well, more like Rapunzel showed Naminé her things and let her try them out while Sora kept typing away at his Gummiphone. Naminé giggled at how he still typed with one finger, like a bird pecking at grains of rice. 

“There we go,” he said all of a sudden, then put his phone in his pocket. “What’d I miss?”

Naminé and Rapunzel both giggled and showed him what they’d made: a painting to hang on the walls of Naminé’s room in Twilight Town. It was of the beautiful woods where they’d had the picnic with dandelions flower petals floating through the air. As soon as she got home, she put it up and gave it a satisfied nod.

The days flew by until at last it was the anniversary of her rebirth. There was a knock on the door late in the afternoon, and when she went to get it, she was surprised to see Riku and Roxas waiting there for her.

“Hey Naminé,” Roxas greeted with a grin. His eyes were playful, like he had a big secret he couldn’t wait to share.

“Come with us, there’s something we’d like to show you,” Riku added, and she ducked back inside to grab a few things before following them through the woods and to the Old Mansion. 

“Why are we here?” she asked. 

“You’ll see,” was all Roxas and Riku said, and she followed them inside. She was shocked by how nice the entrance looked, like someone had been in here and cleaned things up—

“Surprise!”

She gasped as she entered the foyer. A huge banner hanging from the stairs read Happy Birthday Naminé, and all her friends were gathered around a large table in the center of the room. The evening light shone through the window behind them, pink and purple and blue, another gorgeous twilight on this world she called home now. 

“Happy Birthday Naminé!” her friends all cheered, and she couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. So this was what they had been plotting and planning all this time. Roxas grinned and grabbed a camera to take a few shots, and Sora and Riku had some of those confetti poppers that they popped with loud crackling noises.  

The seashell decorations were yellow and the star candles were blue on the cake Xion held. Axel lit the candles, and they cast flickering lights and shadows over everyone’s faces.

Kairi leaned close and murmured, “Make a wish, but keep it secret.”

“A secret?” Naminé asked, tilting her head.

“It won’t come true if you tell us,” Ven explained, and Terra nodded. 

As Naminé looked at the faces of her friends, what she should wish for became clear. She knew, deep in her heart, what she wanted more than anything.

With that, she blew out the candles, and everyone cheered loudly. Aqua swept the cake out of Xion’s hands so she could cut it properly, and then everyone sat around the table. The cake was delicious, vanilla and lemon, and after everyone was done eating, it was time for Naminé to open her presents. 

“Here!” Sora said, his eyes shining as he handed her the first one. “It’s from all of us.”

Naminé’s hands shook as she removed the wrapping paper. She wasn’t used to getting gifts, and it took her some time to free the box. But once she did, she couldn’t have stopped the smile on her face even if she’d wanted to.

“They’re like the paints Rapunzel has! And in all the colors I like too.” She hugged the box to her chest. “Oh, thank you so much everyone, I can’t wait to use these.” 

When she was finished unwrapping the rest of her presents, more art supplies and nice jewelry and cute clothes, she thanked her friends for making this such a wonderful birthday night. But there was one last thing that would make it truly perfect.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Naminé said, “let’s make a painting together. So we have something to help us remember tonight.”

Naminé loved drawing on her own, but drawing with her friends was truly wonderful. Everyone brought their own unique spark to the table. And when the painting was finished, it was one huge flowing mosaic of color and life and creativity. Sure, it wasn’t a masterpiece, but it was something truly unique that only they could have made. And that was why it was a work of art. Not because it was perfect or technically skilled, but because it had their hearts poured into it.

Naminé couldn’t have asked for a better way to commemorate her birthday.  

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Thank you so much to the mods for making this project possible and for being so caring and supportive! And thank you to the other contributors, this zine was such a joy and I enjoyed talking to you all. A big thank you too to Somnium for drawing the banner! I really enjoyed working with you!

And thank you for reading!

[vannahfanfics]

Once There Were Dragons

Category: Hurt and Comfort, Romantic Fluff

Fandom: How To Train Your Dragon

Characters: Hiccup, Astrid

Hey, guys! I wrote this up for an upcoming HTTYD zine application, but I thought you guys might want to see it too! Hope you enjoy :) 

The wind breezed over the cliffside, ruffling the emerald green carpet of grass. The wildflowers bobbed in the steady gale; as they writhed, the wind plucked away their loose petals to whisk them away into the wild blue yonder. As the soft little buds floated past Hiccup’s nose, he inhaled deep, flooding his nose with the honey-sweet scent of the pollen, dew, and earth lingering on their surfaces. Hiccup relished the aroma- the aroma of the wilderness. 

A heavy sigh fell past his lips as he eased himself into a sitting position. He was only twenty-two, but the cares of an entire village weighed heavy on a man. It felt like the toil and stress oozed down into his bones, gunking up his joints like oil and making them stiff and uncooperative. He rubbed at the scruffy hairs at the base of his neck. Despite the dull aching of his much too young body, he smiled wanly as the breeze tickled the little braids Astrid had tied into his wiry brown hair. Out in the cliffsides, staring into the great unknown, Hiccup could physically feel his worries and cares melting away. 

