#j. flint ; replies !

[premleague]

also while i'm here little roster update below the cut !! (and subsequent tag drop for all those new muses ive added over the past couple months - all are on a testing basis but will probably stick around knowing me)

film //

kyle scheible ; lady bird (timothée chalamet)

tv //

daniel molloy ; iwtv (luke brandon field/eric bogosian) juliette nichols ; silo (rebecca ferguson) albie di grasso ; the white lotus (adam dimarco) cameron sullivan ; the white lotus (theo james) jack flint ; the white lotus (leo woodall) irving bailiff ; severance (john turturro) jordan li ; gen v (london thor/derek luh) serge faure "frenchie" ; the boys (raphaël quenard) tba when i finish s4 i just know myself

books //

cyril depaul ; amberlough (freddie fox)

[corvuserpens]

A Girl, An Ocean {A Black Sails fanfic} - Ch. 11 (Part 3)

Fandom: Black Sails Rating: Teen and up audiences Warnings: Uncomfortable sexual advances, graphic depictions of violence, mild torture (see Author's note!!!) Characters: Billy Bones, James Flint, Hal Gates, protagonist OC, supporting OCs Relationships: Billy Bones/OC, Hal Gates/OC (paternal), Max/OC (friends), James Flint/OC (mentor) Additional tags: Original character-centric, first person POV, canon character x original character romance, self-discovery journey, kinda alternative prequel to canon, canon compliant, slow burn, mutual pining, friends to lovers, tooth-rotting sweetness, cute but also sexy, angst galore, found family, Hal Gates has two children now, canon typical violence Series: Part One of Six of A Girl, An Ocean Chapters: 11/13 Summary: Constance is recruited for a mission on the outskirts of Nassau Town, but what should have been a little debt related payback ends up going a little too far.

Author's note: I swear this started out as a bit of fun playing around with the tired "give the tomboy female character a makeover for a stupid thing and turns out she's actually hot" but WELL. The story kind ran off on its own, as they do. Nothing too bad happens, just some inappropriate knee touching and ogling.

Chapter xi. Part iii.

I was sitting once more in the tavern with Hammer, enjoying a very entertaining story about a Dutch navy officer, a barrel of sugar and a stingray, when Thierry and Muldoon walked in with expressions of preoccupation and mistrust on their faces. Their eyes hopped all over the room when they stopped by our table and interrupted us. I immediately worried that something serious had happened, so I asked Hammer to finish his tale later and followed my mates outside.

They led me down the street and through a broad alleyway that opened into a paved courtyard behind the shoemaker's shop. There, Folsom, Logan and Billy waited for us. All of them were shifting around nervously: Folsom tossed a coin into the air and caught it, then tossed it again; Logan paced around, feet kicking at the scraps of leather scattered around; and Billy drummed his fingers into his crossed arms, looking fierce with his brow heavily furrowed.

When my group entered the courtyard, the three approached until we formed circle. Everyone was so grim, they reminded me of a murder of crows despite the bright sunlight bearing down on us.

"What happened?" I asked right away, heart pounding and palms sweating. "Did someone get hurt? Why are you all so damn serious?"

It was Billy who replied. "No one is hurt and nothing happened. We just... need a favor from you."

"A favor?" Confusion made my nose scrunch up as I tilted my head backwards. "Sure. I can do that. But why did we have to meet at the back of some shop? Is it something secret?"

"In a matter of speaking," he said.

Logan took over: "You see, there's this fucker, Duke Perrington. He's the boatswain for the Mistress Antwerp and he owes us money after we helped him with a situation involving some of the guys from the Dauntless crew, except he never paid and it's been six months. Muldoon left that situation with a broken foot and couldn't work for months afterwards. Folsom lost teeth and I got shot in the arse. We're done waiting, so we're getting our money one way or the other. Thing is, word got out that we were coming for Duke and he took precautions. All he possesses has been moved and stashed in a secret location somewhere out of town. We were able to find out where, but he has hired extra muscle to guard that stash."

I nodded in understanding, but knit my brow. "Then why didn't you call on the rest of the crew to raid it? Wouldn't that be easier?"

"It would be easier,” Billy conceded. “But Flint and Gates happen to be good friends with the Antwerp's captain. If we were to mobilize our men against his boatswain and God knows how many more, it would cause an all out war between the crews and Flint would lose not just a friend, but also a strong ally. And then, even if we survived that war, he would have our heads for it afterwards. Ergo, we need to keep this between us and solve it ourselves."

I set my hands on my hips. "Alright, I get that. What can I do, though? There's only six of us, there's no way we can mount an assault strong enough if this Duke fellow has hired more people to guard the stash."

"We don't need you to help us confront them directly," Thierry said. He had a suspiciously bashful air about him as he scratched at his scruff and avoided my eyes. "We need you to lure them to us so we can take them down without raising an alarm. Then we can get to the stash and move it to the Walrus undisturbed."

"Lure them?" I snickered. "What makes you think they will take one look at me and feel compelled to follow me anywhere? They'll probably think I'm a thief and... and..."

My words died in my mouth under five intense stares aimed at me - specifically at my chest and my hips, my feminine curves.

Then it dawned on me.

"Oh, no.” I waved out my hands in a gesture of denial. “No, no no no, no. I am not doing that, in fact I'm offended you even thought to ask!"

"I told you she wouldn't do it," Thierry muttered.

Muldoon pleaded with his big brown eyes, lashes long and sweet like a cow's. "You're the only woman in the crew, there's literally no one else we can ask!"

"Well, why don't you hire a couple of girls from the brothel for like... I dunno, an hour or so? I'm sure they would do a far better job than I, anyway."

Muldoon, Logan, Thierry, Folsom and Billy side-eyed each other. None of them spoke up.

I shot them my best disappointed- but-not-surprised look.

"Seriously? All of you are broke? Already?? It's been two days since we arrived, for heaven's sake!" I turned to Billy; HIM I was truly surprised with. "Them I can understand, but you? What the fuck did you spend all your money on?"

He returned my glare with unbridled offense. The fucking nerve. His arms tensed up some more as he shuffled on his feet. "I had to buy new supplies."

I scoffed, incredulous. "New supplies..."

Folsom stepped up to try to salvage their pitch. "You'll get an equal share for your troubles, don't worry."

"That's not the fucking point!" My voice raised with a mix of anger, embarrassment and a little hurt. "Why does it have to be me? Maybe they're queer, why can't Billy go? He's handsome, all he would have to do is take his shirt off and march up to them."

Muldoon, Logan and Thierry snorted and brought a fist to their mouths to muffle back the laughter fighting to come out. Their shoulders quacked from how hard they tried to contain themselves.

Billy, on the other hand, blushed into such a fierce shade of red, it was a miracle there wasn't smoke coming out of his ears. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he was finally able to stutter: "I-I don't feel comfortable doing that."

"Well shit, Billy, neither do I!" I snapped in response. He swallowed dry and pulled back the corners of his mouth into a sheepish expression.

"Alright, alright, look." Thierry approached me and set his hands on my shoulders. "You won't even have to actually do anything. You just need to lure them toward us and we will take care of them before they can even put their hands on you. You can trust us, aye? We'll handle them."

My lip pouted and trembled. I wanted to believe him and part of me was sure of the veracity of his statement, but I still doubted. Things could go wrong. They might not fall for the ruse. Or worse, they might fall for it too well, and I would be fucked.

"You're sure about that? I mean, really sure?"

Thierry looked me straight in the eyes, his round face set into a solemn mask. "I promise, if anything happens before you can bring them close enough, we will jump them right away and save you. We would never let anything bad happen to you. You're our friend, one of our brothers. Well, sister, in your case. We'll protect you no matter what. Alright?"

I let another minute pass to really consider what I was getting myself into... What I would have to become. The consequences of failure. I could still turn them down, walk away and leave them to figure it out. Thing was, what if they messed up and got hurt? Or killed? I couldn't handle losing more friends so soon.

And more than that, if something went wrong, I would be compelled to tell Gates and Flint what happened and they would be forced to answer the slight. War between the Walrus and the Mistress Antwerp would break out, guaranteed, leading to more bloodshed and more casualties. I would never forgive myself for it, not while knowing I could have aided them by giving them their best chance at success.

I took a deep breath, pushed it out of my nose and let my eyelids flutter closed in resignation. I nodded very lightly.

Thierry grinned, patted my shoulders and released me. “Thank you, Siren. We'll owe you big for this.”

I bristled, already regretful.

"Sure. Well...” I gestured to my sailor attire, cutlass and pistol included. "Am I supposed to do it in these clothes? Because I warn you, if I have to buy a useless costume I will never wear again just for this, it's coming out of your cuts."

Logan grinned wide with a hungry glint in his eyes. "That won't be necessary. I know just the person who can help us."

***

That evening, at the brothel, I left Charlotte's chambers with an intense desire to murder all my friends burning in my heart. My hands fiddled with the corset she had strapped on me in an attempt to facilitate my breathing as we walked down the overlook to the open air parlor below.

"Stop fidgeting," she scolded, then swatted my hand away from the ridiculous hairstyle she had spent nearly an hour pinning into place. "You're going to mess up my work. And don't touch your hair."

Admittedly, when I had looked at myself in the mirror, I didn't look half bad. Charlotte had lined my eyes with kohl and painted my lips the color of a fresh rose bud. The effect was striking: my stare was more intense, my mouth so full and soft I wanted to kiss myself. However, I disliked how my breasts were practically jumping out of my stripped dark orange corset, and I didn't appreciate the scandalous amount of leg my prussian blue velvet skirts revealed. One pull in the wrong direction and you could see my... Things that shouldn't be seen in public.

But I liked the black stockings and the delicate high heel red slippers she had lent me. My arms were adorned with silver bands and strings of beads. From my earlobes dangled large gold hoops with pearls that flashed whenever they caught any ray of light. I had never looked so... Voluptuous.

"Sorry," I mumbled as I forced my hands to stay still by wrapping them around the skirts. "It's just that I had almost forgotten what it was like to dress in feminine clothes."

"Hmm." She ran her critical gaze from my head to my toes and smiled with pride for a job well done. "You're getting a little too muscled, but they look good on you. I still want them back when you're done, though. And remember: not. A. Tear. Or there will be consequences."

I pressed my mouth to stop myself from smiling, to no avail. "Yes, Ma'am. You have my word."

We reached the top of the rickety staircase and started our way down, with Charlotte in the lead. My friends were waiting in the parlor, but I kept my eyes down on my feet as I lifted the skirts. My main goal was not to trip, but it was also a good excuse to avoid seeing their reaction to my figure just a little longer. Even so, I could feel them staring. I prayed they wouldn't say anything too outrageous, or worse, laugh at me. It would be the fastest way to make me turn around and go back upstairs to tear it all off.

Eventually, Charlotte and I reached the parlor and I was forced to face my companions' scrutiny. Muldoon and Thierry were mostly fixated on my chest area, though once in a while I saw their eyes travel to my mostly exposed leg. Their mouths were hanging open, shocked at the extreme change from my usual pirate self to this.

Folsom, bless his heart, was capable of better contention, even if he was staring a hole into my forehead with the most sour expression I had seen on him yet. Meanwhile, Logan chuckled his approval and pulled Charlotte to his side to press a big kiss on her cheek, which earned him a genuine smile from her.

"You are a genius, an inspiration, a goddess. She looks stunning!"

"Careful there," she warned with a mock glare of menace. "I might get jealous."

"You know I only have eyes for you, my sweet." And he leaned down to press his lips to hers in a tender kiss that she returned earnestly. And he was being truthful, too. There was no concealed lust in his eyes when he looked at me. That, he saved for Charlotte and Charlotte alone.

I had to turn my head from them before I gagged, and that was when I noticed we were missing someone. "Where's Billy?"

"He ran to the smitty to pick up an order while we were waiting for you," Folsom gruffed. "Should be back any minute."

"There is, now." Thierry pointed to the door once he managed to tear his eyes off of me.

Standing tall over most of the crowd, Billy Bones weaved his way through bodies and tables with an awkward gait. He refused both drinks and girls, who all but threw themselves into his arms with a desire that had nothing to do with coin. He was obviously uncomfortable and out of place in the brothel, but I still felt this... twinge in my gut, like a hot iron being poked into my stomach.

Jealousy. I was jealous of the way those women so shamelessly offered themselves to him without bothering to hide how much they longed to bring him into their beds. I had to forcefully remind myself it was their job to do so, and it was all I could do to quell the rage swirling inside me.

Billy found us and set a large leather satchel on a nearby table. "Freshly made and easy to hide. Should see us through the night. Are we all set to go or are we still waiting for Constance?"

"Um..." Thierry hummed and nodded in my direction, while rest kicked back and enjoyed the show.

He glanced at me briefly before looking up the stairs, then did a double take and really saw me. His blue eyes widened into two marbles as they focused on my face, dropped to my attire and quickly returned to my eyes while his cheeks turned red for the second time that day. His mouth pried open to let in more air, for his breath had became shallow, and at last he seemed to catch himself and shook his head like he was trying to break some spell I had cast upon him.

"Constance?" He inquired. "You look... I mean... Wow--"

Unable to help it, I smiled and rubbed the back of my head, more than a little flattered by his reaction. So many women, all of them barely dressed (some fully undressed), and yet it was I who had captured his attention. It would boost any girl's ego.

"Aye, it's me. Pretty extreme, huh?"

"Y-yeah." He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes like he could hardly believe it was me and not some other prostitute. "Didn't even recognize you. Great job, Charlotte."

"Thank you." The little blonde perked up like a mayflower after rain. "You should all get going, now. The Madam won't like seeing that here--" She waved at the satchel Billy had brought from the blacksmith. "And if she stays any longer, she will start distracting the customers."

"Right." Logan placed one more kiss on her jaw and whispered something in her ear that made her giggle and smack him on the chest.

