#below tags are for navigation purposes

[cluelessteam]

Whispers Through Time: {~Trials of the Heart~}

Summary: After being mysteriously transported into the world of House of the Dragon, a modern-day woman poses as a seer to gain entry into the Targaryen court. Armed with knowledge of the future, she secretly warns Rhaenyra and Daemon of looming dangers while hiding her true identity. As she grows closer to both, romantic tension builds, but so do the risks of her deception. With Daemon's suspicions rising and Rhaenyra’s trust deepening, the reader must navigate her lies while trying to alter their tragic fate—before everything unravels.

Characters: Rhaenyra & Daemon

Pairing: Rhaenyra x Fem!Reader x Daemon

Word Count: 1436

Tag List: @snowtargaryen, @hippiedippiekitty

Chapter 8 --- Chapter 9

The flickering firelight cast long shadows across the stone walls, as if the castle itself held its breath in anticipation of what was to come. The reader sat by the window, her hands clasped tightly in her lap as she stared out into the distance. Despite the view of the restless sea below, her mind was elsewhere—wrapped in thoughts she had been avoiding for far too long.

She hadn’t come to Dragonstone with any intention of staying—let alone forming bonds as dangerous as these. She had come with one purpose: to navigate this strange world with as little disruption as possible, to leave no trace of her presence beyond her carefully placed warnings. The risk of changing the course of events weighed heavily on her every decision, and yet...

“Are you troubled?” Rhaenyra’s soft voice broke through the silence, pulling the reader from her spiraling thoughts.

She turned to find Rhaenyra standing behind her, a small, curious smile on her face. There was something so disarming about her—a warmth that radiated even in moments of tension. It was that warmth, that strength, that had made it so difficult for the reader to keep her distance.

But she had to.

“I’m fine,” the reader replied, though her voice lacked conviction.

Rhaenyra’s brow furrowed slightly as she moved closer, her gaze never leaving the reader’s face. “You don’t seem fine.” She paused, as if weighing her next words carefully. “You’ve been distant lately. Is something troubling you?”

The reader forced a smile, though her heart ached at the concern in Rhaenyra’s eyes. “It’s nothing, really. Just... thinking about everything that’s happening. The war, the Greens, the uncertainty.”

Rhaenyra studied her for a moment, her expression softening with understanding. “I understand. It weighs on us all.” She reached out, gently placing her hand on the reader’s. “But you’re not alone in this.”

The reader’s breath caught in her throat at the touch, her heart thudding uncomfortably in her chest. She wasn’t alone—not anymore. And that was exactly the problem.

She had tried to keep herself detached from Rhaenyra, from Daemon, from everything. But how could she? Rhaenyra’s kindness, her fierce loyalty, her vulnerability... it had drawn the reader in, just as Daemon’s intensity, his sharp wit, and his protectiveness

had. They were both so different, yet both had managed to break through the walls the reader had built around herself.

But she couldn’t afford to let herself get involved, not like this. She had seen too much, knew too much of what was to come. If she changed anything—if she became too close to them, let her emotions take over—it could alter the course of everything.

“I... I can’t,” the reader whispered, pulling her hand away from Rhaenyra’s.

Rhaenyra frowned, her confusion evident. “Can’t what?”

“I can’t—” The reader swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words. “I can’t do this. I can’t be... close to you. To either of you.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes widened, a flicker of hurt crossing her face. “What do you mean?”

The reader stood abruptly, turning her back to Rhaenyra as she tried to compose

herself. “I never intended to stay here, Rhaenyra. I never intended to get involved in any of this. I’m not supposed to.”

“You’ve already helped me so much,” Rhaenyra said, her voice soft but firm. “Your advice, your warnings—they’ve saved lives. You’ve become a part of this, whether you wanted to or not.”

The reader closed her eyes, feeling the weight of Rhaenyra’s words settle heavily on her. It was true—she had become involved. But that was exactly what she had been trying to avoid. Her presence here, her influence, was already affecting things. She couldn’t afford to let herself fall deeper into this world, not when the consequences could be disastrous.

“I don’t belong here,” the reader said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rhaenyra moved closer, her hand gently resting on the reader’s shoulder. “You do,” she insisted, her voice filled with quiet determination. “You belong here with us.”

The reader shook her head, stepping out of Rhaenyra’s reach. “No, I don’t. You don’t understand—I could ruin everything. I could change things in ways none of us can foresee.”

Rhaenyra’s gaze softened, her eyes searching the reader’s face for answers. “What are you afraid of?”

The reader swallowed, her throat tight with emotion. “I’m afraid of changing your future. Of changing everything.”

Rhaenyra was silent for a moment, her brow furrowing as she tried to make sense of the reader’s words. “Is that why you’ve been keeping your distance? Why you’re so hesitant with me? With Daemon?”

The reader hesitated, her heart pounding. “Yes. I... I’ve already changed things by being here. If I let myself get closer to you—if I let my feelings take over—I don’t know what will happen. And I can’t risk that.”

Rhaenyra’s expression softened with understanding, but there was a trace of sadness in her eyes. “I see.” She took a step closer, her voice gentle. “I don’t know what brought you here, or what burdens you carry, but I do know one thing—you’ve already changed our lives. And I don’t believe that’s a bad thing.”

The reader’s heart clenched at the sincerity in Rhaenyra’s voice. She wanted to believe that, wanted to believe that she could stay, that she could have a place here with Rhaenyra and Daemon. But the weight of the unknown hung over her like a dark cloud, reminding her of the dangers of tampering with the future.

Before she could respond, the door creaked open, and Daemon strode into the room, his eyes immediately narrowing as he sensed the tension between the two women.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his voice laced with suspicion as his gaze flicked between them.

Rhaenyra glanced at the reader, her expression conflicted. “We were just talking.”

Daemon’s sharp eyes lingered on the reader for a moment before he turned to Rhaenyra. “About what?”

The reader’s stomach twisted with unease as Daemon’s attention shifted back to her. His presence always seemed to fill the room, his intensity making it difficult to hide anything from him.

“About my place here,” the reader said, her voice steady despite the turmoil churning inside her.

Daemon’s eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a slight smirk. “Still convinced you don’t belong with us?”

The reader’s breath hitched at his words. Daemon had a way of cutting straight to the heart of things, and it unnerved her how easily he could see through her defenses.

“I’m not convinced of anything,” the reader replied, trying to keep her voice calm. “I’m just trying to figure out how to navigate all of this without making things worse.”

Daemon stepped closer, his gaze piercing. “You’re not going to make anything worse. If anything, you’ve made things better.”

Rhaenyra nodded in agreement, her expression soft as she looked at the reader. “Daemon’s right. You’ve become a part of this—of us. You don’t need to keep holding yourself back.”

The reader’s heart raced, her mind spinning as she looked between the two of them. Their words were kind, sincere, but the fear of the unknown gnawed at her. She couldn’t shake the feeling that if she let herself fall too deeply into this, something terrible would happen.

“I don’t know if I can do that,” the reader whispered, her voice barely audible.

Daemon’s smirk faded, replaced by a rare look of concern. “Why not?”

The reader met his gaze, her resolve wavering. “Because I’m afraid of what I might change.”

For a moment, the room was filled with silence, the weight of the reader’s confession hanging between them. But then, Daemon stepped forward, his expression softening as he reached out to gently cup the reader’s cheek.

“You’re not going to change anything that wasn’t meant to be changed,” Daemon said quietly, his voice uncharacteristically tender. “And if you do, then we’ll face it together.”

Rhaenyra stepped forward as well, her hand resting on the reader’s arm. “Whatever happens, you won’t face it alone. We’re in this together.”

The reader’s heart clenched, the warmth of their words tugging at the walls she had built around herself. Despite everything, despite her fears, she felt the pull toward them both—the undeniable connection that had grown between the three of them. And in that moment, the reader realized that maybe, just maybe, she couldn’t keep running from it forever.

But even as she allowed herself to soften toward them, the fear still lingered in the back of her mind. The trials of the heart were far from over, and the consequences of her choices had yet to unfold.

[exculpateinteractivefiction]

"All suffering originates from craving, from attachment, from desire." - Edgar Allan Poe

Exculpate: The Fall from Grace is an upcoming 18+ action packed and fantastical interactive fiction novel. Loosely inspired by media like “My Hero Academia”, “Bungou Stray Dogs”, “Jujutsu Kaisen”, “The X-Men” and “Titans”.

Tags: [Urban Fantasy/Sci-Fi, Romance, Drama, LGBTQIA+, Textbased]

The Astra. In the years after the war it was a name that had grown familiar. A select group of individuals who had gained special abilities after the…incident. They are powerful. They are talented. They are gifted.

And you’re one of them.

Or at least you were around a decade ago. Before you made the mistake.  The type of colossal fuck up that blows up your apparently  flimsy life in a matter of minutes. The kind that has you running away and starting completely over. That kind.

Now instead of using your worthless ability to save people, you are stuck using it for much more…aggressive work. More effective work. Or at the very least work that pays better. The only cost seems to be your sorry excuse for morals. Trading your soul and sense of justice for a paycheck. What could go wrong?

It was manageable. Meaningful even. Something that gave purpose to the now shattered pieces of your life.

Everything was great.

...until you got a hit for the strongest hero in existence. Wonderful.

Play a former hero turned assassin turned…“hero” but not really .

Customize your character’s name, appearance, personality, and gender identity.

Develop a better understanding of your dreadful ability.

Explore and navigate complex relationships with six unique romantic options.

Kill your former best friend and betray old allies and new ones alike!

Come face to face with your past (both the choices you’ve made and the people in it).

Repent for your mistakes…or continue making them.

The Hero (Your Target): Maverick “Mav” Kingston (He/Him)

Maverick Kingston, your current target and the strongest member of Astra. The strongest, period. He is unstoppable - unreachable - unattainable. You would know as his (former) best friend.

Appearance: Maverick is the embodiment of “perfection” and that crosses over into his looks. He is roughly 6’1” and is quite lean. He has vibrant light blue eyes and a head of messy blonde hair that seems to always fall perfectly into place.

Personality: Maverick’s greatest flaw is undeniably his personality. To put it bluntly, he’s the best and he knows it. He manages to come across as nonchalant and egotistical on a good day - often just messing around or teasing both his enemies and coworkers alike, and while he can be quite charismatic, his laidback and annoying disposition tends to steer most people away. Although, you get the feeling that there seems to be something deeper lying beneath the surface even after all these years…

The Strategist: Carmen Reyes (She/Her)

Carmen Reyes, lead strategist of the Astra and to put it bluntly the only one with any common sense. She is an intimidating presence - although that might just be due to her title of the best hand to hand combatant of the Astra. You used to be co-workers and classmates but that was a long time ago.

Appearance: Carmen’s beauty is just another thing that adds to her imposing nature. She is roughly 5’11” and has spent years building up her muscular physique. She has curly dark brown hair that rests just below her chin and surprisingly sharp hazel eyes that seem to track your every move…

Personality: Carmen can be considered reserved and wise at best and completely distant at worst. She has a professional air to her that most officials and authority respect, but it can come across as aloof or boring especially when comparing her to the loud personalities that the rest of the Astra has. That’s not to say she is uncaring though - in fact she is arguably the most moral of the group - or at least she was back when you were a member…

The Heart: Silas Jones (He/Him)

Silas Jones, arguably the kindest member of the Astra. He’s excitable and naive - if not a bit endearing. He tends to act as the mediator between the public and the other members of the Astra when necessary. You don’t remember being particularly close with him back when you were in the Astra so it’s surprising how desperately he seems to want your attention now…

Appearance: Silas is roughly 5’8” and has dark brown skin with glowing silver marks scattered across his body. He has black locs that have been dyed red at the tips and dark brown eyes that seem to pull you in wherever you go…

Personality: Silas is easily the nicest of the group and can be quite soothing especially compared to the harsher personalities of the other members and higher ups of the Astra. He is incredibly open and energetic, if not a bit naive. He cares very deeply for the people around him and that clearly extends to you even after all these years. It does make you wonder why he is so interested though…

The Healer: Juno Aceso (She/Her)

Juno Aceso, head of the healing and medical department at Astra. She isn’t what most people expect when they hear the words “doctor” but she is a breath of fresh air compared to the rest of the group. You were close with her back when you were in the Astra…or at least as close as you can be with someone like her.

Appearance: Juno is roughly 5’5”. She has deathly pale skin and dark eyebags that frame her murky green eyes. Her straight chestnut colored hair lands right at her chest, though she usually keeps it up in a bun.

Personality: If Carmen is distant and Maverick is nonchalant then Juno is on a whole other level. She is practically apathetic with her laidback nature and tends to be quite removed from everyone else. That’s not to say she has no personality though. She can be incredibly snarky and sarcastic when she wants to be. Unsurprisingly, she seems the least invested in your return. Although you get an odd feeling whenever she glances your way…

The Star: Payton Monroe (They/Them)

Payton Monroe is nothing if not a star. They embrace the celebrity status that comes with being a member of the Astra with open arms. You weren’t particularly close with them back when you were in the Astra but you heard the rumors of their exploits…

Appearance: Payton is roughly 5’7” and seems to make it their life’s goal to make themself as appealing as possible. They have ivory colored skin and dazzling lavender eyes. Their hair is shoulder length and white with streaks of pink going through it.

