#the other through line is of course flint:

[keepitdreamin]

Black Sails tarot part 5 (1, 2, 3, 4)

the star, moon, and sun as max, anne, and jack came to me in a holy vision and i'm still so pleased that i found images of them all sitting and oriented the same way. trio of all time

and that's it! i only did the major arcana bcs any more would've killed me lol. i think i finished the final versions in november, so it's been almost a full year and, despite the flaws i still see, i still really love this project!

[illyrianbitch]

An Education in Malice — Part Seven

Pairing: Vanserra!Reader x Azriel

Summary: With the sharp tongue of your notorious family, you are Azriel's most tantalizing challenge yet. It only takes one small meeting before you both realize that the line between hate and desire is dangerously thin.

Warnings: brief mentions of abuse, beron being a pos, deep self-reflection for both az & reader, a conversation, a confession, and a turning point

Word Count: 5.6k

a/n: this is not properly proofread yet, i couldnt bring myself to read it fully since i was getting self-critical and wouldve never posted

Part Six | Series Masterlist

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The early morning mist still clung to the open fields as you crossed them. Eris stood alone in the expanse, throwing a ball for his hounds. The movement was fluid and practiced, and you found your mind wandering to memories of decades prior —- memories where Eris stood in the same spot, throwing the same ball at younger pup versions of the dogs. Laney trotted beside you as you approached, her pace quickening as she saw the others.

A brisk chill made you pull your coat tighter, but the fabric did little to ward off the cold. It was always peaceful out here, away from the burdens and bustle of the court itself, and Autumn mornings had a cool air that made you feel real, made your skin feel alive.

Eris’s eyes were already on you as you approached him, eyebrows raising momentarily as you took a stand next to him. You mirrored the action back to him, crossing your arms and pulling them tight against your body. 

“What’s that look for?”

He gave a casual shrug. "Surprised you've spared some time for me in your incredibly busy schedule.”

You scowled. “You’re so dramatic.”

He chuckled, a low sound that seemed to vibrate through the crisp air, and his lips twitched upwards in amusement at your annoyance.  “You’ve been gone a lot.”

Your gaze bounced around his face. He seemed tired— more so than usual, and the freckles on his nose seemed to be less prominent with the lack of color in his skin. You casted an absentminded glance towards the overcast sky before meeting your brother's eyes again. 

“Have I?”

Eris hummed. “You have.”

He pulled at the cuffs of his sleeves.

“I’m surprised you noticed,” you said, “You’ve been really busy too.”

Your answer pulled another raise of his brows. 

“Of course I noticed,” he said, a teasing glint in his eyes that matched the amusement in his tone. “It was so quiet here without you terrorizing everyone.”

You rolled your eyes and Eris grinned at his own words, a look of satisfaction rolling through his features as you scowled deeper. 

“You’re not funny,” you said. 

He let out a wistful sigh. “On the contrary, little sister,” he mused, “I’m hilarious.”

You threw him a withering glare and his grin widened. He nudged his shoulder against yours. A few hounds scampered back to him, Flint proudly carrying a small red ball in his slobbering jaws. Laney bounded alongside, followed closely by four hounds.

Eris moved gracefully, bringing his body down into a squat to offer a flat palm to Flint. The ball landed in his hand with a small thud.

"The male you’re sleeping with, do you care for him?"

Eris’s voice was so calm, so casual, that you almost didn’t catch what he’d asked you. He didn’t bother to look at you. 

You took a sharp intake of breath, looking down at him with widened eyes. “What?”

Eris stood up straight as he tossed the ball back into the distance effortlessly. You watched the hounds race after it, Laney's determined strides putting her ahead of the pack as they joined the others in the field. When you looked back at Eris, he was studying you— waiting for your response.

“Well?”

Your heartbeat quickened and you frowned, pulling your arms tighter against your chest. "What are you talking about?"

He raised an eyebrow, casually pulling a small handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his hands. "Did you think I wouldn't find out?"

You stared at him, feeling a knot of tension tighten in your chest. Your nails dug into your skin through the fabric of your coat. Eris continued, his voice steady. "You've done a great job at covering the scent. But you can't fool me. Don't forget who taught you those tricks."

His eyes were simmering as they met yours again, the amber in them flickering with something guarded— something concerned. You took a steadying breath as you weighed your options. The easiest one was to deny that there was any male at all, to attempt to outplay your brother at the one game he knew best. But it would be foolish to believe that could truly work. Your mind raced again.

The best lies are the ones with truth, Eris always said, you can get away with anything if you approach it right, if you take control of the conversation. 

You let out a breath. “I was hoping you wouldn’t find out.”

Truth.

He maintained his heavy gaze. "Is it one of my soldiers?"

You grimaced at his words, letting your face fall into one of slight disgust. "You'd really want to know if I was sleeping with one of your men?"

Take control of the conversation.

The words seem to hit their target as Eris’s lips formed a deep frown. His nose scrunched as he processed the words. He gave you a dismissive hand wave. “Nevermind.”

You gave him a tight-lipped smile. “That’s what I thought.”

A moment of silence passed but Eris’s gaze didn’t leave your face. You forced yourself to look into the distance, to watch the hounds as they chased each other in the grass. 

"You didn't answer me.”

You took a breath. "About what?" 

"Do you care for him?"

The words ran through you in a wave, one entirely too heavy for your liking. 

Months ago, the answer would have been obvious— so obvious that the question itself would’ve seemed like a sick joke. Months ago, it would've been instant. No. You did not care for Azriel. He could've died and you would've celebrated; would’ve laughed at the idea of karma finally finding its way to the family you disliked so heavily. 

But something in you had changed recently, changed in a way that made you hesitate at your answer. 

You and Azriel hadn't slept together in weeks. And even those times had been a physical release, something meaningless yet sickly sweet. Yet, the moments since had become even more intimate—the times you caught yourself joking with him, caught your own lingering gaze on his form. 

You’d gone back for him— and you’d repeated that moment in your head multiple times since, thinking back to that tug you felt in your chest, the strange guilt you felt the minute you’d winnowed away. You’d gone back and fought alongside him, had managed to heal him in a way you'd never been able to do for Eris,  never been able to do even for yourself.

You looked at your brother and let out a sharp breath of air. 

"No. I don’t." 

The words felt forced, strained, and you worried that Eris would see through it entirely— would force you to admit a truth you weren’t sure existed. But he only narrowed his eyes, tilted his head, and then nodded. 

“Good,” he said, “That would only make matters worse.”

There was something in his tone that made you run cold and you turned your body to face him, watching as his eyes shifted impatiently, the action almost nervous. 

“Eris,” you said cautiously, “What is it?”

A flicker of something ran through his face, something that looked awfully like guilt, like sadness. 

“Y/n” he began, but you lifted a hand up, shaking your head at his attempts to soften the conversation, to gently lead into whatever topic had him so bothered.

”Don’t,” you said firmly. “Don’t do that. Don’t use that voice. I’m not a child to be soothed. Tell me.”

Eris sighed. “He’s entertaining the idea of marrying you off to garner more support.” 

A name wasn’t needed as your stomach dropped and your hands fell slack at your sides. “No,” you said, shaking your head. “That’s not true.”

Eris’s shoulders slumped. “It’s why I’ve been so busy. I looked into it. It’s true.”

A strange buzzing sensation began to fill your ears. You shook your head as if to clear it, as if the words Eris would say next could change the ones he had already said.

“No,” you repeated firmer. “Brides are taken at their prime, when they become of age. I’ve been of age for centuries. I- No.”

Eris stepped closer. “He’s seeing it as a way to strengthen inner-court allies, to consolidate power in a more immediate way. Access to our bloodline is an incredible link to influence, any of his men will take the chance.”

Your chest constricted as the words sank in and you felt your hands begin to tremble, felt an unsteady flicker at your fingertips. You met Eris’s gaze, eyes wide, breathing heavy. 

“He’s punishing me.”

Eris swallowed hard and his eyes filled with a deep, unspoken sorrow. He nodded, unable to find the right words. 

”Just give me some time,” Eris finally said, pulling you in by your shoulder. He lowered his head to meet your gaze, his voice falling to a softer, lower tone. “I’ll figure something out, okay? I-I just need some time.”

It seemed as if he was trying to convince himself of his own words too. So you only nodded, looking into the distance once more, eyes tracing the circles the hounds ran around each other.

Even in the open air, in this freedom, they were still pets— still animals that were owned, bred throughout history for a singular purpose. 

You’d never realized how much you had in common until now. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

He stepped out of the bath, feeling as the water trailed down his form and the tension in his muscles eased. The steam swirled around him, briefly shrouding him in a comforting fog, and his shadows followed his movements slowly— leisurely. 

Azriel’s wing was healed now and he thought of you whenever he moved it. He remembered how he had slipped into unconsciousness at your touch, how your focused, almost tender face was the last thing he saw before succumbing to the darkness. He thought of you in the moonlight, thought of how your voice softened as you talked about Lucien. Most of all, he thought about the words he’s said himself, words intended to be an apology—- a compliment, even. And how you’d recoiled at them as if he had injured you gravely.

He dressed slowly, his mind being lured in every direction but ultimately falling back to you. Azriel glanced down at his hands, at the scars that marred his skin. Amongst his burns were scars from battles, from missions, and if he squinted hard enough, he could envision the blood that stained them still, even after the liquid had been washed off. 

Every act he committed was etched into his skin, acts done out of loyalty, out of a need to protect those he loved; a need to be important, to be anything but weak. 

Azriel had felt at sea recently, lost even in his own court. He felt like a failure as he watched Rhysand’s worry about Koschei grow throughout the days. He was a spymaster— a warrior. Yet nothing he did seemed to help. His family was restless, on edge, and he felt a bitter pang as his shadows updated him on their every move. Feyre and Rhys had learned to soothe Nyx at night and Cassian and Nesta had begun planning their mating ceremony—something large, grand, and worth her time. He didn’t even want to think of Elain, to think of her alongside the brother that even Azriel’s shadows had grown to like. 

He was happy for them. At least, he told himself so. But he couldn’t shake his feeling of unease, as if he was on unsettled ground. Beneath it all was a sickening sense of jealousy. Everyone— even Amren— had found a purpose, had even found a love that softened them. Azriel hadn’t. 

Maybe that was why he liked the way he felt when he met with you, liked how it had given him a sense of purpose— even if he disliked what that purpose was for. He felt a clarity now, a focus he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

It seemed like a sick joke from the Mother, to give him a sense of purpose when he was alongside you, to find satisfaction in helping you support Eris, the very male Azriel despised with every fiber of his being. If he had grown to respect you in some form, did that mean he respected Eris, too? 

The thought made him want to vomit. 

It was becoming far too easy for you to cloud his thoughts, to overshadow any duties or obligations he had. Normally he would fight against it, burying himself in work, training, anything to keep his mind occupied. But today, he welcomed it, indulged in the sweet sin of your face in his mind. His shadows drifted around him, whispering in his ears the very things he knew himself. He was beginning to feel seen in a way he hadn’t felt before, by eyes that had seen the same life as him. 

And it terrified him as much as it comforted him. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You didn’t have time, as it turned out.

Beron had moved into preparations swiftly—faster than you or Eris anticipated. One night he found you, his eyes gleaming with a cruel satisfaction that had Laney preparing to bear her teeth at him in a snarl— you were grateful he didn’t notice, grateful that she listened to your commands.

”You finally have a purpose to fulfill,” he declared. “I never understood why the Mother cursed me with a daughter as my final kin, but now I understand.”