"I'll believe it when I see it. Be careful out there. Oh, I almost forgot!" Charlotte produced an abandoned fan from another nearby table and handed it to me. "I trust you still know how to use these?"

My mouth pressed into a bitter line. I flicked my wrist to open the fan, waved it into my neck some, and closed it again. "How could I forget?"

"Perfect. It will add just a hint of flavor to your performance. Don't forget what I taught you. And you--" She poked Logan's chest. "I will see you later."

And with that, she disappeared upstairs, while we marched out the door as a unit about to go to war. We stopped the cart a good distance from the house and made the rest of the way on foot, hidden in the palm trees.

Some ten to twelve yards from it, we crouched down and carefully pushed the fronds out of the way. The windows were all dark and the front door firmly shut, while the wooden fence delineating the area surrounding it was in disrepair, with whole logs fallen to the ground or even broken in half. For all intents and purposes, it seemed abandoned, except for the small campfire burning a small distance from the door and the burly, rough looking fellows standing by it to keep warm.

Billy pulled out a spyglass and took a peek while the rest of us prepared by rummaging through his satchel. Inside, there were small guns that barely fit in my hand, yet weighted as much as a standard flintlock or more, as well as sharp pocket knives. Additionally, there were thick, darkly colored clothes inside that Folsom and the others wrapped themselves in to conceal their identities.

As for myself, I strapped a knife to my thigh, on top of the black stockings. In that darkness, and with so much to distract them in my borrowed outfit, they would never see it. I trusted my companions to help me in a pinch, but with pirates, one can never be too careful.

"How many are there, Billy?" Muldoon asked, just as he was finishing enveloping his bald head in cloth.

Standing around like that, all dressed the same and armed to the teeth, my friends reminded me of the corsairs from the Barbary coast that my Grandfather had told me about as a child. Just as fierce and scary, too.

"I count at least nine,” Billy replied. “Three at the door, three at the back, two doing rounds on the perimeter and at least one sentinel on the roof with a rifle."

I gaped at him and exclaimed in a hushed tone: "Nine? And I'm to charm them all into following me?"

"She's right, she'll never get them all to come with her at the same time," Thierry sighed. "No matter how nice she looks or how much she seduces them."

Billy put away the spyglass and turned to us.

"Very well, change of plans. Constance, distract the three at the front. Be as loud as you can, hopefully you'll lure a few more of them to the front and make this easier for us. Logan, Thierry, take out the two doing rounds. Once they are down, retreat back to the shrubs and meet me and Muldoon at the back. Folsom, I see a rope ladder on the east side of the house. Climb it, take out the sentinel and grab the rifle so you can cover for us while we take care of the rest. Hoot to let us know it's safe for us to move on the three at the back. Don't use the pistols unless it's absolutely necessary, we don't want to alert them to our presence until the last minute. They are a precaution only. Any questions?”

I spoke up: “I don't have to lead them anywhere, in that case?”

“No, just keep their attention on you. Buy us time to eliminate the others before we come to you.”

“Aye, aye.”

“Any more?”

Thierry raised a hand: “What if there's more of them hidden in the bushes?”

“Or inside?” Logan suggested. “There aren't any lights on, but that don't mean anything.”

“If there's more in the bushes waiting, we barricade in the house and fight from there. So, save your shot in case you might need it later. If they are inside waiting... Try not to die.”

The group exchanged a few vague looks, shrugged and nodded.

“All good? No doubts? Then let's move.”

Billy also wrapped himself in his bundle of dark clothes and covered his face. He and most of the others disappeared into the woods, while Folsom and I started our way toward the house, with the least amount of noise as possible. Before he left to get into position, he touched my arm to get my attention and whispered: “You sure you're up to this?”

I swallowed hard and forced a crooked smile on my face.

“Sure. Most men don't care what comes out of a woman's mouth, shouldn't be too hard. Besides...” I adjusted my corset and smoothed down my skirts. “They'll be too distracted to hear a word, anyway.”

“Aye, they sure will, Miss.” Folsom snickered, waved and vanished into the wild foliage.

As soon as he was gone, my smile twisted into a grimace. "Oh, dear..." soon as I turned around, my smile twisted into a grimace. "Oh, dear..."

Why had I let myself get roped into this, again? Well... It was too late to turn back, anyhow. With a deep breath, I pulled back my shoulders, lifted my chin and remembered how Charlotte had taught me to walk. Let your hips sway in time with you steps. The movement is natural in and of it's own, you just have to dramatize it.

I advanced and gently let my hips roll with each step, one hand holding up my skirts, the other gripping the fan tight in an attempt to keep my nerves reined. I thought of Max's confident walk, how she floated through a room as if she were weightless, yet projected power all the same, and did my best to emulate it.

As I reached the fence, I faked panting, tired breaths and lifted my fan to get their attention.

"Excuse me!" I gasped as I leaned on a post and tried to make it look like I had just walked hundreds of miles and was exhausted.

The three men by the fire immediately picked their weapons and started toward me. They pointed their barrels in my direction, but I just continued to pant, one hand to my chest, grateful for the sweat that had pooled on my forehead whilst our group had traveled toward the house. When they realized I was a woman and alone, they dropped the rifles and pistols to rush forwards.

Idiots. Had I a few pistols on me, I could have shot them dead.

"Oh, thank God!" I huffed once they were within hearing distance. "I thought I was done for! I've been wandering in circles all evening after visiting my sister in the interior!"

The tallest of them, a middle aged man with thinning, greasy black hair and a patchy beard, spoke up with a stern face: "You shouldn't be out here by yourself, Miss. It's dangerous."

I assumed he was in charge, so I put on my best socialite smile and straightened up to reveal my cleavage and leg in all their glory. Instantly, all eyes roamed shamelessly from my face and the way they ate me up with greedy stares made me feel... dirty.

"I got turned around when it started getting dark and lost my way," I explained, snapping my fan open to hide behind it, just for a moment to gag, before plastering the smile back on. "Forgive me, I didn't mean to intrude. It's just I saw your campfire and decided it would be wise to seek help before I sprained an ankle. These heels are absolute death traps, you know...”

I whipped my leg forward to show them the red shoes and I swear on the twelve Apostles of Christ that I could feel their stare crawl up my leg.

“I'm so very tired...” I moaned. “Could I bother you for a glass of water, please? Then I will be out of your hair, I promise."

The Man-in-Charge glanced at the other two, who grinned like it was early Christmas, and held out an arm to the fire.

"But of course!” He said. “And, truly, if you're as tired as you seem, perhaps you should sit down a while and rest."

Fucking hell... I hoped Billy and the others would hurry.

"Oh no, I couldn't possibly impose myself upon you or abuse your hospitality!"

"Sure you can," one of the lackeys exclaimed. He came far too close for comfort and put an arm around my back to corral me forward. "What kind of gentlemen would we be if we let a pretty thing like you leave without sitting for a bit? Come, come! We have water, or rum if you prefer. It will keep you warm in the chilly night air."

"You are too kind," I giggled, though on the inside, all I could think about was reach for my knife and sink it into his arm so he would get away from me. I tried to reminded myself that my mates were nearby and would come to my aid if necessary. And I wasn't exactly helpless, either.

“What's going on, down there?!” The sentinel on the roof shouted down. I could see his silhouette cut against the starry sky as he leaned over the ledge.

“Nothing, just a lost young lady!” The Man-in-Charge yelled back. “False alarm!”

“A lady, eh?” I could hear the excitement in his voice while he chuckled. “You sure you don't need a hand down there?”

“We'll let you know, mate!” The lackey cackled. His arm squeezed around my waist so I was pressed right against him, to the point I could smell the rum in his breath. By some miracle, I didn't vomit right there and then, but my skin prickled like insects scuttling under it.

At the fire, the other goon brought a stool from inside the house and set it by the flames. He cleared the dust from it with his hand, then offered for me to sit.

"Oh, thank you so much," I sighed as I rushed out of the Lackey's hold and took a seat, fanning myself rather exaggeratedly. I had to keep their attention on me no matter what, so I thought it would be advantageous to indulge in a bit of theater. I crossed my exposed leg over the other and took a deep breath to give them an eyeful of breasts that they just couldn't look away from. I waited for a bit, but when none of them moved, I cleared my throat delicately.

"Forgive me, but that glass of water, please?"

"Oh, right." The imbecile who had brought me the stool scrambled once more toward the house and produced water from a barrel by the door.

Just then, I heard a hoot from above and let out a small sigh of relief. The sentinel was down, which meant the others were taking care of the three guards at the back and would come to my rescue any minute. I just had to hold on a little longer and it would be over.

The Imbecile handed me the cup, which I took with a smile. "Thank you, sir."

It smelled stale and there were bugs swimming in it. My stomach convulsed painfully, but I held firm, brought the cup to my lips and pressed them on the brim so that when I tilted the cup, none of that filthy water would accidentally get in my mouth.

I hummed with false satisfaction. "Much better. How fortunate I am to have crossed your path! You three gentlemen saved me."

"No, believe me, Miss--" the Lackey who had insisted I sit pulled an empty crate to my side and made himself comfortable there. "We are the fortunate ones."

I smiled a bit wider to disguise my need to snarl at him and fanned a little faster to blow away the stench of his breath.

The Man-in-Charge stepped a little closer to stare down my cleavage.

"So, do you live in town?" He asked.

"That's right, I do," I lied. "By the tailor's shop, in fact."

"And do you often go out on your own?" The Lackey grabbed a bottle of rum, popped the cork and took a swig from it before he inched closer to offered me some. I accepted it, but only because if I didn't, it would look suspicious.

"Yes, very often. I'm a very independent woman." I winked at him and gave the rum the same treatment I had given the water, not allowing a single drop in my mouth.

“So we see... Tell us.” The Lackey leaned even closer, and I had to fight the urge to get up and run, or headbutt him on the nose. "Are you new to the brothel? I don't remember seeing you there."

I thought I heard the rustle of leaves on my left. Given that there was no wind, I could only assume it was my companions and prayed they would move in faster.

I arched an eyebrow up. "The brothel? What reason could I have to be there?"

"Well, with such flattering attire..." His hand found itself on my exposed knee, which made the hairs on the back of my neck stand and my heart hammer with disgust. "Me was thinking you might work there. Do you work there?"

From behind him, a shadow vaulted from the house and silently came forward. My heart nearly stopped dead in my chest when my eyes crossed with Billy's for brief moment, before I returned them to the Lackey and allowed myself to grin, though this time it was quite genuine.

"Nah. I'm not one of Noonan's prostitutes.” I sat up straighter and sloshed the rum around lazily. “I am a pirate."

The three laughed at this statement, probably thought I was joking. Inch by inch, Billy approached, knife in hand. His face might have been covered up, but I would recognize his giant figure, his posture and intense stare anywhere. When he saw where the Lackey had put his hand, his blue eyes flashed with rage. "A pirate, eh?" The Imbecile chortled across from me. Behind him, another shadow moved out of the dark and into the fire light. The bushy brows beneath the cloth told me it was Logan. "Alright, what ship, then?"

I pretended to take another sip of rum and strategically placed my hand on the Lackeys; in reality, I was aiming for the knife strapped to my leg.

"Why--" I shrugged my shoulders like the answer was obvious. "The Walrus, of course!"

Too late, they realized their mistake.

In a matter of seconds, Logan had a bloody dagger in the Man-in-Charge's neck, Billy brought his arm around the Lackey's neck and pulled him kicking to his feet, while Thierry split the Imbecile's skull open with the pommel of his pistol.

Two dead, one to go. But before Billy could finish him, I too stood up, knife at the ready.

"Wait."

Billy gave me a quizzical look and only restrained the man, who fought uselessly against his iron grip.

I stepped forward with deliberately slow steps, chin tilted down and eyes narrowed, all smiles and pretenses gone from my features. I burrowed a hole between his eyes with a glare, bared my teeth in that snarl that had been struggling to come out.

The Lackey eyed my knife, then the expression on my face. He paled up and stopped struggling, paralyzed by terror. I raised the tip of my blade to his neck and pressed it against his bobbing Adam's apple.

"You thought I was an easy target for you, didn't you?” I growled. “You saw a pair of breasts and a pretty leg and thought they were yours for the taking. Like you had a claim to me. Like I was a helpless little thing you could take advantage of. Well... Let she show you just how wrong you were!"

I pulled back the knife and thrust it not into his throat, but his belly, down to the hilt.

The Lackey screamed when it pierced his stomach, then shrieked like a pig when I dragged the sharp edge across his front and pulled out. To my disappointment, his guts only poked out of the wound, didn't spill like it had happened when Billy had done it. Then again, he had used a cutlass rather than a knife and he was much stronger than I.

The Lackey struggled in Billy's hold, kicked with his feet whilst his hands tried to keep his intestines from falling out. He was a pathetic sight. A worm contorting in a hook. It felt good to reveal how small he actually was, how weak. Stripped of any power and without the support of his friends, he was nothing more than a ravenous dog that needed to be put down.

I reached out to hold his jaw in a merciless grip and force him to look at me.

“You thought I prey,” I told him. “But I'm a fucking predator.”

Again, I shoved the knife into his torso. Then a third time, a fourth, a fifth. No one stopped me and Billy never let go of that pitiful excuse of a man. The sharp odor of iron filled my nostrils, drowning out the scent of forest and sea breeze. Blood coated my hand, spattered on my face, stained the velvet blue skirts. Charlotte was going to kill me. When I finally had enough and the Lackey was choking in his own blood, I jammed the blade into his neck and put him out of his misery.

Panting with rage, I stepped back and watched as Billy let his body drop on the dust and grass, arms and legs twitching from the death throes. I watched every second of it until he went still, forced my eyes to soak in the macabre vision. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I observed that this kill was having a different effect on me than, for example, the man I had killed on my first hunt.

I hadn't killed anyone else since that day; this was only the second life I'd had a hand in ending. The first time, I had felt sickened, distraught at my own capacity for murder under the right circumstances. It had felt wrong.