Personality: Payton is someone who has no issue embracing the finer things in life. They are far more interested in the public image aspect of being a member of the Astra and that comes across in nearly every interaction. While they are quite flirtatious, they seem to hold no interest in pursuing an actual relationship. Maybe you’ll be the one to change that…

The Newbie: Amari Gray (Gender Selectable)

Amari Gray, the newest member of the Astra. Not much is known about them - they joined after you left and they don’t seem exactly interested in getting to know you. They tend to be annoyed with you more often than not but you get the feeling that they are that way with most people. Although, their constant avoidance towards you specifically is quite odd…

Appearance: Amari is roughly 5’3”. They have tan skin and sharp gray eyes that seem to be set in a perpetual glare. They have thick white hair that is currently styled as a short undercut. They have a few piercings and tattoos.

Personality: You don’t know much about Amari but one thing you do know is that they don’t like you. They are either actively avoiding you or are going out of their way to pick fights with you. They seem incredibly familiar which makes their determination on making your life miserable even weirder…

DEMO TBA

[giggle-guru]

A Lil Hello

Heya! My name is Emily! I’ve been a Tumblr lurker for so long so I thought I’d finally jump on here :)

My current obsessions are Hazbin Hotel, Helluva Boss, Undertale, Stardew Valley, TADC, Bob’s Burgers, Cells at Work, and FNaF Security Breach (I’ve never gotten off of it 😭)

I’d say I’m a switch, dead set in the middle! No leaning on either side, depends on the day haha.

The blog will be SFW and never consist of anything NSFW, though I don’t mind if NSFW blogs interact as it doesn’t bother me. If I ever have the desire to write more explicitly I’ll make a separate blog for it! Always be self-aware of the content you’re absorbing.

Feel free to look below the cut for my Masterlist, which contains all of the audios and tickling fanfics I've written (and spoken!). I adore every little like and comment you guys give me even on my old stuff 😭 like let me give you a hug rn 🫶🏻 Everything is for entertainment purposes only!

MasterList

My fanfics will all be tagged as #guru writes, while my audios will be tagged #guru speaks for easier navigation!

Fanfiction

Daycare Attendants: Featuring Autemka’s OCs!

Attention Cravings - Switch!Moon Switch! Sun

Hazbin Hotel

A Helping Hand - Lee!Husker Ler!Angel

A Laughing Matter - Lee!Alastor Ler!SirPentious (a little switch action at the end)

Cheater - Lee!Husker Ler!SirPentious

Cheer Up, Kiddo - Lee!Charlie Ler!Husk

Preening - Lee!Lucifer Ler!Alastor

The Silent Treatment - Lee!Valentino Ler!Vox

Helluva Boss

Breaking the Silence - Lee!Stolas Ler!Blitzø

Audios

Hazbin Hotel

Drunken Confessions - Lee!Lucifer Ler!Alastor

Needed Humility - Lee!Valentino Ler!Vox

Preening Feathers - Lee!Husk Lee!Angel (lil switch moment)

Satisying Hunger - Lee!Vox Ler!Alastor

Soothing Aches - Lee!Angel Dust Ler!Husk

Swingin’ Giggles - Lee!Alastor Ler!Lucifer

Tingling Sensations - Lee!Lucifer Ler!Alastor

Helluva Boss

Movie Night - Switch!Stolas Switch!Blitzø

Poppy’s Playtime

Renewed Sensation - Lee!Dogday Ler!Listener

Security Breach

Sleepy Persuasions - Lee!Listener Ler!Moon

The Amazing Digital Circus

Customer Service - Lee!Jax Ler!Gangle

Lame Literature - Lee!Listener Ler!Jax

[scramjettracy]

Scott’s Pinned Intro / Info Post

(RP-engagement details & tag list below cut)

✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️

***************************************************Brother. Pilot. First Responder. CEO.

Reluctant Responsible Adult

My family is everything.

****************************************************

Really just here to keep an eye on the brothers.

Do not mess with them.

Might check out some other stuff while I’m here though, feel free to say hello or ask questions, especially if we share interests. A quick summary of mine is:

Likes:

Thunderbird One

Flying

Aircraft (fast)

Math

Running (fast)

Apple Pie

Cars (fast)

Swimming (Breast) (I leave the frantic splashing about to Fish)

High quality soft furnishings

Dad Jokes

The Top Gun Movie Franchise

Dislikes:

Unsafe Business Practices

Paperwork

Most Slow things (Except TB2, she’s ok)

Space

Celery (Get that out of my smoothie, Fish)

The GDF

Rat-faced Weasels (you know who you are)

Seaweed

ANYONE who messes with my family

Adult Badgers (the babies are cute tho)

That’ll do for now. See you in the sky!

✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️

OOC: This is an RP blog run by @idontknowreallywhy. Posts and responses are likely to be haphazard as I have a family and an intense job but I’ll do my best!

Apologies in advance if I get anything wrong / don’t align with your Scotty-headcanons / miss a post from you / drop a conversation - it’s not personal! Let’s keep it fun and laid back :)

The plan

Mostly this will be in character as Scott using a social media account - i.e. just him posting / responding to things on tumblr - but I might occasionally have a go at the more “scene creation” / fic building type ones and will tag these differently so you can filter if they aren’t what you’re after.

I will be as canon compliant as I possibly can!

I loooove AUs but cannot get my head around how to incorporate them if they can’t be squeezed into canon so if an OC can be canon-compliant if you squint (i.e. they exist but are never on screen or they exist post-canon) then I’ll happily play, but if you’re playing an OC romantic interest for example or, even, *gulp*, his mum… this blog’s engagement if any will be limited to him treating the blog as a fanblog on tumblr. Hope that is ok but I gotta stay sane here 🥴

TAGS!!!!

… COS THEY HELP KEEP ME SANE(ish)

For navigation / filtering purposes Scott will always post with:

#thunderbirds rp

plus either

#thundersocials for his tumblr posts / replies

Or

#thunderscenes for story telling stuff

and probably one of these additional tags:

#big brothering for his responses to posts by other RP blogs (brothers or otherwise, he’ll big brother anyone)

#flyboy thoughts for his own original posts

#TB1 community engagement for his responses to original posts by non-RP blogs

#scott answers for answers to asks

Scott also posts his more unguarded thoughts / muttering in the tags so if you work for the GDF don’t look at those…

If you’d rather he didn’t engage with your real life blogs he’s absolutely cool with that, just drop him a DM so he knows :)

✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️

[fmaoldficarchive]

Welcome Post

Navigation | Ratings & Warnings | Welcome Post | Post Schedule | Find a Fic | Submit a Fic (tba)

Hi! This is the FMA Oldfic Preservation Blog, we're dedicated to digging up the old, beloved fanfics steadily dying to linkrot and lost accounts on places like livejournal, wattpad and quotev, to archive and display them here for the continued enjoyment of the public.

I understand the importence of always backing up these fics directly to the internet archive whenever possible to preserve the original integrity of the work, as well as its associated profiles and links. But due to complications regarding crawling mature content on sites such as livejournal, as well as the risk of certain fics and websites becoming unfindable on the wayback machine in the event the original link becomes lost, I sometimes have to work around this.

This blog exists both to allow the internet archive to crawl at-risk fics effectively, and to bring fics and fansites that have faded into the background, or even gone offline permenantly, back into the spotlight for a new audience to enjoy (or an old audience to rediscover).

All fics are welcome in the name of fandom history, regardless of ship, fic content or any associated fandom dramas therein, but I always try to tag appropriately, please feel free to comment if you feel additional content warnings or tags are necessary.

Requests are always accepted and encouraged!

How It Works (by website)

This blog is an index of archived fics across many old fan websites, with the goal of preventing those sites from being lost to obscurity (I didn't know about half of these when I joined the fandom) along with archiving and indexing oldfics on sites that are still active, like ao3.

The below format allows me to archive and index any fic on the websites listed while skirting tumblr's mature content policy. It also allows me breathing room, the ability to post more fics with less stress, and avoids outright reposting fics whenever possible.

Website's being indexed from, and how each work:

Standard procedure - Fic page(s) are saved to the wayback machine, then the archived link - along with the original, if the site is still up - is posted with the original summary and tags, along with additional tags and content warnings added by myself to aid in navigation. This means you can still read fics on currently active websites even if they shut down, or are currently under maintenence.

Special procedure - For websites the Wayback Machine is unable to crawl, fics will be reposted here in a private post so they can be archived. The private post is deleted and the archived link is used to make a normal post for the fic. This avoids tumblr flagging by keeping as little smut directly on the blog as possible. fanfiction.net - Standard archiveofourown - Standard, also hosts my open oldfic collection, which serves a similar purpose to this blog, collecting external bookmarks as well as fics on ao3. The collection will never be closed and anyone can contribute. deviantart - Standard mediaminer - Standard txq.nu/jumpyboys - website has shut down and archived fics are the only available - Standard yaoi.toukakoukan - website has shut down and archived fics are the only available - Standard archive.skyehawke.com - website has shut down and archived fics are the only available - Standard adultfanfiction.net (2003-2013) - adult-fanfiction.org (2013-) - Standard scimitarsmile - suggested by zetalial - website has shut down and archived fics are the only available - Standard

wattpad - Website has blocked url from wayback machine - Special

quotev - Case by case, Wayback Machine occasionally seems to struggle to archive or load Quotev directly. livejournal - For fics without a mature label, Standard. Fics with a mature label are blocked from the Wayback Machine due to the content notice, Special.

Early posts which do not meet the format listed will retrofitted in the near future, and this notice removed. 12/24/24

[cupidzone]

˚꒰ 🏹 DISCORD FORUMS TUTORIAL♡

i'm not sure if people have seen or tested out the forums on discord but i thought i'd make a tutorial on how i use it for roleplaying since i found it super fun and helpful for organization purposes!

so what are forums? discord describes it as "a space for organized discussions". much like threads, the discussions can be contained in one post which makes it easy to keep your topics in order. the part that i find most useful is that you can organize your post by tags and filter through them! now in order to get forums in your server, you will have to enable 'Community' on your server. so let's start!

♡ . ) first thing you'll do is open your server setting. there will be an 'Enable Community' that you can click on and it will take you to a page like this

♡ . ) once you click 'Get Started' it will take you through a series of questions and system settings. you will need at least one "default channel" where discord will send automated updates. this channel is necessary if you want to use forums.

if you continue with the default settings, discord will automatically create two channels for you: one titled 'rules' and another titled 'moderators-only'. the announcements made whenever there's an update as mentioned above will be sent to the latter.

NOTE FROM CUPID ! i personally like to make a single channel titled something like 'updates' and keep it locked. this can be done before or after enabling community, you will just need to change the settings to go to the new channel first.

♡ . ) once you have community enable, you're free to make all the forums you want! when you go to create a new channel, 'forums' will show up as an option like this

for this example, i'm going to show how i set up my muses' profiles for 1x1 writing server like a roster, but you can also do this for single muse / threads / sms / etc.

♡ . ) when you click into the forums channel you created, you will see a landing page like this. there are instructions on how to navigate the channel as well so feel free to read those as well! the first thing i like to do is create tags. you can open that setting by clicking either of these buttons.

(navigate to the 'Tags' section and click 'Create Tag' if you need to) it will open a popup box like this. i like to create a tag for every muse that i want to add to my roster and you're able to add 20 tags!

when you're finished, they will be listed as you see below. there are other options in forums settings that you can play around with including a 'default reaction' emoji, 'slowmode', layout and sorting option, age restriction and 'hide after inactivity'. all these are based on preference!

♡ . ) once you've saved your setting changes, you can leave this page and are now able to make your posts by clicking 'New Post' on the upper right hand corner.

this is where you're pretty much able to do whatever suits your style including formatting how you like and adding photos, all you need to make sure to do is add the corresponding tag to the post! once you're finished making it look how you want, you can click 'Post'

they will appear in the channel like this!

♡ . ) and by clicking on a post, you will be able to open it in a side view like this. if you want to see the post in full view, you will click the three dots in the upper right hand corner of the side view and then choose 'Open in Full View'.

you're now able to add more messages within the post! for me, i like to add stats of my muses and headcanons that may be useful when i thread.

NOTE FROM CUPID ! one set back i found is that you are not able to use threads within a forum post so it may get a bit cluttered depending on what you send in a forum post. so if you are wanting multiple different sections for one topic, i suggest creating a forum instead. for example, if you are wanting to add musings, faceclaim pics, headcanons and stats all for one muse, i would create a single forum post just for that muse instead to avoid having important info getting lost!

and that pretty much covers how i use forums for discord rp! i encourage you to play around with it to find a style and format that best works for you. and if you have any questions, you're more than welcome to send it to my inbox. happy writing everyone♡♡♡

[lilacliquors]

welcome to lilacliquor's second annual

to ring in the holidays, it's 12 holiday themed prompts!

rules + relevant info below the cut!

unlike kinktober, this event is open to everyone and will feature 12 fluffy prompts to give us some holiday cheer

the 12 days start on december 13th and will go until the 24th, and because we only have 12 prompts, these may be longer than the kinktober drabbles

these prompts are based off of the songs they're named after / have lyrics from! yes it's cute and also it gives me a prompt to work with, so they'll be out faster than the kinktober ones <3

i write afab reader only. however, with these being in general fluff prompts and not smut, there is a much higher chance they'll be more gender neutral

i will be tagging all posts with #12 days of ficmas, #ficmas2024, #lilacliquorsficmas2024, #character name fluff, and #character name ficmas so easier navigation or for tag blocking purposes

the list for my characters can be found here

make sure to check back to this post to see which prompts have been claimed!

day one: walking in a winter wonderland - homelander

day two: holly jolly christmas -

day three: i saw mommy kissing santa claus - steve rogers

day four: dreaming of a white christmas -

day five: last christmas -

day six: merry christmas to you - john walker

day seven: wonderful christmastime -

day eight: all i want for christmas is you - phillip graves

day nine: deck the halls - bucky barnes

day ten: jingle bell rock -

day eleven: let it snow - matt murdock

day twelve: the most wonderful time of the year -

[urautismdiagnosis]

Kwazii design Take 1 (plus Kobb!)

sorry if my info seems wack I'm only now just starting to catch up to above and beyond lol

{ LONG POST BUT IT DOES INCLUDE SOME HEADCANONS ABOUT KWAZII AND HOW HE JOINS THE OCTONAUTS}

Ok so I'm gonna be honest this is from like 2 weeks ago when I was first getting back into the octonauts hyper fixation and the way I've drawn kwazii Has Changed since then but its still pretty close lol

Btw, that's Kobb, someone from his "mysterious pirate past" loll. His name is Kobb because its inspired from Japanese Kobolds, Hes a doberman.