“Ahhh,” he exhaled contentedly and leaned back on his hands. He stretched his legs out in front of him, and the sole of his boot and metal foot hung barely over the edge of the bluff. The grass blades playfully brushed the leathers of his pants and his iron greaves, and the dandelions nearby deposited their fluffy seeds on his clothes. Beyond the cliffside, the ocean stretched on forever in endless glimmering sapphire. Above the horizon line, the pale blue sky expanded into the atmosphere; wispy white clouds blotted the vastness in long, thin sheets. Beyond the fluffy barrier, the sun tried its best to shine, pushing its warm yellow rays through the cottony surfaces to alight the earth. Hiccup smiled as he felt the streams wash over him, filling him with pleasant warmth. 

It wasn’t enough. Hiccup longed for more. Hiccup yearned for elder days, when he’d coasted among the clouds with water vapor exploding on his face as he dove down into them. He craved the heat of the burning sun, stretching his arms wide like Icarus to bask in the full brilliance of the bright rays as he climbed closer and closer to the bubbling yellow-white disc. He ached for the sensation of salt spray peppering his cheeks as he danced over thrashing waves and writhing white sea foam. He hungered for the touch of the wilds and the spirit of the unknown-

because once there were dragons, and Hiccup missed them terribly. 

With a forlorn sigh, he flopped back into the carpet of green. Pollen spores and flower petals clouded the air in yellowy bursts with his movement to coast on the breeze. In the hazy wisps, Hiccup imagined the lumpy winged forms of dragons gliding on trade winds. They flapped their wings and occasionally dove down with gleeful growls. His lips curled upward in a wistful smile, and on reflex, he reached out. The pollen scattered at his touch, and the visions of the reptiles dissolved into nothingness. They existed only in his memory, not unlike his present reality. 

He groaned angrily and flopped his arm back against the ground- the ground which held him prisoner. No matter how much that Hiccup longed to fly, he no longer had wings to bear him. A few bitter tears prickled at the corners of his eyes as he gazed agonizedly up at the endless blue. 

“I miss you, bud,” he whispered to the wind. The breeze grasped the words and carried them away, bearing them across the wide, wide sea. Could Toothless hear them, he wondered? Hiccup liked to think so. He wondered if his best friend was perched on the slick rocks ringing the entrance to the Hidden World, contemplating the same sky and same sorrows. Hiccup closed his eyes and savored the feeling of the air swirling over his limbs and face. Momentarily, he could envision that he was astride Toothless’ broad, saddled back and sailing across the clouds. His heart ached, because a phantasm fell so, so short of the real thing. 

As Hiccup opened his eyes halfway to stare miserably at the world from which he was forever barred, the gentle shuffling of footsteps caught his attention. His eyes widened as he rolled his head to the side to see his very pregnant wife huffing and puffing as she tried to scale the steep path to the clifftop. Crying out, Hiccup rolled onto his belly and scrambling halfway through the grass on all fours before he managed to jump up and run to her. 

“Astrid! You shouldn’t exert yourself!” he scolded worryingly when he reached her. He immediately grabbed her elbow to steady her as her swollen body wobbled precariously. She used her free hand to sweep the straggling strands of her blonde bangs from her eyes and flashed him a gracious smile. 

“Thanks, honey,” she chirped and leaned in to peck him lightly on the cheek. They’d been together for years now, but even still, a bashful blush rose to paint Hiccup’s cheeks pink. With gentle nudges, he guided Astrid the rest of the way up the crudely carved steps until they reached the flat grasses of the clifftop. Astrid sighed contentedly and sunk in the center of the ridge to catch her breath. Hiccup squatted down beside her, lovingly combing his fingers through her pale blonde hair. “So, what’s on your mind?” 

Hiccup narrowed his eyes and flashed her a sardonic grin. 

“What makes you think anything is on my mind?” Astrid giggled as she tucked her legs under herself, leaning back at an angle so that her protruding belly didn’t unbalance her. With a crooning hum, she reached up to quickly tie a new braid into the threads of his long hair. As her fingertips glided through the wiry strands, she quipped matter-of-factly, “You only ever come up here when you have something on your mind.” Hiccup smiled wanly, caught red-handed, and flopped down beside her. 

“Ah, you caught me, you caught me,” he admitted with a small chuckle. Squinting, he cast his gaze back to the heavens. “When it all gets too much… I come up here and think about how things used to be.” Astrid hummed knowingly and began rubbing soothing circles into the small of his back. “It’s not that I regret what happened… It was what was best for all of us…” He sighed forlornly, imagining Toothless’ silhouette circling the fluffy cloud directly above them. “But, I still miss him, and I still miss being up there.” 

“I know,” Astrid cooed. She cuddled into him and nestled her head into the crook of his neck; Hiccup responded by resting his cheek against her scalp. “I know.” She reached out to link their hands and entwine their fingers, gripping him tight in reassurance. Her body was tense, and for a second, Hiccup began to feel guilty. 

“Astrid, I’m sorry. I probably sound so ungrateful-”

“No,” she interjected. Her free hand snapped up to cup his cheek, thumb lovingly tracing over the stubble beginning to line his jawline. “Don’t ever think that. I know that there’s a hole in your heart that I can never fill, and I don’t resent that,” she told him firmly. She smiled lovingly and pressed a lingering kiss to the joint of his jaw. “I know that you’ll miss him forever, and that’s okay.” She caressed his cheek with endearing touches as she squeezed his hand tightly again. “Every once in a while, it’s all right to let your head wander up into the clouds.” 