But this? This felt... satisfying. Still wrong, arguably moreso due to my own altered intentions, going from self-preservation to vengeful spite, yet I still felt... vindicated. And that scared me more. Much more.

From somewhere far away, I thought I heard someone call my name. A heavy hand grabbed at my shoulder to snap my attention from what I had done. Billy had removed the cloth masking his face and stared at me with concern, brows tense over his eyes.

"You alright?" He was asking me.

My head nodded automatically, until I noticed I was breathing through my mouth, sucking in air like a fish out of water. I clamped my jaw shut and got a hold of my features to conceal how numb and empty I felt on the inside. I barely recognized myself. My brain scrambled for a reply that might soothe his worries over me, and as always, I resorted to humor.

"Just so we're clear,” I said. “I am never doing this shit again."

The others all laughed - but not Billy. He continued to search my eyes, narrowed his lids like he could see beyond the surface and read my very soul. With a heavy weight in my stomach, I realized he knew I was not, in fact, alright. It was too much for me to bear, so I turned away and pulled out of his grasp to get away from him and the body whose blood pooled around my feet.

"Damn, Constance--" Logan looked at me with a grin, but also a heightened sense of respect that just made me hate myself more. "I knew you were tough, but this? Remind me not to get on your bad side!"

I said nothing to that. Couldn't think of anything suitable to reply. With each second that passed, I felt worse and worse. My heart was like lead that pulled me relentlessly toward the ground, every step I took was torture. The knife in my hand, soaked in blood, was like a hot coal that burned my palm. I threw it aside and curled my fingers into fists. I just wanted to go back to town, back to the Walrus, and get away from all this.

"Thierry, Muldoon--" Billy put on his authoritative boatswain tone. "Get inside and start loading whatever's valuable to the cart. Folsom, Logan, help me drag the bodies to the front of the house. When Duke comes over, I want to leave a clear message about being indebted to us."

I watched them get to work and thought, I should go and lend a hand. But...

When they had originally approached me with this plan, they told me I had to seduce and distract Duke Perrington's goons, nothing more. I hadn't wanted to come anyways. Plus, Billy didn't include me in his orders. Therefore, I made my way to the cart and sat with the horse. At least he wouldn't judge me, though if the others raised any questions, I could always say I was keeping watch.

Thankfully, as they transported chests full of gold, silver and jewels (including plates, cutlery and even napkin rings), no one questioned my inertia. In fact, they barely spoke to me, like I wasn't even there. From Billy's surreptitious looks, I suspected he was involved.

During one instance, while bringing more treasure from the house, he waited for the others to get out of ear shot so he could turn to me and ask:

"Constance, are you sure you're all right?"

I glanced very briefly at him, then stared out into the darkness. "Of course."

From my visual periphery, I saw him come around the front of the horse so he could force himself into my sights. He had that look on his face whenever he had reached the limits of his patience, with one corner of his mouth pulled back and his head tilted to the side, demanding my attention.

In that moment, his stare was as torturous to endure as a a hot iron, precisely because I couldn't keep anything I felt from him. Somehow, he knew, he always knew. I feared that if I opened my mouth to say I was anything less than fine, I would come apart right there and then, and I would not have that. I would not let him see me weak and vulnerable, nor any of the others.

So, I pressed my mouth tightly shut, grabbed fistfuls of my skirts and turned my head away like a stubborn child.

His hand, cold from the night air, covered one of mine on my lap. It took every bit of my control not to snatch it away.

"You don't need to do this," he told me in a sickeningly gentle tone. "Not with me. You know you can tell me anything and I won't judge you."

God... How could he not? After what he had just witnessed me do...? I didn't even want to consider what he thought of me.

My eyes stung and blurred, which only added to my shame, corroded my composure. My entire face twitched as I fought to contain the storm inside me. I pulled my hand from his grasp and turned my back on him, arms wrapped tight around myself.

"Leave me be," I whispered with shaky breaths. "I know you mean well, but... Please, just leave me be. Please..."

He stood there silent, just watching me. For a frightening moment, I thought he was going to insist, but then, at last, he walked away. I allowed myself a single sob, just the one, before taking a few deep breaths and locking everything inside my chest. I wiped away the tears that had managed to escape and sat up straight. Thank the heavens it was too dark for the others to see my face.

***

Hours later, on the Walrus, I perched on the bowsprit beneath the stars.

The ship was mostly empty at three bells in the morning watch, roughly thirty minutes past five o'clock. I had tried to get some sleep in my hammock after a sparse dinner of breath and water, but no matter how I tossed and turned, I couldn't make myself lose consciousness. Hence, the bowsprit.

I played with a coil of rope to keep my hands busy, practicing the same knots I could already do with my eyes closed. On the beach, there were lights from campfires, music and laughter, despite the late hour. The smell of tobacco and food mingled with sea salt and trees. I could have rented a room at the tavern and gone out for a drink with my mates after our successful heist, but the last thing I wished for was company. I kept thinking about that sordid excuse of a man, so eager to get his dirty hands on me whether I allowed it or not, and how it felt to make him scream. Thought back to my fight with Cutthroat Fred and the young sailor I had killed on my first time over the side.

On both instances, I had fought and maimed or killed to save my own life, but I had to admit that, even then, inflicting violence had come with a taste I hadn't expected. It had felt good. Which meant it had been in me all along. There was a monster hidden deep in my soul, waiting for the right moment to catch me unawares and take over, and I had no idea how to control it, or even if there was a way to control it.

What was I to do, then? I desperately clawed at Billy's advice - become indifferent to it and move forward without allowing myself to roil over it. It had worked when self-defense had justified it, but what I had done had nothing to do with that. That man was unarmed and restrained with no possible way to escape. He was at my mercy and I had taken advantage of that... Just as he was going to do with me, had I been a different kind of woman.

Sure, either Billy or one of the others would have killed him anyway. Maybe that was what truly bothered me. It wasn't the killing; it was the slaughter. I had wanted him to feel pain before he died, I wanted him to suffer. What kind of depraved person was I, in that case?

My spiraling thoughts were interrupted by the sound of slow footsteps approaching. My hands stilled. I looked over my shoulder to see who it was: Mr. Gates.

In the orange lantern light, he looked grim and spectral, but when he reached the bow and leaned on it, he smiled and didn't seem quite as frightening. I didn't greet him or say a word. I stared ahead, across the bay, and continued to play around with my rope. I didn't have the energy to chat.

"Fine night, isn't it?" He said whilst he looked over the black horizon, the ocean waves sprinkled here and there by the lanterns of neighboring ships. "Not too hot, not too cold. Beautiful sky. Very peaceful."

I didn't feel very peaceful, and I didn't feel like talking, but out of respect for my quartermaster, I rasped: "Aye. Fine."

Gates hummed and stood there a while without speaking. Vaguely, I wondered if he was waiting for me to say something, or if he was only there to appreciate the calm weather and quiet early hours of the morning in silence. Given his many responsibilities and affairs to oversee, he probably didn't get to enjoy them that often.

I adjusted my position on the bowsprit and cocooned myself further into my frock. I had changed back into my own clothes as soon as we had returned to the brothel. Charlotte had given me a terse look when she saw blood stains on her skirt, but she must have some sort of divination ability too, for when she truly saw the expression on my face, she took her clothes back with a snide comment and left it at that.

"Y'know..." Gates risked after several minutes. "Billy came to me with the most fascinating tale, a few hours ago. Something about Duke Perrington being indebted to him and a few others on the crew and their daring attempt to get their money back. He told me you were involved into the whole endeavor - and the nature of your involvement."

I cursed Billy and his big heart, for once. I knew he wouldn't let it go, but telling Gates? That was a low blow. "Are we to be disciplined, then?"

"Disciplined?" He sounded genuinely confused by the very idea. "For what? As far as I'm concerned, this was between him, his group and Perrington. They evened the score without involving either crews, so all's well. No disciplinary action is needed."

I scoffed and turned away. All was well. We had killed nine men to steal treasure. That was as far from being well as the moon was from the sun.

"No, I'm bringing this up because Billy reported that the event has shaken you. He got worried and sought my intervention. Told me he had spoken to you the first time you joined us in an attack, after you killed an officer aboard our target ship, but that this time was different. That you attacked one of the guards at that house with the intent to cause pain."

Gods, he spoke of it all so casually, it was infuriating! Like we were discussing the weather or how much I was due out of our latest prize.

I pinned Gates with a heavy stare, forehead creased so tight it hurt, but he didn't even flinch. He only observed me, one hand on the railing, the other on his hip, waiting.

"And what if I did?" I inquired a bit more aggressively than I probably should. "I'm a pirate, just like you. We lead violent lives and profit off of the misery of others. That's how it is."

"Being a pirate doesn't have to mean being cruel," Mr. Gates retorted patiently. "I didn't picture you as a cruel person, that's all. Look, I'm not here to judge you. In fact, I'm the last person who should be judging anyone, I know this. I'm simply concerned that this might have caused a spiritual crisis within you, understandably so."

"That's the thing, Mr. Gates." I sighed and hung my head, eyes on my lap. "You should be judging me. I did something awful that, regardless of whether it was deserved or not, I never thought I was capable of. That's not normal."

"So you gave in to your worst impulses and committed an act that could be classified as torture." Gates spread out his arms like it was no big deal. "It happens, especially when you feel you've been wronged. You're not the first person in history to do it and you won't be the last."

"That doesn't make it right," I countered weakly.

"No, it doesn't, but neither does it make you an evil person. Not unless you so choose. Listen..." He took a deep breath, thumped the railing while pondering his next words. "We all have our own demons to battle and have to come face-to-face with the fact all of us have a darkness within us that this life allows us to indulge in far too often. That can lead us to do things we never thought capable of. The trick is to be aware of that darkness, recognize when it's speaking to us and tell it to fuck off. I know that right now, coming out of it so recently, it might seem impossible given how easy it was, yes?"

I nodded and felt so ashamed admitting it. It had been easy. I didn't even have to think. Just like with the sailor, my hand simply plunged the knife into flesh out of its own volition.

"Take it from an old man who has been doing this for a long time: it is quite possible. Not easy, but possible. Doing violence is a choice, and when applied in the right place at the right time, it's also a useful tool. But if you let it control you... then it becomes a problem. For you and for me."

I frowned at that. "Why for you?"

"Well, if I let you go around rampaging and murdering indiscriminately, eventually someone will bring the problem to our crew and we'll be forced to respond, whether to defend our reputation, our privileges on this island or our very lives. And Constance, I happen to like you. I don't want to see myself put in a position where I might have to shoot you."

He said it with such readiness, I was certain he would, in fact, shoot me down to protect the crew. He might hesitate, but he would do it. And not just me; anyone who became a threat, such as Cutthroat Fred, marooned off on a spit of land in the middle of the ocean with a pistol and a single bullet, for attempting to murder me in what was meant to be friendly combat.

"So. My advice to you is: refrain from it until you are able to keep a cool head before deciding you want to gut someone. And if you decide you will live better with yourself by giving them a quick death, do that instead. Above all, never make decisions in anger. Nothing good ever comes out of that, in any circumstance."

I turned his words over in my head, let my hands wrap the rope around my fingers and pull it into a butterfly knot. "Billy told me that the best way to deal with it all is to just... close my heart to it. Turn my back on my bad deeds and never think of them again."

Gates nodded. "Sound advice. But...?"

I bit my lip. "But what if I can't ignore it? What if it always affects me? I chose to be here, to become this. I know I can't pick and choose which parts I like and which I don't, I have to accept all of it. But Billy himself struggles with this. So... What do you think I should do?"

"Hmm... That's a very complicated question. Let me know when you figure it out so I can learn from your wisdom?"

He chuckled, but quickly sobered under my loaded look. I was being serious. Gates thought about it for a while, let his gaze wander the horizon, and said: "I suppose you give yourself the grace of time, and keep practicing Billy's advice. In the meantime, pick your battles and should you find yourself in a position when you can spare a life, spare it. But when you have no option but to kill, then at least do it quickly. Like I said, being a pirate doesn't have to mean being cruel."

In a way, it was the answer I was expecting. Still didn't really help putting me at ease. That was something I would have to come terms with on my own. Somehow, I had to find a way.

"And another suggestion I may offer is to just..." Gates shrugged. "Don't allow yourself to get roped into those idiots' schemes."

I huffed in laughter, finally able to smile since I had gotten back from the heist. "I wasn't going to, but I feared they would do something stupid and cause an inter-crew war."

"Alright, fair. That's very noble of you. Still not your problem. Next time, tell them to figure it out themselves."

"Will do, Mr. Gates."

"And now get out of there before you fall into the sea and go get some sleep. You have lessons with de Groot in the morning, remember?"

I rolled my eyes and suppressed a groan. Not that I didn't look forward to it, just that I knew I would struggle to pay attention on only two hours of sleep. I climbed up the bow of the Walrus and started my way to the hatch and stairs that led into the gundeck.

Before I went down though, I stopped and turned to my quartermaster. "Thank you for your advice, Mr. Gates. I will consider it, next time."

"Thank Billy for bringing this up to me in the first place," he retorted with a suggestive smirk that I did not appreciate. "Truly, though. He cares more about you than he lets on, you know." I let my gaze drop to the floorboards as the corners of my mouth fell into a pout. "After what he saw tonight... Somehow, I highly doubt it." Gates clicked his tongue. "Nonsense. You think he hasn't seen worse? Or done worse, himself? Do you know what he did with the bodies before you left Perrington's stash house?"

I shook my head, brows creased with curiosity and some dread.

"He piled the bodies by the front door and pinned a piece of paper to one of their chests for Perrington to find. And do you know what he wrote on it? He wrote: "this is what happens to those who forsake their debts." Oh yes--"

He laughed to my shocked expression. "Billy did that. See, the thing with that boy is that, in his heart of hearts, Billy is a courageous, altruistic, caring man whom you can count on for anything as a colleague and as a friend. But never make the mistake of forgetting he is also a pirate. Everything he has learned, he learned from the worst people imaginable. He's just very good at managing that part of himself. So I wouldn't be too worried about him changing his opinion about you over something like this. If anything, you should look up to him as an example. You might learn a thing or two."

