So, I figured I would put this out there to see if anybody has the same little brainworm that I do about the dynamic/history Richard has with Jacob (and the MIB a little. though primarily Jacob) and all the ways it could be explored. There's not much out there for them online, which makes sense considering we barely see them actually interact except for Ab Aeterno... but I unfortunately made myself too invested by writing a couple connected one-shots and now they're all i think about lmao. The downfall of writing for niche things I suppose. At the very least, this is to see if I can inspire anyone else to join all my thoughts about them!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
I finally started my longest fic to date: a Sampard Soulmate AU!! and im so excited about it because honestly they deserve the attention. also the concept gives a lot of freedom for me to pack all my headcanons into it (such as trans!Gepard. he's my beloved fr fr). hence, it will be long! :)))
General Tags/Summary Below the Line!
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Warnings Apply
Relationships: Gepard/Sampo
Tags: Soulmates, Dreamscapes, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Build, Genderfluid Sampo, Trans Gepard, Angst, Gepard has PTSD, Dysfunctional Family
Summary:
There was a constant truth to the universe that persisted even through time and space:
'Dreams were not your own.'
Except, Sampo had never shared his dreams with anyone. All he had were the creations of his own unfortunate mind, and an Aeon-fuelled will to never sleep at all in order to escape it.
In comparison, Gepard had spent her entire life being told to forget about the fantastical nature of the dreams she saw. There was a certain image that came with being Gepard Landau, you see, and anything that fell out of place had to be quickly swept under the rug. Her dreams and her scars and her wants.
Because Gepard wanted. She wanted a soulmate who would stay. She wanted to not be plagued by war. She wanted to be a man. It didn't matter, though. Gepard had to remind herself this:
She could want for eternity, but in the end she could not *have*.
Right?
--
Alternatively: How Sampo and Gepard share a dream and slowly come to realise all the ways they're intertwined. With a few bumps along the way, of course.
more sampo and gepard my brain has been melted by this stupid Hsr ship
gepard is bewildered by sampo not in a bad way hes just so much all the time! so gepard associates him with the night sky and an endless all consuming galaxy of distant exploding stars. maybe deep down he knows sampo isn't human. sampo sees gepard as grounded and warm like the sun in the morning time and soft grass fields and fluffy orange clouds at sunset. he doesn't associate him with belebog's snow storms or icey walls in the slightest. he desperately needs to know if gepard would have freckles if he could just bring him somewhere warmer with more sunshine.
my brainworms for Sampard only continue to plague me further. except now it is a Sampo POV in my little series, and with a Sampo POV comes angst and hurt/comfort, because have you looked at that guy? :)
Tags/Summary below the line!Â
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationship: Gepard/SampoÂ
Tags: Established Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Arguing, Safeword Use, Genderqueer Sampo, Light Dom/sub, Crying, Angst with a Bittersweet Ending, Sampo is an Emanator of Aha
Summary:
Sampo Koski is a liar and an addict and a Fool. He clings to things like distractions and impulsive thrills because otherwise it might leave him thinking too hard about the unamusing parts of life.
Gepard seems to want to unravel this part of him. With affectionate words and tender touches that he gives and gives and gives even when Sampo can't do the same.
(Everyone else seems to be following his lead, for some reason.)
Sampo wonders when he's going to finally put the nail in the coffin and ruin it.
Heartfall â a Tale in Three Lives is a collaborative fangame set in 3rd Life.
STATUS: APPLICATIONS OPEN
Explore the different possibilities â what if things were different? What if the story could be changed? What if he made different friends? Different enemies?Â
This project is designed from the ground-up to facilitate branching routes, with each route created by a different team.
ⶠđPROJECT INFORMATION HEREâŒïž
The project information document contains:
Game design document
Existing staff
Staff app info
Contributor app info
Technical summary
Content & setting
FAQ
Staff Applications OPEN â đAPPLY HERE
⣠Editing Mod, Team Managers, & Environment/Tilemap Artist.
[Feb 26th - March 12th.]
UPCOMING:
Contributor Applications | MARCH 5TH
⣠Artists, Writers, Level Designers, Editors, & Composers.
[March 5th - March 23th.]
So im autistic and one of my special interest is detective fiction/mystery genre đ i'm really into whodunits what can i say.
Anyway, I decided to be kind to myself and let my brain indulge a little bit so I made a HC/life series/whatever au for it which is awesome cuz now i get to nerd tf out AND draw scarian yaoi!!
Anyway, some character bios i did:
Additional notes and stuff in read more
Gem is a writer who moved to a small English city by the recommendation of her friend Impulse who also just so happens to be a cop.
Village is nice, everyone is weird and has something to hide. Anyway, unsurprisingly, murder happens. While the commotion is going on, Gem caught rumors of the mysterious "Watcher" who would send anonymous typed letters that gives important clues and directions to the police in solving murders. She is very intrigued by this and basically sniffed it down until she got to Grian, to which she immediately begs him to let her join in on his most likely to happen investigation because she wants the scoop PRONTO.
Gem and Grian are now basically two amateur sleuths who solves murders because they're simply nosy and bored đ„°
Extra notes I wrote down:
Additional notes:
- Scar's scent notes is taken from the perfume "Call For A Good Time" by DiscothĂšque
- I didn't actually mention Sherlock Grian from HC6 at all even though this is a detective fiction au because. I don't. Actually.. really like Sherlock that much đŹ I KNOW. PLEASE DONT KILL ME. I have my reasons and if I delve into it i would go on a rant. So yeah. Not that many Sherlock influence unless you count the sort of sherlock/watson dynamic going on but I did include the blue scarf he had on his skin as a homage to Sherlock Grian.