You’d felt your identity slipping away as soon as he growled those words. In the days since, he forced your mother to tightly pull back your hair each night, to help dress you as a prized calf and parade you at his events for Autumn’s most influential— most cunning—figures. They eyed you with calculating, hungry interest, deciding whether you were suitable for themselves or their sons. 

You sat at a table now, the only female among a sea of men. Your mother was never allowed at events like this, never really seen unless she was forced to cling to your fathers arm like a piece of fine jewelry. The plate of food in front of you was half the size of the portions heaped on the plates of the males surrounding you. If you had the energy, you would’ve found it funny. But you didn’t. 

You felt like a prey in a pack of savage beasts, their eyes raking over you with a hunger that made you feel sick; made you feel dirty, as if you were covered in a grime you could never fully wash off.

Beron leaned over and placed his hand over yours. Instantly, you clenched and straightened, a wave of revulsion washing over you in a tide. His grip tightened and he leaned in further, lips curling into a sickening, warning smile.

”Smile,” he commanded tightly. “No one wants a scowling bride.”

As a warning, a flame flickered on his palm and a searing pain spread across your exposed skin. You felt the burn, sharp and cruel, but you didn’t dare flinch. You met his eyes and held them— held that cold, hardened gaze, the same one you saw when you’d look in the mirror, in your eyes that looked exactly like his. 

This was your defiance of tonight. If anything, you could do this. You could match him.

But your father’s smile widened, seemingly satisfied enough with your compliance, and he leaned back, releasing your hand. The burn throbbed on your skin but you remained still. 

You could feel another gaze on you, distinct from the predatory stares of the other males. This gaze was warm, comforting, like the gentle heat of a fire on a cold night or the familiar embrace of a childhood blanket. 

You didn’t dare look over. You couldn’t bear the thought of seeing the concern in Eris’s eyes from across the table. It would break you in some way you couldn’t control. With the familiar sense of heat underneath your skin, you sat up straighter, tightened your strained grip around the fork you held, and imagined how it would look in the eyes of every male around you— all but your brother.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Azriel wasn’t sure why he hurried as much as he did— why his wings seemed to go faster, why his winnowing was almost instant. But here he was, standing in front of the cabin he’d become so familiar with, listening as his shadows told him that you seemed troubled.

It was the job of a lone shadow of his to trail you, to keep an eye on this cabin— on this place, and to alert Azriel if anything was of importance. It was a precautionary measure at the beginning of your little arrangement, a way to keep track of everything going on, to always have something watching you— the most unpredictable factor in his life, the thing he never saw coming. But he wasn’t sure why he’d continued to send that shadow out even after you both had come to a sort of agreement, a sort of truce born of a miniscule understanding. 

Perhaps it was for reasons like this, for your strange appearances in the Spring Court at nearly four in the morning. 

He knew in his gut that something was wrong even before his shadows told him. 

You looked so put together— that was the first thing Azriel noticed.  The dress you wore was entirely too formal, lacking in the usual flare that accompanied your presence; and your hair was tied back tightly, so neatly and simple it seemed constraining. The way you sat on the grass now, before him, almost resembled the stance of a small child looking at the sky in a sorrowful form of prayer, waiting for a star to shoot by for a wish of yours to be placed upon it.

“Why do you always do that?” 

Your voice rang out clear and goosebumps crawled on Azriel’s skin at the sound, a chill making its way through his body. You hadn’t moved, hadn’t bothered looking away from your stare at the sky. Part of him was tempted to remain still, to back further into the darkness that surrounded him. 

“Stare at me afar like a creep?” You added.

Finally, you turned to look at where he stood and Azriel found himself stepping forward, allowing his shadows to disappear around his body. He didn’t offer you an answer, opting to flex his hands— his clammy, tense hands— as he continued to walk forward. You followed his every movement.

“What are you doing here?” 

Azriel’s voice was neutral, monotone. 

You raised your eyebrows. “I could ask you the same thing.”

He frowned at the response. He’d expected something snippier, something more you— he’d grown accustomed to it, to the snark that he’d return easily. He took a moment to think, to rummage through his thoughts like an overly-cluttered junk drawer. 

“Don’t you think this is a bit pathetic,” Azriel said, “Sulking on the dirty grass in the middle of the night?”

His voice was stern. But as much as he’d attempted to ensure it was devoid of emotion, there was a trace of something in his words, a hint of concern. A part of him, one larger than he’d care to admit, was pushing him to be softer, to tell you he was worried, to offer help pick you up. But he refrained. You would push him away the minute you sensed a semblance of pity. This he already knew.

You gave a humorless laugh and there was a strained sense of sorrow that Azriel recognized instantly.  You stood up. “I guess so. You’d know a thing or two about what being pathetic looks like.”

He gritted his teeth and took a steadying breath. His shadows curled around his wrists and he fought with them as they strained to extend further, to slither down his body and towards you. 

There was a tense silence before he spoke again. "I heard Beron is arranging your marriage."

Your head snapped to the side and your eyes met his— the fire in them still visible in the moonlight, but entirely too dull compared to what they’d looked like weeks ago. You took in his form, the straightness of his posture and the tuck of his wings. Even at this hour he was clad in his fighting leathers, poised and deadly like the image of ruin. 

“How do you know that?”

Azriel gave a small, almost nonchalant shrug. “I have spies in every court.”

“Doesn't it defeat the purpose if you tell me?”

“Wouldn't you find them, anyways?

Despite yourself, the corner of your lips twitched upwards. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You stared at each other for a moment and Azriel’s eyes seemed to soften with an internal conflict. He cocked his head at you and you forced yourself to look away, finding new interest on the ground below you.

“Is that why you’re here?”

When you met his eyes once more, he took a sharp intake of breath. 

“I have nowhere else to go.”

Azriel’s mind reeled again. While he felt stuck in place, forged to the very ground he stood on, his brain threw him into every memory he held of you— back to the first times he’d seen you standing alongside Eris. 

He saw the memories in an entirely different light. Before, Eris had domineered over you, had poised his body in front of you and your mother in a way to assert his dominance as the heir to the throne, to remind those around him that you were both females at the end of the day. But now, Az saw it as what it truly was: protection. A bodily shield similar to that he’d done himself to Morrigan, to Amren, to his High Lady. 

You never came to official meetings, were never seen at political gatherings. There were multiple reasons for this, Azriel had gathered. First and foremost, you were a female. And to Beron, females had no place in politics—- no place in his court beyond eye candy and child bearing. His wife was always there, yes, but she never spoke. Never did so much as lift her hand. Azriel could’ve believed that she was nothing more than a doll, not truly living; not truly alive. He didn’t even know her name beyond her title, Lady of Autumn, a female that belonged to her court; nameless beyond the one thing that established her— her husband. 

And beyond being a female, you were their youngest, their only daughter. You were to be protected, to be molded into the perfect wife, ready to be sold off to the highest— and most powerful— male. He’d never bothered to think about that last fact. He never cared. But as you stood in front of him, he indeed felt bothered, felt unsettled at the idea. 

“I feel bad for the male who will be tied to you for the rest of his life.”

“Because I’m that awful?” You scanned his face, your voice veering between wounded and sardonic. “Here I thought you’d be jealous because he’d get to fuck me for the rest of mine.”

Something flashed in Azriel’s eyes and the shadows on his face grew harsher as he clenched his jaw. But then, for a moment, his eyes seemed to soften, turning from a molten brown to a soft honey. “That’s not what I meant.”

"Then what did you mean?"

He took a deep breath and you could’ve sworn you saw a twitch in his hand, saw it move out slightly before he pulled it back in, as if he wanted to reach out, to place a hand on yours. 

"Ownership doesn't suit you. Any male who thinks he has a claim on you is in for a rude awakening.”

 You looked away. "It's not like I have a choice."

"You always have a choice.”

You met his gaze again, a dry laugh bubbling up. Azriel’s face was serious, sincere, and it made your blood boil with a sense of resentment that felt comical. You could taste it: the bitter feeling in your throat and the burning in your stomach, like something making its way from your esophagus to your mouth.

"Of course you would say that."

Azriel's brow furrowed slightly and his body tensed in response. "What does that mean?”

You shook your head, running your tongue along your teeth before you turned to face him fully, jaw tight, teeth clenched. Azriel wore a sense of self-loathing like second skin. You could smell it on him, could see it in the way he walked, in the way he interacted with those around him. You noticed it from the first time you’d met, watched as he longingly looked at Morrigan, as that self-loathing filled his eyes and dripped into his features. You knew the feeling well, knew how to recognize it. 

And you wanted to laugh at the fact. The male before you hated himself so much because he had room to do so. He was powerful enough to let it fester, was comfortable enough to set aside time for his self-pity. The Night Court, despite how much you hated it, had freedoms that yours would never give you. Rhysand granted his family privileges that they never acknowledged.  You felt the urge to tell Azriel exactly that, to shove a finger into his chest and chastise him for such foolish, childish sentiments.  

But instead, you found yourself asking him a question that took both of you by surprise. 

“Why do you despise me?”

Azriel blinked and his shadows stilled, their movements halting around his body. “What?”

“Tell me,” you said, “Tell me why you hate me.”

Azriel’s eyes hardened. “Eris–”

You cut him off. “I asked why you hated me. Not my brother.”

His mouth tightened and he remained silent, his wings twitching  slightly as if they bore the weight of his thoughts. The shadows that usually danced around him like a protective barrier were now motionless, and you felt a twisting sensation in your gut, a cold, coiling dread.

"You know,” you said, your voice low, a hint of anger lacing your words. "It's not only hate that I have felt for you."

He stiffened. "Then what else?"

"Jealousy," you admitted, the word leaving a sour taste in your mouth. “Bitter, suffocating jealousy. I'm envious of you, Shadowsinger. You have this court that you love, this family that can get away with anything and you don't even acknowledge it.”

You’d always been a jealous person. By the gods, you’d tried your best to get over it. But it was rooted in something deeper than superficial envy— especially when it came to Azriel. 

There was something about the moonlight, about these darkened skies, that made it easier to be honest, something that almost compelled a sense of vulnerability. And as you stared at him, felt his gaze burn into yours, you felt a cold shiver of realization roll throughout your skin. 

“I’ve come to realize that you and I are entirely too similar for my liking. And I am so unbelievably envious that I’m punished for everything you are praised for.”

Azriel stilled, his movements slowing as though your words had struck him with the force of a physical blow. His chest tightened and an urgency wrapped itself around his ribs like a vise, constricting with each breath.

Azriel had always hated you. It was a visceral, almost instinctive reaction that he never fully understood until now. You were a mirror of him—a reflection of the darkness he harbored within himself, the parts of him that he loathed. Your cunning, your ruthlessness, this sense of loyalty that left you desperate, that led you to tearing apart pieces of yourself. All qualities he recognized, all qualities he despised in himself. 

It was easier to hate you than to face the self-loathing that gnawed at him. To acknowledge that you were a product of your environment, just as he was. But as much as he tried to detest you, as much as he tried to push you away, his hatred for you had spilled into desire, something sickly sweet and thick. It ran down his body and even after he’d scrubbed himself clean, even after he’d rid himself of his urges as he took you from behind—- it was still there, coating his skin. He was unable to rid himself of the burning that had settled in his chest, the longing he refused to admit; because that hatred, that desire, had grown into something else, something just as hot, just as all consuming. 

It had turned into admiration. 

His expression softened, a flicker of something—regret, perhaps—crossing his face. "You’re right."

A silence settled between you, thick and heavy. Azriel's gaze wavered, his eyes searching yours as if he were sifting through the layers you held. You felt a flutter in your chest, a vulnerable ache that made you want to recoil and step closer all at once.

