#the three seals

[rebel-revenant]

A retelling of the Devil's Minion wherein young San Francisco Chronicle Reporter Daniel Molloy sold his soul to the devil for notoriety as a writer. Daniel instantly rose to infamy after publishing the sensational smash hit Interview with the Vampire Lestat, an autobiographical feature of the 80's glam rockstar-turned-recluse, whose mysterious vitality and beauty seems forever preserved in time. Now, fifteen years later, Armand is the fallen angel who has come to collect on their contract. Enraptured by the final manuscript Daniel has yet to complete, Armand extends him an offer of borrowed time to finish it under his watchful eye.

“Of course I asked!” he all but bellowed, an anguished snarl, rattling now against the very creature he never wished to be abolished from, parted from. Yet he strained with all his might, kicking, craving now that demonstration of power he had seen with his own eyes. “You chased me! Hounded me! Until I forgot how to want anything else!” “I did,” Armand answered. So simple. So maddeningly poised. “What for then? You wanted my soul for Hell! Not for you! It’s not yours !” There was the crux of it, at last. The torrent of this fifty fathoms deep grief, his heart might as well have ruptured through the ribcage. What was it all for?   Silence. Piercing silence. And then a shudder, but not his own.  And then a tear. Again, not his own. “Isn’t it?” What Daniel would not have given to be absolved of this darkness. What he would have bartered, if there was anything left to gamble away, and there wasn’t, to see Armand’s face. Yet it was likely this very deficit of sight that permitted the Fallen One’s vulnerability to surface. That he could weep inside of Daniel’s hiddenness, here, on top of him. “Why this contempt? Why now? Why, after you’ve seen me -” “No. No,” how tempered Daniel’s voice then, how convicted. “God, no. You’re the most beautiful horror ever to be perceived by human sight. My heart has never dreaded and loved so violently. You alone give harmony to those concepts. You are magnificent. Beyond words. Beyond sight, as evidenced, well -” He was paused with a kiss, a fervor of linked lips tinged with salt. Armand relented of Daniel’s wrists so as to brace his face so covetously that it left no terms uncertain: Daniel was his. He was his. That’s what this was for. He could live with that. He could die with that.

[team7-headquarter]

HE WAS SO MAD

[thatsbelievable]

[buttrflyisland]

"oh how'd you spend your saturday?"

"causing myself pain via crafting. at least ive got a cute raphaella out of it!"

[martyryo]

his biggest sin was having blue hair and pronouns.

[babsaros]

they talk about testosterone gel like it’s the fentanyl of hrt

[ssomepersonn]

many thoughts about these guys

[carlyraejepsans]

toriel... what are your toriel takes today

i have a headcanon that toriel has a hand-washing compulsion where she does it wayy more thoroughly than needed, instinctively trying to scrub under her claws even when they're perfectly clean because she can still feel the phantom of dirt under them from the time she dug chara's grave.

[verysmallcyborg]

ough. i never get tired of seeing fornax in the seal rock coat... would you believe it's the first time i put their pirate au version in it after almost a year

[watchinghallmark]

OLIVER & SHANE Signed, Sealed, Delivered: A Tale of Three Letters (2024)

[rebel-revenant]

Tagged by the lovely @desertfangs to share the last line I wrote on a WIP!

Y'all, I cannot do the last-last line because it's a big spoiler, but I'll skip up to some dialogue! Armand to Daniel, come, let the sweetness wash over you and curl up with me:

“Silence, you. You see beauty in things others spare not even an afterthought. And you write, yes, you write so as to share it with them. Intimately, courageously. You share secrets with the world. You share the secrets people keep from themselves. So I shared my secret with you. And I revealed myself to you so you could record it. So you could give it back to me, so I could perceive myself through your eyes. How could I not love you? Is there a single thing not to love? I never stood a chance, you would not allow it.”

PLEASE DO IT IF YOU'RE READING THIS, I'm not sure I know of anyone else not tagged in the original is working on something actively rn! But I wanna see what you're all up to!

[jumbocracky]

Fourth Grade: Costume Edition

[thatsbelievable]

[fuwahua]

Day 16: Cackle

🎀 TkTober Day 16: Cackle

🎀 Tags: Neuvillette/Wriothesley/Clorinde (platonic) , Sigewinne being super adorable, tea parties!

“I will see you tomorrow, Sedene.”

“Have a good evening, Monsieur!”

Neuvillette waves as the elevator begins to move with a jittery clank that would alarm most but him. It’d been a while since he’d last visited the Fortress of Meropide but the ever-unchanging rustiness of the elevator was a familiar comfort—much of Fontaine has changed since Furina’s retirement, and yet this would remain the same.