I'm writing a Hermitcraft/Dredge fic inspired off of Gem's s10 base! I don't normally post on Tumblr (or anywhere) but I want to start blogging about my progress. I'll eventually start posting chapter on AO3 once I've got the plot fleshed out.
Here's the intro portion!
Cold winds blew through the streets of Greater Marrow, grasping at the edges of weatherworn cloaks and creaking shutters. The smell of sea salt permeated the heavy air. It filled every dingy alleyway and old building, as if the sea itself was laying claim to the village. Lampposts stand quiet, the oil that once fueled their fire scarce. The only light that painted the streets gets filtered through the dirty glass panes of wooden houses.
âIâm fine Gem,â
The local nurse, Gemini, ignored her friendâs complaints as she filtered a sickly green concoction into a small glass bottle.
âYouâll drink this at least once a day, when you feel the cravings,â she instructed, eyes boring holes in the man on the bed. He turned his face downward, picking at the bandages over his hands. ââa teaspoon, and you will come to me with an empty bottle in a week.
Earlier this same night, after the sun set and the fog rolled in, he stumbled through her door looking like a man already dead. He was shaking uncontrollably, eyes bloodshot, palms bleeding from crescent wounds, blood drying under his fingernails. Despite the sickly pale skin and lime undertone, she recognized him immediately.
Joel was the townâs fishmonger. His face now was hallowed, twisted into a grim facsimile of his standard awkward, kind smile. Even so, she couldnât miss the seaweed green stripe in his hair or the pink stitching on his well-worn apron. She saw him just a week ago, intending to buy some Mackerel for a dinner sheâd planned with Pearl. He had looked a little ill then, but he said it was just a cold. He told her there was nothing to worry about. He said he was leaving those aberrations to rot in that damn fishermanâs hull.
âIâm sorry,â he muttered, still refusing to look Gem in the eyes.
She put the bottle on the rickety nightstand, shoving an old candle and a bundle of herbs out of the way to do so. âYou lied to me,â she crossed her arms, a fire burning in her green eyes, âyou said you wouldnât touch them.â
Joel worried the bandageâs frayed edges until it came loose. âI know, Iâm sorry,â he muttered, barely lifting his voice above a whisper.
Gem sat on the edge of the cot and reached forward to retie his bandage. âWhy?â
He moved on to biting his cracked lips. A drop of blood landed on their joined hands.
âThey⊠they whisper to you,â he said, eyes looking somewhere beyond the small room they inhabited. âEvery day, from the ice chest I keep them in. The one in back.â
The aberrations: grotesque and malformed fish from the deep. Theyâre infested creaturesâ darting eyes, threshing eggs, bloodied teeth. Their flaking scales shimmer with the faintest purple, but only when theyâre fresh out of the water, and only at night. They writhe and bite with a ceaseless anger despite the deformities that riddle their flesh. eyes, wide and black, follow you endlesslyâ even in death they watch, they stalk. They first appeared a few years ago, when the fog began to blanket their world each night. The town of Greater Marrow hasnât seen the stars since.
Gem finished her work and moved to simply hold his hands. She rubbed a thumb idly against his, turning over a familiar dread in her gut. Joel isnât the first to come sick like this, and sheâs scared he wonât be the last.
âWhat do they say?â she asked.
Joel closed his eyes, grasping Gemâs hands. âHorrible things.â
He wouldnât elaborate further, and Gem was okay to let it lie. They stayed there for a long while, listening to the waves crash on the rough coast and the old boards of Gemâs home creak. At some point the candle went out, and they were left alone in the quiet dark.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
I finally started writing my first ever chaptered fic and its SO close to being finished but uni coursework is truly screwing my time rn :,))) at the very least itâs at a point where Iâm willing to put it out there for anyone who is interested! because Sampo and Gepard suddenly decided after like a year of me not playing Star Rail that they need to INFEST my brain. so therefore I need to pass it on otherwise theyâll eat me alive (and it should hopefully be completed in a week or 2 bcs of this)
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
I finally started writing my first ever chaptered fic and its SO close to being finished but uni coursework is truly screwing my time rn :,))) at the very least itâs at a point where Iâm willing to put it out there for anyone who is interested! because Sampo and Gepard suddenly decided after like a year of me not playing Star Rail that they need to INFEST my brain. so therefore I need to pass it on otherwise theyâll eat me alive (and it should hopefully be completed in a week or 2 bcs of this)
Summary/tags below the reading line!
Rating: E
Ship: Gepard / Sampo
General Tags: No Warnings; Fluff and Humour; Smut; Light Dom/sub / undertones of it; Romantic Tension
Sampo is purposefully casual as he examines the nail polish on his fingers, "Information isn't free, you know."
Gepard grumbles and crosses his arms, "How much?"
"Well.." Sampo drags, and Gepard just knows he's actually been thinking about it from the start, "There's this fancy theatre up in the city. I bet you know it easy; the Golden Mask."
"I do.." Gepard agrees cautiously, "What about it?"
"I love the theatre, but they're pretty strict about giving you entrance up there. Noble families only, apparently," Sampo pouts, grumbling to himself, "Have you been?"
Gepard feels a little sheepish when he says, "As a kid, yeah."
"Good," Sampo nods, "Then I want you to get me in. You can bring a couple guests, so make me a plus one."
---
Gepard is given a new job in the underworld after feeling a little out of place without Fragmentum Monsters to fight. Sampo is a regretfully useful informant to him, and he apparently just wants to go to the theatre in exchange.
To Gepard's dismay, their suprisingly easy friendship is making his life a lot more enjoyable than war ever did.