You stared at him, at the way his wings perched over him like a dark, protective shroud, at how his shadows seemed to radiate off him in waves. The heat beneath your skin intensified, a simmering fire that burned hotter the longer you looked at him. Your eyes drifted to his wing, to the area that had been torn open the last time you saw him. The scar had healed, but the memory of it was still fresh in your mind. You looked back at his face, at the way he hadn’t dared to look away. 

Azriel's face was hauntingly and devastatingly beautiful, a creature of the night, perfectly in his element under the moonlit sky. Your chest felt tight, as if your ribs were being pulled apart, making it hard to breathe. You couldn’t save Eris. You couldn’t outrun the fate your father had set for you. 

You wanted it all to go away, to forget who you were, where you were.

Without another thought, you threw yourself at Azriel, your lips crashing against his in an angry, heady kiss. The intensity of it was almost violent, something born out of desperation, out of a need to feel something other than the suffocating anger that had taken residence in your heart.

He pulled away for a moment, his brows furrowing as he took in your face. His eyes fell to your lips. You waited for it— for the abandonment of reluctance that had become a routine, for him to stare at you, for that stare to turn hungry, predatory, and for him to surge forward and claim your lips with his. But Azriel didn’t move towards you. He shook his head and took a step back. 

“What is it?” you breathed, your voice trembling, edged with frustration. “Have you suddenly gained morals? Do you not want this?”

He hesitated. “No. Not like this,” Azriel said and you bristled at the words. They weren’t entirely dismissive, but they felt charged with something that left your mouth dry, left it difficult for you to breathe. “I don’t want your anger.”

“What does that mean?”

His eyes flickered, as if trying to blink away the thoughts racing through his mind.

“I don’t know.”

The uncertainty in his voice made your chest feel tighter. An almost embarrassing sensation of exposure washed over you, as if your entire life had led to being denied the one sick pleasure you’d found. 

“Why did you come here?”

“I don’t know,” he repeated, this time firmer, more desperate. His shadows churned around him, dark tendrils of darkness twisting and writhing like a storm gathering strength, charged with an unsettling energy.

It set you on edge. Your fingers twitched, and you clenched your hands into fists to stop their trembling. 

“Well, what do you know?”

Azriel looked at you, a crease in his brows, his expression a mix of pain and relief as he finally responded, his eyes burning. “That you have plagued my mind for weeks.”

"What are you doing here?" you asked, your voice teetering between curiosity and a simmering anger. It was a blend of emotions you couldn't quite unravel—whether you sought answers or were simply lashing out. “What do you want?”

He shook his head, attempting to take another step back, growing more furious with himself at the motion. You moved closer, bringing your hand to his arm and he felt the burn of your touch through his leathers. You were a nightmare and he felt desperate to keep you as you pleaded with him, voice rising, fiery in spirit and heart. 

“Tell me what you want, Shadowsinger.”

You weren't sure what came over you, why you suddenly felt desperate for him to tell you what you felt was true, for him to admit it. It felt like you were on the edge of a great precipice, your heart tugging and tightening in your chest all at once, needing him to look at you, growing anxious, angry, even. You wanted his truth, wanted his confession and his sin all in one.

And then you continued, voice suddenly tender, seeking. “Tell me what you want and I can give it to you.”

He willed himself to look at you and his chest rose with his uneven breaths. 

“You,” he managed to breathe, shivering with craving.

Once the admission fell from his mouth, Azriel was done for. “I want you.” 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

As an extra treat, the wonderfully talented @micahssketchbook gifted us with an illustrated version of this confession 🥹

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

authors note:

yknow.... if theres one thing ill give these angst fuckers credit for is that they are so honest with each other, like tell me why reader is more honest with az than rhys was with his own wife 😭

anyways everyone thank @writingcroissant as usual for inspiring me (forcing me) to finish this part when i was tempted to delete everything

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: 

@rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon 

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg

@evergreenlark @marina468 @azriels-human @panther-girl-124 @bubybubsters 

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @feyretopia  @ninthcircleofprythian @velariscalling @azrielrot

@justyouraveragekleemain @marigold-morelli @mrsjna @anarchiii

[takeariskao3]

written for @ginnystrophyhusband june microfics. our coffee shop au now has a title: magic doesn’t last! (this one got away from me a lil bit, don’t punish me for the word count)

Harry shrugged out of his anorak and slumped into a chair near the cash register. Ginny wasn’t behind the counter; he figured she was in the back restocking, or doing some other barista duty required of her during the time between customers.

He’d arrived a bit earlier than usual this Sunday to find a completely empty café. He hadn’t set out an hour ahead of his self-determined schedule for any one reason. Except that he wanted to see her. But Harry wasn’t up to being honest with himself at the moment, so he just chalked it up to the bad weather. And not wanting it to get worse the longer he waited.

Despite his standard issue raincoat, he’d still gotten soaked on the walk from the bus stop—to the point that water dripped and dribbled down from his hair. It dampened his collar and overall contributed to the minor inconvenience that felt like a true nuisance.

After fidgeting in his seat for a moment or two, he stood quickly and approached the service station to grab some extra napkins. As he patted dry the nape of his neck, Ginny charged through the curtain that kept the back room hidden.

Harry took her in and froze in mild astonishment.

Ginny’s hair—that had been obscenely long and typically pulled back in a high ponytail for the entire time he’d known her—was now chopped in a straight line even with her chin. The effect was bewitching. The arch of her brow had an elegant curve to it that he’d never noticed before, her lips looked fuller and glistened a darker shade of mauve, and her eyes were brighter than he had ever seen them.

Upon further inspection however, he realized the flint in her irises was poorly disguised fury.

“Hi,” Harry said lamely.

Ginny huffed unintelligibly and began dumping coffee beans into the giant receptacle at the top of her espresso machine.

“You cut your hair,” he continued, unable to fully understand what exactly he was saying. Or why. She obviously knew she’d cut it. It wasn’t like he was breaking the news to her.

“It looks–“ Harry fumbled for a descriptor that did the full countenance of her justice. “Good.”

He inwardly cringed.

“See!” Ginny answered angrily. “Now that’s a normal reaction. ‘You cut your hair. Look’s good.’”

Harry felt his lack of creativity sounded worse the second time around, but she seemed pleased enough. Trying not to dwell on it, he instead attempted to follow the explanation of her indignation. It was difficult though, he kept getting distracted by the new angles he was discovering in her face.

“Not ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Or ‘You didn’t want to talk about it ahead of time?’ Who the fuck does he think he is? It’s my hair. Why in Christ’s sake should he have an opinion?”

“Sorry… Who?”

“Dea–“ Ginny stopped herself and turned the weight of her full glare on Harry. “My dickhead of a boyfriend.”

Harry’s teeth clenched together. “Oh.”

“I mean, sure, if i had really planned on something this drastic I might have mentioned it. But it was spur of the moment, you know? I was sitting in that stupid chair, staring at myself in the mirror, thinking about the interviews next week, and I… I panicked.”

Harry blinked. “What interviews?”

“Oh…er,” Ginny ducked her head and murmured, “Introductory interviews. At The Guardian.”

“You got the spot!?” He practically cackled, his face splitting into a wide grin.

“No,” she cut in quickly, but her underlying glee was poorly disguised. “It’s not official yet. So don’t you dare jinx it!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he agreed.

As Ginny switched from replenishing the coffee beans to brewing them, Harry didn’t even try to even out his expression. A heated bloom of pride spread out from the center of his chest. He of course knew she was brilliant, so he supposed it was only a matter of time before the rest of the world figured it out too.

“I was just trying to look more polished. Less like a farm girl and more like an actual professional.” She shot him a pleading little wince. “And it wasn’t like I kept this big change from Dean intentionally. But now he keeps messaging and calling and acting like a kicked puppy because ‘I didn’t care enough to include him in my decisions.’”

Harry went back to drying his neck, keeping his eyes on his shoes and offering, “I’m sure you guys will work it out.”

Of course they would. Because the universe was conspiring against him in increasingly absurd ways.

Ginny didn’t agree or disagree with that assertion, but coward that he was, Harry didn’t look up for a good long while. The sound of espresso drips and steamed milk were the only thing that broke the heavy silence.

“Here you go,” she said finally, sliding a mug across the butcher block. “On the house.” At Harry’s bewildered expression she finished, “For being the first person to compliment my new hair.”

He squinted incredulously. “Is that all it takes to get free stuff around here? If I tell you it looks really good can I get a scone?”

Ginny rolled her eyes with a laugh, and began wiping down a perfectly clean counter. Harry didn’t think he imagined the flush of pink at the tops of her cheeks.

[marvel-starwarsfangirl]

Hit by Hunger Games brainrot

No surprise that Sunrise on the Reaping, much like the flint striker Lenore Dove gave to Haymitch, reignited by interest in The Hunger Games series. I've read the books and watched the movies a very long time ago. Like, we're talking almost a decade ago. I loved the movies (especially Finnick) and SotR made me want to revisit the whole series.

And the first book is absolutely amazing. Katniss' POV is so in depth and detailed. For reference, I watched the movie soon after I finished the book and the book is just so much more satisfying and fulfilling. You understand everything about Katniss and why she acts the way she does. Everything she does is for Prim. That little girl is the person she loves more than anything in the whole world.

The reason why she's distant with her mom and Peeta relates back to trust issues. Asterid essentially lost herself when Burdock died, leaving Katniss to fulfill that role despite food being so scarce. And with Peeta, that day when he gave her bread still sticks with her. Then, she's sent into the Games, knowing she'll have to kill him all the while he's supposedly selling this narrative that he's love with her. Truth is, he's always loved her. But she doesn't fully believe that. (This book also made me a certified Peeta fan bc he’s such a green flag and I love him).

The books also show the full length of how hard it is to survive in District 12 or in the Games. It's not just a walk in the park and you either have the skills/means to survive or you're toast.

Suzanne's writing is a goldmine because of how's she's able to suck you into the world she's created.

I love Katniss' cleverness as she struggles to survive in the Games; she figures out that there's water nearby and how to keep herself safe from the other tributes. She is a survivor through and through. Meanwhile, Peeta is often dubbed the performer who had to fight and that's so accurate. He's a natural at wooing the Capital and even manages to "ally" with the Careers. Together, he and Katniss compliment each other quite nicely and balance out their skills.

And of course, Haymitch. This poor man is struggling and it shows. He shows up to the reaping drunk and then face plants and who can blame him? It's his birthday and for him, it's another year he gets to watch two tributes die. Snow saw to it that he would pay the price for his defiance.

People say that Haymitch is very much like Katniss, but I'll also add he's also very much like Peeta. Sunrise shows us how loving and kind Haymitch is to the people around him. Peeta is naturally very kind, helping Haymitch clean himself up no questions asked. Furthermore, Haymitch is very aware that the Games are all one big act just like Peeta does and is able to play that side up during the interviews. If anything, Haymitch is a good balance between the two.

Honestly, I just loved how detailed the book is; I really felt like I was there with Katniss. The movie just doesn't go that deep (and I know it can't for timing reasons) and you can feel it. Character interactions are explored much further and established in ways that movies can't without being like 3 hours long.

I will say this about the movie (which I still enjoy): Rue's death scene still is emotional, District 11 revolting was a good preview of what was to come, and I do like that Seneca was our Capital POV. It gave us insight into how the Games are run and his scenes with Snow were great. Snow tells him that he knows District 12 and how they're underdogs, a line that hit way harder after Ballad. Even when Seneca is locked in a room with only nightlock berries, it solidifies how evil Snow is. You could be head game maker, one of the most powerful positions in the Games, but the moment something goes awry, it's your life on the line. Seneca paid the price for letting Katniss and Peeta go.

Haymitch's warning that Katniss is in grave danger because of her stunt with the nightlock also hit way harder after Sunrise. Haymitch knew first-hand what could happen.