He hummed thoughtfully, for his mind had already drifted heavenward once more. He relived it for a while, the time where there were dragons, before he finally fell back down to earth. Astrid was now reclined against him, snoozing peacefully in the warm summer afternoon. Smiling, Hiccup pressed a kiss to her temple and rubbed the belly swollen with their first child. She exhaled with a hum, and fluttered her eyes open to peer sleepily at him. “What’s on your mind now?” she asked blearily as she stretched against him. Hiccup chuckled and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. 

“Oh, you know, just how amazing I am and whatnot,” he started sarcastically, making Astrid giggle and slap him playfully in the cheek. Hiccup snickered and buried his nose into her hair, inhaling her scent like honeysuckle and fresh bread. “Kidding… I was thinking of how amazing you are,” he corrected. “You’re always here waiting for me when I come down from the sky,” he purred lovingly. Astrid laughed mirthfully and nuzzled further into him. 

“Of course, love. Always.” 

Hiccup wrapped his arms around his wife and held her close. He looked over the cliffside and out into the wide sea. Somewhere beyond the horizon, dragons roamed, free forever from pain and torment to flit playfully through white cotton-candy clouds and splashing waves. Once there were dragons in Hiccup’s world, but they were no longer there to carry him across the wind and into the sky. But, that was okay, because Hiccup had plenty there for him on the ground, too.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

Tag List: @deliathedork​

[damienthepious]

speaking of, for definitely no reason whatsoever, here is a list of the softest, gentlest rad bouquet fics I’ve written, all rated T or below.

Like Whispering [t] [ao3] ~2k words - Rilla wakes up, and gets distracted analyzing her fascinating monster while he sleeps.

each kiss to lip and cheek [t] [ao3] ~600 - A soft little list analyzing lizard kissin’ as an activity.

Each Day You’d Rise With Me [t] [ao3] ~700 - Mornings in the Keep, together and in love.

Make It Up As We Go [t] [ao3] ~400 - The bouquet, dancing.

The Touch Of Softest Petal [t] [ao3] (avg) 400 - a collection of 8 prompted ficlets about the three of them kissing.

Eye to Eye [t] [ao3] ~700 - A conversation in the swamp on a quiet day.

Different Now [t] [ao3] ~1k - Some changes are good.

Waves of this Feeling [t] [ao3] ~1k - Arum helps Damien down from a panic attack.

Thus Unfurled [t] [ao3] ~2k - Saintsrise. Today, today they are all family.

[edited 9-7-2020 to add!]

Solace At Your Door [t] [ao3] ~900 - Rilla comes home to the Keep, and finds a restful scene waiting for her. (originally published in the Seasons of the Citadel zine!)

If Secrets Were Like Seeds [t] [ao3] ~600 - Arum has always had secrets. Now, he finally has people to share them with.

susurrus [t] [ao3] ~200 - Arum comforts Damien after a nightmare. Told exclusively through dialogue.

Space To Be Kinder [t] [ao3] ~1k - Sir Damien talks in his sleep.

Falling [t] [ao3] ~1k - Rilla gently tricks prompts Arum into admitting something soft.

Undertones [t] [ao3] ~1k - Damien finds a way to speak his heart while still making sure that Arum isn’t too overwhelmed by his words.

Take care of yourselves. Be gentle. Kiss lizards.

[edited 8-21-2021 to add]

twined [t] [ao3] drabble - Holding hands.

Honey Soaked Light [t] [ao3] ~2k - Arum admits to hurt feelings, and Damien responds rather gallantly.

your sweet lips on my lips [t] [ao3] ~1.5k - The bouquet experiments with how kissing works, with Lord Arum.

To Be Inside Your Arms [t] [ao3] ~2k - Post-BaWE, the bouquet is very, very tired.

could stay right here [t] [ao3] - ~2k - Arum isn’t quite used to sharing a bed.

a leg up [t] [ao3] ~700 - For once, Arum leans up for a kiss.

Less Like A Deadly Weapon [t] [ao3] ~3k - Rilla helps Damien shave. Arum is persuaded to help as well.

kiss it better [t] [ao3] ~1.5k - Damien has more than his fair share of scars. His loves want to help to soothe them, each in their own way.

slowly a sunlit dream [t] [ao3] ~2k - Rilla asks to be held, a little clumsily.

mwah! be sofft!!

[edited 4-11-2024 to add]

delicate as [ao3] drabble - Perhaps Damien should be accustomed to this by now.

Missives [ao3] ~1k - Lord Arum cannot join Damien and Rilla in much of their lives. Luckily, they are all of them too clever to let that stop them from sharing as much as they possibly can.

A Sound That Runs In The Deep [ao3] ~1k - Amaryllis says I love you. Inadvertently. In a language not entirely her own.

Lulling [ao3] ~500 - Sir Damien with a baby.

oh, admiration in falling asleep [ao3] ~1k - Sleepy Damien and Arum share some cloth.

in the keep of this rainy morning [ao3] ~600 - Arum takes a lazy day.

Flowers Pick Themselves [ao3] ~1k - Arum’s swamp is a part of him. It loves as he loves.

Maybe Sprout Wings [ao3] ~1.5k - Rilla tries to soothe some of Arum’s oldest wounds.