Tonight’s occasion would also be a wonderful journey down memory lane. Sigewinne had graciously invited him to attend her tea party, and both Chlorinde and Wriothesley also accepted the invitation. He extended the invite to Furina who’d promptly rejected him after discovering the duke would be there as well; try as he might to foster an amicable relationship, she was still hesitant to reach out to those whose lives were affected by the rulings of the Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale. It was a change he knew would have to come in time.

For now, until the day she was ready, he would watch nurture these relationships in her place

The elevator dings as it descends to the bottom. The prisoners bark excited shouts as they spy him, some waving and others running away, but strangely neither Wriothesley nor Chlorinde are ready to greet him at the entrance. He stands there a minute, waiting, but as the stares of the people grow more perplexed by the second, he shifts uncomfortably.

“Mister Neuvillette!”

“Sigewinne.” He smiles as the little head nurse approaches him. She waves, cheerful, and he kneels to pat her head. “How are you? Where are the other two?”

“Everything’s good! Well, except,” she huffs, gesturing in the direction of the duke’s office. “Those two won’t come out and enjoy the tea party!”

Strange. There were no pressing cases or concerns that should occupy them on this occasion. Neuvilette hums. “Do you know why?”

She giggles, amusement sparkling in her eyes. “See for yourself!”

It is a short walk to the office, made shorter with haste when Sigewinne leaves halfway to brew a new pot of tea. There’s no reply to his knock on the door, but the office was made soundproof to begin with, and Neuvillette pries it open with ease. The ringing echo of a cackle greets his ears, and he huffs in understanding.

Those two…

“Wriothesley! Chlorinde! You’ve kept Sigewinne waiting.”

The laughter doesn’t cease. It is an even shorter walk up the spiraling stairs and Neuvillette is both unsurprised and unimpressed by the sight of Wriothesley splayed over Chlorinde, both their outer garments discarded on the nearby couch, her boot kicking his thigh as she tosses her head back in laughter. His hands, gloveless, dig into her waist, and he looks up with a grin.

“There you are! Rare of you to run late, Monsieur.”

“Neuvillette! Ahehaha get this dog off mehehehe!” Chlorinde’s back arches as she shrieks, Wriothesley’s hands climbing up her sides and under her arms. Her right comes sharply down to protect herself as the other slaps his hand, the sound reverberating. In response, Wriothesley only climbs further onto the desk, tickling her with newfound amusement.

This too, Neuvillete supposes, is a constant that’s yet to change.

He sighs, pinching the skin above his nose as Chlorinde’s leg hits the desk with a resounding bang! The image forms neatly in his head: Sigewinne trying to pry the two apart with no avail, her poor tea and cookies abandoned until he arrived late from work. He’d mistakenly assumed the other two would be timely and have started the party without him but…

Well, in a way, this could be considered a party. His lips twitch as Chlorinde’s voice cracks when Wriothesley’s hands give into the meat of her thighs, a weak point, and he looks at the wetness beginning to gather in her eyes.

“Come on, bodyguard. Can’t handle a little tickling? I’m sure you—Eek!”

Wriothesley leaps back, desk suffering yet another kick in the process, as his arms snap to his sides. It’s too little, too late, and a fresh cackle bursts free of him as Neuvilette tweaks the ends of his ribs. “Monsieur!”

“Behave, Duke,” Neuvilette warns, though there’s amusement in his tone that has Wriothesley cringing away in panic. “You can handle a little tickling, can’t you?”

“Wait—wahahhait noho!”

“You’ve kept Sigewinne waiting so long she has to brew a fresh pot now,” he tsks. “We’ll have to entertain ourselves in the meanwhile…”

“Neheheheuvillettehehehe!”

The sound of cackles rings through the room once more. It is only once Neuvilette properly tires him out (with the aid of Chlorinde’s masterful fingers once she recovers) that he hauls them both to Sigewinne’s party. Quite literally, as they’ve decided to exhaust themselves beforehand; the sight of him carrying Fontaine’s strongest duo, one tucked in each arm, has the prisoners whispering and both Wriothesley and Chlorinde’s faces burning red. None of it matters as much as the way Sigewinne’s face brightens when she sees them entering the room, a freshly brewed pot of tea set on the table.

[uncharismatic-fauna]

Round 3: Sweet Sixteen

Northern Elephant Seal vs Pronghorn

Arena: Coastal beach

Remember, it's not a popularity contest-- it's a fight to the death!

[hello-galad]