Anyways, Suzanne is an incredible writer and I loved diving back into this series. I don't think it every hit me how detailed her writing was until now because I haven't touched the series in forever. But it is amazing and I can't wait to start reading CF.

[halamet-chalamet]

Hear me out! Spencer Reid x Coroner!Reader. Spencer and Rossi talk with the reader after they made the authopsy. Reader is impressed by Spencer's knowledge, but Spencer is even more impressed because Reader made an important deduction about the corpse that helps with the profile! In the meantime Rossi looks at the two of them talking excitedly about some kinds of bruises while feeling the third wheel

Spencer Reid x Coroner!reader

A/N: thank you for everyone’s patience guys! I’m so happy to be writing again. Feel free to send requests 🩷🪩

The case was chaos to say the least. I could tell just from the bodies received. I found it fascinating but couldn’t help but wonder what sicko did this. I handle my work with much sobriety and respect given I work with dead bodies. Most people are terribly uncomfortable around, I’m constantly told how odd it is by others.

Knowing the FBI has been called in today I gather all the reports they’ll need so that they can get the most accurate information possible.

I see the clock, 3pm, they’ll be here any minute.

An older Italian looking man comes in with another guy… he looks about my age, tall, lanky, cute, awkward looking. I quickly snap myself out of it.

“Hello, I’m agent Rossi and this is Doctor Reid.” The older man, Rossi I suppose motions to the young man and holds his hand out to me. I shake it and with a polite smile say.

“Oh- uhm- just Spencer..” The terribly cute agent smiles.

“It’s a pleasure. I’m y/n l/n. I’m here for whatever you need to know!” I say casually, I’ve never been in this type of situation but it’s my work, I don’t mind it at all.

The two men look over the bodies and their own files.

“We were told there were no defense wounds on any of the women but what would explain the bruises on the arm?” Spencer asks, looking up at me observing them.

“Oh those? My theory was that she fell on them. If you see the coloring here-” I use my finger to circle around the inside of a bruise. “This suggests sudden force like if you just dropped to your knees. There were hand marks on the thighs that suggest this also.”

Spencer takes a moment to analyze the information, “So you’re suggesting that the unsub grabbed her by her legs and she fell there on the arm?”

“Exactly! Yes, but there were no defensive wounds, and I found Rohypnol in each woman’s system, which a popular date rape drug.”

“Figures.” Agent Rossi pipes up but I can’t help but ignore him as I’m busy watching Spencer continue to analyze.

“Are these… rope marks?” He asks, pointing at the ankles.

I smile a bit dopily before I remember I’m being professional. “Zip ties actually..”

“Zip ties??” Spencer asks in surprise and almost a.. fond looking smile.

“Uh- yes…” I smile as I fumble through the papers in my hand. “I wasn’t sure what you guys would- would need so I put… these together..” I hand him a detailed file of all the information he could possibly need. I feel myself looking at him almost eagerly?

“These are wonderful thank you- thanks I’ll review these with the rest of the team I suppose-” He replies with a huge grin as he flips quickly through the files.

I nod in response, not sure if I should say anything, I’m just overly excited someone understands my line of work.

I feel a pair of eyes. I turn my head to look to the side where to my surprise the older agent stands there. His eyes are amused, his arms crossed as he leans back against the cold wall. I wonder what it’s about. I don’t care much about that though.. I decide that while I’m still high on this excitement I’d use whatever boldness I could muster up.

“Spencer..? Right?” I ask awkwardly, I know I’m right but didn’t know what else to say to grab his attention.

Looking up from the reports his eyebrows raise. “Yes that’s right…” he says expectantly.

“I know this is awfully unprofessional but do you think I could have your number..?” I ask with a flint of hope. My stomach flutters at your blushing cheeks.

“Y-yes, yeah of course…” he blushes and scrambles to his pocket for a pen, writing in the corner of a page in the file and tearing it out.

“Th-that’s me.. haha” he hands it to me, looking back at his grinning coworker.

“Thanks..” I smile wide as he checks his watch. I figured it wouldn’t be a long stay for them but I wish I got to speak with him longer.

“See ya..” he says as he’s rushed out the door.

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

BACKFIRE ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

So let’s get this straight once and for all because it’s frankly getting on my nerves that no one sees it or twists it soooo blatantly:

When Miss Adamu said: SHE’S NOT EVEN YOUR GIRLFRIEND?!?! *eye rolling like the queen she is*

She didn’t mean to force Carmy to define or “label” Claire Nolastname or upgrade her from “girl who’s a friend” to Girlfriend. NOOOO!

THAT WAS HOW IT BACKFIRED ON HER because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut as a non-jealous woman would totally be capable of doing because she wouldn’t be triggered by the fact that the man she has started to (even though she's not nearly ready to admit it yet) develop feelings for or feels attracted to in a “crossing the line” kinda way, is sharing something soooo important, sooo significant, so THEIRS, as the menu of THEIR restaurant with a girl he’s just fucking… because for Syd, if Claire is not his GF, then he’s just fucking her. She’s a flint.

So THAT is what sent Syd. She didn't mean to make Carmy decide shit! about his relationship with this girl, but that’s what ended up happening. It backfired on her. Still, it was definitely unintentional on her part.

Because Carmy took the easy way out, he upgraded Claire to GF status so as not to have to face the fact that he was indeed sharing something so important WITH THE WRONG WOMAN, and in that way, he didn't have to face his true feelings for his partner like a man. He ran away with Claire, his sudden GF, as an easy way out, to hide behind that relationship. Period. We all know how that backfired for him in the back alley though...

He sensed that if he kept “working on the menu” with Syd at his place, cooking together and sharing more time outside the restaurant, they were gonna get too close because he wasn’t gonna be able to help it, he wasn’t gonna be strong enough to fight it if they kept building intimacy in the way they were doing it. Food is their link, they get closer through that, it is the passion they share.

That's why they are opening a restaurant together!

And that is why when Claire barged into his life uninvited - unlike Syd who was invited, as we can clearly see above - after he didn't remember her name and gave her the wrong number, and even hesitated in giving her the ride she conveniently "needed" to move her thriving mother's boxes to the storage, Carmy and Syd stopped cooking together and sharing food -The Kasamagate-.

In other words, Carmy and Syd stopped building intimacy together when Claire showed up, he enabled it, of course, because of the aforementioned reasons, until the under-the-table scene, where HE DID MAKE A DECISION after talking to Cicero and deciding to BE THAT GUY, not just for himself, but for Syd and with Syd.

And that is why that beautiful scene was musicalized like THIS.

And lastly, that is why once they were back, there was no more room for Claire in his life and well... Bye Felicia. Even though he managed to still dodge the bullet of having an adult conversation with her and let her down easy, she just overheard him because AGAIN she went in uninvited and got in the BOH at the "wrong time". She was just trying to see if he needed help because her ER brain immediately went to hypothermia, granted. But still... She was uninvited there and that´s why she ended up overhearing him and getting her heart broken.

Bonus track: Let's not forget who was on his mind before he freaked out like that, who he thought he had let down.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk.

[rainwingmarvel7]

hey, I‘ve been thinking of House Dormaire and wanted to ask if you have any fun facts you want to share about the house and its history?

Of course I’d love to share some fun facts about them! Thanks so much for your interest!

This post is more of a basic overview of their house, although I somehow forgot to include their house words, which are “Soaring Higher” (hence why the HotD era fic has that name!)

But as for fun facts, I’ve got plenty of them!:

The house’s founder, Kitran Dormaire, was a mentor figure to Torrhen Stark and urged him to bend the knee to Aegon I.

Seeing as Kitran died shortly after Aegon I took the throne, it was more so his son, Jonnel who led House Dormaire into the new era. His wife was Erena Hornwood, and they had two sons, Dorren and Benjen (the main line continues through Dorren).

The Dormaires and Starks have always been close allies, and Nadya, Victyr, and Erwyn were not the first to marry into the Stark family. Donnara Dormaire, the daughter of Rickon Dormaire and granddaughter of Dorren Dormaire, married Lord Ellard Stark. However, no living children were produced from the marriage, as Donnara died in childbirth.

Kaleb’s mother, Alayne Mormont, is a Lannister on her mother’s side - specifically a Lannister of Lannisport, meaning that Kaleb and all of his descendants have Lannister blood.

Since Therese and Tristan, all Dormaire children have been taught High Valyrian to maintain connection with their Targaryen heritage.

Starting with Aemon Dormaire and his wife, Vaella Targaryen, the Lady of Raven’s Keep receives Rhaenyra’s ruby ring (which she left behind for Kaleb when she left Raven’s Keep) upon her marriage to the Lord of Raven’s Keep (Arya Stark is the most recent Lady to wear it).

The Dormaires breed messenger ravens to be used across Westeros.

The house was always one of the most powerful in the North, but its prominence rose even further following the Dance of the Dragons. For his service to the Crown, Kaleb was rewarded with great wealth, which he brought with him to Raven’s Keep, and it has continued to prosper ever since.

In addition to House Stark, have strong ties to the Hornwoods, Umbers, Flints of Widow’s Watch, and Manderlys.

The Dormaires are not just related to the Targaryens through Rhaenyra, Jace, Helaena, and Aegon II. They are also descended from Aegon III and his son, Daeron I.

Lord Edwyrd Dormaire briefly served on King Robert I Baratheon’s Small Council as his first Master of Coin but returned home following his son Erwyn’s birth.

The Dormaires and Baratheons are distantly related through Lord Royce Baratheon and his wife Daenaera Velaryon (Jace and Therese’s daughter).

As for Raven’s Keep itself, like most Northern keeps, it is constructed of stone, though it is larger and more impressive than most others. Their wealth is on full display, with nice furniture and decorations, dozens of beautifully intricate tapestries lining the walls and gifts and trophies on display. The keep has the biggest library in the North, and contained within it is the original copy of The Life Chronicle of Kaleb Dormaire, along with many other valuable texts. Their rookery is the largest and most opulent in the North, always well-kept and tended to by the Maester and his assistants, who are the best trained in all the realm.

The keep is surrounded by forest and hills, and it is near a cliff which overlooks the Bay of Seals.

[bearsartcave]

Hoi, I love your redesigns, they're sooo good

I would also like to know things about your Offy, I like him and your design of him :D

Hi!! Thank you so much I'm glad you like his design!

As for getting to know him, I'd love to share! Both me and one of my partners had talked about it a long time ago and it stuck through.

So In this universe offender is the second youngest, he used to be the youngest before my oc Poetman arrived over 500 years later.

Offender was raised by his brothers of course, after their mother had disappeared splendor(the oldest) decided it was best to get away from their abusive manipulative father.

Offender didn't really have the parental attention he needed since by the time they left their father he was barely a year old, this caused issues when he grew up even though splendor tried his best to raise him well along with trying to help all of his other brothers.

Offender grew up kind at first and was fun to be around but the more negative interactions with humans he came across the more he became angry and had a hard time calming down from his bursts of anger, he ended up becoming rebellious in his teen years.

One day he ended up finding a human girl named rose who didn't care what he was or what he looked like, at least that's what it seemed like. Offender ended up falling in love with her, one day he decided to tell her how he felt, and it was in front of her friends. She ended up embarrassing him "why would I want to be with a monster like you" she said, before her and her friends started attacking him, causing some serious injuries before he was able to flee.