Held [ao3] ~300 - Holding hands.

fly out into white clouds [ao3] ~500 - An extremely sleepy Rilla, in the arms of an affectionate monster.

watch the ones that I love bloom [ao3] ~1k - None of them had particularly playful childhoods, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be playful now.

makes them kind [ao3] ~1.3k - Taking a break together.

Veiled [ao3] ~500 - A stolen moment at the edge of a Citadel party.

Budding, Blooming [ao3] ~4.5k (two-shot) - A rad bouquet florist/tattoo artist au. Hilariously.

Alternate [ao3] ~1k - Would this have been possible, were the circumstances different?

[jkrobertson]

UlquiHime Week 2019 Day 6: Possession

Read on Ao3 |  Fanfiction.net  

Or read under the cut.  This is the last piece originally earmarked for a Vega + Altair UlquiHime zine that was cancelled, but it fits today’s theme in a lemon-flavored way.  Enjoy! @ulquihimeweek​

Also another shoutout to Beta @slytherkins​!  THANK YOU!

 Vega’s Corruption

She was known as Vega to most, but to those who knew her best, she was called Orihime.  Vega was a name passed down to her from her mother and her mother before her. Her line had been tasked by the gods to protect the pocket of brambleberry bushes she called home.

 The problem was, no one really ever bothered to traipse through this dark, secluded area of the woods.  Orihime often found herself lonely, and frankly, bored.

 She filled her time the way her mother had, except that Orihime had no daughter to dote on and tell stories to.  Her own mother had absconded with a green-haired centaur years ago. The previous Vega had told her that her time as guardian of the brambleberry patch had run its course and wished her daughter luck, presenting her with a golden lyre and hair ornaments in the shape of sacred six-petaled blackberry blossoms.

 A clear brook cut a path through the forest, and occasionally a water sprite would pass through and tell her the gossip from upstream: general goings-on and who had been smote by whom; that kind of thing. She also learned who had been fornicating with whom.  Just a fortnight ago she had learned that a beekeeper by the name of Nanao had been chased from her post by a jealous goddess after falling pregnant by the god of wine.  

 They were worrisome, all these cautionary tales. Orihime would listen to these sordid stories with rapt attention and then fall back, mindlessly strumming her lyre, sighing in relief that no charming demigods ever wandered into her brambleberry patch. 

 It wouldn’t be until after she retired into her thicket that the images conjured in her mind by those stories would replay behind closed eyelids, causing her belly to squirm and her thighs to tremble.

 Her peace collapsed one evening when the forest stilled just after dusk.  It was an unnatural silence. Orihime ducked into her thicket just in time to avoid a phalanx of bats coursing over the brook, chasing away the fireflies that had lit up the waning moon evening.  After the shrieks and fluttering wings had quieted, she stepped back out of her den and cautiously looked around. She did not anticipate finding herself nearly nose to chin with a pale face containing large, deep jade and amber eyes.

 “Oh!” she yelped, taking a hurried step back and observing his form. The face appeared to belong to a male, and as she looked down his body she found that she was correct.  This satyr had unconventional characteristics, but she was able to place the tall, ear-like horns and long, prehensile, tufted tail. The wings were different. “Who are you, what are you, and what are you doing in my brambleberry patch?” she demanded in an unsteady voice.

 The satyr’s heavy brows lowered, eyes narrowing slightly.  “I seek the Vega.” He took a firm step toward her. “Have I found you, woman?” 

 “Who are you?” she asked again in alarm, taking a half-step back before her retreat was halted as her back made contact with the thicket.

 “Like you, I have many names--Niulang, Bunji, Altair-- but you shall call me Ulquiorra.  What shall I call you?” he asked, expressionless eyes boring into her soul as he voiced the question.

 She sucked in a quick breath, responding before thinking about whether it was wise to share this information, “Um, uh, my name is Orihime.”

 “Orihime,” the dark being let the name curl around his tongue and slide out of his lips with an understated sensuality.  “I see. Orihime, I will return on the seventh night of the seventh moon, and on that night I will be prepared for you to accept me.  Before then, I shall present you with three offerings.” Ulquiorra took another step toward her, his breath warm on her face and his leathery wings shielding her view from anything but him.  “Until next time, Woman,” he said, then flew away.

 Orihime released the breath she held with a gasp and clutched her chest, her heart racing below the surface.  She did not sleep easily that night, her dreams plagued with images of reptilian eyes and black fur.

 ***

 It was only ten days before Orihime was once again visited by a cloud of shrieking sky creatures announcing her strange visitor’s return.  This time she cowered inside of her den and waited until he called to her.

“Orihime.”

 Why her legs unfolded and her feet brought her to him mystified her.  When she stood before him, they regarded one another in silence for several moments.  The only sound that could be heard in the quiet was their soft breathing.  

 The pressure of the silence became too much for her to bear as those tense moments passed, but before she opened her mouth to speak, he relented, stepping to the side and breaking their eye contact. Ulquiorra pointed a clawed finger toward the heavens and asked, “Do you see that, up there, Woman?”

 Orihime’s line of sight followed his arm towards the night sky and to a smattering of stars.  “Yes. That’s Lyra. That’s where I am from,” she answered, referencing the constellation in the shape of a lyre.  “The brightest of those stars is Vega.”

