#fic: a fair and handsome seal lord

[selfproclaimedunicorn]

I made little collages of Aldreda with her parents' FCs & with her crew's FCs. Sharing those under the cut because I love these lineups

[creataav]

since the majority of the poll was pro-d&d stories, here's one!!

this is for an upcoming campaign, run by the incredible @azimachra (who is the best dm ever ily). i'm planning on playing a HEAVILY homebrewed fey wild magic sorcerer! i'm very excited to meet her <3

this fic is basically just a little character study into how she is and acts. this name is 100% subject to change. also these d&d fics are going to be a tumblr exclusive. ao3 is going to be just fanfic from me <3. writing below the cut!

Niamh shrugged through the tree trunk, the squeeze tighter than ever, eyes barely skimming the familiar wooden sign to its left. “NEVER FOUND,” it read in anguished hand carved letters. At least, Niamh liked to assume it was anguished. She hadn’t been on Prime Material when it was written, but she liked to picture one of her mothers crying as she carved the sign, lamenting the loss of her only daughter.

She knew it didn’t make sense. If her mothers had been so very anguished, why didn’t they ever come looking?

The usual pang of convoluted grief came and went, curling around her sternum gently at first, and then tight enough to squeeze enough magic out of her to cause the moss on the bark of the tree to sprout. The scent of the little purple flowers – which really wasn’t all that nice, it smelled like dirt and mold and nothing so nice as what she’d smelled in Fey – grounded her enough. She reminded her feet to keep walking, ahead to the town that she hoped was still around. She’d have to go through the awkward song-and-dance of figuring out how long it had been again. It was something she never looked forward to. She always got a lot of weird stares. “The year you get some help,” and “Ma’am, do you need a healer?” were her favorite responses. The first, she’d gotten almost twelve Material years ago now, by someone who she thought was her third or fourth cousin, but who obviously didn’t recognize her as family in the slightest, only some random chick who didn’t age and showed up every fifteen years to reconfigure her place in the space-time continuum. Sass ran in the family, she supposed. The second was from a very confused, but very kind, man in glasses that was very willing to send her to any sort of healing establishment. She assumed he thought that someone had decided to cast a Confusion spell on her. He was nice. She wondered what he was up to now. Maybe he’d started a family. Maybe he’d died. She’d learned to stop being so worried about death. None of the people she’d known from Before were still around (she’d checked, had a cry, and then struggled to get over it for about 5 years Material time). 

The various belts covered in various magical components around her waist jingled merrily as a breeze whistled through the forest. A squirrel twitched its head toward the sound, locking his eyes with hers. She held his gaze steadily. Five, four, three, two, two and a half, and… one. The squirrel scampered away across the branches, and she shrugged before beginning to mumble a quiet melody. 

Once a fair and handsome seal-lord

Laid his foot upon the sand

Something crunched further close to the edge of the treeline, and she felt her body lock into place, a small smirk blooming on her face and gold beginning to seep into the irises of her eyes. 

For to woo the fisher’s daughter,

and to gain her marriage hand

A shoe scuffed a rock nearby. They were getting closer.

“I have come in from the ocean, I have come in from the sea,

 and I’ll not go to the waves, love, lest ye come along with me.”

Niamh positioned herself carefully, sitting semi-comfortably at the base of the tree. She tilted her head up towards the leaves, as though she was directing her song at the beams of sunlight that were filtering through them and not at whatever curious mortal was inching ever closer to her. 

“Lord, long have I loved you

as a selkie on the foam,

I would gladly go and wed ye,

and be lady of your home

A second, less steady voice joined hers in harmony from behind a tree to her left.

“But I cannot go into the ocean, I cannot go into the sea

I would drown beneath your waves, love, if I went along with ye”

She inclined her head to the other voice. “It’s rude to spy, you know,” She said, raising an eyebrow and glancing down to rub a bit of dirt off of her hands. She looked up to see the man, the kind one who worried about her. He looked older. His hair was graying, he wore thick, round-rimmed glasses and time had pressed folds into his face. She felt her face light up with recognition before she could tamp it down, and she knew he saw it. “Oh, it’s you,” She tried for nonchalant.