He comes off as a guy with very quiet and threatening aura full of silent intense states, but really he's a sweetheart. He's not very talkative, but he adores children (knew kwazii since he was a kitten) and is the type to take the blame to keep others safe. He's really a shantyman, (I'll have to dump all my pirate lore and how it works in the octonauts universe in another post, I'll link it when I do) and that doesn't just mean like singing songs, but also communication of ship orders via long distance with flags, whistles, howls, and such.

He also knows how to work a canon :)

INFODUMP ON KWAZII HERE:

I would give kwazii some sick pirate earrings and all that jazz, but honestly dude lets be real there be BARACUDAS and YEAH.

He switches his eye patch between his eyes because apparently pirates mightve used em to effectively train their eyes to see in the dark better? Very cool to me, so for below deck and night raids which makes sense. The smudged eyeliner is also just Kohl, which is an old thing that alot people still use because they believe it improves the health and vision of the eyes. Makes extra sense when I remember cats see in the dark lol.

Kwazii was a bit of a lookout in his preteen years and such.

Ive got a lot of ideas and like genuine plot for the octonauts in general so I'll have to make a list and post em one by one.

Basic timeline for kwazii though (Im explaining how pirates work in this universe on another post) so kwaziis born into a pirate clan and well his grandad was the captain and all that jazz. He's raised with em and gets the Pirate Education of reading, math, navigation, Pirate Battle Tactics, Pirate Politics, how to bribe sea life, how to stab and no be stabbed, steering boats, water currents and maps, How To Survive If ShipWrecked, and etc.

All cool, all silly pirate times for our ADHD kitty, around age 10 is when calico jack left in my timeline, (also y'all I'm just now getting to watching above and beyond so if I mess stuff up gimme some grace please :'> ), and they expected the guy to come back a year or two after satisfying the treasure itch but he just... didn't.

3 or so years later, some drama happens in the crew happens and eventually kwazii ends up going solo at the age of 13, (he wants to get treasure and adventure just like his grandad,maybe even find him!) its pretty rough at first and the most social interaction he gets is sea life or just people at ports he visits lol. He does successfully hunt out treasure (and bully unethical fishermen, he and the dolphin pod are still great friends) and etc. He even found an abandoned lighthouse on an island (weird, but hey! free pirate hideout) and he was just living like that till he ended up meeting none other than captain barnacles!

The thing is the octonauts were like like getting a crew together at all, and the only one that was really there (other than tweak and the prof) was shellington and well. Needless to say they're understaffed lmso.

So barnacles has been chasing this dolphin pod, well he tried to nicely ask if he could tag some of em for scientific purposes but well, they thought it was a game and now they're convinced they're playing tag. Of course the captain still isn't experienced in Being An Octonaut, and well gup A might end up getting wrecked by some rocks he crashes into. And then he's just stranded on the rocks above the waves and oh wow did you know that the land above the water is even hotter than the water?

Anyways he's just melting and questioning his life choices because, like what's he supposed to do wait for tweak to pedal to him on the gup f 😫🙏like be for real man that must've suuuuccked

anyways he just sees this tiny boat with this even tinier guy on it??? sailing to him???

(sorry if they sound outta character lol)

"Oh... H-HhhIiiii"

"Y'know them phins told me some big furry thing crashed but I didn't expect it to be- You alright big fella?"

"mM nO I think.. YeAhp, Im ALL GO ooOD."

"Ive got shade and water?"

Oh sh- fr? " Thank you tiny man"

"Awh man ya don't even got a wallet on ya, oh well."

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

"So are you still a beached whale or ah?"

"I-I'm fine, thank you I simply, well I'm feeling better I just need you to drop me off at this location."

"Y'sure you're not still about t' feed the fish? On accounta all o the uh, squiffy looks ye have?"

At this point barnacles is just doubly wondering what his life is, because either he's still under the effects of overheating or this guy has said "me clipper" in reference to his boat 3 times already. He was actually very grateful but honestly was this guy even real???

"I... don't think so?"

"M yeah yeah, so what's a walkin Nothern whale even doin out here?"

Was that an insult or- No he seems far too friendly- If a bit rough, maybe scraggly looking-

After a very lengthy, educated explanation of his goal and dreams of the octonauts and all they would accomplish- He'd realized the cat had been stared at him with the biggest blankest eyes he'd ever seen-

And then in a second they snapped to clarity-

"OHHHHHHHH- so yer like, some sorta ah, sciency type... a nerd ha! Well alright that's nice for ya"

The ginger cat didn't even have an ounce of mocking in his tone either- He was really just stating a fact. He really hoped he seemed like a strong dependable nerd at least. ᴹᵃʸᵇᵉ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵃ ˡ��ᵗᵗˡᵉ ʰᵉʳᵒᶦᶜ⁻

They'd bid farewell. A stranger helped a stranger and that was the end.

Or it wouldve been until he'd been struggling to find some little sea creatures in a reef and he'd just so happened to come across a certain cocky cat. Of course, the guy was happy to help, he was friends with the little critters after all!

Silly fun little coincidence and wow kwazii sure is decently good with this haha well good bye (again)-

They meet again and this time Kwaziis boat has been absolutely wrecked. And wow captain you're not really gonna wreck a poor pirates boat (one who helped ya plenty) to just suffer when your whole motto is explore RESCUE protect are ya?

So until Kwazii could get to his safe spot, (an abandoned lighthouse he turned into his own 'secret pirate base') to repair the thing, he was... kinda just stuck in the octopod.

And well- He was grateful, and very very curious, being cat and all that.

He'd never dove so deep into the water before! And he certainly hadn't ever seen such cute curious creatures as the (admittedly very young at the time) vegimals, and well of course he'd help Tweak try out the new speedy gup she was makin, anythin to help around-

By the time they get there well.... Barnacles has realized that Kwazii is well, Kwazii is kind of the exact person he'd been struggling to find.

Quick to learn, quicker to act, understood navigation and sea currents, gifted at diving, capable of steering subs well, crafty when dealing with the unique challenges of dealing with sea life and-

Well, he was also possibly a very good and kind friend. A strange one, but well, a very very good one.

They were about to say good bye, but well, the captain lamented on how he hoped kwazii would have good luck with treasure hunting, and he well maybe he kinda hoped he'd find someone at least half as good as him to help.

And well, who said he couldn't be a pirate AND an octonaut? Since the captain, you know, really needed the help- BESIDES, he probably had a way better of finding treasure when going UNDER the water- AND WELL, what pirate could say no to adventure and-

And kwazii was not a legally recognized citizen of any country so he couldn't legally become an octonaut.

Getting legal documentation for a lone pirate cat he'd met in the middle of the ocean wasn't on the captains bingo card. At least he... sort of knew what taxes were....

"Well what's your place of birth at least?!"

"Uhhh I dunno, a boat?"

"Okay- But, But w he r e ?"

"The ocean, matie???"

"In what waters though? Like- Like near what country???"

"... I dunno just like, the middle 'o it?"

"Kwazii I cant put "the middle of the ocean" as your place of birth!"

"Why not? its true-"

A very fun process for everyone that didn't include long wait times or long explanations of why on earth aren't you legal anywhere- or even shorter "explanations" of thats what makes a mysterious pirate past mysterious me heartie

anyways my brain is broken have fun lol

also I finally finished captain barnacles drawing today lol I'll post later

[asumofwords]

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. Court, death, mentions of violence.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Hello angels! We are getting closer and closer to the end! Only 3 more chapters to go, I can't wait to finish this with you. I know I sound like a broken record, but jesus! I've had this bad boy ageing in my computer waiting to be posted haha. Anyone, Enjoy! <3

Chapter 107: And So The Tide Rushes to Shore 

The news of the seizing of Kings Landing by Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen spread across the realm like wild fire. There was no corner that had not heard the news, nor person that had not swallowed in apprehension.

But the promise of war was over.

There would be no war.

No torching of the realm and its innocents, no destruction of Keeps and homes and livestock. No call for men to join armies and fight for the throne in a bloody and violent death. Nor women and children who would be left alone without their fathers, or husbands.

However, now was a time where the fragility of her rule would hang upon a delicate thread, and although Rhaenyra had her supporters, there were still those who had supported Aegon’s rule, and then subsequently Aemond’s.

The Small Council of the Greens had been rounded into cells by guards and knights. Gold cloaks flooding the Keep at the order of Daemon, a man who they had kept their allegiance to for all his time spent away.

And as Rhaenyra had personally escorted you, alongside Daemon, towards your original chambers, the ones that you grew up in, and not the one that now housed the corpse of your late husband, you walked quietly, dagger still in your hand, Daemon’s fingers unable to pry it from you just yet.

The corridors were a mess of Lords and Ladies, maids and servants who rushed and fled, were captured, and otherwise scattering like ants as they were unsure of what to do, or what was to come. 

Above you, four large dragons, circled the Keep, crying out into the air. A vision of red, and green, and pale pearl flying about as they surveyed the Red Keep below. One outsized them all.

The bronze scales of Vermithor shimmered brightly in the sun.

A sob of relief fell from your lips as you watched him, looking up at a dragon you had been separated for months from, not being able to see him or know he was okay. There was agitation in his body as he flew, but otherwise he was safe.

He was safe.

And he knew you were too.

When you had gotten to your chambers, Amala and Joanna were already there, waiting, wringing their hands together in anticipation. And upon seeing you, Amala had gasped, and ran towards you, hands checking your face for wounds, no doubt shocked by the blood.

Daemon turned to the girls, “Fetch her some water for a bath.”

And with that, their fussing and stress stopped, and they sprung into action, running from the chambers. Both girls eyes dragging over your body and the crown atop your head as they exited.

It was weird to be back in them. 

The chambers that felt alien to you now.

You stood in the room you had once called your own and breathed, slowly walking over to your old table to place the dagger atop it, finally feeling safe. Finally feeling as though you didn't need the blade any longer. That the last piece of safety Aemond had given to you had served its purpose. And it was then that you breathed, truly breathed. Breathed for the first time since coming to the Red Keep.

It was over. 

It was over.

You stood as you were and watched the maids return, another younger girl in tow, blonde and thin, who bowed and introduced herself quietly to you, ‘Ceryse, Your Grace’, eyes widening at the blood on your skin and hair before she averted her eyes, face having turned ashen.

Daemon and Rhaenyra waited with you as they filled the bath, and as the chamber doors opened once again, you had expected one of the girls to be bringing more water to rinse you with, but instead, you were met with a pair of deep brown eyes. 

Jacaerys.

You sucked in a sob as he raced across the chambers, crashing his body into yours as he gripped you tightly. You almost fell backwards from the clashing of your bodies, arms curled under his and up his back, squeezing the leather riding tunic he wore to you tightly. 

He smelt of dragon, of musk, and the subtle sulfur of dragon flame. But most of all, he smelt of home.

You half sobbed and half laughed, overjoyed and grieving all at once in his arms. Hands shaking around him as he squeezed you tightly. His chest shaking as he sobbed himself, holding you outwards in his arms as his eyes roamed your body, looking you over.

He was taller, so much taller than he had been, and broader too. His hair was long against his shoulders and curled, pulled behind his ears by braids.

"You're here." He breathed, as though he was even unsure of it. As if seeing you had confirmed that his greatest fear had not come true.

You nodded, hand coming to touch his jaw gently. He grabbed the wrist that held his face tightly, emotion pouring through his eyes as he shook. And in a turn of familiarity that you only knew from Daemon, he rested his forehead against yours and breathed, eyes shut, brown lashes clumped together and wet as he fought the tears that escaped them.

"I'm here." You breathed, "I'm here."

The rest was a blur.

A blur of reunion, a blur of being bathed, the milky water below turning a soft pink, to an earthy copper as the blood was washed from your hair and face. The maids scrubbing your body with a sponge to pull the dried blood from your skin, Rhaenyra not once leaving your side.

One of the maids had to bring her a chair and tell her to sit down as she anxiously stood between you and the door, eyes darting back and forth, the fear of having you taken from her again ripe.

But nothing had happened. No knights entered to take away, no Greens supporters came to call, no Alicent, or Jasper, or anyone. Just you and your mother, who insisted on brushing and braiding your hair, and you had let her, tears cascading down your cheeks as she hummed to you.

A familiar tune.

Something the maids had sang to you a long time ago, but this time, it was the song of the Goddess Meleys, and you had cried even harder.

She had been there all along.

That evening you dined with your family, exhaustion burrowed deep within your bones.

And it was still all a blur, it felt like a dream still. Sat with Rhaenyra, Daemon, Jacaerys, Rhaenys and Baela around the table in the intimate dining hall. 

It was almost like it had been before.

Before the war. 

As though this was as it was supposed to be. 