Fueled with anger and hatred, offender wasn't in his right mind, and came to the conclusion that he was going to hurt her worse than how she hurt him. That was the start of his life known as "sexual Offenderman"

After he ended up (graping) her, he then killed her. Standing there above her bloodied used and bruised body, his anger slowly diminished, upon finally realizing what he did, he was terrified of himself. He became what rose saw in him, and he started hating himself, he turned to alcohol and isolation from his family. This did not make things better. Every time he would drink he would become an emotional mess and do it to someone else again. But if he didn't drink he would turn to anger and do it. He didn't want it. He wanted to be normal but he didn't know how to, and many years down the line his brothers had tried helping or getting him help but nothing would work.

It wasn't until a new love interest named flint(an oc of mine), and a new younger brother (poet, another oc) came along, that he was able to calm down and get help, starting with his chronic alcoholism.

Years pass and eventually flint and offender get together, although offender is still plagued by the memories of what he has done, and cannot help but be terrified of returning to who he used to be, due to being hypersexual he worries flint will leave him for being needy, but flint loves and cares about him no matter his sexual desire, flint makes sure offender stays calm in tense and high stress situations and stays around him when he knows there's things that will drive him to anger, he's offenders quiet in his brain of chaos.

Offender has a rose garden, its also a place to keep him calm, and playing his violin keeps him in a calm state as well. They both keep him busy, as well as his two children who he loves and will protect with his whole being.

I believe that's everything, but if you do have any questions I'll definitely answer them!

[ceescedasticity]

A writeup/outline of the House of the Dragon/Song of Ice and Fire fic I worked on feverishly for a month and a half:

Premise: So, over two-four months of binging HotD fanfic before abruptly focusing on something else, I found a lot of fics with one or more Game of Thrones-era characters being reborn into the Dance era, but very few in reverse — I can only remember one, and it overwrote a canon character who I like with a HotD character I don't care about so meh. (There were a handful more with HotD characters suddenly being transported to the GoT era, but most were abandoned.)

So, the other way around — why might such a thing happen?

Well — Jace owes the Starks a Targaryen princess. The Starks seem to have felt dying cleared the debt, but they aren't the only ones who might care about oaths sworn in godswoods. So, Jace gets to be reborn until he delivers. As a girl, because he doesn't have a right to promise other Targaryen princesses. —Except his brothers. Well, sisters.

Unfortunately the Old Gods do not have free access to Targaryens; they need there to be a backdoor, so not every generation is accessible. Also they are possibly using a somewhat perverse definition of "princess".

First backdoor: Melissa Blackwood, one of the mistresses of Aegon the Unworthy. Jace and Luke are reborn as Mya and Gwenys Rivers. (Melissa's third child is a boy, and also earmarked for other purposes, so Joff sits out this round.) Even after they're legitimized they're not precisely princesses; there's no reason the Starks would want to marry them. They end up pretty preoccupied with Targaryen stuff anyway, supporting Daeron II and opposing the Blackfyre Rebellion. They go through some bad stuff. There's a whole story here, between the Blackfyre Rebellion and the frankly insane dynamics of Aegon IV's court.

(Part of the story is about their little brother, Brynden Rivers, who loves them very much and also sees who they are after a greenseer-awakening sojourn on the Isle of Faces.)

Altogether it's not an entirely unsuccessful life, but delivering Targaryen princess: Not accomplished.

You might think that Betha Blackwood would be the next backdoor! You would be wrong. Possibly Shaera was un-meddleable due to upcoming Prince that was Promises bloodlines. Possibly the Old Gods are set on only reincarnating them as questionable princesses.

The next backdoor is Jenny. Duncan and Jenny weren't planning on having children, but whoopsie-daisy, twin girls. Jenny's friend (the future Ghost of High Heart, henceforth Woman of the Forest/WotF because I don't want to keep typing that) sees some things about the babies, but not very clearly, so they end up named Junia and Layne.

Junia and Layne have a good, sheltered childhood. (Junia could definitely have been a much better and more responsible princess than Shaera, but whatever.) They're in their mid-teens when Aegon V comes up with his dragon-hatching scheme. They are 1000% on board with this. They love dragons. Targaryens without dragons is just wrong. They die at Summerhall. But — and this will be important — the WotF understands their situation enough to know they will eventually be back.

If Lyanna Stark had daughters (who didn't already have Destinies), that would have been a suitable backdoor. But, she doesn't, and her son mustn't be tampered with. And of course not much later there's a serious Targaryen shortage.

If I were writing this properly I'd introduce Jessamyn, Lucinda, and Jocelyn Flint and leave the connection vague until later, but since I'm not — their mother Mona (short for Daemona) was a Blackfyre in the female line. Their father Ronnel is the backdoor, and a younger son of House Flint of Flint's Finger who ran off to become a sellsword in Essos.

(This is the most excruciating parentage by far, because after Mya and Gwenys's experiences they really, really hate Blackfyres.) (Joff is here for the first time, and Jess and Lucy won't let Jo out of sight, mostly.)

Ronnel says they're trueborn and no one in Westeros can contradict him, but technically their parents never formally married (no godswoods available).

Mona dies and Ronnel gets sick/takes an injury that won't heal/idk something where he's dying but not immediately. Mona didn't trust her family, so Ronnel takes the girls to the North. He'll trust his brother with his daughters' safety — but not with the several chests of Essosi gold Ronnel is leaving to them. Those Ronnel entrusts to Eddard Stark, the contents to be released to his daughters only; as a compromise, they can withdraw some before they marry to help offset expenses.

Thus they are not infrequent visitors to Winterfell, not close to the Starks but quite well acquainted. Which puts them closer to 'marrying a Stark' than they've ever been, but Catelyn is very clear that they are not suitable prospects. Jessamyn Flint is a responsible girl with enough dowry for a respectable smaller house to overlook questionable origins and some personal eccentricities, but shouldn't look higher.

Also Jess has a temper — better controlled than Jace's, because Mya faced severe consequences for lashing out and Junia's family actually taught her how to manage anger, but it's still there. When it shows up at Winterfell it's usually because Theon Greyjoy, comedic genius, has reacted to Lucy's somewhat boyish behavior by persistently nicknaming her Brave Lucy Flint. This is generally agreed to be reasonable grounds for even a lady to lose her shit. (If Jess had Jace's training and muscle mass it would be all over for him.)

Cascade effect from this: Because the Brave Danny Flint thing gets brought up over and over and OVER again, tied into reality in a way the song alone won't do, Jon is much less enthusiastic about the Night's Watch. In fact, he wants to go for a knighthood first (or instead) — when he leaves Winterfell he goes to House Locke, one of the handful of Northern houses that does knighthood. And when the North goes to war, Jon rides with House Locke to the Green Fork and gets captured.

After Robb is crowned, Jess has the idea of reaching out to her father's contacts in the Company of the Rose — would any of them want to come defend an independent North, at least enough to get a good price hiring them? She also volunteers her dowry to pay for it. So, Jess and one of her Flint cousins set out to get a ship to Essos, and Lucy (with Jo) is dispatched to Winterfell to get the gold if things work out.

The three-eyed raven gives Bran a very clear and explicit warning about Theon's party approaching, with instructions on how to avert it. The castle falling would be useful to drive his successor northwards, but Brynden is not about to let Gwenys get captured by Ironborn. The attack is foiled with minimal casualties, but Theon takes out one of Lucy's eyes. (Lucy has a hysterical laughing fit before passing out.)

—After this Theon is either dispatched for the Wall and does Night's Watch things or "escapes" with "Reek" and has a very bad time.

In the course of preparing for the attack Brynden revealed through Bran that he's still alive and can communicate through weirwoods. He has to be much less cryptic in explaining why Bran needs to cross the Wall. Lucy is unconvinced and says she certainly couldn't let Bran go without her, which Brynden doesn't like at all. Fortunately for Brynden's plans Lucy is still in recovery, and she is unable to stop Bran from slipping away with the Reeds, Hodor, and also Jo. Brynden will be in so much trouble when she tells Mya.

Jess has her own problems. The safe thing to do would be to head to Essos by way of White Harbor — but starting from Riverrun that's a long way out of the way. Sneaking through the Riverlands to Saltpans should be much faster. It's a terrible idea but Jess knows the Riverlands well (or did when she was Mya) and her cousin is short on common sense. They get caught and taken to Tywin at Harrenhal. We now have Jess, Jon, Arya, and Tywin all in Harrenhal.

Which is not quite the same as it is in canon, because — remember Jenny's friend knowing Jenny's daughters would be reborn someday?

The Woman of the Forest dug up those seven dragon eggs Aegon V brought to Summerhall and buried them by the Harrenhal heart tree. They'd already been in a pyre with way more than seven people, and Harrenhal has plenty more death to offer, so when magic starts growing again — say, about when the direwolf mother came south — they hatch. Now the Harrenhal godswood has seven possibly cursed dragons. (Almost definitely cursed, really. They're most active at night and stealthier than they should be even at night; they grew quickly to a fairly small size for dragons and then stopped; they are uncannily knowing for animals.)

Cursed or not they've been very considerate for dragons — they've never attacked inside the castle. They're practically friendly with the castle smallfolk who discovered and secretly fed them. (The smallfolk called them after the major houses of Harrenhal — Hoare, Qoherys, Harroway, Towers, Strong, Lothston, and Whent.) When they started attacking Lannister raiders they did it outside the castle.

Since Jon Snow has been a prisoner, one of them has been lurking around the relevant tower more.

When Jess arrives, one breaks into her cell within a few days. (Jon is an option. They're meant for Jess.) (The one that's most for her is Strong, because of course it is.)

There's a very exciting night after which they're in control of Harrenhal and Jess and Jon have claimed dragons, to Jon's consternation. (Two more of the dragons are destined for Lucy and Jo.)

Blah blah, more stuff happens, I'm not sure how the war works out exactly but Robb marries Jess after all because she's from a good northern family and HAS A DRAGON.

They still have quite a bit to do up North even before the Others show up because in addition to the Ironborn and potential Bolton problems—

No Jon Snow means Lord Mormont gets killed by a wight, which means that the Watch started attempting to elect a new Lord Commander and deadlocked. No Great Ranging. No infiltration of Mance Rayder's wildlings by Jon or anyone else. Wherever the wildling army attacks — maybe not Castle Black if it's full of election — they're a surprise, and any wall-climbing advance guard was un-infiltrated. Mance gets through.

(Which will actually be a benefit when the Others show! Going to take a while to work that out, though.)

The Bastard Dragons will likely help with all this. (Also Brynden has to be careful with Bran or his sisters will be disappointed.)

Anyway anyway — that's only four out of seven bastard dragons spoken for, and what about the Greens?

So, considering the dragonkeepers as a quasi-religious order. They are likely to be distraught when the last dragon dies. They perhaps might want to demand vengeance — perhaps not on the current king, both because the senior Dragonstone dragonkeepers remember Aegon III as a little boy who loved Stormcloud plus, you know, he's the king. Perhaps they might instead turn to Valyrian blood magic and access to Targaryen funerary urns, and commit mass ritual murder-suicide to chain the guilty to life where they can be punished.

This doesn't work with an empty funeral urn, so they can't actually target Rhaenyra or Daemon, or Daeron. Any non-Targaryens aren't on the table at all. But Aegon II and Helaena had funerals, and Aemond's bones were dredged up with Vhagar's. (Some might question the inclusion of Helaena among the guilty, but her suicide triggered the storming of the Dragonpit.)

The curse will see them reborn, when a Hightower has a child with Targaryen blood. The curse will see their bodies warped with approximations of draconic traits, eventually killing them painfully. The curse will end when there are dragons again.

The first available "child of a Hightower, with Targaryen blood" is the youngest daughter of Rhaena and Garmund Hightower, followed by Rhaena's daughters's children. They go through a few rounds of this before some of the Hightowers figure out what's going on. They come up with a way to stall the curse, but decide that probably they should try to avoid marrying Targaryens. Rhaena's grandchildren don't bear the Hightower name, so it doesn't fall on any of them.