“You are quite possibly the most bizarre Fey I’ve ever seen.” He replied, unfazed, one eyebrow cocked in a particularly teacher-like way. She wondered if that’s what he was now. It would make sense. 

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not one, technically speaking, but do tell me why,” She felt her accent morphing to mimic his. 

“There’s just so much restraint in there.” He gestured vaguely toward her, and she laughed in response. “But it’s like you’re restraining yourself from being restrained. It’s fascinating.”

“Philosophy teacher, then? That’s what you grew up to be?” Niamh said in lieu of a reply. She wasn’t interested in partaking in psychobabble, especially not about herself. That was a can of worms this guy did not want to open.

“No, I’m a barkeep.” The man looked a little bit taken aback. 

“Huh. Maybe you should have chosen a different career path.”

“With all due respect, Ms. Not-Fey, I think that teenagers with enough money to spend on something as trivial as a philosophy class are not the people that need those lessons. I’d much rather give advice to the sad people who spend half their days in one of my barstools.” 

“Oh, an altruist! How refreshing.” Niamh adjusted herself so that her back was resting more solidly against the tree trunk. “Sometimes I worry that it’ll be too far in the future and good, well-meaning people will have died out.”

“How old are you?” Now it was his turn to deflect. She didn’t push him.

She looked down at her own hands, studied the slight amounts of lines and calluses on them. “Around twenty-six, I think. It gets tricky.”

He nodded. “Archie.”

“Pardon?”

“That’s my name. Archie.”

“Terrible idea to give your name to any kind of Fey.”

“I’m trying to be a good, well-meaning person. That comes with making mistakes sometimes.”

“Natalie.” Niamh replied.

“That’s not your name.” Archie said with a sad kind of smile.

Niamh returned it. “No, it’s not.”

“I’ll call you Nat, then.” His eyes twinkled. “Since it’s Nat your real name.”

A genuine snort erupted out of Niamh before she could stop it. 

Archie lit up. “Aha! I got you!”

Niamh laughed. “Got me how?”

He smiled. “I found some humanity still in there.”

“And humanity is, what, humor?” Niamh raised an eyebrow, but there was a genuine desperation behind her voice that surprised her. The corner of Archie’s mouth ticked down; he’d noticed, too.

“It’s not something so easy to pin down,” He replied, a little gentler. “But I think a good laugh over a dad joke from someone you don’t know is part of it, somehow.” He stood up. “I have to get back into town. The wife’ll start to worry,” Archie rolled his eyes, even as a warm smile pulled up the corners of his mouth. “Feel free to stop by the bar if you’d like.”

Niamh looked back to her personal portal to the Fey and the “Never Found” sign, both glinting in the light. “You know what?” She felt her accent begin to drop into its natural place, and she let it. “I just might.”

[jaskierswolf]

The Prince of Darkness

Written for @thewitcherbog flash fic challenge a while back but I never posted!

Rating: M

Summary: Jaskier is the King of the Underworld, and it's Valdo's day of judgement.

CW: Demon!Jaskier (and witchers), implied sexual content, death, torture (burning, choking, freezing.), Jask has an open relationship with all the witchers (but Geralt is his favourite), mentions of non con.

The hotel lobby was sophisticated and yet traditional, like something out of a movie. The dark panelling on the walls were dimly lit by flickering candles, and there was a fireplace roaring in the centre of the foyer, and a handful of gorgeous golden-eyed beauties were making their way around the room. They were finely dressed, perfectly tailored suits with silken blood red waistcoats detailed with golden buttercups, a tray balanced on their hands as they passed out flutes of champagne. In the corner of the room was a black grand piano, the lid propped up as the man behind it let his fingers dance across the ivory keys, rings glistening silver and gold in the candlelight.

Jaskier smiled to himself as he played, his eyes shut, focussing on every little sound in the room, blending it with the music, manipulating the souls around him until they were practically eating out of his hand.

The Prince of Darkness, the mortals called him.

Lucifer himself.