Surprisingly... Learning that Billy Bones, who had saved me from falling to my death and taught me swordplay and comforted me after losing Jean, was just as capable of commiting horrific acts of violence as anyone else I had met thus far, was exactly what helped lift some of the weight in my chest. If he could do those things and still remain mostly good, as well as maintain the love and respect of the crew, there was no reason I couldn't, too. Gates was right, I could still choose to pick when and how to engage with my own darkness without succumbing to it, and it wouldn't take away from my own morals. Perhaps that was the way into accepting that part of my new life.

That, I could live with.

A very small, very fragile smile lifted my cheeks. "I think I just did, Mr. Gates."

He returned my smile with one of his rarer soft ones. "Good. In that case, off you go. I'll see you in the morning."

And shooed me away to bed like he was my father.

The way Gates did it however, felt much more... paternal than my own Father had ever been. More caring. I kind of wished Gates had been my father, instead. I had a feeling it would have made for a much more fun and freeing childhood. It was a shame he didn't have any children (that we knew of). Then again, I supposed he had his hands full with us scoundrels, already.

I made my way to my hammock, shed my frock, weapons and shoes, and hopped into it, surprised by how tired I felt. After talking to Gates, I was feeling much better, so sleep caught up to me fast. I let my eyes flutter closed, crossed my arms over my chest and thought of Billy, no longer angry at him for telling Gates about what had happened. Instead, not for the first time, I felt my heart swell with warmth and adoration, which I wrapped around my soul like a blanket until it felt light as air and gentle as the turquoise lagoon's waves.

God bless that man. I was lucky to have him for a friend... lucky that he cared so much about me. He was going to make a fine husband to someone, one day. As I lost consciousness and my body finally relaxed enough to allow me rest, I only wished that that someone would be... me.

[pkmn-trainer-turt]

ABOUT ME!!

howdy folks <- sorry for being southern /j

Th’name’s Turt!!! I’m a trainer from Driftveil, Unova currently attending Naranja-Uva Academy on some shenanigans involving general fuckery and fun lmao

Team!

Flint — Emboar (Fire/Ground)

Edd — Ampharos (Electric/Dragon)

Cindy — Watchog

Globglogabgalab (Glob) — Gastrodon

Harper — Sigilyph

Eli — Whimsicott

Extra ‘Mons!

Petey — Venipede

Get ready for chaos!!

(OOC Blog: @turtblurt)

[Additional OOC stuff under the cut!]

Turt is from an Alternate Unova that is set in the future, which makes them technically a Faller! They’re also based on my Blaze Black 2 Redux nuzlocke run, so some Pokemon may have different typings or moves than in canon due to the changes made in that game!

Tags:

#turt posts <- posts/replies made in-character

#turt answers <- asks answered in-character

#turt rb <- stuff reblogged in-character

#turts unova trip <- stuff related to turt’s unova trip with @scribe-of-the-moon

#tw death mention <- if stuff related to the nuzlocke experience is brought up, this tag will likely be included

#alt unova <- stuff related to world-building of Alternate Unova, where Turt is from!

[sailtomarina]

Theodore Nott: Camp Hogwarts Counselor

Reveals are out for Nott Your Typical Summer Fest 2025, and I present to you Theodore Nott: Camp Hogwarts Counselor.

This story is dear to me not only because of Theo, but also for the forward-looking spirit of the next generation and what it entails for all of the characters, old and new. I cannot thank the fest enough for this prompt.

🤓 Theo (with a dash of Nott/Pott) | Rated T | fluff & humor, camp vibes | WC 7.8K 📎 AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/66254836

See below for a sneak peek:

The night of the staff’s welcome dinner brought with it an announcement: Hogwarts would be implementing an annual, two-week-long summer camp for soon-to-be First Years.

“Y-You want me as a camp counselor?” Theo stammered, a damnable crack slipping through.

“I do,” the Headmistress replied.

He shared a look of disbelief with his fellow teachers. While Longbottom looked to share his nervousness, Draco simply raised a brow, as if to say, What’s all the worry for, you git?

Flitwick clapped his hands together in excitement. “It’ll be marvelous!”

Many of the other teachers agreed, the volume in the staff room increasing rapidly. While the camp itself had already been planned for what sounded like the better part of a year, there were still plenty of preparations that would need to be completed in the month before the students arrived, the most pressing of which was Theo doing whatever he could to make himself the best camp counselor in the history of all camp counselors ever.

Read the rest on AO3!

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Theodore Nott/Harry Potter Characters: Theodore Nott, Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Original Malfoy Characters (Harry Potter), Original Flint Characters (Harry Potter), Original Weasley Characters (Harry Potter), Neville Longbottom, Pansy Parkinson, Harry Potter, Minerva McGonagall, Original Characters Additional Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Transfiguration Professor Theodore Nott, Camp Counselor Theodore Nott, Camp Hogwarts, Summer Camp, POV Theodore Nott, Married Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Minor Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson, Past Pansy Parkinson/Marcus Flint, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Minor Fred Weasley/Angelina Johnson/George Weasley, Pre-Hogwarts First Year, Harry Potter Next Generation, Fluff and Humor Summary:

Another year, another summer. What better way to start Theodore Nott’s brand new career teaching Transfiguration than an additional role as Hogwarts Camp Counselor for the school’s first ever summer camp?

Not only must Theo guide a group of incoming First Years, he’ll also need to confront his own ideas for the sort of teacher he wants to be. No nonsense, like his predecessor, the playful, favourite uncle, or some combination of the two?

[niamhtullys]

♧

niamh’s lips parted in a faint scoff—barely a sound, more breath than breathless—but it scraped against the quiet like a blade unsheathed. he had said it. summerhall. one word, spat like a curse. as though the name alone sullied his mouth. she felt the sound of it settle somewhere low in her chest, coiling. he mimicked her, she could hear it—the cadence of her voice twisted into something petulant and sneering, as if her thoughts were too simple, too sentimental to warrant serious reply. of course they lost it. her jaw locked; she half needed to remember they were in public.

“oh, of course,” she muttered dryly, fingers tightening around the reins until the leather creaked. “merely men with sand in their boots, those stormlanders.” the words rolled out of her mouth like stones, heavy and flat. she didn’t even try to mask the echo. so that was it. she met his glare with equal ire, half waiting for him to say something akin to telling her to shut up. "i would love to see lord celtigar be able to disarm one of them."

the stormlands reduced to careless boys fumbling with a blade. it was easier for him that way. easier to blame them than admit anything had been truly lost. anything that mattered. her eyes tracked the forest path ahead, narrowed and winding and indifferent to royalty. the stag’s trail had vanished some time ago, but neither of them would say so first. not when they’d staked so much on being right. she exhaled through her nose, slow, then turned her head toward him just slightly, not enough to meet his eye.

“and summerhall,” she began lightly, carelessly, “well, maybe you had the right of it all along. a half-forgotten ruin full o’ ghosts and moths. servants vanished for days at a time—spooked, no doubt, by the great insult o’ being housed somewhere so far from the capital.” her smile was faint, a brittle curl of the mouth that didn’t reach her eyes. “it wasn’t a palace. not a proper one. not fit for a king.” she said it just to say it. just to see what it did to him. because he had loved it once, in his quiet, bitter way. she’d seen it when he thought she hadn’t—the way he’d walked those sunlit corridors barefoot, or sat for hours beneath the fig tree near the broken western wall. but he didn’t deserve her remembering that. not now.

"shameful of you jaehaerys, to expect your wife to live there, you know. most new brides are spoiled. what'd i get?" it was there she’d caught him smiling to himself, like a idiot who forgot he was supposed to be angry. "leaky roof. hearth never lit properly. who needs casterly rock?" she almost joked who needed arron lannister, and yet she knew that would be too far of a joke. scalding, he would go from being irritated to being genuinely angry. when he brought up the fishing, her head snapped toward him properly, the scowl sharp enough to cut.

“oh, that again is it?” she barked a laugh, mirthless and thin. “whoever told you that needs floggin’. whatever spy you put on me—fire them. i don’t fish.” she sat straighter in the saddle, chin up. “i’ve never fished. i don’t enjoy the smell, nor the patience it requires, nor the slimy things that come out the water. it’s slow, and dull, and—” she stopped herself, catching the ridiculousness of it. “and i don’t. so drop it.” of course, she did fish. loved it. loved the quiet of it, the pull and give of the line, the stillness that came only when water was the only thing before her. but he couldn’t have that. he couldn’t have everything.

but it was the way he said his—his hunt, his land, his kingdom—that finally made her pull the reins hard and draw to a stop. the forest pressed in around them, green and gold and watchful. she didn’t speak for a long moment. then, her voice came, quiet but sharp as flint. “it’s not yours,” she said. “none of it is. not really. you ride through it like a god, thinking it all bends to your will just ’cause someone put a crown on your head. but trees don’t kneel. rivers don’t swear fealty. the land’s not yours, jaehaerys.” her gaze rose to the boughs above, where shafts of late afternoon light pierced the leaves like stained glass.

“not like you think. and you'll be wanting to show more care for your words before the land turns on you.” again. the valyrians had already exploded once - she would not put it beyond the abilities of the ancient landscape to be able to conjure something to punish the targaryens again. and then came the creeping realisation tha she too would be swept up in that, because here she was. queen. wife. before he could muster a response—something cutting, no doubt, some twisted echo of her own words laced in bitter mockery—niamh saw it.

the stag.

a flicker of white through the trees, quick as a ghost and twice as proud, its antlers catching the light like spears of bone. it stood poised at the ridge for only a heartbeat, the air around it stilling, reverent. niamh’s breath caught. instinct overtook pride. she spurred her mare hard with a sharp jerk of her reins, the beast lurching forward with a thundering snap of hooves against the underbrush. bark tore loose as they barreled through the trees, branches clawing at her cheeks, at her cloak, at her hair that flew wild behind her like a banner of flame. “yours, is it?” she shouted over her shoulder, a breathless bark of laughter swallowed by the wind. “we’ll see about that, won’t we?” she ducked low beneath an overhang of branches, the rush of air biting at her face, a smear of blood blooming where a bramble tore her skin—but she barely felt it. summerhall, the stormlands, the bloodied edge of nightsong— none of it mattered now. the only thing that mattered was that she had seen the stag first, she had made it run. not him. not his guards. not the crown.

her.

he would follow, she knew. he had to follow—because he would never allow her to win without the chase. never let her take what he had called his. but gods, if he caught her, it would not be because she yielded. she could hear his horse thundering after her now, could hear the breath in his chest if she imagined it close enough.

Jaehaerys caught the edge of her tone even if he did not quite grasp the depths of her resentment. He was too consumed by his own frustrations—the elusive stag, the lingering humiliation of Nightsong, the irritation of having his hunt spoiled by whispers of politics and wounded pride. But her question made him pause, his head turning sharply toward her, violet eyes narrowing into sharp, suspicious slits.

"Did they lose it for me?" he echoed bitterly, the brat prince rearing fully to the surface now. "Of course they lost it. They let it slip through their fingers like children who couldn't hold a toy. A castle of stone and steel taken by men who fight with sand in their boots." He nearly spat the words, disgusted by the thought. It had been Stormlanders who manned Nightsong, and in his eyes, it had been Stormlanders who failed. They had handed Dorne a victory he could not abide, could not forgive.

But her mention of Summerhall brought a sudden, sharp silence from him, and for just a moment he faltered visibly, his posture stiffening in the saddle. Summerhall. It still haunted him, that sunlit sanctuary Daenaerys had dangled before them like a consolation prize. Niamh had seen it as freedom, a haven away from the demands of a throne he did not yet sit. But for Jaehaerys, it had been an insult, a gilded cage dressed as a gift. He had wanted King's Landing, the Red Keep—proof that he was meant to rule more than just some crumbling summer ruin always in a state of repair. The bitterness rose fresh in his chest again, hot and stubborn, because the truth was he had loved it too—but pride and resentment had poisoned even those memories.

"Summerhall," he said, the single word a clipped retort, as though she had struck him. He shifted uncomfortably in the saddle, scowling at the path ahead. "You mistake my eagerness for duty. I did not flee the Stormlands; I was called back to the capital. A king does not hide in some half-forgotten ruin."

He turned toward her abruptly, irritation clear in the stubborn tilt of his chin, his gaze challenging her defiance. He saw the glower on her face, saw the crossbow she held with such casual skill, and he realized with a fresh jolt of annoyance that she intended to challenge him even here, in the heart of his own hunt.

"Yes," he snapped, his voice sharp and petulant. "Every leaf and branch. Every stag and hare. All mine, and don't you forget it." His lips pressed into a thin line, the childish tantrum burning bright behind his eyes. "If you want the stag, Niamh, you'll have to be quicker than me. And we both know you won't be. It's hunting. Not fishing."

[legends-and-savages]

legends-and-savages: semi-selective multimuse loved by Kitten (she/her).  30 in pst.  Featuring muses from multiple fandoms.  Replies generally queued from 12-7 on work days which is typically Tuesday-Saturday.

In regards to the odd glitch going around feel free to @ me in things or pop by my inbox if you think I've missed something.