Almost.

And whilst they celebrated the victory quietly and solemnly, toasting a cup towards you which you lifted your own in response, there was no denying the grief that lingered in the foreground. No denying the grief of the loss of Lucerys and your sister. Their palpable absence. The grief of the war and time lost, of your own child, of Aemond.

Tears escaped your eyes, and you were thankful to be with them, but for the most part, sitting with your family, it felt as though you were watching them all through somebody else’s eyes, as though you were watching from somewhere else, or that you were a puppet from Flea Bottom and somebody, high above in the clouds, was pulling your strings, stretching your cheeks into a smile, nodding your head in agreement, ears listening to tales and comments of relief without truly listening. 

It was not a loud and joyous celebration. In fact, it felt more like a funeral, like the one for Laena, like the one for Laenor.

There was no music, there was no dancing, but it was enough.

It was enough to just be with them, to just be in their presence, hear their voices, be able to reach out and touch them if you wanted to. The subtle scents of their own, curling around you in a soft blanket.

You had reached for your goblet at one point during the night, mouth having gone dry at the mention of Aegon, and you had to hold in a scream, eyes finding your hands covered in blood once more. Your eyes had widened in shock, a small inhale ripped into your lungs, and Daemons careful eye from across the room had spotted you.

And though the maids had washed and scrubbed you vigorously, cleaning under your nails with careful hands, even though you knew in your heart that you were clean, it didn't stop your mind from seeing them soaked red with your lovers blood. Covered as they had been that morning.

And he was there.

Watching.

By the corner of the room.

Eye never leaving you.

But you kept a brave face, if only for a while longer, not daring to look where you hands would reach, grasping blinding in front of you, resulting in wine spilt and worried eyes. You had blamed your tired and shaky hands. For how were you to explain that when you looked down upon them you saw the proof of your misdeeds. The proof of your sin. The proof of your betrayal.

Then all too soon, exhaustion creeped over you, and your mother, noticing the shift, escorted you back to your chambers, and readily tucked you into bed, sitting on the side as she looked at you with nothing but love. She brushed your hair from your face, and without a word, climbed into bed beside you. She pulled you to her tightly, and you curled up against her, nestling your head into the crook of her neck to breathe deeply.

And as your eyes were closed, you let yourself pretend that it was him.

Sleep dragged you under, and no dreams haunted you this time, though you felt his presence behind you. And when you woke, still in her arms, her hand was holding your head against her as she breathed, fingers absentmindedly carding through your hair in thought. You shifted, looking up into her lilac eyes which seemed to be shadowed, dark rings on the skin beneath.

She had not slept.

“Did you rest?” You asked, eyes darting across her face as you shifted to sit up in bed.

“I have not slept since the day you left. And now that I have you in my arms again, I am frightened that my eyes shall close, and when they open and you will be gone.”

You swallowed thickly, “I would never leave you.”

Rhaenyra gave you a small smile, though edges pulled down into a frown.

“If it is your wish, I would not keep you here in the Keep. If the memories are-“ She paused, unsure of how to move on, “If it is too much to bear, I would not hold you here. I would not force you to stay.” She whispered, brushing your hair from your face.

You frowned at her, “I am your Hand. I am bound by duty to be at your side.”

Rhaenyra let out the breath she had been holding before she nodded, “Duty be damned, I think you have performed yours and then some, more than I ever would have asked you to." She breathed deeply, "The rest of the council and my men shall arrive today. There will be a trial, to convict those who have plotted against me. Those who aided Aegon in the usurpation of the throne. And those who kept you here.”

You shifted in the sheets as you looked at your mother. 

Her soft brows pulled slightly together, the frown lines that seemed to now permanently mar her skin, were present with the movements of her lips, which she pressed together into a thin line, moving to open again.

But you beat her to it, “Then we must be ready.”

And so, you were dressed in a black leather bustier, with large winged shoulders, the neck of the leather coming just below your chin. It was a shorter gown, coming just mid calf, and beneath, you wore black trousers and leather boots that tucked them inside, just below the knee. Across your chest was chains, hooped and long against your bust, each end being the opened mouth of a dragon on either side.

The girls braided your hair back, gentle and soft in their movements, both working together as they used small pins with red jewels at their tip to hold your hair up and off of your neck. And all the while, your eyes did not leave the Conquerors Crown that was placed atop the table, smears of blood on the steel and ruby.

Rhaenyra had already left, to be dressed and readied for court in her old chambers, joined by her husband. But you were rooted on the spot, unable to move as you looked at it, watching as the light from the sun caused the ruby to glimmer.

A blood red.

Blood.

Like the blood that had covered you. Like the blood you had tried to stop at Aemond’s neck. The blood that spilled through your hands and his and soaked the sheets and pillows below. The blood that had soaked you.

You would not dare look at your hands, for you knew what you would see.

You blinked and moved towards it.

But it was your crown.

Yours by right.

And so you lifted it, placing it atop your head, revelling in the weight that it pressed down your neck. The weight that then settled in your chest and gut. 

With determined steps, you left the chambers, blade tucked into a holder at your side, dried blood still smeared across its blade and hilt as you walked swiftly down to the throne room to meet your Queen, and meet with the rest of the council and Lords of the realm.

All ready to see and watch the true heir to the Iron Throne be seated where she should have always sat, from the moment Viserys had passed, and for her to cast down her judgement on those who went against her. 

Traitors and turncloaks alike.

When you entered the throne room, it was bursting with life, and the floor where Larys had laid was stained with his dried blood, a large smear across the stones from where his body had been dragged and removed.

All eyes were on you, each step echoing in the chambers as the people quietened, and your mother lifted her head.

Your father stood at the foot of the throne, Jacaerys beside him, as you came to stand before her.

Ser Erryk Cargyll announced you to the chambers, presenting your titles to the room, “Hand of the Queen.”

With a bow of your head, foot sliding beneath you, you pressed your knee upon the floor and reached a hand up, grasping the crown from your head as you held it towards her, “Your Grace, I give my crown lands and titles to you, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, the true heir to the Iron Throne.” When you stood again, you looked up at your mother who smiled gently at you.

“Princess Y/n, my daughter and first born, you have earnt that crown valiantly, through months of tireless work.” Her voice rose in the chambers, all still as they listened, “You may hold it in your possession, as a reminder of your deeds.” You could feel the eyes of all in the chambers flickering on the back of your head and then to the Queen who sat atop the throne.

“Your acts of bravery have not gone unnoticed, nor has your role in winning this war, and returning the throne and all the realms to me rightfully.” Jacaerys shifted at your fathers side, a small smile pulling at the side of his lips, “And at this time, the succession for the Iron Throne has changed.”

What?

Your breath stopped in your chest, eyes darting to Jacaerys who gave you the slightest tip of his head.

“Let all who stand here bear witness to the naming of my true successor. A successor who had been promised the throne once before.” Her eyes met yours, “Let it be known, that in the eyes of the Realm and before the Old Gods and the New, that my daughter, Princess Y/n Velaryon, is my heir and successor to the Iron Throne. Duty of the Hand of the Queen shall be placed upon Ser Corlys Velaryon.”

Heir.

Successor.

You blinked.

You were her heir.

You were the heir to the Iron Throne.

"But now," the Queen continued, "Is not the time for talks of succession and my rule. Now is the time to bring forth traitors and turncloak's who broke their oath to my father, King Viserys, and to me, the rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms."

The sound of men around you shifted as they bowed their head towards you, your face in pure shock as you looked at them.

“Now,” The Queen boomed over the rising whispers in the chambers, “Bring forth the accused.”

You stepped on unsteady feet, unsure and uncertain as you came to stand beneath the throne on the opposite side of your brother and father, both who beamed at you with pride. The Conquerors Crown still in your hands, the cool Valyrian steel pressing into your palm.

But as the doors to the chambers were opened once more by guards, you had snuck a glance at your father, who was already watching you, and gave you a promissory nod. And so with certain hands, you lifted the crown once more, and settled it against your scalp.

Wild auburn hair appeared first, and then a gown of deep green as Alicent Hightower was dragged before the Iron Throne by Gold Cloaks. Each one stood behind her as her hands were locked in chains at her front, eyes flickering from you, to Rhaenyra, and then back to you.

And then you began.

“Lady Alicent Hightower. Dowager Queen of King Viserys. You stand before Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, and the Roynar, and The First men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. You are bought here to be charged with crimes against the Crown. You are accused of treason.” Your voice carried through the chambers, the chains on Alicent’s wrists knocking against each other as she picked at her hands, fingers raw and bloody.

“You are charged with conspiring against the Crown to usurp the throne with Prince Aegon Targaryen and Ser Otto Hightower. You are charged with the conspiracy to cause harm to a Princess of the realm, and her wrongful imprisonment.”

“Rhaenyra, see reason. I beg you. Your father-“ Alicent began to plead.

“-My father,” Rhaenyra’s voice boomed, “Is dead. And you kept that hidden from the people for days, and rushed to crown Aegon as King in the Sept before the realm. You usurped the throne from its rightful heir and King Viserys’ successor, whom your House swore fealty to. Do you deny your charges?”

“I beg mercy! I only did as I believed was right. Viserys told me before he passed that he wished Aegon to sit the thr-”

“-You will have chance to make your own petition, Lady Alicent. Do Queen Rhaenyra the curtesy of letting the charges to be heard.” You held your head high, mimicking the same words she had said to your mother, a long time ago, “If the Lady Alicent Hightower speaks out of turn once more, cut out her tongue.” You watched as her face ashened, and her brows pulled together in desperation.

“You supplanted the Iron Throne’s rightful heir.” Rhaenyra growled, “You sent Aemond to slay my son, Prince Lucerys, the heir to Driftmark, who was an envoy in Storms End. And you have kept the Princess, my heir to the Iron Throne prisoner in this Keep under the hands of your rabid sons.”

“Please, Rhaenyra.” Alicent begged, “Am I to pay for the crimes of the wants of a father on his daughter? For the crimes of my sons? We were close, you and I. Friends!”

Daemon snickered beside the throne as he watched the Hightower woman beg.

Rhaenyra straightened, “What good is a friend who plots and grooms her sons into usurping the throne from its rightful heir? Their half-sister? From her supposed friend? These crimes are treason. And there are witnesses. A Maester who was slain here. Maids who had watched. Gold Cloaks, and servants, and Lords alike witnessed your crimes, Lady Alicent. Do you deny these charges?”

A tear fell from Alicent’s eyes as she sucked in a shuttering breath.

She stayed silent.

Rhaenyra looked at the woman from down her nose before speaking once more, delivering her conviction.

“For your crimes against the Crown, against my blood, and against the people of the realm, you are found guilty. I, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, and the Roynar, and The First men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, sentence you to death by dragon fire.”

Alicent’s face morphed into horror, “No! Rhaenyra, please! I beg mercy! We are but women who had our hands forced by the men around us!” She cried into the chambers as she was dragged out by the Gold Cloaks, “What choice did I have?! Imprison me, Rhaenyra, I beg this of you!”

Alicent Hightower’s voice faded down the halls and walls she was dragged down, pleading for mercy, begging to the Seven for help. But the Seven did not hear to her prayers, for the Stranger was already on their way to take her.

Maester Orwyle was next, and the man stood silently as his charges were given to him. He did not speak, nor did he rebuke them, or plead for mercy. Instead, his dark brown eyes stared into your mothers with nothing more than disgust and pure hatred, until he was pulled away, the same way he came, back to the holding cells of the Dungeons you had once spent your days in, with his verdict. 

Guilty.

It was this way until the whole of the Green Council and turncloaks was laid before your mother, each one individually brought before the Queen, had their accusations of treason laid. Some were given the option to bend the knee to Rhaenyra and serve her in exchange for their lives, others were not. 

None, bar Lord Jasper Wylde, bent the knee.

And all, bar the Master of Laws, was sentenced to death.

The chamber of the Iron Throne was ripe with energy. Nervous, excited energy from Rhaenyra’s supporters as they watched on as they delivered the sentences to those who had betrayed or turned cloak against her. 

And then, the court was dismissed, and the Lords and her supporters were led outside of the Keep, to the mouth of Blackwater Rush, where a flat grassy knoll lay before the cliffs, and a worn path for traders was trodden upon. 

It was there where Lady Alicent Hightower was led, beside her Maester Orwyle, Ser Tyland Lannister, and the turncloaks, Lord Bourney, Butterwell, Mootey and Rosby stood in a line. 

The oceans breeze ruffled the cloaks and hair of all those in attendance, and Rhaenyra was the last one present. The final person to arrive. 

Above you, the large and excitable screech of a dragon who would finally be reunited with its rider. 

Alicent looked up the skies in fear, her hands clutched tightly together in prayer as she shut her eyes, mumbling to the Seven, begging for mercy, and guidance, and promises of good servitude if they grant her her life.

But dragons did not answer to the Gods.

Nor were they inclined to show mercy.

And so you watched, in delight and anticipation, as the large bronze dragon landed against the grass beside you, purring into the air with his large scarred snout, mouth full of jagged teeth opening, and eyes dancing over you. 

All watched as you reached out to touch him, the dragon rumbling deep in his chest as he leant into your hand. The bond sent sparks through your fingers and arms as you leant a forehead against him, breathing in his dragon smell, sulfur and smoke, and the distinct almost reptilian stench that they all carried. 

But your true reunion would have to wait, for the Queen and realm were waiting on you.

It was only right that you delivered the blow of justice. 

As heir.

As now stand in Hand before Corlys.

In fact, your mother and father had been most insistent upon it, if only you wanted to. 