He preferred Jaskier; buttercups were so beautiful, so innocent, so toxic.

It was the perfect moniker.

Lux was his domain, his hotel, a haven for demons and sinners alike, and the perfect stage for when Jaskier had to deal with… unpleasant business. The witchers, as he liked to call his inner circle of demons, would deal with the aftermath, cleaning up the elevator before any of Jaskier’s regular clientele could see.

The witchers were just such good pets.

Geralt approached the piano, his honey golden eyes almost entirely black as they approached the end of another poor soul’s contract. There was an itch that creeped under Jaskier’s skin, hot fire burning through his veins, but it didn’t bother him. No, he relished in the flames, let it warm his cold immortal body. Cracking an eye open, he peered at the witcher who had disturbed his music.

“He’s here, my lord.”

Jaskier sighed, bringing the music to an end, and then, with a snap of his fingers, the ivory keys started to play anew. The song was a familiar tune, a well known pop song from the mortals’ charts. It would keep his honoured guests entertained, after all, at Lux the party never-ended. Those who stepped through the swinging doors were transported to a realm of endless night; cocktails, champagne and designer clothes. The chandelier in the middle of the room twinkled, and there was a sharp clack of high heels on the granite floor as his guests mingled.

None of them ever seemed to realise there was something not quite right about Lux. When they were done partying, when Jaskier had made deals for their souls, they would leave and return to their realm as if they had only been there for an evening, never to return until their contract was up.

And they always returned.

Occasionally, a poor mortal would fight it, realising their impending doom. They’d try to flee the country, get as far away from Lux as possible, but the witchers were excellent hunters. Once the demons got the right scent, they could track their prey to the end of the known universe. The mortals never stood a chance. They either came willingly or they would be dragged through the doors by two of Jaskier’s finest demons; he wasn’t sure which he preferred.

Yes it was simpler if they accepted their fate, but he couldn’t deny that he just adored the thrill of watching the poor terrified soul being thrown at his feet.

He thought of himself as a kind devil, if such a thing existed, his father would certainly disagree, but his father could rot in heaven. Truly, Jaskier did his best to be fair. He granted the mortals wishes and made sure they lived their best lives, he even allowed most of them to live for many decades with the gifts he gave them, their deepest desires. Really, for some of the wishes he’d granted, it would have been kind to allow them even a year of life, let alone what he gave to them.

Ungrateful bastards, the lot of them.

Valdo Marx had been an easy soul to claim; he was greedy, lustful, full of pride. He’d practically begged at Jaskier’s feet back when he was in his first year of university.

“I want to be the best musician the world has ever seen, I want the most beautiful woman, Virginia Stael, to be my wife, and I want-”

Jaskier had waved his hand, his dark feathered wings spreading out behind him, and Valdo’s jaw had snapped shut, muffled sounds coming from his throat.

“I want, I want, I want,” Jaskier had cooed, his finger hooking under Valdo’s chin as he pouted down at the mortal, whipping his tail round to caress down the poor man’s arm until his wrist had been locked in a vice. “Do you know what I want… Marx?”

The wanna-be musician had scoffed, a fatal mistake and one that had cost him years off his life. “Everyone knows that, Lucifer.”

“My name, Valdo, is Jaskier,” he’d hissed, his forked tongue flicking out from his lips as more and more of his devil form had been revealed. “And I just want to have fun.”

“You want my soul.”

“No, your soul is the price. A mere business transaction. I just want to get wasted and shag my rather lovely demons, and you are wasting my time.”

Ah yes. Valdo had always been a little shit-stain in Jaskier’s life, but now his time had come.

The piano music began to build to an earth shattering crescendo, making the glasses rattle, and dust fall from the chandelier. Jaskier cracked his neck, feeling a prickling sensation on his scalp as his horns began to grow, and still the sweet, oblivious mortals noticed nothing. They sipped on their champagne and chatted amongst themselves, ignoring the way Jaskier’s cornflower blue eyes slowly turned onyx, his skin deathly pale. He smiled sweetly at his favourite witcher, running his lips along Geralt’s sharp cheekbones.