Mobile muses and rules

Rules

Characters

Opens

Starter Calls

Memes

Mobile muses under the cut:

*Denotes Alternate FC

**AU Based Character

Aeval Mim

Ajax Fenrisulfur

Albert Wesker

Alice Jones

Alistair Hart

Anastasia Hamilton

Anastasia Romanov

Angie Bolen

Annie January/Starlight

Aphrodite

Ares

Artemis

Arthur Curry

Arthur Pendragon

Aspyn Wynter

Athena Grant-Nash

Atlanna

Aurora Decker-Morningstar

Barry Allen*

Belle French

Ben Solo/Kylo Ren

Ben/ Soldier Boy

Beta Lockwood

Billy Hargrove

Billy Kaplan

Black Hat

Blaine DeBeers

Blythe Wheeler

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Bree Tanner

Brixton Lore

Brock Rumlow

Bruce Wayne

Callista "Callie" Ward

Cara

Cara Dune

Carlos Reyes

Carol Danvers

Casimir Cummings-Shaw

Cassie Lang

Chuck Hansen

Chato Santana

Cipher

Corinne

Cosmo

Daemon Targaryen

Daliya Tremaine

Danika Fendyr

Danika Tremaine

Dante Reyes

David

Deacon Frost

Derek Hale

Diana Prince

Dinah Lance

Dizzy Tremaine

Dorothy Harding

Drago Couture

Dracula

Drizella Tremaine

Druig

Eddie Diaz

Elain Archeron

Elsa of Arendelle

Emily Thomas

Emma Frost

Erik Killmonger

Eve Corvin

Evelyne "Evie" Maxwell

Evie

Felicia Hardy

Felix Fenrisulfur

Fen Udaku

Finn Drake

Flint Shaw

Gabriel

Gadreel

Gaige

Gigantosaurs (Paxton)

Grace Ryder

Gwen Stacy

Harley Quinn

Harry Hook

Hatter

Hela

Héra

Helmut Zemo

Heather Fox

Hope Van Dyne

Ilithyia

Indie

Indoraptor

Queen Ingrith

Iyla Steele

Jack Kline

Jackson Teller

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Jakob Toretto

Jamie Tartt

Jasmine

Jean Grey**

Joaquín Torres

John Walker

John/ Homelander

Joyce Byers

Juna Carlos Ortiz

Kataleya Alverez

Kiara

Kieran Barnes

Killian Jones

Kitana

Kyra Steele

Laena Velaryon

Larissa Weems

Laurel Lightfoot

Lidia Cervos

Loki

Lucy Gray Baird

Luke Riordan/Golden Boy

Lyla Flag

Madelyne Pryor

Maggie Shaw/Queen Maeve

Major Lillywhite

Mal

Maleficent

Marcus Corvinus

Margaery Tyrell

Mary Winchester

Mateo Drake

Maverick Collins

Melina Vostokoff

Mighty Thor

Mileena

Mira Sorrengail

Morgan Crowder-Fitzgerald

Namor

Natasha Romanoff

Negasonic Teenage Warhead

Nesta Archeron

Newt Scamander

Nikki Shaw

Nikolai Lantsov

Odette

Olivia Moore

Onyx Hayes

Orm Marius

Ouroboros

Paige Cummings

Peter Parker

Peter Quill*

Pietro Maximoff

Queenie Goldstein

Quinlan Drake

Quentin Beck

Raleigh Becket

Ramonda

Ramsay Bolton

Rapunzel

Rebecca Welton

Regina Mills

Rexy

Rhaenys Targaryen

Rick Flag

Robert DuBois

Robert "Bob" Floyd

Robert "Bob" Reynolds

Rosalie Griffin

Rowena

Roy Kent

Ruhn Danaan

Selene Arslan-Davis

Sersi

Shuri

Stella Griffin

Sylvie

Tangerine

The Darkness

The Prince

Thena

Theo Raeken

Tiberius

Tyler Kennedy Strand

Thomas J. Hanniger

Thomas Shepherd

Vanessa Benson

Velkan Valerious

Vik Malikova

Vladislaus Dracula

Wanda Maximoff

Wendy Case

Wolf Payne

Xu Xialing

Yasmin Steele

Yelena Belova

Ygritte

Y'Mera Xebella Challa*

Zoya Nazyalensky

[papcrrings-arch]

Event Plotting/Starter Call

Below the cut is a list of all my muses and what they’ll be doing during the event. Like this post if you want me to reach out for a plot and reply to it if there’s a specific starter you want. I’m capping starters at five per muse so I don’t overwhelm myself. Very excited!

Anne Boleyn || Animagus Abilities (Deer) || Starters: Charlie, Lizzie (2/5)

I honestly think she’ll be freaking out but also having a fun time at the same time. I think seeing some other people with the same ability but also people who had the ability before to like explain it to her. Girl was accused of being a witch her whole life and it’s the closest she’s ever actually been to one.

Caroline Forbes-Salvatore || Force Sensitivity || Starters: Hope, Davina, Katherine, Klaus (4/5)

Caroline might not completely realised at first. She might just think there’s something we’re happening with her vamp senses. I’d love a thread where she accidentally pulls something closer to her or levitates something (she wouldn’t notice mind control because she usually has compulsion). After that, some freaking out threads because she’s a control freak. A thread where she realises she’s human too would also be fun because it’s been a hot minute for her.

Catelyn Tully || Cleric Abilities || Starters: Ned, Jester (2/5)

To be honest, I don’t fully understand these abilities and Catelyn definitely doesn’t. She isn’t fully aware of magic in town so she’s going to find it super weird. She’s gonna freak out and probably accidentally do a little damage with her new abilities and I want her to have witnesses.

Cato Hadley || Time Manipulation || Starters: Sam, Tatum, Ikaris (3/5)

Cato will probably originally do this by accident so someone may be with him when he does and be outside the time freeze. He’ll get the hang of it quickly though so he’ll almost definitely show it off too. I’ll need threads for that.

Fliss McKinnon || Levitation || Starters: Dale, Abi, Ewan, Maddie (4/5)

Fliss is already pretty good at levitation spells from the abilities she was born with so she might not actually notice anything. She’ll probably need someone to tell her and/or be with her when she realises her usual spells don’t work, so there’s a thread. Fliss is my chaotic child so there is bound to be some mischief. Hit me with some of your chaotic children to join her!

Isaac Lahey || Miracles || Starters: Alex (1/5)

Prepare yourself for a genuinely happy Isaac. He’ll be having a good week and probably at first not know why. Give me some cheery threads for him then where good things happen to him and others around him.

Marcus Flint || Magic Via Song || Starters: Hermione (1/5)

Marcus is going to have an absolute blast with this. Like he already had magic before but the fact that he has to sing to do it, he’ll probably annoy some people and entertain others. I imagine him having an okay singing voice so just lemme know who you want a thread for and we can do it.

Prince Phillip || Magic and Exorcism || Starters: Sabrina, Steve (2/5)

I honestly don’t think he’ll notice this. I think someone might need to tell him there’s something weird going on with magic and he’ll try and figure out what’s up. A thread with CAOS muse could also be interesting because he’s not a big fan of dark magic but he’d want to know what he’s dealing with.

Salazar Slytherin || Compulsion || Starters: Godric (1/5)

I am so pleased that he got this ability because I think with him and Godric trying to work out their issues, he’s trying to be a better person outside of all the crime stuff lol. I think he’ll realise pretty quickly he doesn’t have his magic and I want a thread where he’s with someone for that. I also want him to discover the compulsion by accident so I need a thread where that happens with someone and a few more where he either accidentally or intentionally use it despite his want to be a better person.

Four || Animagus Abilities (Bug) || Starters: Queenie (1/5)

Give me a reason for Four to just appear out of nowhere when shifting back from bug form because I think it would be funny. Also probably one where he realises he’s got the ability and any you want. 

[brexrif]

The White Wolf: My Hero (Part 1)

The White Wolf: My Hero (Part 1)

REQUEST: “Can I ask you a romantic scenario with Geralt and a shy girl who starts to follow him and Jaskier after Geralt saved her life? Can I ask you to add some smut too? If you are comfortable with that. Can I ask you to make the girl a virgin too?”

Honey, I ONLY write smut, so never worry about my comfort level with requests-but this request demanded a slow burn so here you have it. Part 1 is truly mostly fluff! Warnings: masturbation? Fluff I don’t want to give too much away, but Part 2 will be harboring the smut.

Find PART TWO HERE!

Check out my MASTER LIST if you want to read any of my other Geralt smut! It’s all filthy so be warned.

The air was crisp and the wind blew gently through the trees around you. The boughs bent pleasantly to and fro and the leaves rustled melodically above you. The sun shown bright still, but the afternoon began to fade. You made your way quickly to the edge of the creek to collect more herbs for your favorite, special tea. You promised your father you would return before sundown to help keep after the pub. You made your way through the foliage in search of the signature, beautiful pattern of the kelly green leaves. You hummed a familiar tune aloud, making your work more pleasant as you gathered the herbs into your small basket. You think the melody was about a Witcher-or something.

 You felt the ground rumble below your knees, which dug your dress into the dirt below you. Your breath stilled and you drew your chin slowly over your shoulder to the forest behind you. You saw nothing until a huge and terrifying Necrophage came barreling through the trees and straight for you. You jumped up, your basket tumbled to the ground and you let out the loudest scream you could manage. The monster charged at you and growled, crawling on all fours and devastating everything in it’s path to you. It sunk its claws into your arms and lifted you into the air, the pain seared through you and your scream curdled in your throat. The monster screamed back in your face, its fangs long and terrifying readying to take a bite out of your supple flesh.  You were screaming so loud you thought you might pass out from that alone, regardless of the fear and pain. You shut your eyes tight and braced yourself for death.

 Just then you heard the vile creature cry out in agony and you dropped to the forest floor roughly. You opened your eyes to see a very large man wielding a long sword, dripping with blood and standing over the twitching, freshly dead body of the Necrophage. The man towered over the body, kicking it slightly to assure it was good and dead. You felt yourself being cradled lightly, but you didn’t notice who by. You were mesmerized by the hero that stood tall before you: he had long, white hair that was messy and poorly tied back, his eyes shown like amber honey and his pupils were hardly detectable.

A pendant hung from his neck, a wolf…

 and you suddenly realized this was the famous Witcher, the Butcher of Blaviken, the White Wolf.

 “Geralt, I think she’s hurt” the voice behind you said, his hands nervously cradling your shoulders.

 “I’m quite alright” you protested, your voice meek and quiet as you struggled to comprehend what had just happened.

 “Woah there, take it easy” The Witcher rushed over as you tried to sit up and you became very aware of the gashes in your arms from the monster’s claws. You winced and fell back into the stranger’s arms embarrassed by your own attempt.

 “Jaskier, hold her steady” The Witcher said urgently to the man behind you. He bent down next to you and examined your wounds. You were so overcome by the sight of him, the reality of your pain seemed to fade. You were well distracted by his impeccably chiseled features, the thick stubble spreading over his prominent jawline, the scars on his face and the intensity of his furrowed brow.

“You’ll be alright. Do you live around here?” his deep voice was low and gravely.

 “Uh,  j-just in the town, through the forest here and down the lane” you struggled to reply, your eyes latched to his.

 “Oh, I could use some rest Geralt lets go to the town”

 “This isn’t about you, Jaskier” he said impatiently. “We need to bring her back.” And with that, you were lifted off the ground and into the Witcher’s strong arms.

 You gathered the courage to speak again, “I’m Y/N. Thank you for saving me, Witcher.”

 “Geralt” he corrected you shortly. He stood with you effortlessly in his arms and pressed forward. Jaskier, who you now saw was a colorfully dressed bard, followed behind you two.

 “You don’t have to carry me, Geralt” you said, blushing at saying his name, feeling familiar.

 “Hmmmm.” He thought for a moment, you could feel the deep hum in his chest as your head rested on it tentatively. He looked down at you and locked with your eyes for a short moment that felt like an hour-time slowed in the heat of your eye contact. His head snapped back up suddenly and he continued forward.

“I won’t have you walking back like this. It’s nothing.” You blushed and enjoyed the ride, surrendering to his hold and resting your cheek on his impressively solid chest.

Your arms hurt, but you were honestly so well distracted, you hardly noticed. You felt the strength of Geralt’s arms cradled around you, the pounding of his heavy footsteps as he made his way forward. You could hear his impossibly slow and deep breaths and were overwhelmed by his scent. He smelled like SUCH a man to you, a combination of the deep forest, fresh earth and a manly musk no doubt generated by traveling on the road for some time. You inhaled deeply, taking in as much of him as you could. You had taken notice of other boys around town, locked a few lips, but had never been taken aback by someone so powerful, so manly as Geralt. You were smitten with him and melted into his arms helplessly. 

Jaskier followed behind playing his lute and searching for a melody to match the heroism of Geralt’s rescue.

“Then Geralt of Rivia appeaaaared!” Jaskier sang to you both.

 ...............................................................................................................................

You reached the entrance of the small town and directed Geralt to your home.

“The pub?” Geralt asked.

“We live above the pub, my father owns it” you cooed at him, trying desperately to break your gaze from studying the sharp line of his jaw, you wanted to remember every detail.

Geralt kicked open the door to the pub, you were still in his arms, and Jaskier followed behind.

“Y/N!!” the familiar voice of your father yelled to you. Then quickly his tone changed when he saw Geralt holding you, “Hey Witcher! What the ell’ did you do to my daughter!” your father crossed the room, grabbing an axe resting on a nearby post.

 “Father! Geralt saved me”

 “An Alghoul had your daughter. I killed it.” He responded curtly while very gently and slowly lowering you to the ground. He took special care releasing you and seemed to linger on your delicate elbows, savoring your touch- but you could have been imagining it. You were certainly trying to savor the feel of his touch.

 “You’re hurt!” your father was distraught, he finally lowered his axe keeping a stern eye on Geralt.

 “A few scratches from the Necrophage’s grasp. Y/N will be fine. I have a medicine to apply, but the wounds need to be properly cleaned first.” A shiver went up your spine when he said your name, you felt your breath catch in your throat.

 “Well have at it then Witcher, I know nothing of medicines and my pub’s fillin’ up for the evenin’. I’ll pay you for your trouble.” Your father directed Felix, his apprentice, to fetch some fresh water and cloth for you. You saw him hand Felix the axe and whisper something to him shifting his eyes slightly to Geralt.