 “You have learned well.  And you are indeed brilliant, Vega,” he said, his voice dropping to a deep tone and his eyes returning to hers, this time with a hungry glint.  “My first offering attempts to capture your nocturnal brilliance so that you may carry it during the day. Wear it and remember who gave it to you,” he murmured as he slipped a golden necklace, with a perfectly clear crystal amulet, over her head.  “Until we meet again, Woman,” was all he said, without allowing her the chance to speak before flying off again.

 ***

 The next morning, a friendly water sprite passed through Orihime’s brambleberry patch. The guardian of the berries was more distracted than usual, walking slowly, examining the sparkling ornament that she still wore around her neck.

 “Vega?  Veggga? Vega!  Did you lose your hearing?” the sprite barked.

 Orihime’s head snapped to look at the figure in the brook.  “Ah! Rukia! I’m sorry, I was lost in thought.”

 “I see that. I’ve stopped by to pass on a tidbit of information.  The fireflies told the bees, and the bees told the beekeepers, and the beekeepers told the meadmakers, and the meadmakers told me, that a dark visitor has been through this part of the woods, not once, but twice in the space of two weeks.  Rumor has it that the dark one is none other than new Altair, and that he seeks a mate.”

 Orihime’s eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat as she fingered the amulet.  “Altair, you say? What can you tell me of this creature?” she asked after finding her voice.

 “Well,” Rukia began, her eyes darting from one side to the other before looking at Orihime with a knowing smirk, planting her elbows into the mossy bank of the brook.  “I heard that he is a huge black demon with glowing red eyes and a cock the size of a centaur’s.”

 “Rukia!” Orihime whined. She didn’t want to hear about something like that.  Then again… She bit her lip and looked away for a moment, her cheeks turning pink before she turned to kneel on the bank before the water sprite, her brow worried and small fists pressed into her knees as she asked, “It can’t possibly be  that  big, can it?”  She had to clear her dry throat.

 An evil glint sparkled in Rukia’s eyes as they trailed from Orihime’s face down her neck, before landing on the amulet that now swung freely above her breasts.  The sprite chuckled before responding, “Maybe not  that  big, but certainly impressive.  The meadmakers may have exaggerated a bit, you know how they can get after a few mugs.  Why does it concern you so, Vega?”

 Orihime swallowed and nodded in understanding before she replied, “Oh, um, no reason.  Just curious.” She took a small comfort in the fact that Rukia’s description was only somewhat close to the visitor she had received the night before… The one with deep green and yellow eyes that her memory got lost in…

 “Vega?  Vega… Yoo-hoo,” Rukia said, waving a hand in front of Orihime’s face.  “Where did your mind go?” The sprite’s expression was suggestive.

 Orihime’s russet hair whipped back and forth as she shook her head.  “Um, nothing, really. Just, um, hoping that he doesn’t come to visit me,” she answered, her fingers closing over the amulet.

 “Uh huh, sure,” came Rukia’s dubious reply.  “Anyway, just wanted to warn you. Take care, Vega!” she said before disappearing under the surface of the water.

 ***

 Only a soft flapping sound disturbed the silence of the night a week and some days later. No bats, no scattering of fireflies.  “Vega? Orihime? Come out,” the now familiar voice called from outside Orihime’s den.

 The woman came out quietly, stopping short when her eyes fell upon the figure waiting for her.  The eyes were different, only green on white sclera. The wings remained, but now, regular, more human-looking hands replaced the clawed, furry ones she had first met with.  She took a step toward him, examining the white robes and horned helm he wore. “Ulquiorra?” she asked after a moment, unsure that it was still him.

 “Of course,” he answered, thrusting something toward her chest.

 She looked down to see a bouquet of jasmine and other night-blooming flowers.  “What’s this?” she asked, looking up from the flowers to his face, observing the black streaks that ran from his eyes to his chin and how his stature seemed slightly smaller and less intimidating than before. The corners of her lips tilted up as she began to realize what the object he held was before he had a chance to answer.

 “They are flowers, Woman.  My second gift. Their bloom and beauty are a pale reflection of your own, but by presenting them to you, I am attempting to capture your favor.  Is it not a common wooing practice?” the dark-haired creature spoke in a flat tone.

 Orihime choked on a giggle.  What kind of person was this?  Certainly a forthright one. “It is.  And I thank you. I never had an opportunity to do it last time,” she murmured, blushing and smiling down at the flowers.  

 Heavy black brows rose marginally, and Ulquiorra’s chest expanded with a slow, deep breath as he took in the image of the bashful woman before him.  “I must go. Our next meeting shall be on the date we previously discussed. Until then, Orihime,” he said thickly before he seemingly disappeared into the night sky.

 “Until then, Ulquiorra,” Orihime replied in a soft voice toward the star that shared his other name.

 ***

 The seventh day of the seventh month was upon her.  Orihime spent the day pacing and nervous. Was she really going to do this?  Was she prepared to submit to this mysterious being that had appeared to her only briefly on three occasions until now?

 It surprised her as much as anyone, if she had the nerve to tell anyone, that her answer was yes.

 Rukia had been by again in the days since his last visit, as had Rangiku, the frequently inebriated wife of a meadmaker.  Others had come and chatted with Orihime, sharing stories of a dark being on the prowl.  

 She never let on what she knew.