And the Gods knew that you did.

The crowd of people shuffled backwards as Vermithor’s long tail beat against the ground forcefully, vibrating the earth beneath.

Alicent Hightower jumped in her spot, knuckles white as she stared at you in fear.

“You are guilty and have been charged of treason-”

“-I am innocent. I beg mercy, please. Rhaenyra, see reason!” Alicent cried out into the soft ocean breeze, her words lost to the crashing swell. Rhaenyra blinked impassively at the woman.

“Reason?” You parroted, “Mercy?”

“Please, it was the ambitions of a father onto his child. I had no play-“

“No play? None?” You sneered.

There was that rage again.

“I beg mercy. I will work in-“

“-Where was your mercy for the Queen when you usurped her throne?” You stiffened, Vermithor behind you growling, sensing your anger through the bond. 

“Where was your mercy for her sons? For Lucerys?”

“I was not at-“

The Bronze Fury shifted behind you, head coming to loom forward in the space beside, teeth bared as he growled at the woman who dropped to her knees in fear, legs giving out beneath her.

"Where was your mercy when you locked me in a cell? Where was your mercy when you let him rape me? Defile me.” You took a step forward towards her, “Hurt me.” 

Another step, and ice spread through your chest, “Where was your mercy when the King broke into my chambers?” You spoke dully this time, but inside you was the fire that you had hidden. Trampled by your own hands and feet in order to keep on, to keep moving. 

To survive.

Vermithor lifted his head into the sky and cried out shrilly, all around him flinching from the sudden movement. His large jaws opened, and a plume of fire shot into the air, the heat falling down around you hotly. 

You looked down at the woman who started it all. 

Her children. 

The usurp of your mother. 

The war. 

Lucerys. 

Syndor. 

Visenya. 

All of it.

“You are found guilty of treason, for the usurpation of the Iron Throne from its rightful heir. You are guilty of crimes to the Princess; Daughter and heir of the Queen. You are guilty of hiding the death of King Viserys from the people and Lords to conspire with turncloaks and oathbreakers. And you have been sentenced to death.”

You stared into the eyes of the woman before you, tears cascading down her cheeks as she looked up at you and pleaded, begged for her life, begged for mercy.

Prayed. 

Her hair was messed, her robes were crinkled and green, and as you looked at the woman you felt a surge of rage.

“Dracarys.”

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

@izzicle @ej-shitchats @may-machin @alegria1580 @witchy-jadda @videovampire @inkdelicious @queteimporta39 @virtualsweetsqueen @fo-cus @auratiqs @feyres-fireheart @queenofshinigamis @asoiafwh8re @teasandcrumpets @shesjustanothergeek @grungegrrrl@queenofsarcazm @marihoneywk @curlszx88 @virgogaia @loser-keiji @asoiafwh8re @whore-of-many-hot-men @vipervixxen @theonewiththeimaginaryboyfriends @watercolorskyy @lavendervisions @mazmack666 @chokefrog @orangejump-suit @nik2blog @serrhaewinin @ohemgeewhat @winxschester @cryptidsrcool @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @celestedonut @bloodyvelvet777 @iamapersonthatsalive @av-sos @yentroucnagol @sanzu-s @opheliaas-stuff @bellameshipper @maviee @persephonerinyes @neytiri-09 @ensnaredinwonderland @xbluegracex @sotragedynut @nattieot7 @shesawaywiththefairies-blog @coffedraven @prettycutebunny @celestedonut @the-jess-life @ssulfurr @out-of-life @madislayyy @crazylokonugget @cicaspair418 @katwmk @relminnie @milovart @teagrex @visenyaverse @bellameshipper @toodlesxcuddles @tempt-ress @dontmindmereading7 @qyburnsghost @55gyi53vtnquwziq5 @notnormalthings-blog @maidmerrymint @qyburnsghost @madislayyy @chelseaouat

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[nerdraging4point0]

Blood of Eden // Bad Omens Urban Fantasy AU (Chapter Sixteen)

Tropes and Tags: MM, MF, MFM, MFM, instalove, too much sex, tattooed men, polyverse, shapeshifters.

CW: 18+ only minors DNI. Urban Fantasy romance, Smut. Angst. Fluff (ish), Story includes D/S themes, mentions of blood and gore, mentions of drug use and distribution, mentions of prostitution, unprotected sex, male receiving oral sex, female receiving oral sex, cuckolding, P/A sex, P/V sex.

This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction.

Taglist(click to be added): @ladyveronikawrites @mysticdoodlez @poisongirl616 @shilohrosechicken @cookiesupplier @meliferafaerie @concreteemo @itsafullmoon @letmeadoreyoux @transparentwitchnightmare @spicywhenspeaking @somewhere-diamond @iknownothingpeople @darling-millicent-aubrey @somebodyels3 @jakeygvf21 @badomensls @dominuslunae @mountains-to-move @sundamariis @caitcoreeeee @crimson-calligraphyx @darkmxgician

The sway and jostling of the armored truck was enough to make her stomach churn and bile rise in the back of her throat.

The constant lurching and bouncing as the heavy vehicle rumbled over the uneven, potholed roads created a nauseating rocking motion that threatened to overwhelm her senses. With only the meager, bitter-tasting wheat grass shakes she had been subsisting on for days sloshing around in the empty cavern of her stomach, she knew that one more good tossle of the tank-like truck would likely cause her to erupt in a violent display of retching and vomiting all over the armed, imposing figure sitting next to her. The close confines of the armored personnel carrier, combined with the stale, recycled air and the pungent odor of sweat and gasoline, only exacerbated her unsettled stomach and heightened her nausea.

She swallowed hard, willing herself not to give in to the overwhelming queasiness, but the relentless sway of the vehicle made it an increasingly difficult battle to maintain her composure. Gripping the edge of the hard metal bench beneath her, she braced herself against the constant lurching, praying she could make it to their destination.

Rosa’s gaze wandered to the tall, striking blonde woman sitting across from her. Her intense green eyes were fixed intently on Rosa despite the sway as they navigated the winding city streets, stopping and starting again with a sense of purpose. Rosa couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease, noticing the occasional flicker of what seemed to be sadness or regret that would flash across the woman's features. Gone were the sharply tailored suits Rosa had become accustomed to seeing her in - instead, she was dressed head-to-toe in sturdy, form-fitting leather, an ensemble that gave the impression she was prepared for battle at a moment's notice. Rosa had been offered the same outfit, having bern in the same clothes for several days with only rags and bowls of water to sponge bathe in, it was nice to wear something clean for a change.

She felt lightheaded, exhausted, but to afraid for her life to sleep. Visions had begun to return, flashes of an old style home that looked like its foundation was cracking and the roof fallign in begain to flash across her mind. She had never seen this place before, but the faces in it were familiar. Jolly, Maria, Oli along with several other guard members and their masters all huddled around laptops and take out containers. They all looked bleary eyed, bags hanging from their eyes boring lines into their cheeks. of Jolly from Noah’s perspective and the glimpses of himself as he’d stare in the mirror made her heart ache. Despite being able to see him she couldn’t connect to him, the shots of poison she’d been given daily by the Magistrate-poison she herself had made-kept her powers limited.

Exhaustion had begun to set in, her head feeling light and dizzy from the ordeal, but the overwhelming fear for her life kept her from succumbing to sleep, lest she leave herself defenseless against whatever fate had in store. Visions had began to resurface, flashing across her mind's eye in vivid detail.

Glimpses of an old, ramshackle house materialized, its foundation cracked and crumbling, the roof sagging precariously overhead. Though she had never laid eyes on this dilapidated dwelling before, the faces of its inhabitants were strikingly familiar. There was Jolly, his usual jovial demeanor replaced by a weary, drawn expression, dark circles bruising the delicate skin beneath his eyes. And Maria, her brow furrowed in concentration as she hunched over a glowing laptop screen, takeout containers scattered haphazardly around her. Oli was there too, his posture slumped with exhaustion, joining several other shadowy figures - members of their guard, and their elusive masters - all gathered in this forgotten place, their collective gaze fixed on the technology before them.

It was as if the very walls of this crumbling shelter were imbued with the weight of their collective burdens, the foundation threatening to give way under the crushing pressure. Yet, despite the dismal surroundings and their haggard appearance, there was a resolute determination that burned in their eyes, a silent acknowledgment that whatever task lay before them, they would see it through, no matter the cost.

Her heart ached with a profound, visceral pain as the tears began to well up in her eyes, blurring her vision. The uncertainty of the situation weighed heavily on her, the unanswered questions gnawing at her mind. Would she ever see them again - her friends, her loved ones, the people she had been separated from in the chaos?

She hadn't laid eyes on Nick, since that fateful day, and the haunting fear that the worst had befallen him consumed her thoughts. Was he even still alive, or had he suffered a tragic end?

She couldn't be sure if the images in her mind, the visions of them escaping to safety, were real memories or simply the desperate fantasies of her hopeful psyche. Perhaps they had all been captured, and these flickering, ethereal impressions were nothing more than the mind's attempts to cope with the trauma, to envision a better outcome than the bleak reality.

The uncertainty was agonizing, the not knowing eating away at her resolve, as she struggled to discern truth from fiction, to separate the real from the imagined. All she could do was cling to the glimmer of hope that somehow, against all odds, they had made it to freedom - but the lack of any confirmation left her wracked with doubt and overwhelming sorrow.

As her eyes slowly drifted shut, a kaleidoscope of vivid new visions began to dance and swirl behind her lids. Faded century-old castles, their crumbling stone walls and turrets silhouetted against a sweeping night sky filled with constellations she had never seen before, their strange patterns and unfamiliar celestial arrangements captivating her. Then the scene shifted, and she found herself running breathlessly through a shadowy, labyrinthine landscape, her feet pounding against the ground as she fled from some unseen pursuer, yet no matter how hard she ran, she felt like she was getting nowhere, the scenery unchanging around her. Fragments of her childhood then came flooding back, the old haunting nightmares she used to have as a little girl - dreams where she was always being chased, hunted by some malevolent presence, her friends by her side as they desperately tried to escape, only to wake up in a cold sweat, tears streaming down her face as she cried out that she just couldn't get away. Those had been such frightening, visceral dreams, the kind that linger long after waking.

As she replayed the haunting images of her nightmare, a tiny detail suddenly stood out to her, one that sent a chill down her spine. Among the sea of unfamiliar faces, one of the women's eyes had caught her attention - they were achingly familiar, as if she had stared into them before. It was more than just recognition; there was a profound connection, a glimpse into the very depths of this stranger's soul. Though she had only just met this person a few days prior, the intensity of the eye contact in her dream felt like she was seeing a part of them that she had never meant to uncover. It was as if the veil had been lifted, exposing a vulnerability and intimacy that shook her to the core. It was a tiny detail, easy to overlook, but one that had the power to unravel the very fabric of what she thought she knew.

A sudden surge of adrenaline coursed through Rosa's veins, igniting an intense, visceral reaction within her. Something was undoubtedly off - no, not just off, but something was actively coming, approaching with an ominous and foreboding presence. Sitting upright in her seat, Rosa's heart began to pound thunderously in her ears, drowning out all other sounds around her. A strange vibration reverberated through the air, sending a prickling sensation across the back of her neck as the fine hairs stood on end, her body instinctively going on high alert. Just as she frantically tugged at the seat belt strapped tightly across her chest, a violent jolt ripped through the vehicle, lifting the wheels clean off the ground in a terrifying moment of weightlessness. Rosa's stomach lurched as the truck was violently wrenched from the road, her mind racing to comprehend the perilous situation unfolding around her. Something had gone horribly, catastrophically wrong, and she braced herself, heart pounding, for the inevitable impact that was to come.

The sudden and unexpected reversal of gravity sent the vehicle tumbling end over end, its passengers helplessly thrown about like ragdolls. Rosa felt her body lift off the seat as the vehicle flipped, her arms and legs flailing uncontrollably in the air around her. Weapons and other loose objects scattered chaotically, flying up towards the ceiling before crashing back down in a disorienting display of chaos. The experience was utterly disorienting, like being trapped in a never-ending, dizzying spin cycle. Just when it seemed the ordeal would never end, the vehicle slammed back down to the ground, the roof crumpling inward. Rosa's body lurched forward, and she felt a sickening jolt as her seatbelt caught her, the impact sending a sharp pain through her chest.

As the vehicle came to a rest, Rosa found herself surrounded by the motionless forms of her fellow passengers, one body sprawled across her feet, a trickle of blood oozing from the victim's nose. Dazed and disoriented, Rosa's ears were ringing and her vision blurred, but she could make out shadowy figures approaching the wrecked vehicle. The doors were suddenly wrenched open, and the figures began pulling bodies from the wreckage, climbing into the mangled interior. Rosa's seatbelt came undone, and she felt herself falling forward, only to be caught by the shadowy figures. Blinded by the bright sunlight as she was carried from the vehicle, Rosa let out a small cry of pain, her eyes clamped tightly shut against the glare.

“Easy, sunshine,” the soft tones made her nerves settle instantly, despite her pain she reached out blindly for him. Her hand clasped his warm fingers encasing her weak digits, “We got you now. You’re safe.”

****

As Noah approached the overturned vehicle, his heart sank at the sight of Rosa's limp, battered form. Frail and bruised from the violent accident, her eyes were sunken in and her cheeks hollowed out, giving her a haggard, worn appearance. 

What had they done to her? 