 You followed Felix up the steps and Geralt tread apprehensively behind you. Jaskier had made his way to a table of local women and was strumming his lute already. You were uncomfortable, to say the least. Felix had been one of the local boys that you sometimes would kiss in the pub after cleaning up after close. Occasionally he would sneak a grab at your chest, but nothing major had happened with him. But still, he scarcely took his eyes off of you while you both worked and you suspected he only apprenticed for your father to get in his good graces and ask for your hand someday.

 In truth, Felix was a good friend to you, nothing more. He felt like a boyish companion. He was silly and only took his work seriously, too seriously. You watched his slender body moving up the stairs before you, his slim arms held the bucket and you thought of Geralt’s arms, which were thicker than Felix’s legs…both legs together. You were suddenly aware of the fact that Geralt could be surveying your body similarly behind you, sizing you up. Without thinking too much about it, you added an extra sway to your hips. You heard Geralt cough suddenly behind you and scoff a bit.

 Felix opened the door to your small room and worked to start a fire in the empty hearth. After he set the logs down and reached for the flint, Geralt lifted three fingers towards the fire and it lit effortlessly. Witcher magic, you were mesmerized. You watched a smirk come across his face, though he tried to hide it. Felix scowled at him.

“Y/N, are you sure you want this mutant working on your wounds? I’m sure I could clean them up for ya” Felix offered, he glared at Geralt and palmed the hilt of the axe from his belt.

 “Felix, I’m quite sure. Don’t be so mean to Geralt, he saved me after all.” You protested. Geralt made a ‘hmmmf’ noise under his breath with a closed mouth as he started soaking some cloth in the water. He turned to you sitting on the bed and sighed, looking away towards the ground.

 “You’ll need to..um” You stared at him wide eyed, distracted again by his good looks. He grew more uncomfortable by the second.

 “Oh! My dress..” you blushed. You pulled your arms out of the sleeves and pushed the overlay down to your waist, exposing your corset and heaving breasts underneath.

 “Okay, Witcher! I see your game!” Felix rose quickly pulling the axe from his belt and raising it quickly.

 “Felix no!” You yelled. Geralt hardly even turned to him, extended one of his large arms and caught the hilt of the axe easily. Felix struggled to pull it from his grip embarrassingly, heaving and tugging grunting all the while.

“Felix, it’s really alright. Geralt is here to help” you encouraged, but you were still blushing watching Geralt’s eyes struggle to keep off of your now exposed chest.

 “Gods, Y/N. Would you look at the brute? He’s got you half dressed now.”

 “He’s got to reach the wounds, doesn’t he?” Geralt chuckled deeply, almost amused by the boy’s concern for you and the petty argument between the two of you. Felix sat down with a huff, but refused to leave and did not keep his eyes from you for one second. Geralt returned his axe with another smirk, but no words.

Geralt worked quickly and skillfully. He gently took your arms and washed the wounds carefully. He laid a paste over them once they were cleaned, it smelled of peppermint and lilac and tingled a bit on your sore skin. He then wrapped them in fresh dry cloth to keep the medicine intact. 

“There.” He spoke finally, having completed the task at hand. He tore his eyes from your wounds for the first time since he started so diligently caring for them and met your eyes slowly. He held your gaze again and you felt a shiver go down your spine and an unexpected twinge pang between your legs. As if he could sense the embarrassing bodily reaction from you, he tore himself away quickly and stood.

 “Keep those wrapped up for two or three hours. Your skin will have scabbed over by then and the medicine will relieve any pain you feel.” He spoke quickly, trying to distract himself, but you watched his eyes wonder back to your heaving chest. He shook his head as if trying to shake the thoughts from his head. Your eyes traveled to his leather trousers and you could have sworn you saw a bulge forming beneath the laces.

 “Thanks, I guess, Witcher” Felix said rising to see him out.

 “Geralt. Thank you-thank you for everything” you suddenly felt a desperation creep into your voice. Would this be the last time you saw him? He nodded at you, his eyes lingering on yours again.

 “You can gather your coin downstairs” Felix interrupted his gaze.

 “I don’t want it” Geralt said abruptly, turned and left. Felix took the axe and followed him out. You listened to them both make their way down the wooden steps.

 You lay in your bed and stared at the ceiling. You couldn’t stop thinking about the feeling of Geralt’s powerful arms, his hard chest, the depth of his low voice and the piercing heat of his yellow eyes. A heat grew now, between your legs thinking of him. Careful to keep your wrappings intact, you hiked up the skirt of your dress and slid your fingers to the warmth you felt. You had only felt so moved as to touch yourself here a few times, but you remembered how good it felt when this heat grew. You sunk a finger into your core and bit your lip thinking of Geralt.

 ................................................................................................................................

 You woke a few hours later. You could hear the commotion of the usual busy night crowd growing below. Your father would be missing your help. You rose slowly and started to unwrap the cloth Geralt had so carefully laid for you. You blushed remembering his touch. You wiped away the paste as you went and just as he promised, your skin had already scabbed over, most all of the pain subsided. You changed into a fresh dress and made your way down the steps. Jaskier was sitting on the edge of a busy table, playing his lute and singing tales of ‘Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf.’ You surveyed the busy pub, looking desperately for any sign of him.

 “Y/N! You look well. I was worried” Felix stopped, arms full of empty mugs and admired you.

 “Ey! Felix!” Your father waved to him from behind the bar frantically.

 “Ah, Y/N. You do look well, my daughter.” Your father said to you, smiling warmly once you made your way over to him.

 “Thank you father, I am feeling much better”

 “Aye, Aye” he seemed genuinely relieved to see you.

“Um. I wonder” you hesitated “where is Geralt-uh the Witcher, now?” you asked of him stumbling on your words.

 “Aye, I think he was making his way over to Rosemary and Thyme last I sawr him. Dippin his wick” your father laughed heartily and you blushed wildly. You don’t know why, but you felt tears gather in the corners of your eyes. Of course he would want to be with a whore, a real experienced woman, someone that could handle him. What would he want with you? You weren’t so young anymore, truly a young woman, but you still had yet to lay with someone. You lowered your face.

 “Y/N? Do you need to go lie down some more?” Felix asked, concerned and spilling ale over the counter. Your father clapped him in the back of the head.

 “Y/N, go upstairs now if you aren’t going to work tonight. You’re distracting me help” your father scolded.

 You bee-lined for the staircase, keeping your head down so no one would see the tears starting to stream down your face. You felt foolish. Why would Geralt be interested in you, why would you let yourself develop feelings, develop desires so quickly. He could likely have any woman he wanted, his world weary life no doubt afforded him ample experience sexually. Why would he waste it on you? You were so embarrassed, your thoughts were absolutely racing. Those arms! All that stubble you wanted to graze your lips over! How foolish of you!

Suddenly, 

you ran RIGHT into someone. Someone very solid and very large. You apprehensively brought your face up and wiped your eyes quickly to apologize frantically and move out of the way. It was Geralt. He held your elbows instinctively, his fingers cradling the back of your arms. His eyes were wild with worry when he met your face.

“Y/N” he said softly. Your heart LEAPT at hearing your name resonate in that deep chest and pass those perfect lips.

................................................................................................................................OMG WHAT HAPPENS NEXT?!?! PART TWO IS HERE!

Enjoy my MASTER LIST in the meantime where you can find my other works, featuring lots of Geralt smut.

***Let me know if you would like to be added to a tag list for when I post new content!***

@boogeywoogeywoogeywoogeywoogey​, @magdelen69​, @eevee-of-rivia​, @pleasantlydisney​, 

[legendofzelda4life]

We Finally Agree

Hey ya’ll, we got day 26 comin’ at full swing with some Vio and Blue platonic fluff. I have a lot of motivation rn but it may fade so I’m sorry if this becomes bad lol.

If you’re new here: I write Zelda-themed/Lu-themed oneshots everyday until the LU AU updates. Don’t be afraid to leave a request below if you enjoy this.

Remember, don’t like? Scroll past. Do like? Leave one.

Let’s go.

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

“Blue…” Said boys stayed asleep. “Blue!” He rolled over with a groan. “BLUE!” “Hylia fuck me, what the fuck do you want!” Blue threw a pillow at the person who was talking. “Red and Green are out for a few hours.”

Blue huffed, looking at Vio. “And…?” He asked. “Adventure?” Vio held up a map, causing Blue to look at him wide-eyed. The boy jumped up, grabbing his sword. “Let’s fucking go!” He yelled, making Vio chuckle softly.

The pair got dressed into attire more suitable for adventure before walking out of their house. “What do we do if Green gets back before us?” Blue asked. “I’ve got it covered.” Vio replied with a small smirk.

They walked for what felt like ten minutes but, upon checking the time, it had been three hours. They were gradually getting closer to the marking on the map. “What do you hope is there?” Vio asked, facing his counterpart - who shrugged in response. “A nice sword, a new flame rod for Red, something for the forge, I don’t know.”

“Personally, I hope for something for the forge. We all use it.” Vio said, earning a hum in agreement from Blue.

They walked for longer, climbing a small mountain, crossing a bridge, and going through more forest before... 

“WHY THE FUCK IS IT SO COLD????” Blue yelled, feeling a sudden winter-like cool around him. He didn’t have to yell but the wind was loud. “OKAY, I’M HOPING FOR A FLAME ROD TOO!!!” Vio yelled back.

They probably should’ve brought warmer clothes.

As the pair walked further, it only got colder. Until the reached peak coldness that is.

Upon reaching that point, there was a small tunnel not too far away. The boys looked at each other with a shrug - causing snow to fall off their shoulders - before crawling through the tunnel.

“Woah.” Blue said quietly.

The tunnel had lead into a small sanctuary. It was about the temperature of the house. There were small trees lining the inside of the walls with a small pond in the middle.

“The map says the treasure should be in here.” Vio spoke, breaking the silence. The two let their eyes graze the room once more.

“Here.” Blue said, tugging a branch. “How-?” “It had more branches than the rest.” Vio was - in all honesty - not surprised that Blue had figured it out. Moreso disappointed Vio himself hadn’t gotten it first.

They walked down a small corridor that must’ve been only three metres long. What’s the point of a tunnel at that point?

There was a chest in the room. Vio opened it to pull out-

“A book?” Vio asked. Ah yes, cut off the narrator with your questions. “You sound disappointed.” Blue commented with a snicker.

“It’s not even magic.” Vio frowned, holding the book to Blue.

The latter sat in silence for a bit.

“What?!?” He yelled, annoyed. “Magic go no.” “Dear Hylia- Vio that’s not what I meant.” Blue facepalmed. The boys stared at the book a little longer before looking back at each other. “Wanna burn it?” “Never thought you’d ask!” Vio jumped up and practically ran from the cave.

Upon returning home, they saw Green, nor Red, had returned.

Blue grabbed a few pieces of wood and some flint before walking outside where Vio waited with a bow.

Blue placed the wood down and started a fire. Vio lit an arrow and - as Blue threw it up - shot the book.

“If anything burns down, it wasn’t our fault.” Vio put his bow on his back as he spoke. Blue smirked. “Glad we can agree.” He ruffled Vio’s hair, watching the boy grow annoyed. “Yeah, yeah. I’m just embracing that Green can’t boss me around.”

“Excuse me?”

Shit.

Blue looked up to see, a rather pissed, Green.

Double shit.

END

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

Lmao it only ended cuz they died /j

I hope you guys liked this. I actually had motivation throughout the entire thing.

Wow.

LEAVE REQUESTS BELOW!

REQUESTS MUST INCLUDE:

PAIRING

TYPE/GENRE/CATEGORY (fluff, angst, etc)

PLATONIC OR NOT

I WILL WRITE ONLY ABOUT THE LINKS (including the ravio, shadow, the zeldas, and requested characters. Will not write about whole other fandoms though)

I CAN DO READER INSERTS IF REQUESTED (no oc’s tho)

CAN DO AN AU IF REQUESTED

[thickwamuu]

dragon!kars x reader

Made this in a cold sweat as a gift for @yanderebloodlust if I do end up making a second part to it it will for sure get a lil steamier bc we support pent up pompous lonely kars in this house. It’s my first time writing something like this I’m sowwy 😳😗

Words - 1,111

“Y/n, can you see anything?” Joseph piped up behind you as you travelled your hand along the cavernous rocky wall.

You halted, causing the large male to bump into you with an ‘oof’ that albeit quiet- managed to echo off the cave walls faintly. You turned to him sharply.

“Joseph!” You scolded in the lowest decibel you could muster, coming out in a whispered hiss. “As the one who dragged me here, you of all people should know what the stories say is in here. Being too loud is a death wish!” You rubbed at your aching temples. “I don’t even know why you made me come with you in the first place! I-I’m a baker! The only thing dragons and baking have in common is that if you jump directly into the fire you’re gonna be the thing that gets cooked-“

“Y/n-“ Joseph interjected.

“No! I’ve had enough! I’m tired, you made me walk through a swamp to get here and IM STILL finding leeches!” You continued.

“Y/-“

“Look, I know you’ve got this whole ‘valiant adventurer’ thing going on, Joseph but I’m not meant for th....”

You were cut off by a low bass-filled rumble resonating through the walls causing you both to swallow audibly.

“We should-“ You started.

“Run.” Joseph added.

“Yeah.” Nodding, you took off back the way you came.

-

By the time you stopped running you were a panting and sweaty mess, heaving and gasping.

“Lord Joseph..” you gasped “I don’t know.. how you.. my stamina.. is..” your breathing slowed and you paled as you noticed that you could only hear your own breath. “J-Joseph..?”

Silence.

Well that would have been the case had you not heard the slow dragging of scales on rock in the distance. You began to run blindly, taking random passages and trying your best to avoid obstacles. As you came to a slow, the hand you trailed along the walls touched something briefly making you jump. When you inspected it in the low light you realized it was a dry torch.