 This night, after twilight faded, Orihime did not retire to her thicket. She had prepared for this meeting, washing her body and hair, brushing out the long chestnut strands until they gleamed. She wore a fresh set of robes and waited outside, fondling the gifted amulet, and smelling the night-blooming flowers that had sprouted around the entrance of her den.  

 She did not have to wait long.  This time there was no flapping of wings, only soft, steady footsteps that announced his arrival.

 “Woman, you are not hiding,” he observed on seeing her standing amongst the flowers.

 “I’m not.”

 “Do I frighten you, Woman?”

 “No, I’m not afraid,” came the honest reply.

 With that, he strode before her, looking more like a man than he ever had.  The black markings on his face were reduced to thin, teal-colored lines. His hair was shorter, and his overall appearance completely unmenacing.  “Good. My final gift to you, Woman, are these words,” he said, taking her hands into his and looking into her eyes. “Your light has beckoned me from the heavens.  Your beauty and brilliance are beyond compare. You are my star, my soulmate. We were born for each other; destined to meet. As you can see in the skies above, our celestial homes are linked together on this night. It is my intention to make this a permanent connection.  If you will accept it, I will entrust my heart to you.”

 She didn’t know why, and she didn’t know how, but her answer was effortless when she replied, “Yes.  I accept.” 

 That was all it took.  The impassive, stone expression she had come to expect cracked as Ulquiorra’s eyes narrowed and one side of his mouth curled up slightly into a pleased expression laced with desire.  “Then, my woman,” he began, reaching out to touch her throat, trailing two fingers up the front of the delicate column until they stopped to grasp her chin, “are you prepared to unite with me and consummate our union?”

 A gulp.  Orihime’s mouth felt dry and her lips parted.  Her eyelids felt heavy. This was really happening.  “Yes,” she breathed, finding her subsequent breath difficult, shuddering past her wet lips.

 Ulquiorra took another step towards her and tilted her chin up.  “Then from this night forward, I belong to you, Orihime,” he whispered before lowering his lips to hers, their deceptively soft surface pressing against hers firmly; insistently.  It felt like he was trying to pass a part of his soul to hers as his breath filled her nostrils.

 Orihime was not prepared for her body’s reaction to his kiss.  Her hands moved on their own to his chest, slowly sliding up to his neck until her fingertips reached the sides of his face.  Her lips parted further then, and her sweet breath ghosted between their faces as she tilted hers slightly to the side.

 A deep rumble that started in his chest and growled past his throat left Ulquiorra as his mouth opened and his tongue found its way to hers, its textured surface sliding against hers in a slow, dragging motion, in and out, pulling hers into his own mouth from time to time. He tasted like wine and she couldn’t get enough of it.  As difficult as it was to breathe, Orihime found herself trying to drink his tongue into her body. Every time it retreated, she followed it, desperately whimpering for more.

 His hands began to explore her body, the one on her chin sliding down her front to cup her breast, the other finding her ribs and sliding down the side of her waist to her hip. Both hands then reached around her back and pressed her body to his, breaking their kiss.

 “Vega, I have waited for you for so long, you have no idea…” Ulquiorra’s whispers were harsh between heaving breaths as he held her tightly, burying his face into the side of her neck.

 Her fingers wormed their way into his silky hair, and she felt a swell of affection bloom in her chest, temporarily drowning out the lustier thoughts clouding her brain.  “I’m here,” she replied in a gentle voice.

 She watched his pale face pull back from her and find her eyes.  She was surprised to see a mix of emotion swirling below his row of long black lashes: longing, hope, lust, affection, and most surprisingly, fear.  He swallowed as an ivory finger brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face and admitted, “I don’t know what I’m doing…”

 The affection she felt earlier surged, and she smiled, pulling down at the base of his skull and rising onto her toes to kiss him.  “Neither do I,” she whispered after the kiss was broken. “But I think you were doing just fine.”

 He nodded, releasing her from his hold and taking half a step back as his hands began to release the fastenings of his robes.  When they were free, he allowed them to fall to the ground and stood before her, his white skin luminous in the starlight.

 Orihime was dazzled for a moment, breathing shallowly and letting her eyes wander over his form.  She chanced a look between his legs and suppressed a scoff. She hadn’t seen  that  many centaurs, but what she saw now was nowhere near as intimidating as what those beasts carried.  Her shoulders relaxed and she took another step back, this time releasing the pin at her shoulder that held her robes in place.  All at once she was bare to him, and she stood still, watching his face as he gazed upon her.

 It did not last long.

 His eyes traveled from her face down her body and his nostrils flared. His eyes narrowed, and in the next instant they were on the ground, her discarded robes providing a slight cushion for their bodies as he ran his hands over her, from her throat to the tips of her swollen breasts, following them with his mouth.  His lips left a trail of kisses down her belly. His hands paused at her pelvis, kneading at the sides of her hips as his mouth reached her curls and the scent of her arousal hit his nose.

 One hand traveled from the side of her body to the juncture of her legs, spreading them gently and watching how her body parted for him, the glistening surface a pretty reflection of the stars; an intimate replication of the jewel she still wore around her neck.  His long fingers reached out to touch the slick surface and he hissed.

 He bit his lip as he allowed one digit to penetrate her, nearly choking on his own tongue in response to the sensation.  His thumb drifted toward the top of her slit and her reaction seemed to please him as she moaned softly in response to it reaching her nub.