Noah knew the team had spent hours carefully planning this raid, but he had been uneasy about the decision to flip the truck, fearing the potential consequences. Still, it had seemed the only way to ensure the other guardians would be disoriented enough that they couldn't fight back properly, if they even chose to do so at all. As Noah watched the black box tip over three times before finally righting itself, his stomach turned with a sickening dread. Wasting no time, he tore open the doors and charged inside, desperate to extract Rosa as swiftly as possible and get her the medical attention she so clearly needed. 

The normally vibrant, strong-willed woman now looked a complete wreck, her body battered and her spirit seemingly broken by the ordeal. Noah could only imagine the terror and pain she must have endured, and he vowed to get to the bottom of what had happened and ensure those responsible would pay for their cruelty.

Noah's heart raced as he carefully carried the limp form of Rosa in his arms, her body feeling unnaturally light and fragile. With a sense of urgency, he rushed towards the dilapidated safe house, its crumbling walls the only refuge they could find in this perilous world. Gently, he laid Rosa down on the old, bare mattress, the springs creaking under her weight. The mattress offered little comfort, the coarse fabric scratching against her skin, but Noah knew it was the best he could do to keep her safe in this moment.

As soon as Rosa's head hit the mattress, Maria came rushing to her side, her eyes wide with terror and concern. Bending over the bed, she tenderly pushed the tangled strands of hair away from Rosa's pale, lifeless face, a choked sob escaping her lips. "Oh god, what did they do to her?" she cried, her voice laced with anguish.

Before Noah could even begin to formulate a response, Morgan, one of the magistrates who had been on the transport truck, approached them, her expression grave. "It was some kind of serum they created," she explained, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air. Joshua had explained there had been a celestial hidden among the magistrate but Noah had never imagined it would be someone so high up. Morgan had always been ruthless as a leader, angry and fearsome, but only when pressed. Otherwise she would sit silently in the corner. “They seemed to find it in the storage on your computer,” her face turned to Jolly as Noah saw the shadow fall across his face.

“They experimented with it. It was more potent this time around. I managed to sneak in a potion with her food. Without it she’d be dead. But it did very little to combat the serum side effects.” Maria sniffeled as she bent down to kiss Rosa’s forehead.

“What do we do now?” Jolly asked sitting cross legged on one side of the matress taking their girls hand in his. 

“They dosed her every morning, she got one just before we packed up. Wait it out for the night. She will need food.” Morgan leaned against the door frame folding her arms across her chest.

“We will take care of that,” Joshua came up behind her, “In the meantime we need to look for a bigger safe house. With the casualties of the accident the magiatrte will be out looking for us.”

The two celestials drifted down the hallway deep in discussion. Their centuries-old friendship was evident in the comfortable ease of their conversation as they exchanged ideas and made plans, their voices a melodic cadence that seemed to reverberate through the very walls. Meanwhile, Oli quickly squeezed past them, his focus intent as he hurried into the room. Without a word, Oli wrapped his strong arms around Maria’s trembling shoulders, offering comfort and support.

 "Come on, love," he murmured, gently pulling her to her feet. "She is safe now. And I need your help." Maria nodded mutely, her face streaked with tears, as she allowed Oli to guide her from the room, the couple disappearing down the hall. 

 Noah carefully crawled onto the mattress, tenderly pulling the unconscious Rosa close to him. Relief and joy etched across his features - she was here, she was home, and heaven help anyone who dared try to take her from them again.

[pascals-doll]

*ೃ✧ PASCALS-DOLL HOMEPAGE

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[clangenrising]

Welcome to RisingClan!

This is a Warrior Cats Fan Project based on the game ClanGen (@officialclangen ), basically my take on a warrior cats story inspired by a pixel game's events! Below are a list of resources for you, the reader. Please look over these resources before asking a question. Thank you for coming along for the ride, I hope you enjoy yourselves and feel welcome.

You can also find my on my main, @rowanfalls, and my art blog, @ashleyrowan

Chronological Order

If you'd like to start at the beginning, you can do so here. Every Canon Post now has a set of links that look like this: "Prev | First | Next" that you can use to navigate through the story.

You can also find a complete list of all Canon Posts in chronological order, sorted by month and year, here. This doesn't include asks, memes, or fan art, only pieces that contain canon story content.

Tag Lists and Trigger Warnings

RisingClan is proud to employ Trauma Informed Storytelling. As a safety tool, I use a series of tags to warn readers about upcoming triggering content as well as a system called Heavy Content Alert, all of which can be found explained in detail here.

As well, a list of tags that I use to categorize content like AUs, advice, and so forth can be found at that same link.

Patreon and Ko-Fi

RisingClan is free and will always be free, but if you'd like to support me financially, you can do so on my Patreon and my Ko-Fi! This support is greatly appreciated and helps me continue to create great work for RisingClan. Keep in mind that if you use the Patreon or Ko-Fi apps, there will likely be a cut of your donation/subscription taken for the appstore and that using the desktop sites will ensure that I receive the full amount as intended.

Allegiances

A list of characters and their allegiances, like those listed at the beginning of every Warrior Cats book, can be found here. This list stays up to date with the most recent piece so beware of spoilers.

FAQ

Below the cut is a list of some of the questions I frequently receive and their answers. Please read this whole list before sending an ask as any questions already covered by the FAQ will be deleted.

Q: What happened to the Real Time gimmick? A: In October 2024, I had a mental breakdown because I was trying to do too many things to unrealistic standards. I took a hiatus for my mental health and, when I was ready to return, my readers voted that I should start posting as soon as possible rather than wait all year so I could resume the Real Time gimmick. From January 2025 on, posts are no longer posted on the day in canon when they happen.

Q: What are your ClanGen game settings? A: I play the Stable Version, Expanded Mode. I do not allow mass extinction events, romantic interactions with former mentors, or first cousins to be mates or have romantic interactions. Pregnancy does not ignore biology but same-sex adoption is increased. Cats are allowed to breed with cats that aren't their mates. Experience based graduation is turned on (although some of the story was played before it was an option), cats will never retire due to a permanent condition, and warriors and elders are able to choose to become mediators.

Q: Do the other Clans have safe files in your game? A: Yes, although I don't follow the events of those games as strictly as I do RisingClan. They are here to support RisingClan's story so if something that happens in another Clan would distract from the story or changing an event might better tell the story then I will change that event. However, the City Cats do not have a save file as most of them are created specifically for plot purposes. I have a save file I use to help generate sprites/design ideas for the City Cats but I don't follow the events or relationships in it at all.

Q: Will you show us the character sprites/relationship tabs? A: No, I won't. I was more open to the idea when I started this blog but as things went on I realized that I preferred the freedom of not having to stay strictly to the sprites in my designs, especially now that I'm making RisingClan genetically accurate. As well, some sprites contain spoilers like missing limbs that I don't want to share. I also play so far in advance that it isn't possible for me to show you everyone's relationship tabs since that data is no longer accessible once a cat dies. Also I got a new computer and now I can't get ClanGen to work so I couldn't access my files if I tried. :(

Q: How are the RisingClan cats genetically accurate? A: I have a spreadsheet that keeps track of the genotypes of every cat in RisingClan (and some of the cats outside of RisingClan) and whenever kits are born I make sure that the kits are possible given the parents involved. Because ClanGen is not genetically accurate, I will be deviating from the sprites when necessary but I also intend to edit my save files to be genetically accurate when I have the time so that we don't drift too far from the sprites over the generations.

Q: What art program do you use? A: I use ClipStudio Paint (a friend bought me the full version a while ago) and I love it. Highly recommend if you have the money (or if you can find it um.. second hand, as it were).

Q: Why hasn't my ask been posted yet? A: All answered asks are put into the queue and spaced out to pad the space between writing pieces. If I am receiving a lot of asks, it may take a couple weeks for your specific ask to get posted. If that time goes by and I still haven't answered it, I probably deleted the question because it was already answered by the FAQ, it made me uncomfortable, or it was needlessly antagonistic.

Bonus: You made a typo in the last piece! I appreciate people pointing out typos for me since I don't have any beta readers but I also don't like posting those corrections very much. If you see a typo, please send it in an ask but know that once I see it and fix the typo, I will delete the ask. This means that if there are any questions or comments you want me to see and post, they need to be in a separate ask from the typo correction or I will delete them. I don't want to delete your lovely comments so make sure you send a separate ask!

Do you have a question that isn't on the FAQ? It might be in the FAQ tag, try checking there too!

[ink-flavored]

OC Poll Tag Game

tagged by @noblebs , thank you!

Rules: Make a poll for your OCs to see who ends up being the favorite

it doesn't say how many characters are allowed in the poll so i'm gonna go crazy and/or stupid

Some propaganda for you, with character tags provided:

Pride (he/him), a transgender demon who immediately goes to jail for breaking into Heaven. He escapes to Earth so he doesn't get killed, and while he's down here, learns to love humanity, learns to forgive himself, and falls in love with the angel that saved his life.

Justice (he/him), the angel that helped Pride not get killed, and escaped to Earth with him. While he's down there, he discovers an identity outside of Heaven and God's will, embraces the humanity he's helped protect for centuries, and falls in love with Pride while he's at it.

Xinya (she/her), the queen of a struggling nation who offers her gods anything they desire in exchange for her people's safety. The thing that the answering God-Dragon wishes is her hand in marriage. Now she has to navigate being married to a dragon and being a politician at the same time.

Yu-Qi (she/her), the God-Dragon of Passion and the First Moon, and the dragon that asked for Xinya's hand in marriage. Secretly, she escaped from a higher dimension because the world has stopped responding to her power, and the rest of the God-Dragons have gone silent. She flees to the humans below to try a buy herself time to figure out what's wrong. Plus she's like totally obsessed with Xinya, it's probably unhealthy.

Priscilla (she/her, also known as Percy, he/him), a 1930s mob boss and loving wife to the second half of their criminal organization. Originally she posed as Percy to gain power in the criminal underground, but it turns out he has a fun gender and likes to be a man sometimes too. Her specialty is protection rackets, smuggling, territory disputes, and coordinating her goons in general. Lusts for power and recognition above all else, and is often short with her husband for not going to the fullest extremes.

Henry (he/him), a 1930s mob boss and loving husband to the second half of their criminal organization. He's the slower, more deliberating side, and focuses heavily on maintaining relationships with politicians, supplies, and bribing the cops to leave them alone. His ambition starts and stops at becoming unfathomably wealthy, and isn't willing to take his wife's risks most of the time.

Hayden (he/him), just a Chicago guy with multiple sclerosis who gets roped into taking care of five (5) baby dragons when a magic portal opens up in his closet apartment. Completely by accident, he catches the ire of a crazed business man who's obsessed with clamping down on all signs of magic in the world. He has to protect his baby dragons without losing his mind in the process.

Lenora (she/her), a fairy from the other side of the portal, who offers to help Hayden with his dragons while they figure out how to get her and everything else that comes through the portals home. Thanks to her magic, she can make Hayden's life and the lives of the baby dragons slightly less insane.

Asim (he/they), a mage from the rural swamps of a fantasy nation whose entire life is changed when magic artifacts start falling from the sky, not only in his village, but across the world. Determined to discover their purpose, they will do almost anything in the name of research. Including...unwise things.

Cahaya (he/him), the crown prince of the nation that felt the first impact of the falling magic artifacts. He doesn't really grasp how serious this whole thing is, and tbh has a hard time taking most things seriously. A fun loving guy who will always lighten the mood, whether you want him to or not.

Tagging: @foxys-fantasy-tales @noblebs @ceph-the-ghost-writer @auntdarth @damageinkorporated @srjacksin @vacantgodling @sigridhawke @duelistkingdom @coarsely @ink-enchanted

[anisaanisa]

Drawtober 2023 (Now on AO3)

[Series Tag] [Art Tag] [FAQs Below the Cut]

Who: Hi I'm Anisa and I'm feral for feudal fairy tales :)　

What: Drawtober is a label for a project that comprised of a theme, and a list of ideas. If you wanna see the thoughts behind those themes, I've attached some meta notes over on AO3. For nifty purposes.

When: Right now. I've also taken the liberty of compliling my 2023 Pride Month series in a similar format, and will likely continue to do so whenever the urge strikes/the shoe fits.

Where: Specifically on my Artnisa pseudoname. Previously, this was exclusive to collabs where I was the arteest and had no hand in the writing. I may choose to shift gears somewhere down the line, but for now, that's where they'll be.

Why: Fandom, as a contruct, is ever-changing, and Tumblr, the frontline of such a construct, is doing the most to kill desktop navigation whilst speed-running the Focus Theft Race; pair that with a testy search function, ever-evolving "porn bots" sniping tag usability, it can be a 'mare finding fanworks out there, in the Tumblr dot com wilds, let alone attempting to create some form of personal archive in the comfort of your own blog. So, as the Internet shifts, like all cultures do, it feels high time to start archiving properly. On the archive. For posterity and such.