“Thank you, darling,” he breathed, capturing Geralt’s lips with his, tongues meeting in a quick but heated display of passion.

And then the doors burst open, Lambert and Aiden dragginga handsome but aging man through the doors, grey hairs dusting his temple, crinkles at the corners of his eyes. It had been a long time since Jaskier had seen Valdo Marx, but there was no denying his beauty, now distinguished, a true silver fox. Dark chocolate eyes met his as all the colour drained from Marx’s face.

“Oh God, no… no, please,” he stammered, struggling in the arms of the demons that held him.

“My dear father holds no power here,” Jaskier chuckled, smirking at the man at his feet. “There’s no use in praying. Your soul belongs to me.”

“Lu- Jaskier, please. I’m too young. It’s too soon,” Valdo begged, reaching up to Jaskier with open hands. “My wife, my children.”

“Oh but Valdo, It’s never too soon. I am never early and I never try to back out of a deal, darling,” Jaskier pouted, squatting so he was at eye level with the mortal. “So why don’t you come with me, love? Stop all this fussing. You’re ruining my party.”

With a fire not often seen in mortals, Valdo spat at Jaskier, and an eerie silence fell over the club. The piano music screeched to a halt, the lid closing with a bang, and the only sound was a low rumble of growls from the witchers. Geralt was at Jaskier’s side in a flash, his sword drawn and pointed at the man.

It was sweet.

As if Jaskier couldn’t defend himself, but he did enjoy the show, the way Geralt’s arms would flex as he gripped the sword, twirling it in a circle before executing his victim.

“I had planned to give you an easy death,” Jaskier lied, standing back up to his full demonic height and clearing his face with a snap, “but now, I think I’ll have some fun. Geralt, Eskel, with me. Lambert, Aiden, make sure our guests stay out of the way.”

“No!” Valdo cried, falling once more at Jaskier’s feet, gripping onto his ankles.

Oh, how he loved it when they begged for their lives.

When Jaskier glided through the foyer, picking up a champagne flute from Coen’s tray with barely a brush of his lips to the demon’s cheek, the crowd parted before him. Compliments fell off their tongues, sweet like honey, unaware of the influence Jaskier had over them. They all watched him, they always watched him, so very eager to please. Geralt snarled behind him as one brave mortal rested their hand on Jaskier’s arm, but it was Eskel who snapped their fingers, silent and deadly, before they’d even realised he was there.

Valdo was pulled into the elevator, tears streaming down his face and choked off screams ripping from his throat, but Jaskier remained calm, and if it weren’t for his eyes and the horns amongst his tousled brown hair, he would have looked like any other hotel owner.

Until the doors closed.

And then all hell broke loose; literally. Jaskier’s body cracked and snapped into place as his legs extended to inhuman proportions, his fingers growing into talons, and he let out a sinful moan as his wings unfurled behind him. He flicked out his tail, and his three-piece suit melted away into a gorgeous black silk corset, embroidered with golden buttercups. Red stockings adorned his legs, held up by lacy black garters, and as he flicked out his ankles, a pair of strappy heels materialised on his feet, the soles flashing red before clicking back onto the floor.

“Jaskier, please, please,” Valdo cried, falling against the side of the elevator as lightning sparked and they dropped fast, the dial on the wall spinning out of control.

“Your soul… belongs to me,” Jaskier hissed, pressing Valdo up against the wall, his hands wrapping around his throat.

He was tempted to snog Valdo’s soul right out of him, a sweet kiss to seal the deal, but that was too kind, and he was feeling a little more dramatic than that, so he pushed back off the wall, beating his wings so he hovered just off the floor. Geralt and Eskel were standing on either side of him, swords drawn with toxic black eyes, veins like ink beneath their skin.

Flames burst out behind them, whipping around so the whole elevator was surrounded by a burning pyre, singeing Valdo’s clothes, and the mortal screamed as the fire licked at his hand, scorching the calloused skin. His precious hands, his livelihood, the first things that Jaskier had blessed for him.

There was something so delightfully poetic in that, and Jaskier found great pleasure in it.