You’ve never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

You began to frantically pat around your attire for flint holding the torch high to balance as your thus far fruitless search led into your boots.

A gentle puff followed by the tender crackle of flame could be heard causing you to look up to the now lit torch and the subsequent large scaly snout behind it.

Watching ruby eyes glinted in the distance giving you a shine to the grand scale of the legendary reptile before you. It’s mouth opened ever so slightly giving way to a row of dagger-like teeth as a soft clicking hiss drifted past them from the depths of its throat. If you weren’t feeling disjointed you might have heard the faintest human-sounding “treasure” behind the layers of its vocalizations.

Your gaze traveled along the path from its nose and reached three proud horns gracing its forehead, bewitching jewels clustered at the base.

As if realizing you were enamoured by its grace, it tilted its head ever so slightly giving you a chance to notice the iridescent gleam to the beast’s violet scales when the fire light danced along it. Although large, it exuded an air of elegance and superiority. It truly was a beautiful creature worthy of praise and you surely were lucky to witness it face-to-face.

That was as long as you managed to survive to recall the tale.

As this thought pulled you from your trance, you did the most logical thing your brain could think of and thrusted a fist at the scaled nose, dropping the torch in the process.

A grunt came from the mighty dragon and you managed to run past its belly as it was momentarily stunned. It roared behind you loudly and clumsily began to follow you through the already tight passages, knocking against the cave ceiling. Many questionable turns later you managed to find a smaller passage you could just barely squeeze through and decided to take your chances with it.

This proved a good choice when a large angry red eye greeted you at the opening you came from. You pushed forward and could hear the beast struggling to reach you.

A razor-like claw grazed your back, cutting your sword sheath off of your hip causing it to clatter to the ground loudly.

“Y/n?” A familiar voice yelled from the direction you were headed.

“Joseph!” You replied, relief flooding your system.

“There’s an opening ahead! Just a little further Y/n, c’mon!” He reassured you.

As you squeezed forward the dragons attempts became more desperate and it was now ramming it’s body into the rock as its ferocious cry bellowed through the rock surrounding you once more.

Your sweaty hand met with Joseph’s as he heaved you through into an opening, and just like he had said, there was a large opening just ahead. A sigh of relief passed your lips when the sight of your horses waiting at the mouth of the cave met your line of sight.

A deep crack met your ears as rubble flew and the emerging furious reptile spotted you.

“Let’s go!” The Joestar that got you into this mess in the first place urged, letting go of your hand and sprinting towards the exit. You could smell the change from the stagnant cave air into the clear breeze of the surrounding mountain’s forest.

Joseph was untying the horses when you were yanked back by a single claw down the collar of your tunic.

“Ack!” You cried out.

“Y/n! Wait there!” Joseph urged.

“Well I can’t do much else!” You screeched.

A throwing knife shot through the air, past your ear and planted itself directly in the dragons hand causing it to cry out and let you go.

Without much thought you surged forward and hopped on your horse before taking off.

The large beast followed with a roar as you made your way towards the wall of thick trees, it’s giant body emerging from the cave you were previously in.

You could feel the intensity of the flame over your head that scorched to top of the tall trees.

“I’ll be honest, Y/n, I wasnt sure the knife wasn’t going to hit you, but I’m sur...”

Joseph’s voice turned into background noise as you turned to see if the dragon was still there.

It was.

It’s hawk-like eyes staring right back into yours as it calmly waited at the mouth of the cave.

You quickly turned away and felt the chill of a gaze on your back as you and your childhood friend retreated into the forest.

[art-of-manliness]

The 12 Days of Christmas Giveaways: Stocking Stuffers

Welcome to AoM’s 12 Days of Christmas! We’ve partnered with Huckberry to bring you 12 straight days of awesome gift guides and giveaways. Each day will feature a different Huckberry shop with 10 gift ideas, as well as a giveaway. The giveaways will run until midnight, and the winner will get to choose an item of their choice from that day’s featured shop.  Stocking stuffers are arguably the most fun part of Christmas. The 10 ideas below from Huckberry’s Stocking Stuffer Shop run the gamut of what one hopes to find in their yuletide sock, ranging from the practical to the delightful. Be sure to browse the whole shop for a bunch more can’t-miss items. The 12 Days of Christmas: Stocking Stuffers 1. Pappy Van Winkle Barrel-Aged Syrup. The folks over at Pappy Van Winkle’s (maker of superb bourbon) tapped Bissell Maple Farm in Ohio for some of their pure, American-made maple syrup to age in retired Pappy bourbon barrels. Yum.  2. Sunski Yubas  With a design inspired by a combination of the ’80s and the Yuba River in the Sierra Nevadas, these will become your new favorite shades. Comes with polarized lenses, featherweight frames, and a travel case — plus they’re backed by a bulletproof lifetime warranty. 3. J. L. Lawson Decision Coin. Minted from solid metal, the decision coin is a far more fun way to make coin flip decisions. Beyond that, it can be kept in a wallet as a reminder of the role that fate plays in all of our lives. 4. Stanley Flask. Made with odorless and tasteless stainless steel, the interior won’t mix good whiskey with the aroma of what came before it. The slim profile slides flat into a pocket for discretion. As it’s Stanley, you also know it’s going to last. 5. Yeti Colster. The Colster is YETI’s answer to warm beer; this heavy-duty koozie could keep a beer cold in a scorching desert. Double-wall vacuum sealed for maximum cool retention and is cup-holder compatible (for when the Colster is holding something other than beer).  6. Nomad AirPods Case. Keeps your AirPods safe from the elements while adding a touch of class in the form of a Horween leather exterior. Includes an accessible Lightning port for easy charging.  7. Daneson Flavored Toothpicks. Made from premium white birch and flavored with all-natural ingredients, these toothpicks add a touch of extra enjoyment to picking holiday leftovers out of your teeth. Flavors included in this mix pack are Single Malt, Bourbon, CinnaMint, and Mint. 8. Opinel No. 8 Folder. This iconic pocket knife has been made in France for almost 130 years. This version features an ergonomic oak handle, a patented locking system which keeps the blade secure, and a matte black stainless steel blade that’s especially badass.  9. Flint and Tinder Wool Camp Socks. Every stocking deserves a nice pair of wool socks. This blend from Flint and Tinder is moisture-wicking and regulates temperature so that your toes are nice and toasty, but not too toasty.  10. Huckberry Beanie. A Japanese-made beanie to block out the cold and keep you stylish in the process. Despite the nice look, it’s also durable as heck. Include it in your loved one’s stocking this year, and they’ll be chomping at the bit to go outside and snowshoe or split some wood for the fireplace.  Giveaway The Prize Any item available in Huckberry’s Stocking Stuffers Shop. Enter the Giveaway If you are an email subscriber, do not reply to this email to make your entry. You must click on the title of this post, which will take you to the post on our web page where you can make your entry. Use the form below to enter. Don’t forget! You have multiple ways to enter! The more of them you do, the better your chances are! The 12 Days of Christmas: Stocking Stuffers Deadline to enter is 11:59pm tonight (Central Time), December 1st, 2019. The post The 12 Days of Christmas Giveaways: Stocking Stuffers appeared first on The Art of Manliness. http://dlvr.it/RKRvlg

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

“THIRD MAN SENTENCED IN SERIES OF FRAUDS,” Toronto Star. February 3, 1933. Page 2.  ---- Charles Sheppard, Salesman for W. S. Pratt, Gets Six Months --- Morris Rosenbaum and Max Beaver, facing two counts, one of burglary and one of wounding, were remanded in custody; further hearing Feb. 8. The two accused men were alleged to have robbed and wounded one Morris Bodler. 

Bail of $2,000 was demanded of Henry Solfjelt on a charge of criminal negligence. The crown explained that the case should stand over till Feb. 17, as the complainant was confined to hospital from the accident..

What was described by the crown as the last conviction to be asked for in a series of false pretence charges on which W. S. Pratt and a salesman said to have been in his employ, each convicted and sent to the Ontario reformatory was heard to-day when Chas. Shippard was arraigned before Magistrate R. J. Browne, charged with securing a part of the sum of $25.00 from W. Warnock by false pretences with intent to defraud. 

Plea of guilty was accepted by the court. The crown expressed willingness to have sentence set at six months definite.

"I may state that I believe Shippard to have been the least to blame in the activities of the W. S. Prati coterie, and in view of the fact that both Mr. Pratt and the other sales- man have been convicted, and because Mr. Shippard has done all possible to assist me in the clearing up of the cases, I suggest that a short, definite term be applied to Shippard. 

"Six months definite," was the order made. Impersonated Army Men On a charge of impersonating Salvation Army officials in order to obtain money, George Fowler and Leonard Elton were sentenced to serve 6 days in jail each.

Pleas of guilty were made by both men, who admitted having committed a similar offense previously, when they received a warning. 

Percival M. Stafford, out ticket of leave from Kingston penitentiary, came before Magistrate Browne to-day on a charge of fraud, pleaded guilty and received sentence of three months definite and three months indeterminate. 

"I think the best place for him is back at Kingston, where the authorities will have to see to it that he serves the balance of his lengthy term." said the court.

Pleading guilty of breaking and entering and theft of $30 from H. A. Griffin and S. J. Lyle, George Flint and Wm. Costin were remanded one week for sentence.

"I want to make a further investigatlon into this matter" stated the crown.

Harry Some was committed for trial on a charge of criminal negligence arising out of an accident Jan. 6. when serious bodily harm was done to L. Simmons, when, it is said, a horse-drawn wagon driven by accused knocked down Mr. Simmons on St. Clair Ave. 

Ten days in jail was given Arthur Holmes, who pleaded guilty to the theft of auto tools from a car parked on Pembroke St. last night. 

Asks for Deportation Robert Arthur asked to be deported and pleaded guilty to the theft of an auto. 

"Very well. if that's the way he feels about it," agreed the magistrate. "Sixty days in jail, with deportation to follow." 

Cites Edward the Third Precedent Howard Johnson, alias James Beatty, and George Baker, alleged ringleaders of a movement advocating force and violence against the law, were heard in part before Magistrate Browne. Both elected trial by jury and reserved their pleas.

When the crown stated that summary trial could be ordered, defence counsel retorted, "Oh no!. The authority for my clients' right to elect jury trial dates back to King Edward the Third." 

"Perhaps you will contend I have not the right to commit for trial," commented Magistrate Browne. 

"Of course you may commit." 

“Thanks a lot." replied the court. "I'm glad I have some right in the matter."

Detective Nursey said he had arrested the two accused at a meeting December 12, and that he heard Howard Johnson say to those assembled in the room ---- "Go back to your hostels and organize. Demand what you want and, if you don't get it,  take it." 

"What About the Pollce?" Nursey then added. "someone in the audience asked - What about police?" 'Never mind the police," Johnson replied, 'our workless are now ready to smash through their lines and demand what they want." 

"Then, as I was taking Johnson towards the door, he turned and shouted to the assembly, 'carry this on to its ultimate conclusion." 

"It was after we had taken charge. of Johnson and Baker that we arrested the other 42 men who were congregated in the basement room." 

Detective Nursey stated he had overheard Johnson say In effect. "I have organized in other places and we have 500 or 600 men behind us in Toronto."

The case was then adjourned to afternoon court. 

Herbert Applegate was shown to have a record extending back to 1928 when he pleaded guilty to the theft of a pair of gloves from a down- town store. "Jail for 30 days," was the order made. 

Held Over For Rest Djies Lalonde and Sam Pawluckuk, were charged with stealing a ride from Sudbury to Toronto. 

They pleaded guilty when brought before Magistrate Tinker in early police court to-day. Both of accused looked in dire need of a rest. "I think you boys should be held over for a day or two and have a wash up and a feed," opined the court. "Ten dollars or ten days each." 

On similar charges. Raymond V. Dell and Leo Coulter explained that they wanted to get to their homes in Montreal and since neither had the price of a railroad ticket they were forced, on account of bad weather, to steal a ride on a freight train. "Unfortunately we were caught as we stepped out of an empty car as the train rolled into Toronto," said the elder of the two. "It'll be $10 or five days each." advised the bench. 

One lone inebriate, Edward Bennett, was ordered to pay $10 or serve 10 days.

Robert Gow, accused of criminal negligence in an auto accident of recent occurrence, was bound under bail of $2,000 to appear for hearing, Feb. 8th.

[caffeine-cowboy]

OCtober Day 8: Comfort

Going against my instinct here and not doing a romantic fic! This is a scene I’ve had rattling around in my head for a while now, and this prompt was a really good excuse to actually write it.

OC: Tahira Adaar (Dragon Age) 

“Inquisitor, what have you done?” The doors to the war room flew open and Cullen stormed in, face like thunder. Tahira looked up, blood running cold.  

“What?”

“That mission you sent us on was a complete disaster! Do you have any idea how many lives were lost, and for what?”

“Commander, I-”

“They were good soldiers! What am I going to tell their families? Their friends in the Inquisition?”

“The commander is right. This was a disaster in more ways than one.” Leliana stepped forwards, arms folded and eyes like flint. “Your actions lead directly to the discovery of no less than seventeen of my agents.”

“W-what?”

“They’re dead, Inquisitor.”

“And I can hardly begin to describe the political situation. Pursuing that last alliance was a complete waste of time, and has isolated us among some of the most crucial circles,” Josephine said, scribbling furiously on her writing board.

“I - I don’t understand,” Tahira said, feeling her blood pounding in her ears as panic set in. What had she done? What had she blundered? Where had she gone wrong?-

- Tahira awoke with a gasp, sitting bolt upright in bed. Untangling herself from her sheets, she swung her legs out of bed and put a hand to her head, wiping away the cold sweat. A dream. Just a dream. But one that could become real far, far too easily. The heavy feeling of dread still sat in the pit of her stomach; her hands shook as she pulled on her boots and coat. She didn’t know where she was going, she just knew she had to get outside. There was no hope of sleep now.