How: Laughable that the only mention of this guide on Tumblr exists in the form of a button on the aformentioned desktop navigation, but here's a beginner friendly tutorial on how to add images to AO3 for any writers/artists that would like to learn how to do so. Plus some other fun stuff in and around it. Of course :D

Bonus Fun Fact: There's a black & white image under each post, though I added no context. When I'm done with something that toes the semi-realism lines like this lot, I like to turn RGB off to see how my values (light and shadows, essentially) turned out. I paint in colour, so seeing that the light was Just Right when said colour is no longer there to lean on is like a little reward. I just think they're neat. Thank you :)

Bonus Bonus Fact: There is a 753 word strong ficlet hidden in there, somwhere :3

Forehead smooches 💋🤸‍♂️

[corvuserpens]

A Girl, An Ocean {A Black Sails Fanfic} - Ch. 4

Fandom: Black Sails Rating: Teen and up audiences Warnings: Displays of misogyny, gendered slurs Category: Action adventure with romance Characters: Billy Bones, Hal Gates, De Groot, Jean DuBois, OC, NPCs (I don't know how else to name any extra OCs I come up with for plot purposes lmao) Relationships: Billy Bones/OC, Hal Gates/OC (paternal), Jean duBois/OC (bffs) Additional tags: Original character-centric, first person POV, canon character x original character romance, self-discovery journey, kinda alternative prequel to canon, canon compliant, slow burn, mutual pining, friends to lovers, tooth-rotting sweetness, cute but also sexy, angst galore, found family, Hal Gates has two children now, canon typical violence Series: Part One of Six of A Girl, An Ocean Chapters: 4/13 Summary: Mr. Folsom continues to be a prick, so Constance teaches him a lesson about what happens when you disrespect her. Much swearing follows.

Author's note: Trying to post these weekly while doing my Master's project/thesis is HARD but right now this fic is the only thing keeping me sane. Next chapter will be a bit more exciting 😉

Chapter iv.

The following day didn't pan out much better than the previous. Mr. De Groot remained patient as he taught me, and even let me steer the helm for a few minutes so I could gain a feel for it. The wheel was much heavier than I had anticipated, difficult to turn, and the coxswain explained it was due to a combination between the influence of the currents on the rudder and the steering tiller that connected it to the helm. He called on Tanner, his apprentice, to take over so he could take me below decks to show me. Before returning to the surface we passed by the great cabin, where all the maps, logs and navigation instruments were kept when not in use.

There, we found a man around my age with large green eyes behind a pair of wiry spectacles hunched over a ledger, quill flying over the page he was working on. He paused momentarily to look up and see who it was, then put the feather in its ink well to stand up.

"Mr. Dufresne, good morning." De Groot encouraged me forward with his hand. "I don't believe you've been introduced to our newest recruit, yet?"

"I have not." The man named Dufresne walked around the desk to shake my hand. "Hello. Constance, is that right?" "Indeed," I replied with a cordial smile which he didn't bother returning. "A pleasure, welcome aboard." At least he had manners, so I considered myself satisfied. "Thank you, sir." "Oh, please, you may do away with the "sir"." He shook his hands with a blush. "I only have a year of seniority over you. Dufresne is fine." De Groot gave his shoulder a pat. "He is our purser. Any complaints you may have with your wage or if you need access to the ship's funds, he's the man you come talk to." "And if you'll forgive me, I have much work to do. So, with your permission..." "Of course, of course." De Groot let him return to his post with the ledgers. "We won't disturb you long, I just want to show Constance some of our charts." "Take your time." Dufresne adjusted his glasses and took up the quill once more. Meanwhile, De Groot reached into a mahogany drawer and pulled out old, stained charts, which he laid out with care on the second, smaller desk to the side. I hadn't noticed before, but the cabin was furnished with shelves stocked with countless books, like a compact library. Clearly, Flint was highly literate. I wondered what kind of books he enjoyed and if anyone in the crew could have access to them. Not that I would be having much time to read in the following months.

The map De Groot chose for me was a very old, stained map of the west coast of England, complete with the Isle of Man and surrounding islands, plus a piece of the eastern Irish coast. He figured I would be more familiar with that part of the world than the Bahamas. I was allowed to take it with me to study for a few days. The goal was to charter a course from England to Ireland, with Bristol as a starting point.

Afterwards, it was back to knot lessons with Mr. Folsom. His mood had not improved over night, sadly. Before teaching me the two remaining knots I had to learn, the zeppelin and bowline, he made me repeat the other three to make sure I had gotten it through my skull. The stopper and the clove hitch I managed with ease, but the butterfly continued to be a source of endless frustration. I still hadn't figured out how to make it properly. Folsom didn't bother showing me how to do it again; he forged ahead to the other two. The zeppelin, meant to tie two rope ends together, wasn't so bad. He explained that there was a similar knot, the square knot, that did the same job, but was far less secure. He showed me the two knots for comparison and insisted I learned the zeppelin and use it above the square knot.

But the bowline... God in heaven, the bowline. It was a perfectly fine knot, as far as they go. It was the knot to use when you wanted to tie off a launch, a dinghy or anything you wanted so it wouldn't drift away. He made it look so easy to tie off, but when I tried, all I did was tangle myself in the rope. After the first three attempts, Folsom waved me off, told me to practice that and the butterfly, and scurried up the shrouds once again.

I was in in the middle of my nineteenth try when Mr. Gates approached me. In his hand, he held a thin document tied off with a string.

"There you are," he said as a greeting. "Got something here for you to read and sign."

I set my practice rope aside to take a look. My brow tensed into a divot. "What is this, Mr. Gates?"

"The Articles of the Walrus," he explained. "Every ship has them, though they vary from one to the other. Think of it as an employment contract. This lists the set of duties you are obligated to as a member of the crew, as well as your rights. I would encourage you to read them over with care, then come see me to sign them. We'll find someone to serve as a witness, should legal liabilities arise, and once your name is set in them, you will officially be a part of this band of bandits." He smiled at me, eyebrows arched. "Sound good?"

I let my fingers brush over the words, heart beating fast with excitement and anticipation. I returned Gates' smile with my own, forgetting about my struggles with the ropes for a minute. "Aye, it does."

The quartermaster gave me a tap on the arm, satisfied. "Take your time with them, alright? You don't have to sign right away or even today. If you have any questions, come and find me."

"Will do, Mr. Gates. Thank you."

He offered a little bow and was off. Meanwhile, I took the opportunity to take a quick break from my lessons to at least read the first page (there were three of them in total).

Like Gates had said, it was a list of rules to be adhered to while on the ship, and nothing I hadn't expected already: loyalty to the captain and crew, to perform my various duties well, monetary compensation and access to healthcare should I suffer any injuries while on the job and even severance pay in case I decided to leave or circumstances forced my departure. Truthfully, I was flabbergast at such conditions. My cousin in the army complained copiously about the poor wages and the lack of protections should the worst come to pass. This was... surprisingly fair. Had I any way to contact him, I might have counseled him to become a pirate instead. I smiled at the thought of his face, receiving such a letter.

But the most surprising detail of the Articles were the wages. I had to rub my eyes to make sure they were working properly and looked again. How much you got paid depended on the haul wielded by a potential prize and its wealth was to be equally distributed by all members of the crew. No exceptions. Not for the quartermaster nor the first mate, not for the boatswain or even the captain. Aboard the Walrus, all men worked equally, so they shared equally. It was remarkable.

A sharp whistle from above startled me. It was Folsom, hanging from the larboard main sail yard tip, glaring at me.

"Have you got the fucking knots done yet?!" He bellowed.

In a hurry, skin going damp with sweat as I stashed the Articles somewhere safe from the wind, I returned to my practice. I did wish the men wouldn't swear quite so much...

One hour later, I had finally figured out the butterfly, having repeated it correctly five times in a row. The bowline continued to elude me, however. When the lunch bell tolled, Folsom came back down to see my progress. I pursed my lips and dipped my chin while he looked over my knots. He stared at me with malice, causing a chill to run down my spine.

"Took your time, but you finally got it, eh?" He smoothed his tongue over a gap where a tooth used to be. "Don't think I forgot my promise to take you up to the yards. We need to verify if you've learned, right? I hope so, for the crew's sake. Would be awful if someone got hurt due to your lack of talent, wouldn't it?"

I stared at him horrified, chest locking up, making it hard to breathe. He had to be joking. Please be joking, please say you're just hazing me and you're not actually serious.

But all he did was laugh in my face and turn his back on me to follow the others to the mess hall. I remained, feet bolted to my spot and eyes up on the sails as if they were ghosts swaying in the wind.

***

While everyone was having lunch, I sat cross legged on my hammock with the Articles, trying to keep my mind away from my afternoon test. I couldn't focus on the words, however. Before I knew it, I was reading the same sentence time and again without assimilating a single thing.

Maybe I should take it up with Gates. Surely he wouldn't allow Folsom to let me take on such great responsibility so early in my career. If the crew's general safety and the ship's capacity was at risk for it, the quartermaster should be notified and it wouldn't count as my seeking favoritism, would it? I was just doing my job.

Oh God, but what if that spelled trouble for Folsom? He would know I had been the one to rat him out and then my life would really become hell. Plus, he would tell the rest of the crew I was a snitch and I would be kicked out before the ink dried on the Articles. On the other hand, if the rigger was being serious about his test and someone did get hurt (or, heaven forbid, got killed), they wouldn't blame Folsom for it. They would blame me, the novice who didn't learn properly, the girl who had no business being on a pirate ship.

No matter which way I looked at it, I was, for lack of a more suitable term, pretty much fucked. Even just thinking the profanity made me blush and silently beg forgiveness.

Jean found me slumped over the Articles. "Salut! I didn't see you at lunch." He leaned over to get a proper look at me, eyebrows knit together with concern. "What's with that face? Did something happen?"

I sighed and figured he was probably the only person to whom it was safe to talk about my dilemma. Hopefully he could assure me that Folsom wouldn't go through with it, that he was all throat and it was meant to scare me, nothing more.

Boy, was I wrong.

When I finished telling him everything, he had a sour look on his face. "Damn, what an asshole. Oh, uh, sorry." He grinned sheepishly and shrugged when I winced. "You get used to it, I mean... ever heard the phrase "swearing like a sailor?" Anyway, that wasn't at all what it was like with me and Will Robins. No matter how many times we got it wrong, he would accompany us step-by-step and tell us exactly where we were making the mistake. We learned all the knots in a couple of days. And he didn't take us up to the yards but a week from our initiation."

My chest deflated with a long, despairing breath. "Do you really think he's gonna make me mess up on purpose?"

"Jesus Christ, I hope not. Someone could get seriously hurt. And Gates would have his head." He paused and took a minute to think. "Maybe you should tell him about this."

"I can't," I bemoaned. "Folsom would know it was me, and then what? If the whole crew finds out I talked to Gates, they will have grounds to vote me out and he won't have a choice but to accept it or risk mutiny."

"Tell Billy, then." He suggested. "He would get him in line and make sure no one found out about your involvement. Constance, you can't get on the yards without knowing the proper knots and how to tie them effectively, it's dangerous."

I only had one option, then. It wouldn't be pretty, and it would be risky to my reputation all the same, but at least I would be alone in bearing the brunt of the consequences. No one needed to get hurt but me.

With a deep, uneven breath to rein in the anxiety gnawing at my stomach, I put the Articles aside and hopped off my hammock. "Don't worry, Jean. That's not gonna happen. Thank you for your advice. I will take it into consideration." And I walked past him to face my destiny, whatever it might be.

Back on the main deck, I marched up to Folsom at the starboard shroud. He was talking to two other riggers, whose names I didn't know. They were laughing about something. When one of them saw me coming, he tapped Folsom's shoulder and pointed. Folsom twisted around and smirked, arms crossed. "I was starting to think you had bolted. Let's get this over with then, shall we? Come on." He grabbed onto the shroud line and jumped onto the bulwark.

I squared my shoulders and planted my feet firm on the floor boards. "No."

Folsom froze just as he had set a foot on the rat lines. His cold gray eyes narrowed at me. "What?"

"This is dangerous and you know it. I haven't had the time to properly learn the knots! If I go up there with you, it's a recipe for disaster." My voice started out shaky and insecure, but as I progressed, it stabilized and grew more firm. "I won't risk my life or the crew's for your sick joke and your prejudice."

That mean little smirk returned to his toothless mouth. I hated how victorious he looked. It made me want to push him overboard. "I taught you the fucking knots. If you didn't learn them right, then maybe you're just not cut out for this. It's not your fault. Women just don't belong in ships, s'all."

A blinding rage set fire to my innards, for once making my face flare up not with shame, but with rage. "Like hell you taught me the knots. If you had bothered teaching me like you did with Jean and Will maybe I might have learned already, but you didn't!"

By then, our argument had garnered a small crowd which formed a circle around us. I could feel their stare on me, and it unnerved me, but I kept my eyes on Folsom and focused on my point.

"You saw I was struggling and didn't help. You saw me practice for hours on end, going in circles, and couldn't care less, and now you want me to go up the yards with you? It's not my fault you're such a f... F... a FUCKING prick of a teacher!"

I had to shout the swear, or else it wouldn't have come out. The crowd burst into laughter, some of them bending over, clutching to their sides, finding my puritanical hiccup hilarious. But not Folsom.

He dropped onto the deck with a stomp akin to a gun shot, face twisted with anger, murder in his eyes. He advanced toward me and hovered, nose inches from mine, but no matter how intimidated I felt, I refused to move. Maybe I shuddered a little, but that was it.

"What the fuck did you say to me?" He growled.

Despite the fear pumping in my veins and how dry my mouth was, I forced a smile on my lips and seized the opportunity. "If you didn't hear me properly the first time, then maybe you're not as smart as you think you are."

A long chorus of "uuuuu" filled the deck. Folsom raised his hand, making me shrink back in preparation for the blow. "You fucking cunt--!"

"That's enough, Folsom!"

The rigger froze, looked to the side. As I slowly lowered my arms, I followed his gaze: Mr. Gates was bulldozing his way through the crowd, shoving aside anyone who didn't move out of his way in time. His cheeks were red with anger, mouth set on a stern line beneath his mustache. Jean trailed after him, his face a mask of pure anxiety. I hadn't noticed him among the others, but he must have been there and ran to fetch the quartermaster when the argument started escalating.