 He could wait no longer. “Are you sure, Woman?” he asked, looking up at her face with fire in his eyes.

 She nodded.  “I’m sure,” she finally murmured, spreading her legs further still and raising her hips, pressing his finger into her more deeply before he withdrew it.

 He slid both hands back up the sides of her body, pausing to press her breasts together, lapping at her taut nipples as he positioned his hips between her thighs.  When his face reached hers, he looked into her eyes. He said nothing as he shifted his hips towards hers. The head of his cock dipped between her folds and wetted itself on her essence.  He probed the space between her legs and watched her face intently.

 She hummed and sighed and twisted her body, her instincts pushing her to find the connection to him it wanted. She tilted and squirmed, her movements lead by an increasingly frantic need that she did not understand until it happened; just the right angle, just the right twist, and the head of his cock breached her entrance.  Her breath left her softly and she let her head fall back, her eyes closing. A small smile pulled on her lips, despite not knowing what to expect next.

 Ulquiorra whimpered as he felt his member swallowed by what felt like a hot, damp sheath made to his exact specifications.  He took several shallow breaths before working up the courage to push into her further, his brows furrowed and his eyes trained on her expression.  What could she be thinking, looking so serene, so perfect? “Woman?” he breathed, not sure what he was asking.

 “Yes, my love?” The words fell from her lips without forethought.  Her heart had the reins.

 It was all the encouragement he needed.  His face relaxed a bit and he pushed into her with purpose, slow but steady, pausing only briefly as her brows twitched and her expression grew tense when he filled her completely.  Once he was completely seated inside of her, he stopped again and waited for her features to relax and open up to him. When they did, and her eyes were open, he replied, “Tell me if it’s too much.”

 She opened her mouth for him when his lips came down onto hers, letting his tongue fill it as he began to move inside of her.  Her soft, high-pitched moans filled the brambleberry patch as their movements synchronized into a rhythm. She felt the heat within her grow and the tension between them intensify as their bodies slid against one another, slick with the sweat of their exertion.  Her feet planted into the soil to help lift her hips up to reach his thrusts and her fingers clawed at his back as he broke their kiss with a snarl and latched on to the side of her neck, increasing the pace of his pounding hips and grunting into her skin.

 This had to be heaven, she thought, as Orihime’s blood raced through her veins and her ears filled with the sounds of his growls, which morphed into pleading whimpers as he chased his goal.  She felt her core pulse around him, her toes curling into the ground as she raised her hips and held, her entire body clenching as she cried out and the bliss of her undoing overwhelmed her. The patterns of the Milky Way appeared behind her closed eyelids with each beat of her heart.  Her body drank Ulquiorra’s seed from his as he joined her, falling apart as jet after jet filled her body, his choked groan in her ear announcing her victory.

 After the last spasms of pleasure sparked through her, she relaxed her legs, lowering her hips to the ground slowly and releasing the tension in her fingers to trail her hands up his body to his face.  She cracked an eye open to see his flushed cheeks and swollen mouth. He looked stunningly erotic as his breath puffed past his lips and just a sliver of emerald green glimpsed through the thick black lashes that obscured his eyes.

 “Are you…?” he asked her breathlessly.

 “Perfect?  Happy? Fulfilled?  Yes,” she provided answers to his unasked questions.

 He smiled then and let his face fall onto her chest, one hand grasping at his robes that had fallen somewhere off to the side, and then pulled them up to cover their cooling bodies.  “Then we are both satisfied, Woman,” he murmured as his eyes closed.

 “Ha,” she chuckled, her fingers raking through his hair lazily before she tilted her head to kiss his brow.  “For now, anyway.”

 A smirk and a sleepy laugh answered her.  “For now.”

[preciouslittlelambpit]

transmissions from terminal island

i wake slow, cook sweet potatoes. the fake cream breaks apart on the surface of my coffee. i walk to the beach, white jasmine clinging to every fence, trellis. the sand is cold. fat, low clouds turn the water grey. wind cuts waves past the breakwater. i read a poem on my phone you do not touch me in public and it gives me a headache. birds peck at a smashed tangerine, still reeking of citrus. the deli smells of chemical lemon. have you seen bernie sanders wife? no makeup. that's a problem, a woman says. the blond standing next to her nods HD tv. i eat my sandwich under a dying magnolia tree. a foreign import, it blooms too soon, fooled by the marine layer. the ground pink. the blossoms don't drop. they disintegrate as they grow, opening wider and wider, until every petal is loosed. at my apartment there are boys playing guitars in the living room. i can hear the tambourines as i walk past my window, past aloe and palmettos, a mural of the catalina coast where i stop to smoke a spliff, air out my cunty mood. curdled lemon light of 4pm.