It does pop up when Viserys Plumm marries a Hightower. And when a Hightower fathers a child on a dragonseed whore, years after that.

(The curse doesn't specify gender, but somehow Aegon is a girl every time. He undergoes character development partially from this and partially from experiencing actual competent parenting and unconditional love.)

Fast forward. Leyla Hightower is one of Lord Leyton's daughters, and the only one to marry into a knightly house. Suppose, then, that this was a coverup after she got in trouble. Suppose she got into trouble with a descendant of one of Aegon V's sisters, and surprise, turns out that's enough to trigger the curse. Mad Maid Malora figures out what's going on fairly soon, so Agnes and Ellyn get the curse mitigation very young.

Leyla then goes on to fuck Robert at the Lannisport tourney and has Emmon. To complete the set.

Agnes, Ellyn, and Emmon are all nominally the children of Ser Jon Cupps, but Leyla and Robert weren't exactly discreet. Jon Arryn comes up with a pretense to invite Ser Cupps and family to court — he wants a closer look at white-blond Leyla and her black-haired son.

Ellyn would rather die than set foot in King's Landing, so she goes to be a companion to her cousin Margaery instead. We'll come back to her.

Lord Arryn and Stannis interrogate Leyla but leave Ser Cupps out of the loop. Emmon isn't told anything but figures it out. Agnes decides Cersei was custom-crafted by cruel gods to answer the question "what would a queen have to be like for Aegon to think better of Rhaenyra by comparison".

When Jon Arryn dies, Stannis takes Leyla and Emmon — evidence — to Dragonstone. Emmon is very unhappy about this. Agnes and Ser Cupps are left behind. Ser Cupps, still clueless, helps Ned's investigation as best he can, and is 'accidentally' killed in the chaos around Ned's arrest. The Lannisters decide Agnes isn't much of a Reach hostage, but still worth hanging onto. Agnes is very unhappy about this and makes it everyone's problem.

Back in the Reach, Ellyn doesn't care about Renly but she is fond of Margaery and Loras. She tries some of Malora's tricks to protect the encampment. It interferes enough that Renly doesn't get killed.

Emmon eventually manages to get off Dragonstone — Leyla will probably be safe there but Melisandre is making him nervous. He wants to get back to the Reach or find Renly's forces, since breaking Agnes out of King's Landing on his own is unrealistic. (As far as kings go Emmon thinks all the Baratheons are pretenders, but the Lannisters and Stannis have made themselves his enemies.) Inconveniently, he makes landfall in the Riverlands. He is captured. He is imprisoned in proximity to Jess, and both of them have to come to terms with a lot of things real fast.

So Emmon is also at Harrenhal, and also claims a dragon, and also calls dibs on two more for currently absent siblings.

Claiming of the Bastard Dragons:

Hoare, renamed Hoarwing (by Jess), renamed Hoarfrost (by Jon): Jon Snow

Qoherys, renamed Rhaenaxes because who cares about House Qoherys and Queen Rhaena was awesome: Ellyn Cupps

Harroway, renamed Harrowfyre: Agnes Cupps

Towers, renamed Towerfyre (by Jess), renamed Riverwing (by Emmon, from reasons he won't discuss): Emmon Cupps

Strong, renamed Strongwing: Jessamyn Flint

Lothston, renamed Danelleys because Mad Danelle was definitely the best Lothston: Lucinda Flint (You could therefore, if you wanted, nickname the dragon Danny Flint — or perhaps Danny Flint's Revenge)

Whent, renamed Whenthor: Jocelyn Flint

When Daenerys finally arrives, they all make terms — they insist on good terms, but they won't set dragon against dragon for the sake of any crown.

[mossymandibles]

Forgot to add to the last ask- the otter comic says Kraw is a chimera, is that a natural species or are chimeras created somehow? Because otter grandpa said they're sterile and that happens to some non-natural animal combos irl. Also is his brother a chimera as well?

After just finding out about mayv and the way she looks, it made me think that chimeras are made by witches and not a natural species so I'm super curious now because why did somebody do that to those 2 kids if that's the case :(

In Hallowed Carrion chimera/Chimereals happen between two ‘primordial’ species that couldn’t normally mate, but it involves a ‘false uterus’ created by consuming the celestial body’s flesh. With Kraw it was his sea drake mother and Fury father. (They’re considered to be ‘primordial’ simply because they’ve been around for quite some time, live longer and are usually giants. Most modern day islanders don’t believe/know their kind exists, kind of like how we are with modern conspiracies of the ‘megalodon still existing in the marianna trench’).

It is a trait among chimereals that they are sterile. They’re also known by their abnormal growth hormones which causes them to keep growing/evolving for who knows how long. There’s actually a lot of prejudice held against them and they don’t often live in regular society like Kraw does, they’re usually considered dangerous and they’re often loners.

Most of this is only known because of Sylvaine learning about Serkan who is also a chimereal, albeit much older than Kraw. She’s actively studying chimereals through Kraw now. (He was actually very upset to learn he was sterile :(

And I’ve wanted to show more about Titus! It’s hard to balance my attention to everything lol.

Titus is also a chimereal. He was born on a specialized mill where they attempted to breed marine chimereals like him for hunting purposes. Most chimereals that come out of the mills end up dead, malformed or ‘defective’, so he was ‘lucky’. He also would have had the ability to breathe fire, but his flint glands were removed, like declawing a cat. He was kind of mean and he certainly had it harder than Kraw with Mayv. She didn’t even know he could speak when she first got him because his throat was fucked after they cut his flint glands out. He was about 7 when she got him and he was already known to be unruly/uncontrollable in the mill. They would have put him down if Mayv hadn’t come along. She took care of him though despite keeping a firm hand and eventually he came to see her as a surrogate mother.

He definitely got a jealous streak when she brought Kraw home. Mayv would often be fawning over how Kraw “came from the sea, so he would make such a great hunter and how beautiful his colors were and-“ blah blah blaaah. Titus hadn’t even seen the sea until Mayv rescued him, and he thought Kraw was just a little ‘flat-faced softie’. He would often goad him into fights. There’s a lot more to it, but eventually he and Kraw came to find their similarities, mostly through comforting each other through night terrors and exploring the swamps together.

Although Mayv also saw them like her own sons, she often towed the line between training them like animals and treating them like regular children. She was of course still very loving but it was often muddled by her militant expectations of them out on the ocean. Titus and Kraw worked for Mayv as ‘mer-hounds’, which are marine creatures that are trained to effectively hunt and catch mermaids or other large oceanic game, sort of like how some fishermen would use ducks. That was what the mills were breeding marine creatures for.

As of present day, a lot had gone down between Kraw and his brother, and a lot happened where Kraw had to leave the Shades as well. Kraw doesn’t know what’s become of his brother and whether or not Mayv is even alive. I do plan to get into that.

I can show you a sort of wip I have of him, but he might get a bit of a cleanup? Just because this is older art. I had planned to make growth charts for he and Kraw for a while now. Awkward teenage years and such.

[blacksailskmeme]

Black Sails Kink Meme 2024 Round Up: May-June

Hi there pirate fam!

As of today the Kink Meme has collected 130 prompts and 26 fills! Wow!!! 🥳🥳

As I said, I’ve decided to do a round up post for each month the kink meme is live, showcasing those fills submitted to the collection monthly.

We skipped a separate May roundup because things had quieted down for a bit, but in June y'all popped right back up! Happy Hot Kink Meme Summer, we'll be here all of July as well, accepting prompts and fills alike! ☀️☀️

Here ya go: all the fics submitted in May and June gathered in one place for your convenience and enjoyment! ✨

--

Flames of Desire By John Silver, SilverFlint, 4183 words

(For PROMPT #71: silver pre series writes filthy rpf of him and captain flint (think kidnapped by the pirate styles bodice rippers) and then he actually ends up kidnapped by flint and tries to seduce him bc of course he does and flint Resists but silver keeps throwing himself at flint until he finally gives in 😈)

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Flavor, SilverFlint, 4088 words

(For PROMPT #72: s3-s4 break, Silver likes how Flint smells sweaty and ripe after they do sword drills on the cliffs, so he keeps distracting with questions or bullshit ship tasks Flint after training so that he doesn't have time to wash up before his other meetings. culminating in flint clocking what's he's doing, getting fed up, and making Silver give him a tonguebath one morning. Copious sweat and armpit hair licking is a MUST.)

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Recipe For Disaster, Silverflint; Silver/Others, 5655 words

(For PROMPT #50: Bad Cook Silver accidentally aphrodisiac poisons the crew. Take it any direction you want, but my idea is that he buys a sketchy potion in a port somewhere, planning to put it in Flint's food because he wants Flint to be helplessly attracted to him for manipulation/blackmail reasons. However through shenanigans, it ends up getting added to everyone's food BUT Flint and, oh no! the whole crew is horny for Silver. Flint, who did NOT get dosed (but maybe thinks he did?) has feelings about this.)

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For Her, FlintMadi, 1433 words

(For PROMPT #26: Madi is eaten out while menstruating. Dealer's choice who is slurping her up, could be multiples)

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Enter Leviathan, Silver/Sea Monster; SilverFlint, 2742 words

(For PROMPT #4: The War Ship is guarded by more than men. They have somehow captured a sea creature and are keeping it under decks. It gets loose during the interrogation, and Flint (still tied to the chair) watches as Silver gets tentacle fucked into oblivion.)

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first prize, SilverFlint, Silver/Others, 4088 words

(For PROMPT #94: some sort of s1/2 au. Flint is fucking Silver, but sometimes he lets a chosen few members of his crew have a go at Silver if they did well on a raid. Lending and voyeurism (Flint watches), Silver feels a mix of humiliation from being used like this and weird messed up pride from being such a Prized Possession that he's being given to people as a prize)

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Bot Love, FlintHam; SilverFlintHam, 5293 words

(For PROMPT #84: Inspired by the porn bots flooding the tumblr black sails tag. Modern AU. POV James. Thomas uses tumblr because he runs an account posting about bawdy quotes from poems/classics. James thinks it's ridiculous (social media at all, that is). One day he looks over Thomas's shoulder and sees such a porny advertise (something along the tacky line of "who wants to play with my cute butt") featuring a picture of Silver or well, parts of his body, in a tantalizing position. Thomas realises that James is very very turned on by it (James is angry about being turned on but damn, that's a really nice ass) and clicks the link. This is followed by a steamy video chat with Silver fucking himself with a huge dildo on his bed. Meanwhile, Thomas gives James a handjob or blowjob or... more (your choice). Bonus points if Thomas pays Silver a very generous tip in the end and if they end up exchanging contact details for a meeting in person (Silver, a poor student, sees his chance to become the sugar baby to these two obviously very rich and hot couple)

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Close Combat, Miranda/Anne, 3261 words

(For PROMPT #117: Miranda and Anne fight sex :) maybe a Miranda lives au or just set sometime in s1 or 2, but Miranda decides she wants to learn how to fight. flints fight style doesn't work for a thin woman, and Miranda hears about how skilled and feared Anne bonny is, so she seeks her out for training. during the course of the training, the sexual tension grows and then breaks and they have nasty rough sex on the ground - something neither of them could get with flint or max who love them too much to be rough nd dirty with them)

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Captain's Treasure, SilverFlint; Silver/Others, 1883 words

(For PROMPT #94: some sort of s1/2 au. Flint is fucking Silver, but sometimes he lets a chosen few members of his crew have a go at Silver if they did well on a raid. Lending and voyeurism (Flint watches), Silver feels a mix of humiliation from being used like this and weird messed up pride from being such a Prized Possession that he's being given to people as a prize)

-

Thanks again to all of our May and June contributors! Here’s to more unapologetically smutty, kinky fills for July~~ 🥳🥳

[lux-sunt]

“𝙆𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙠 𝙤𝙛 𝙘𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚.”