Gates stopped between Folsom and I, fists on his hips as he turned from one to the other repeatedly, waiting. Although he was taller than Gates, Folsom shriveled under his glare.

"Well? Anyone care to explain what the fuck's going on here?"

I said nothing. Figured it was Folsom's responsibility to tell him, since this was mostly his fault.

"This brat--" he pointed a finger at me. "Is refusing to learn how to manage the rigging and is blaming me for it. Like it's my fault she's too daft to learn or that I'm somehow responsible for her cowardice."

Oh, that son of a... "Excuse me? He's the one who showed me how to tie the knots once and then left me to figure it out on my own! And now he wanted me to climb to the yards and learn the rigging, when he knows I can barely do those knots."

"Shut your trap, you little--!"

"YOU shut your trap," Gates ordered. "Before I knock what's left of your teeth! So she's not learning anything from you, is that it? Funny, because from what De Groot, Thierry and Bjorn said, she's been proving to be hard-working and eager to learn."

Thierry and Bjorn were the two men who had been into storage with me, the previous day. They had given me the worst tasks, ordered me to carry the heaviest weights and laughed when I struggled, panting like a dying animal. I never imagined they would then report back to Gates and praise me.

I scanned the crowd for their faces -- there they were. Bjorn, barrel chested and fiery red hair with a braided beard to match, and Thierry, with round cheeks the color of ebony and an easy smile on his lips. They were watching the whole thing like it was the most entertaining piece of theater they had seen and smirked at me with approval in their eyes.

Folsom's fists clenched and unclenched as he searched for a better argument to make. I crossed my arms and raised my chin, savoring how he squirmed. Gates pinched the bridge of his nose, then snapped his fingers.

"I know how to solve this conundrum. You--" he pointed to Folsom. "Have two days to teach her how to tie the fucking knots. And you--" his finger swerved to me. "Have two days to learn them. If she can't tie the knots with her eyes closed by then, you will both regret it. Do I make myself clear?"

I thought it was unfair that I was being threatened with punishment along with Folsom, but this early into the game, I didn't have the guts to argue with Mr. Gates. Therefore, reluctantly, I bit my tongue and nodded. Folsom swore under his breath, but also waved out a hand air in annoyance. "Fine."

"That's settled, then. Two days. Don't disappoint me. Either of you." Mr. Gates turned his back on us and slid through the crowd. "Don't you people have anything to do? Get back to work!"

The men scattered like roaches to return to their posts. Before he left, Jean and I exchanged a look: his of concern, mine of gratitude. I nodded to let him know I was fine, and he left as well.

"Fucking hell..."

I looked to Folsom, who was still fuming but steadily calming down. He pegged me with a glare which I returned, scrunching up my brow and slitting my eyes to make myself as menacing as possible. I was done letting him or anyone else on this crew treat me like garbage. They could tease and haze all they liked, but when I felt they've gone too far, I was going to speak up.

The rigger shook his head. "Alright. Get over here."

I followed him to the highcastle, but we didn't climb the stairs. Instead, he sat on the steps and motioned for me to do the same.

"Do you have your practice ropes?"

I pulled them out of my pocket and placed them on his extended hand.

"Three times around your hand." He acted out the instructions for me to see. "Finger beneath the bottom row. Grab the middle row. Middle finger passes under that row. Slide them all the way over the back of your hand." He held up his perfect butterfly not. "Got it?"

"I believe so," I replied, then prepared to mimic him.

"Three times around your hand..."

He walked me through the whole knot and, what do you know? I got it right on the first try. I held it up for examination and couldn't rein back a small, satisfied smile when he nodded his approval.

"That's good. Adjust it so it's tight around you wrist."

I passed my hand through the hoop and pulled on the line to close it on my arm. It held fast, just as it was supposed to.

"You got it. Now tie it again."

I broke the knot and repeated it without Folsom's instructions, with full confidence. Again, I managed it without struggling.

"The bowline, now." He put one of his feet up so he could bring the line around his ankle. "One loop. Make a cross. Twist the line up and backwards. Pass the end through it from underneath, then under the line, back into the new loop from above. Pull the line to close it."

Again, he explained what I should do, step-by-step, correcting me when necessary. He tugged on the finished bowline to make sure it was secure, then told me to do it again, without help. On the first try, I twisted the rope downward instead of upward, but I soon realized the mistake and corrected it. When I got stumped on how to get the end through, he was quick to remind me, yet let me finish on my own. And there was my bowline, strong and true. By the fourth try, I was able to tie it without any assistance.

It was so easy after learning, I felt doubly annoyed at my mentor. My eyes shot up from my bowline to Folsom's. "Why couldn't you have taught me like this from the beginning?" I said. "It would have been so much easier for both of us."

"Women don't belong in ships," he shrugged. "It's not natural."

"Says who, exactly?"

Another shrug, until he stopped to really think about it, then stammered. "I don't know, God, I suppose. It's just the way things are."

"At the risk of blaspheming, do you see God come down from the heavens to cast me out of the Walrus as He did with Adam and Eve when they were expelled from Paradise?"

"Well, no, but that don't mean anything. God tells me not to sin, yet He won't come down to keep me from it, either."

"Oh, and I'm to believe you make a grand effort not to?" I arched an eyebrow in doubt. Folsom turned away, hands wringing around the line he held. "Exactly. So maybe people just take pleasure in doing what they're not supposed to. I thought that was what the whole pirate philosophy was about? Do what you want and hang the rules. You want to swear and raid and... visit the "ladies of the night" (that got a snort out of him) and I want to sail. Why should I be denied my wish just because I'm a woman? I'm learning, aren't I?"

Folsom chewed on my words for a couple of minutes. While he was at it, I tied a butterfly and a bowline. Both knots were flawless. When I looked up, I caught him half smiling. I set the rope aside and held out my tar covered hand. "You're a good teacher, Mr. Folsom. I want to show I'm a good student, too. Truce?" He stared down at my hand, but soon took it and gave it a firm shake. "Truce." I let go of his palm and grabbed the rope once more. "Now, you said you were going to teach me the cleat hitch next."

"Aye, that I did." He stood up and lead the way to the bow of the ship. "And I'm also going to teach you how to swear, because that teeny wittle "fucking" you choked out was ridiculous." My stomach lurched, both from the reminder of my silly figure and the actual profanity. "In my defense, I'm not used to using swears. My parents wouldn't allow it."

"Had a feeling you were a pampered brat." This insult came out much more casual, without any of the contempt he'd previously laced them with. So, I let it slide. "Well shit, you're a fucking pirate now, so that means you'll fucking swear like one, goddammit."

"Oh my God, stop!" I brought up my hands to my ears to muffle out his voice. They felt hot against my palms, same as my cheeks. "The fuck's the matter with it? Them's just words! When you stub your toe somewhere during a bathroom run in the middle of the night, do you want to say "oh gee golly, that hurt?" No! You want to scream, "ow, shit, my fucking foot!" So you're gonna say as many profanities as you can and you're gonna let your tongue get a feel for them, until they come out as naturally as any other pissing word."

I winced to Folsom's never-ending string of curses. Couldn't even begin to imagine myself putting so many of them into a single sentence. We got to the fifes. Folsom crossed his arms and pinned me with a hard stare. "You know what this is?" I hesitated, already guessing what was coming. "A fife rail," I muttered. "No," he said. "It's a goddamn fife rail. Say it." I swallowed dry and turned the word over in my mouth like it was dirt before trying: "A god-damn f-fife rail." "What? Didn't hear nothing. Spit it out, you cunt."

I glared at him for using that word again. I hated it. My blood boiled in my veins as that old anger stirred up, so much so that, to my shock, the profanity came out much easier. "A goddamn fife rail."

"That's more like it." He grinned at the way I brought my hands to my mouth, face flaming hot. "And you know what you're gonna do with this fife rail? You're gonna tie a fucking line to the pin. Go on."

Oh, God have mercy. "I'm gonna tie a ffff... Dammit, I'm gonna tie a fucking line to the stupid fucking pin!"

Huh. What do you know. It does feel good when you do it angry. Folsom laughed loud and good, reminding me too much of a gull squawking.

"There! There you have it! Fucking hell." He smacked a hand on the rail with a relaxed sigh. "Oh, which reminds me. I'm not a fucking prick." He smirked like a cat about to jump on a mouse. "I'm a fucking asshole of the worst kind."

"You really are, though." I retorted, arms crossing at my front. "An extremely irritating, prejudiced little shit and a cock-faced son of a bitch." Oh, sweet Jesus, it felt too good. My Mother and Father would have fainted if they even imagined I was using such language.

"Alright, alright, don't get excited, you're gonna hurt my feelings." But judging by his big grin, it was clear he was pleased with my rotten mouth.

He taught me the cleat hitch, which I tied with ease. Just like that, my knots (and my swearing) improved from one minute to the next, and I felt certain that we would both pass Gates' test without breaking a sweat.

Before wrapping up the lesson, I remembered there was something else I needed to do in order to become an official member of the crew. I asked Folsom if he would like to do the honors and, surprisingly, he agreed. Therefore, we descended to my hammock to get the Articles, and then it was off to find Mr. Gates.

He was in the great cabin with captain Flint, which was just my luck since I would likely need his presence as well. The door was open when we arrived, all I had to do was knock. "If I may have a moment...? I will be brief."

"Come in," Flint said. Once again, he was sitting at his desk, while Gates occupied the chair across from it. Folsom and I stepped into the cabin to stand by him.

"I have read the Articles as you requested, Mr. Gates. And I think I'm ready to sign. If it's alright with you and the captain, I already brought a witness."

Gates' dark eyes hopped between the two of us with mild surprise, which he was entitled to, since not an hour ago he had seen us at each other's throats. Flint remained impassive, if a little curious.

"I take it you've made your peace with each other, then?" Gates asked cautiously.

"We have, yes." I answered.

Folsom added: "She's not so bad, now that she's gotten her potty mouth."

"Shush, you," I hissed, cheeks flaring up yet again.

Gates chuckled and shook his head. He looked to Flint. "Any objections?"

"Not on my part." He said while smoothing down his beard. "If this is truly what she wants, then go ahead."

Gates pushed the ink well in my direction. I set the Articles on the desk, dipped the quill and scribbled my name in elegant calligraphy, the product of my high class education. I added a swift, bold swirl to my signature, almost like a personal statement. I'm here, this is who I am and this is what I choose.

My old life as a proper lady was over. My new life as a scallywag had officially begun.

***

Two days later, Gates called the two of us to him and ordered me to perform my knots with my eyes closed. I let Folsom tie a blind fold around my eyes, as a precaution and extra flair. Neither one of us wished me to fail, so putting on a bit of a show, though risky, was sure to fortify our success as mentor and pupil beyond doubt.

I tied all five knots without a hitch. Mr. Gates was satisfied with the results, so Folsom and I came away from our ordeal with our hides untanned and pride swelling in our chests.

As we moved on through the weather deck, Folsom turned to me. "What do we say?"

I set my hands on my hips with a bright grin. "Fuck yeah."

"Damn right."

[haterbracket]

A BRACKET FOR THE HATERS

Sick of polls about heroes and duos? Want a poll about guys who hate? Guys who loathe? Guys whose raison d'être is just to suck, like, so bad?

INTRODUCING: the Hater Bracket, a single-elimination competition to find the Biggest Hater in All of Fiction. Your Iagos, your Yzmas, your Syndromes, your GLaDOSes: characters whose primary motivation is a grudge against one specific person or group for some (perceived) slight—the pettier the better.

Entrants will be judged on:

Proactivity: ok, so they're a hater, but what do they do about it? Anyone can hate, but a true hater puts everything they have into their effort to screw over the person who's wronged them.

Pettiness: how "wronged" has this person been, anyways? Did the object of their hatred kill their entire family in front of them, or were they just less than perfectly 100% accommodating once and the hater has literally never gotten over it?

Successfulness: is a successful hater or a failed one a "better" hater? You be the judge!

Overall panache: The "x factor" of haterness. Did they hate with swag? Were they super eloquent in their monologue that basically boiled down to "oh my god I hate that guy SO MUCH"? If not, was it at least funny to watch them fume incoherently?

Submit a hater here. Nominations are closed; you can still submit through the ask box, but we reserve the right to point and laugh at you if you do.

FAQ below the cut.

FAQ:

How do I navigate this blog? With the tags! #mod post - housekeeping stuff #hater polls - bracket polls #hatemail - asks #haterprop - propaganda (asks and reblogs) #hb off topic - anything that isn’t housekeeping or a poll

How will competitors be selected? Mod discretion. Note that we will be more likely to select haters that we either know, have friends who know, or that come with a good explanation of their hater-ness (that is verifiable by google) in the submission. Stuffing the ballot box, as it were, will have zero effect, since the bracket is not selected by number of nominations.

How many characters can I submit? As many as you like.

Can I submit real people? No. This is a bracket for fictional haters. Real-life haters are way less cool and fun anyways.

Note: Real people who have been sufficiently fictionalized (either in one piece of media, or multiple), and real people who play a public “persona” that is separated from their actual private life & beliefs do qualify for the purposes of this tournament.

What about [MCYT/celebrities/other thing where people play ambiguously fictionalized versions of themselves]? Sure, but if we think it isn’t sufficiently fictionalized, we won't include it.

What about...? Submit it if you want! In the worst case I simply won't include it, in the best case I will.

How many submissions has _ gotten? We will release a full tally of submissions after nominations close. We are working on tallying up all the submissions! We will post a full list once we’ve cleaned it up sufficiently. Until then, we will not be answering any questions about how many nominations any particular character has gotten.