* 

a missed call from new york. a number i can't place. i press the phone against my ear. on the recording, K's voice cracks then booms: remember me? the girl you used to wanna fuck? big stoner like someone else i know? i have not heard her voice in three months. she doesn't tell me how: the new phone, the greyhound ticket from texas to lower manhattan. she doesn't say if the ailanthus trees are still growing in brooklyn. she tells me about hot pussy in the streets, the uniformed men who follow her, interlocutors everywhere. i wonder if she is sleeping under the ailanthus's stinky canopy tonight, if she knows their trunks teem with more silkworms than all the tussar scarves in bergdorfs. if i were a different girl i would ask her where and if she was holed up. if i were a different girl she would not call at all. tonight i am no plucky sleuth. i play the dumb accomplice. i dial her number at 1 am pacific time. she does not answer. it is not a surprise. yet, after the beep, when i open my mouth to speak, nothing comes out. delete. deep breath. my tone smooths: the jacarandas are in bloom. the hibiscus too. me and california and all its flora miss youuuuuu! 

the night rolls out. i lay the book flat against my thighs. a history of fighter jets designed and built in a field somewhere in orange county. the last stretch of SoCal history left to research for my project. i read the words, but i can't make any sense with them. i think about her. i dawdle in front of my bookshelf, zines shoved in between hardback biographies of poets, anarchists, engineers. i find a sheaf of hand-bound books K made in her kitchen in oakland. i open her honey's trinity, which i once read blushing with jealousy. tonight i want to cry after reading the first lines of her last novel: there are times when women disgust me. being a woman disgusts me. but I would choose no other thing. i sink into bed with the yellowed copy. i read on, not to better understand her, but to feel closer to her. the only way i know how. 

* 

my building hires a new night-shift security guard. i know because he comes one starless night and tells me i can't smoke cigarettes on the roof. o i don't smoke. just tonight, i say, unsure who i'm trying to convince. i follow him down the stairs. he points at the glass door. standing on the sidewalk, i observe different things than i did sitting on the roof. the glare of port lights no longer distracts. i notice the neighbors with the three loud dogs watch a tv propped on a upturned plastic crate. i can't discern the programming, but i can see a row of skateboards lined up on the porch. a jolt of excitement whenever i notice the order has changed. there are cats, orange and black. they hiss at the darkness, hiss at the dogs trapped behind the chain link fences. when pedestrians see me slouched against the stucco, they lower their gaze, scatter into the street not unlike the rats i spy night after night. the rats are brown and small. they dart up and down the same stretch of tarmac, never straying from their predetermined path along the ridge of gutters. unlike east coast rats, these animals don't seem interested in rooting through the trash. they linger under the palms. they climb the notched bark and disappear into the greenery. i almost envy them, their set path, the seeming comfort their routine ushers.  i wonder if the rat that once lived in the rafters above my bedroom now lives in the palm in my neighbor's yard. i admit: i hated that rat, but it lived with me for months, and once it was gone, i missed it. i understood its fate without question: capture, poison. among the stucco and the palms, i find myself lighting one cigarette after another. i find myself wondering if the rat simply left. i imagine the scene: it slides down the telephone wire, fur a blur across the street, into the fronds. who doesn't want to sleep in a crown of branches? under a yellow moon? i wonder why it never occurred to me it could leave. i text a biologist friend: do rats dream about the future? i don't wait for her answer. 

[narusakuzine]

NaruSaku Zine Cover Reveal!

Winner Winner chicken dinner! The winner of the cover reveal is @thebigyangtheory! The keyword I was looking for was pinky~ 

I’ve been waiting to anxiously to show off the cover! ^_^ The cover was created by the wonderful and amazing @pumyteh! The main feeling we wanted to capture was making a promise, or showing their past and their future.  The red string of fate was one of our original ideas.  “Heaven & Earth” ended up being the final theme we all voted for. In the background is Naruto’s earth and wind blending with Sakura’s heavenly sakura petals and clouds. It was done to mimic a classic Kishimoto style chapter cover.

She created a small variety and it was very hard to pick which one we loved most! So, participants of the zine and contest winners will get to choose the cover of their choice

We’re all super excited for the zine to be finished and for everyone to see all the great works we made~ Stay tuned for the raffle contest which will soon begin!

[mcytblrsource]

MONTHLY MCYTBLR RECAP: FEBRUARY 2025

EVENTS:

Jan 21-Feb 21: Mcyt Jukebox Bonanza: Valentines Edition hosted by @mcyt-jukebox-bonanza

Feb 3-9: Redstone Snap Week 2025 hosted by @mumscottweek2025

Feb 12-19: QSMP Femslash Fest Bingo hosted by @qsmp-femslash

ZINES & MAPS:

Feb 15: Third Base - A NSFW Life Series Zine releases @nsfwlifeserieszine

Feb 15: Petals and Clouds - Flower Husbands Zine releases @flowerhusbandszine

HermitPost Zine @hermitpostzine open for preorder until March 20

UPCOMING EVENTS FOR MARCH:

Mar 12-18: MCYT4T Week 2025 hosted by @mcytransswag

Mar 16-22: GeminiTay Week 2025 hosted by @geminitayweek2025

OPEN APPLICATIONS/SIGN UPS:

3rd Life TTRPG Project: @lifeseries-ttrpg close March 1

DEADEYE: A Wild West Life Zine - MODERATORS: @deadeyezine close March 7

MCYT Theme Park Zine: @mcytparkzine close March 16

BigB Zine: @mcytsmostunderrated close March 31

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Trafficblr Jam: @trafficblrjam Mar 2-7

MCYTblr Metazine: @mcytmetazine Mar 2-15

MCYT Drabble Fest: @mcytdrabblefest Mar 23 - Apr 12

MCYT Flashzines: @mcyt-flashzine Check blog for more info