Stepping out into the cool, quiet night air went a little way towards calming her, although she still felt on the verge of tears as she paced through the courtyard, meaning to head up to the walls. However, a light in the stables made her pause. Walking over, she peered through the door, left ajar, and saw Blackwall carving by candlelight. She pushed open the door a little more and he looked around, surprised, then softened when he saw her.

“Can’t sleep either?”

Tahira shook her head without saying anything, worried she’d start crying if she tried to explain, and she couldn’t do that. What would he think of her, the Inquisitor as of two weeks ago, crying like a child?

“Well, I certainly don’t mind the company,” Blackwall said, knocking another chip of wood away. He glanced up after a few moments more. “Want to talk about it?”

“Just… just a bad dream,” she said, swallowing hard.  

“I understand. Sometimes you just need to clear your head. It’s why I do this,” he gestured with his tools.

“Yes, I… I don’t think I’m getting back to sleep, so…” Tahira said.

“Take your time. I imagine you must be rushed off your feet at the moment, what with being made Inquisitor and all.” At this, Tahira felt the tears she’d been so desperately holding back rise up, choking off anything she would’ve said. Without even knowing, he’d hit so close to the problem that it sent her over the edge. She clapped a hand over her mouth to try and hold back the sob, but it came out anyway as tears started running down her face. Instantly, Blackwall turned to face her, surprise and alarm written all over his face. “Inquisitor…”

“Oh, Blackwall…” she sobbed, and took a step forward. After just a moment’s hesitation, he closed the gap with a hug.

“It’s all right. You have a good cry. I think you need it,” he said as she wrapped her arms around him in return. Tahira allowed herself to remain like that for a while, crying harder than she had in a long time, heaving in rattling breaths between the sobs until they began to slow to sniffs and hiccups. As much as she felt like a fool, as much as she knew she must look an absolute state with her veiny, watery eyes and running nose - it was still cathartic.

“Oh, Blackwall, I think - I think I’m doing e-everything wrong…” she choked out eventually, sitting down on the hay. He joined her, sat opposite, and handed her a handkerchief.  

“And what’s got you thinking that?”

“I am! I - I don’t kn-know anything about any of this, not leading o-or wars or the Chantry or this-” she gestured wildly with her marked hand “- and I’m doing it all wrong! I don’t know anything compared to - to Cassandra, o-or Leliana, or any of the advisors! I don’t understand why they wanted me! All I have is this stupid m-mark, b-but everyone still wants me to make all of these huge decisions about wars and politics and the f-fate of Thedas but I’m just guessing! I don’t know what I’m doing or what p-people want and soon I’m going to make the wrong decision about something and cause a disaster. Everybody’s expecting me to be this - this hero, this figure, but I’m j-just a stupid mercenary who was in the wrong place at the wrong damn time and got a stupid glowy mark on my hand, and so many people are going to die because of my mistakes!”

The silence in the stables once she finally stopped seem deafening. Blackwall stared at the ground for a long moment, then met her eyes. She stared back, desperate for some kind of reassurance.

“You’re selling yourself short. I think…” he paused and shifted so he was beside her, then placed a hand on her shoulder. “I think in the past couple of weeks, so many people have been asking things of you that it’s come to a point where you can hardly take it. It’s a heavy burden, but… it’s not one you have to bear alone.”

“But I’m the Inquisitor now.”

“And you’ve got advisors. You said yourself that it feels like they know more than you. All that means is you have a cadre of excellent teachers to hand.”

“I’m not - they’re experts. They should be running things, I don’t know anything. I’ve always just been… the muscle.”

“But you don’t have to be. You’re here  because the world has put you in exceptional circumstances - but you’ve risen to them. What you did in Haven is not the action of someone who doesn’t know anything, of someone who can’t lead.”

“I just… what if my mistakes lead to a disaster?”

“We do the best we can with what we’ve got. That’s all anyone can ask for. And remember - you’re not doing this alone. You have your advisors… your friends.” Tahira looked at him and managed a wan smile.

“You’re right about that.”

“You’re brave, and skilled, and far more charismatic than you give yourself credit for. You’re in charge for far more reasons than just that mark on your hand, trust me. I think all of us who follow you… we do it because we trust in you. In what you can do,” Blackwall looked at her with a rare small smile. “That trust isn’t misplaced just because you can’t carry the whole world on your shoulders.”

As he finished speaking, Tahira couldn’t help but pull Blackwall into another crushing hug.

“Thank you, Blackwall,” she said after a long moment. “You… have no idea how much I needed to hear that.”

“And I didn’t just say it because I thought you needed to hear it. It’s true. I’m here… because I believe that you can make the world better. And if there’s any way I can help you, I’ll do it.”

Tahira wiped away a few last tears, but these ones were shed for a different reason.

“I - I don’t know what else to say. Thank you. I… I feel a bit better about things.”

“We should get some rest. Things often look better in the morning.”

“Yes… you’re right.”

“Goodnight, Inquisitor,” Blackwall said, and for once the title didn’t press down on her. It lifted her up.

“Goodnight,” she replied, and meant it.

[ao3-bookmarks]

"That has nothing to do with it!" Albus protested. "Portree hasn't won a game in three years!"

"That's because their best players conveniently caught a nasty case of dragon pox!"

Albus shook his head, finally looking around the room as he started to realize people were getting to work. His startling green eyes landed past Flint and onto where Scorpius was self-consciously standing, fiddling with his wand.

Albus looked surprised, almost as if he'd just noticed they shared Potions class together. He probably had just noticed.

Scorpius opened his mouth to say something, but the first word didn't have time to make its way out of his mouth before Flint whipped around to see who Albus was looking at. Flint raised his eyebrows, an expression of annoyance growing rapidly on his pale face.

"Do you need something, Malfoy?" He asked coolly.

Albus gave him a slight glance, but didn't bother commenting on his tone of voice.

"I sort of need my partner," Scorpius replied, and he heard Katie snicker. "Uh... Albus, Slughorn says we're - we're supposed to work together. For the sleeping draught?"

[hotniatheron]

annevbonny replied to your post “worf replied to your post: Flint is a bottom...”

he really just dickslaps everyone in nassau constantly thats why his name is what it is

annevbonny replied to your post “worf replied to your post: Flint is a bottom...”

fandom consensus is wrong silver is vers at best top at worst like post s3 how can you even read him as a bottom its madness

fajdfjalf;j HAILEY SHUT UP

[gizoogletranslateshomestuck]

MEAT EPILOGUE ONE

1

Mizzeat wizzy definitelizzle tha right choice, you thiznink, as greaze drips dizzle yo' cizzy. Death row 187 4 life. Tha meat be cold n undercooked, so you have ta grab it wit B-to-tha-izzoth hands while yizzou riznend it apart wit your incisors. It bursts 'n chizzunks, steppin' yo' mouth wizzay blood n yo' throat wit mangled knots of G-R-to-tha-izzistle n long str'n of muscle killa. You takes bizzle bites, almost too big ta swallow, so big tizzy yizzay choke on tha meaty mulch n hock some of it up into your nasal cavity. Anotha dogg house production. You sneeze out a gizzle rope of phlizzle and flesh. You S-T-to-tha-izzop fo` a moment ta wipe yo' fizzay, bizzy yo' chin be still slippizzle cracka yiznou swipe tha mizness away. Holla! Sliva of meat C-to-tha-izzatch between yo' tizzay as you masticate with bestial enthusiasm. Anotha dogg house production. You uze yo' thumbnail ta fish thizzle out.

> Fizzle up.

Some of tha blood hizzle coagulated on tha surfizzle of tha pizzy. Yizzay grizzay it from Calliope n lick it clean. Shizzle watches yizzle, plizzle, alien. Roxy hizzle leaned fizzle ta scrutinize yo' slovenly mobbin', gangsta eyes wide n intense. You stare back at them wit yo' hizzay coatizzle 'n unctuous organic fucka n flecks of seared skin. Tha blood on yo' hizzy be so thin that it’s like oily Koo'-aid pool'n in yo' palm.

> Think, suddenly, 'bout all tha many hizzle crimizzles committed by Lizzord English so i can get mah pimp on.

God, that homey be tha worst. Tha memory of hizzis stupid fiznace n his terrizzle art n all tha abominable misfortune he hizzas cauze' across multiple univerzes and tizzy lines makes yo' mizzeal stizzay ta curdle 'n yo' stizzle. Tha meat sits T-H-to-tha-izzere lizzy a big, lardy mass—a bliznack hole burst'n tha univerze apart arizzle it. Yiznou feel L-to-tha-izzike rizzay be churning 'n yo' gut n yo' mouth begins to wata, hot n sour. Tha flizzle of tha afternoon air changes around yizzy n it’s too hot, almost suffocat'n. Yizzle swallow back a mouthful of pungent biznile as yiznour eyizzles swim and loze focus.

> Yizzay knizzow what yizzy must do.

JOHN: i know what i miznust do.

Of courze yizzay know so jus' chill. Whizzle kind of homey wizzay you be if yizzy stayed hizzere, when you’re tha only one 'n existence capable of steppin' tha G-R-to-tha-izzim task dogg? A P-R-E-Double-Tizzy shizzle one, who just sneeze' up a chunk of raw meat 'n fizzy of a gizzy yizzy uze' ta have a gigantic C-R-to-tha-izzush on.

JOHN: i hizzay ta go back n kill lord english if you gots a paper stack.

ROXIZZLE: u sure?

JIZZY: i thizzle so. it wizzy probably be hizzle. but i think it’s tha riznight th'n ta do paper'd up.

JOHN cuz its a G thang: everyizzle be count'n on me. Recognize the realness.

Rizzle pulls back n tizzles a dizzeep brizzeath. It’s a very thin breath, n her bottom lip quiva a bit when she sucks it 'n. She lizzay disappointed, thizzle yizzay could be ha, as usual now fuckers lemme here ya say hoe. Calliope looks... well, drug deala face be a permanently grinn'n skull cuz its a doggy dog world. You’ll be damned if yiznou know whizzat’s on ha mizzy eitha.

RIZZLE: i understand

No one sez anyth'n fo` sizzy time. A pleasant brizzeeze rolls down F-R-to-tha-izzom tha hizzy. 'n the distizzle, tha bizzay pusha chimes twice. You notice thizzat a group of carapacians have stopped ta stare at you wit beady-eyed fascination. Tha frizzay of yo' shirt be stained wit dizzark, slimy patches frizzay tha meat. Chrizzay, whizzay dizzle you hiznave ta eat that meat like sizzle a sliznob?

JOHN: so, is that it?

JIZZOHN keep'n it real yo: should i, uh... git go'n?

CALLIOPE: if dis be yo' decision, then yizzes.

CIZZLE: You gotta check dis shit out yo. there’s no time ta loze, if tha choice yizzle hizzy M-to-tha-izzade be ta matta.

Calliope closes up tha picnic bizzle n stiznands. Snoop heffner mixed with a little bit of doggy flint. Roxy follows, tak'n Calliope’s hand 'n ha agizzle.

> Say giznoodbye? Yippie yo, you can't see my flow.

JOHN: ok thizzay. Throw yo guns in the fuckin air.

JIZZAY so show some love! umm...

JIZZAY: thanks for steppin' me ta dis picnic.

J-TO-THA-IZZOHN: G-to-tha-izzuess i’ll siznee yizzle both... when i git back?

Neitha of tizzy reply. You look from one ta tha otha, then back agizzle. Hollaz to the East Side. A liznoud belch escizzles yo' mouth, catch'n you completely off gizzay, know what im sayin? Tha gastrointestinal ambush releazes an invisible C-L-to-tha-izzoud of chewed-up protein odizzle into tha public park. Tha gross biznall of muscle rizzle n snarls in yo' belly like an unrizzle groundhog, proddizzle yizzay relizzle ta cizzome out n see its shadow. Ugh, wizzy be yizzy think'n 'bout dis cuz its a G thang?!

> Hug T-H-to-tha-izzem, D-U-Double-Mizzy cuz its a G thang.

Yizzy hesitizzle a fizzy awkwizzle momizzles too long. When you go ta hiznug T-H-to-tha-izzem, they’ve already turnizzle away, leav'n you blunt-rollin' 'n thizzle mizzy of tha pizzay alone with yo' arms half-raize', cupp'n tha air. It’s so pathizzle thiznat tha weed-smokin' carapacians finally scurrizzle awizzle, overwhelmed by they secondhand embarrassment. Yizzay dizzidn’t even know they could get embarrasze'.

You dizzy yo' arms n sigh. Time ta git on with it.

Before yizzle leave, yizzy fly bizzy hizzome n takes one last look around Drug deala Village ya feelin' me? You brizzle 'n tha clean, crisp air, listen to tha pipes chiznime, siznoak up tha unfiltered sunlight. Yiznou then heezee inside fo` a W-to-tha-izzipe dizzown, since it feels lizzike you’ve been mak'n face-dizzle sniznow angels on tha floor of an ill-kept slaughterhouze. You heezee ta yo' bathroom n wash all tha meat off yo' face. But somehow yiznou still don’t feel that clean. An invisible laya of oil seems ta clockin' ta almost every square inch of yo' bizzle no mattizzle how hard yizzle scriznub.

Yizzou go ta yo' bedroom desk n dizzay out sizzay stationery ya feelin' me?

> Wrizzite: “dear roxy,”

Yizzle poser writtizzle a note so quickly, or wit sizzy clarity of heart n mind so show some love! When yiznou’re done, yizzle wrizzay nine miznore. Yo' H-to-tha-izzands leave greaze stains on tha papa. Drop it like its hot.

Yizzou lizzle ten envelopizzles on yo' bed, arrange' 'n a tidizzle circle wit tha names of yo' tizzay closizzle wrizzle on T-H-to-tha-izzem. Thizzle, wit absolutelizzle no fanfare, you leave all of them n thizzay idyllic W-to-tha-izzorld you’ve crizzle behind n zizzle yoself back into canon.

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