— 𝙖 𝙢𝙪𝙡𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 18+ 𝙍𝙋 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙊𝘾𝙨 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙠𝙖𝙞 : 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧 𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙡 , 𝙖𝙛𝙛𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 @mors-pulchritudo & @soletluna-frateretsoror

— 𝙛𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙨 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 @pangirlpanic!

𝗥𝘂𝗹𝗲𝘀 & 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗼𝘄 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝘂𝘁!

Interest tracker!!

About :

This is a high activity/mutuals only roleplay and ask blog featuring eleven OCs, the nine siblings of Calliope (the muse of @mors-pulchritudo) and her parents! Here’s some info about them :3 (click on links for images and more details about the OCs)

Alvaro 🐉 & Aurelia 🌋

Isaiah ☀️

Enūma ❄️

Ezra 🌴

Flint 💫

Kumi 🍷

Kyogai 🕯️

Luella 💐

Maeve ⚡️

Titus ☠️

…?

Rules :

Before we get started with the rules, here’s a DNI list. If you indulge in any of these, I ask you move along. Do not interact with me if you are: homophobic, transphobic, a trump supporter, a zionist, lesbiphobic, ableist, an active “pro-shipper”, support or actively condone incest, plan to do anything along these lines regarding my muses on all blogs, or use ai to write/generate “art” for you. Thank you. Also, personals, please DNI unless you have a side rp blog.

1 ~ NSFW and suggestive asks are allowed on this blog, but I ask that you look through my OCs to see who you are and aren’t allowed to ship with. (Hint : there are three) Also, all muses are above the age of eighteen.

2 ~ Communication is key!! If a thread is not working for you, or you want to drop it (given I’m provided a reason), just let me know! Also, my timezone is EST <3

3 ~ I can basically do any type of RP, but I do tend to use a more formally formatted type of RP, though.

4 ~ Because NSFW is allowed on this blog, I ask that minors stay away from this blog. (Or at the very least don’t interact with any of the adult material, 16 is as young as you are allowed to be on this blog, just block the nsfw tagged things) But, feel free to interact with the two other RP blogs linked above!

5 ~ Feel free to ask my muses questions as well as RP with them! Send in starters for any of my muses (within the guidelines) from the prompt tag, they’re always open. And, if we’re mutuals, hit me up anytime!

6 ~ This is a multi-ship blog! All of my OCs (the ones you’re allowed to ship with) have no set S/O, and it can change depending upon who they’re being shipped with. But, they are all adults! No child/underage ships are allowed. Platonic relationships are just fine.

7 ~ If I follow you (and let you know about my side blogs), and I am not followed back within a week, I will unfollow. Nothing against you, it just makes my life easier.

(Also, head over to my main rp blog @/mors-pulchritudo to learn more about me, or you can just ask!)

Some generic warnings

This blog will contain some sensitive and potentially triggering topics regarding my OCs’ lore. Examples are:

~ Trauma (more than one type)

~ Mental health issues

~ Injury in various degrees

~ Darker themes of mythology (the whole nine yards, basically)

~ Death (in the past/being mentioned)

~ (more may be added!)

Also, I will ask if you don’t vibe with any of these topics before they may come up in an interaction!

Tags (generic) + anons

# ooc ~ afternoon daylight (the mod speaking, or just anything out of RP!)

# rp time ~ celestial visions (for RP threads)

# the skies’ screams (for when I answer asks about the OCs :3)

# singing blossoms (for ic commentary)

# sun’s rays ~ rp promo (it’s what it sounds like lol)

# rp memes - gone surfin’ (for reblogging prompts/RP memes)

# by word of mouth (lore about any of my OCs!)

# lights - camera - action! (for any videos I make with my OCs or other characters :3)

# the gallery ~ precious paintings (for when I post art! WIPs, full pieces, etc.)

# {that’s the queue!} (stuff posted through the queue)

All of my OCs will have their personalized tags listed on their info posts!

And, of course, all triggers/content warnings will be tagged accordingly.

Anons

TBA

Like for a starter! (WIP)

Prompts are always open/accepting!

Discord : mysticaries_ (in case you would like to contact me by another means instead of tumblr)

Taglist : @drowning-in-cabbages have fun hehe

[anemcia]

The phone rang sharply in the quiet farmhouse, the sound breaking the rhythm of the late afternoon. Cyto, standing by the kitchen counter, glanced at it curiously. Honeydew’s phone rarely buzzed—only a handful of people ever called her. Not that he's ever picked up the phone; hell, no one knows he's out here. Not a soul is aware that he, or his father, lives under the same roof.

He tentatively reads the caller ID, it being read simply as "Dad". The knowledge of even speaking with his grandfather, or any family member beyond this region, was far too tempting to pass up.

And against better judgment... Curiosity won. He simply had to know what he sounded like. It was the closest connection with a human he could have beyond his own mother.

Slowly, steadily, he answered the call.

“...Hello?” he said, his tone polite but uncertain.

The voice on the other end was gruff, sharp, and immediately suspicious. “Eh? Who is this? Where’s Honeydew?”

“This is… Her son,” Cyto replied cautiously, the words tasting strange even as he said them. There was silence. An eerie, suffocating silence that stretched far too long, before the voice came roaring back like a thunderclap.

“HER WHAT?! Honeydew doesn’t have a son! Put her on the phone! NOW!”

Cyto winced, holding the phone slightly away from his ear. “She’s not here right now,” he said, voice steady but tense. “I can tell her to call you back—”

“Hold on,” Flint cut in, his voice trembling with equal parts fury and disbelief. “I wanna believe this is some big joke, but I get the feelin' this is serious... H-How… How old are you, kid? You sound a lot older than I expected.”

“...Fifteen,” Cyto admitted, hesitating. That earned him another earful.

“Fifteen?! FIFTEEN?! What the hell has she been hiding from me?!” Flint roared. His words were fast, sharp, cutting through the thin static of the phone line. “Who even are you? Do you go to school? What do you do? Has she ever said a word about me to you? ANYTHING?”

Cyto paused, his throat tightening. He tried to keep his voice calm. “I… I don’t go to school, but... I'm homeschooled. I also help out on the farm. And she’s mentioned you… But only in recounted memories. Other than that, she doesn't say anything.”

That seemed to hit a nerve. Flint’s next words caught in his throat, replaced by a heavy, frustrated exhale. “...Of course, she hasn’t said anything else,” he muttered, voice low and bitter. “She’d rather bury everything than own up to it. I should've known she'd hide news about a baby bein' born... The nerve of that girl.”

Cyto didn’t reply. The phone felt heavier in his hand, the conversation weighing on him. But then he asked the question Cyto had been dreading.

“What about your father, kid? He's still in the picture, right? Who is he?...”

For a moment, the hybrid froze. The weight of the truth—of what that question could unravel—sat heavily in his chest. There was no possible way the truth could would go down well, not even a little bit. How on Earth would anyone in his position be able to explain that can of worms?

Without a word, without even thinking, he reflexively ended the call, hanging up with a sharp beep. Cyto stared at the screen for a long moment, his reflection barely visible in its dark surface. He swallowed hard, a knot of guilt twisting in his stomach. He hadn’t meant for things to go that far. And now… He wasn’t sure how much worse he’d just made everything.

He's so fucking dead for doing that.

[hotpinkmurex]

Thanks @pakehamyrddin for the tag.

I too am posting some lines of my current Wesper WIP (which I have failed to post for IN OVER A MONTH!!! ) It's full of things like mild angst, pining, and talk of honour. And Jesper being Prince Charming. All the fun stuff!

It is also over 10,000 words long 😞

But almost finished... 😊

"Are you angry?" was not the question Wylan expected the Prince to ask. It seemed strangely cognizant of the feelings Wylan used to have. Wylan raised his head to look at the Prince, and he found him pressed in close and unmoved. His jaw had sharpened, and his eyes flashed like flint. Wylan would not dare lie to a face like that.

"No. I am not angry. Not any more. Not about that."

Then, inexplicably, the Prince smiled, his whole being emanating a kind of softness Wylan could not account for. Wylan was running through so many scenarios in his mind his head felt like it was lifting.

"Well, I'd be angry!" the Prince continued conversationally. "Seeing people do so easily a thing I could not? I don't think I'd ever stop being angry. But then I'm not as good a man as you are."

Wylan shook his head so fast he felt his confused brain rattle. He could not stomach a lie such as that one hanging in the air. Or the Prince's indulgent smile.

Images flashed through Wylan's mind; Standing at a lakeside ripping great wads of paper out of a leather-bound book that Reuben could read but he could not; His own reflection splintering in the mirror that day he'd learned the truth about his mother, and what the man who wore the same face as Wylan had done to her.

"I'm not as good as you think I am," Wylan said sadly.

Yet the Prince was still smiling. He was even back to teasing, raising a brow and whispering his words. "Then why aren't you angry?"

"I prefer to be grateful, I can do other things... Wait," said Wylan, not daring believe the only answer for the Prince's behaviour that his brain was spitting out at him. "Do you not care?!"

The Prince seemed taken aback at Wylan's vehemence, but he held Wylan's stare with only slightly diminished surity. His smile only faltered for a moment before he pulled back and engaged himself in scratching at the stitching on his hose.

"That's a loaded question. Of course I care."

Before Wylan had a chance to swallow what that was supposed to mean the Prince was back to his questioning.

"And who do you have that can help you? Besides Lord Reuben that is?"

"N-Nina..." Wylan mumbled without thinking.

And Nina is… a servant? the Prince asked shrewdly, and Wylan winced in shame for being so careless. What Nina had learned from Inej by rush light in the attic was against the law for a servant in Kerch.

That's not why I asked…" the Prince assured him. "Laws like that belong in the past. The smartest man I know would be little more than a servant if his brother had not sent him to school. And been swindled out of his fortune in the process... I wondered only if you had someone you could trust?

I can always trust Nina.

Well, I can read to you," the Prince declared easily. "If you ever need the help."

Wylan blinked. "You- You will read to me?"

"I'm not much of a reader myself, but my stepmother always forces me to pack a few tomes. For appearances sake. I might have something on mineral deposits of the Southern Colonies?"

Wylan blinked wider. The Prince was speaking as if it were a natural thing for him to offer. That the Crown Prince of the Six Provinces, 'the man who would be King', should want to spend the long summer days hidden in a dark corner being an attendent to a forgotten son.

"But not for free, you understand?" he teased, enjoying very much Wylan's stunned face. "Do you really have the audacity to sit there and pretend you can't sing?"

Tagging @tinyarmedtrex and @stormkpr for what I assume is Several Sentences Sunday? Though it is Monday. And possibly even Tuesday in some parts of the world.

[etoilesombre]

Never have I ever game-- you're known for playing with the source material in ways that don't change canon's outcome, but would you ever do a non-canon Black Sails take? An AU that is entirely different setting from pirates, mod au, fairytale au, space au, cowboy au, etc?

Oh that is a great question. I don't generally do AU, and especially not modern AU, because for me personally it is hard to put them into a high enough stakes environment to explore the elements of the show I'm interested in. HOWEVER. There is one that I started to consider a while ago and have pretty thoroughly fleshed out, and have a serious plan to start once other projects are finished, and that is: Russian Revolution AU! Ok. Stick with me here. [Or don't. I'm going to put this under a cut, it is a lot, and may not make very much sense if you don't already know something about the historical period.]

So, I love the idea of using the Russian revolution as a way to explore some of the same dynamics as the show because it is a period in which there was a lot of righteous idealism, and then it all went very wrong, which naturally brings up questions of ideological commitment vs survival, what are you willing to sacrifice, how do your ideals hold up in the real world, etc. It is also a time when how queerness was treated was very in flux, fitting well with 'we care if its politically convenient to care.'

Basically, we start in the early 1920s right after Lenin dies. Flint is a general, old guard party member, was a commander in the civil war. He is known for doing Really Heinous Flinty Shit during that period. He is sort of revered but also feared, and very ideologically motivated, and so of course he is about to get his ass purged when Stalin starts to consolidate and bring everybody into line.

Silver (10ish years younger) grew up during the upheaval of the 1905, WWI, 1917. He's his survivalist trauma bundle self, and ends up working as a low level NKVD (early Soviet intelligence) guy. He gets sent to keep tabs on/gather evidence against Flint - there is immediately a Frenemies attraction spark there. For Plot Reasons they have to do something together and become Reluctant Allies. I have some of the actual plot worked out but I'm not going to get much into it here, but there is absolutely a parallel conflict in values to the show, and choice that has to be made at the end.

IN THE MEAN TIME interspersed through all of this, in flashbacks: back sometime in the years right after the 1905 revolution, Flint is a promising young military guy who came up from nothing, and has a Hennessey parallel benefactor who sends him to school to be educated. He falls in with Thomas, who is the son of a minor prince, very queer and getting away with it, and is a radical in the Christian anarchist Tolstoy model. Flint gets radicalized through him and his friends, they spend happy years abroad in exile with Thomas writing and Flint being a tactician and doing direct action stuff. They come back in 1917, the civil war starts, Thomas is basically murdered by his family because he sided against them, and he is still set to inherit. SO, that is why Flint goes all Darkness and gets especially nasty during the civil war.

There is a Miranda proxy as well. I believe she disappears and her disappearance is what sets off Plot Events.

It's also set in St. Petersburg, if anybody is wondering. Moscow, with the level I have Flint at, would involve too much interaction with Actual Historical Figures, and while I know a fair amount about this era and am totally committed to research, but still, that gets to be Much.

So, there you have it, Russia AU! My delusional long-term goal is for this to be different enough from canon that it could be published. Thanks for the ask, it's helping me get excited about that project again!

[misguidedasgardian]

The Lifeaters (I.7)

VII. Matches

MASTERLIST

Chapter Summary: You resumed the semester at Hogwarts

Pairings: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader (platonic)

Warnings: Cursing, magical objects, Mugglephobia, classism, other things, pretty tame so far, might miss some warning but I think you know what this is about… 

Wordcount: 1.9 k 

Notes: I'm already writing thongs for the fourth year and what’s to come, I’m excited for you all to read it! jeje anyways these are like filler chapters

You had mixed feelings when you found yourself back in the hallways of Hogwarts, on one side, it was a school, there were classes and assignments, but on the other, it was Hogwarts! It was amazing! 

You resumed your classes with normalcy, but it wasn’t until after the first class of potions that you truly started feeling nervous again, of being caught by Snape even if you weren’t doing anything. It was like when you come face to face with an Auror, you weren’t doing anything, but you felt incredibly nervous regardless, he could grab you and throw you into Azkaban, that is what it felt like to be in classes with Professor Snape.

But you kept enjoying the rest of your lessons, like History of Magic, (that made everyone snooze) and Defense against the dark arts. Weeks went by amazingly fast, and before you even realized it… it was already February, and another very interesting thing was about to happen… 

It was a Ravenclaw VS Slytherin match! the second match of Slytherin and the third in the season! 

Draco, Blaise and you loved to see the matches, but the rest of your group didn’t care much for them. But you still made them attend with you.

The vibe was completely different from the first match against Gryffindor, it was Ravenclaw that they were playing against, and watching them flying in perfect lining was a bit boring, but… the Slytherin played playfully and tauntingly, making the Ravenclaws scratch their heads constantly

When they scored 30 points your throat was raw by the screaming you were procuring, and it didn’t help that you found Terence Higgs to be really cute, making your cheeks feel heated despite the cold. 

“I have my eye out for the captain though”, giggled Pansy, you frowned, Flint was a good player, but he was a bit… unfortunate looking… but you could see the appeal as you saw him flying through the air. The Quidditch uniform certainly added some appeal you thought gleefully 

He searched for you after scoring and waved at you, making Pansy clutch into your arm giggling in your ear

In half time you were winning by 50 points, and Draco wouldn’t shut up about beating Gryffindor for the Quidditch cup, you still had another game with Hufflepuff, you could still win!

The plays you had helped design were actually working! and they started again scoring and scoring, Given, the Ravenclaws also scored a couple of goals, but it was all over anyways when Terence Higgs caught the snitch, making you giggle and smile dumbly.

He was a third year? second year maybe… with blonde hair and big blue eyes. 

There was a party in the common room after the match! all of Slytherin was there, chanting and applauding for our winning team, who of course, were the stars of the celebration

“Next year, those are going to be us”, promised Draco with a smirk, and you couldn’t be more excited, as you jumped and chanted Slytherin! Slytherin! Slytherin! It was so electric! the atmosphere! 

You were enchanted.

But all good things must come to an end, as that day, and the weeks continued as normal

You hang out in the library with your friends, Daph, Draco, Goyle, and Matthew, working for an assignment for History in Magic, you had to choose a famous Wizard or Witch from the middle ages to do some work in, Daphne and you of course chose Morgan Le Fay. 

The boys though, chose instead to take another book, not even remotely related to the task in hand… it was a small book they found regarding mischievous spells, more than jokes and the sorts

“Look!”, Draco giggled, “the leg-locker spell!” 

“That’s a good one”, laughed Matthew, you thought it was going to end in that, but then, Neville showed up, picking a book probably related to the same assignment

“Don’t”, you warned your best friend, almost reading his mind. But he didn’t listen, he, Matt and Greg followed Longbottom outside of the library where Mrs Pince wouldn’t see them

And they cursed him

Poor Neville had to bunny jump away, scared, as Draco came back to his spot, laughing

You looked at him disapprovingly

“Did you see how he just jumped away?”, Matthew laughed, “a good spell that is!”

“I don’t know why you have Neville so much”, you mumbled, but he didn't answer

“You are so mean”, muttered Daphne, but you both sharing looks decided to keep working in your assignment, it was supposed to be you 5 doing it, but you were doing all the job as they played and mocked

But Draco had a change of heart, and grabbed one of the books you had selected

“I don’t know why we went for Morgan and not Merlin”, he said, bored

“That is what happens when you don’t help in the process”, you warned, and he nodded and shrugged, “please search her date of birth”, you asked, “Daphne and I are searching her best accomplishments”

“Sure”, but Gregory and Matthew kept playing jokes and mocking Ravenclaws passing by.

The very next month, a few weeks later, you were in the Quidditch pitch yet again, but this time, to watch the Gryffindor VS Hufflepuff game, you wanted to make sure Gryffindor lost, or really, you wanted to see it with your own eyes, and the tactics they were going to use, and also the Hufflepuff’s, Slytherin’s last game of the year in three more months.

You could not convince any of your friends except Greg and Vince, and of course Draco was there too.

And to more of your dismay, you got seats in the Gryffindor box, behind Weasley and Longbottom, Potter’s biggest fans. 

Draco couldn’t help it, it came to him naturally. As you tried to focus on the game, he was focus more on the conversation happening in front of him. 

Ron whined in pain as Draco had poked him to get his attention

"Oh, sorry, Weasley, didn't see you there", he teased, you only rolled your eyes at this, trying to focus on the game. "Wonder how long Potter's going to stay on his broom this time? Anyone want a bet? What about you, Weasley?"

But Weaslet didn’t answer, he just kept watching the game, and you too, to your surprise, Snape was referring, you had never seen him doing that before, and you guessed that’s why the redhead looked so worried, almost constipated.

Your headteacher hated Harry, even more so than Draco, and everyone could see it, especially in the Potions class you shared with the Gryffindors.

But as you thought about it, he threw a penalty at Gryffindor, after one of the Weasley twins tried to him him with a bludger, but that had been a blatant fault. Granger standing right in front of you, looked worried too, and wouldn’t take her eyes off of the Professor, rather than looking at her friend.

It was easy to spot Potter, who had spotted the snitch and started pursuit. You cursed yourself for being distracted, you needed to be watching the Hufflepuffs and their strategies, but it was becoming an interesting game

"You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team?", Draco asked you then, you barely looked at him, trying to predict which hoop the Hufflepuff keeper was going to try and protect next.

But Snape blew his whistle again and threw another penalty in favor of the Yellow and Black team, that made you smile, because there was no cause for it.

"It's people they feel sorry for”, he continued after nobody asked him what was on his mind, “see? there's Potter, who's got no parents, then there's the Weasleys, who've got no money -- you should be on the team, Longbottom, you've got no brains.", Goyle snorted a laugh, even though it was a little mean

But Neville, in front of you, turned around, with a strange determined look on his big green eyes, he turned to Draco

"I'm worth twelve of you, Malfoy," he stammered. you opened your mouth, surprised, but you were happy for him, clearly his Gryffindor friends were egging him on and you admired that.

But Draco found it even more entertaining, as he and Crabbe, and Goyle started laughing. Weasley barely paid attention to his friend’s bravado, as he muttered a simple: "You tell him, Neville."

"Longbottom, if brains were gold you'd be poorer than Weasley, and that's saying something”, alright, you had to admit you laughed then, Draco’s answers where always so quick, it seemed like he prepared them beforehand 

Ron Weasley, who was watching Potter like a Hawk, turned then, very angry

"I'm warning you, Malfoy… one more word…”, he started his threat

"Ron!" called Granger suddenly. You followed her gaze and Potter went into a quick dive, chasing the snitch, even though you couldn’t see it

The crowd started cheering, everyone standing up and calling for Harry 

Granger stood up too, blocking your view of the…biased-speaking spectacular play that Potter was executing.

He was good, you had to admit… but you wouldn’t, not outloud 

"You're in luck, Weasley, Potter's obviously spotted some money on the ground!" said Malfoy.

That is when the Weasley turned angrily, and before nobody could stop him, he grabbed Draco and threw him against the wood planks in the floor of the box. They started wrestling. Longbottom jumped over the seat to help his friend 

You only took a step back as you wished to keep watching the game, and you were getting tired of Draco bullying everyone 

"Come on, Harry!" Granger screamed, moving so much that you had to do contortions to watch around her

You both remained oblivious to Draco and Weasley, wrestling on the floor. But you did payed attention when Neville whimpered, he had gotten in a scuffle with Goyle and Crabbe. it was a knot of fists and legs, it was almost chemical.

You thanked Merlin that there wasn’t any teacher present, or you would be punished. 

But fortunately they were interrupted, when Snape blowed the whistle, indicating that the snitch had been caught, by none other than Potter

It was the shortest game ever! like ten minutes or so, it must be some sort of record

You saw the black haired boy, his hand clasping the snitch raised up high

He was good alright… 

Everyone cheered for him, the stadium erupted in chants and cheers and applause.

Now, you would admit that you felt a little jealous, you wondered what it would feel like, to be a Quidditch star, and you really wished you could see what it was about, next year if you managed to get into the team.

 leaping onto her seat to watch as Harry sped straight at Snape -- she didn't even notice Malfoy and Ron rolling around under her seat, or the scuffles and yelps coming from the whirl of fists that was Neville, Crabbe, and Goyle.

Draco had lost the squaffle and the Gryffindors had won, so he was not happy at all, as he stood up from the floor and managed to see Potter being raised in the air by his teammates, and you in turn were preparing yourself for another rant about Potter.