“Everyone always thinks that hell is eternal fire,” he purred, stroking a talon along Geralt’s cheek, before pulling Eskel into a soft kiss, taking his time to enjoy the taste of sulfur on his tongue, “but that isn’t always true.”

“W-what?”

Jaskier just pouted at Valdo. “Do try to keep up, darling.”

And then he snapped his fingers, the fire was suddenly extinguished, replaced by a flood of muddy tar. Valdo spluttered and choked as he slid to the ground, the tar catching in his hair, and wherever it landed his handsome looks withered away. The wedding band slipped from his finger and disappeared, despite Valdo’s desperate scrambling to find it.

The muddy mixture spewed all over the lift, covering the two demons as well as their victim, but Jaskier stayed clean and dry, untouched by the tar. He really wasn’t in the mood for ruining his clothes, not like this. He was rather hoping Geralt would tear them from his body later on that day whilst his other beloved witchers watched.

“J-Jaskier!” Valdo screamed, just as the entire elevator froze.

Blue ice creeped up the walls, wrapping around the legs of both the demons and the pitiful mortal on the floor. Valdo sobbed, trying to escape the ice but they both knew it was over. His back pressed against the wall as the ice grew, crystallising over his body, wrapping around his throat. Snowflakes fell from the ceiling, landing in his eyelashes as he struggled to breathe.

And Jaskier stole back his voice.

The final gift.

Valdo’s soul ripped from his body, and the man fell limp against the wall.

With a wave of his hand, Jaskier captured the soul, weaving his magic until a silver fox with chocolate brown eyes was nestled in his arms. He grinned, lowered the fox to the floor and then snapped his fingers to open the doors.

Before he left the elevator, his corset grew into a beautiful gown, split all the way up to his thighs, and his demonic features melted away. He patted Geralt once more on the cheek, pressing their lips together, before striding back into the foyer, not looking back at the frozen massacre he’d left behind. Beside him, a silver fox trotted along, a shadow of the man he used to be.

[thestarwrites]

City of God pt III (Finan x OC)

Fic Summary: Finan the Agile meets a Celt-Saxon woman, and for once he can’t think of anything else. What do you mean they won’t see each other for years? The continuing story of the love between Celts.

Part Three

Rating: PG-13

Please don’t plagiarize!

Tag list; (please DM me if you’d like to be added!)

@nxrdist @joyofbebbanburg @medievalfangirl @bookworm925 @buckysskye @jcalpha1@sprinkles617 

word count: 2,774

Once back inside Uhtred’s city dwelling, his cheeks were red and his face was a wide grin, that is until Sihtric and Clapa slipped inside after him with grins. “Look at that Sihtric, a lovesick Irishman.”

The shorter man smirked, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so smitten, and blushing too! Like a virgin.”

“Oi. Shut up.”

The men chuckled before Uhtred’s voice cleared from the front of the room, “Off to bed with you trouble makers.”

“Yes, Lord.” Both men said quickly before scurrying off like mice.

Letting out a breath Finan nodded, “Thanks for tha, Lord.”

Nodding, Uhtred smiled, “How did it go? Get a kiss, my friend?”

“Tha I did. Several in fact.” He quipped cheerfully.

Uhtred clapped his friend on the back and laughed softly, “I told you that you had nothing to worry about, she is as taken with you as you are with her.”

Finan shrugged, “There’s somethin’ about her, Uhtred. Somethin I can’t quite explain. Somethin’ I daren’t tell anyone but you. When I look at her, I feel…”

“Home?” Uhtred said softly. Finan looked up and could only nod, “That’s how it was with Gisela. The first time I saw her. It was as if I was struck by Thor in that instant, and I knew that if I didn’t have her in my future, I didn’t want to live. It was my visions of Gisela that kept me through the rowing.”

Finan took a deep breath, “I need ‘er.”

Uhtred put his hand on his friend’s shoulder, “And I regret to inform you, you will not see her for a while. There are many enemies which Alfred needs ridding, And I am bound now that Kjartan is dead to serve him. We are to march onto Coccham and then to the ships.”

Swallowing, Finan nodded, “And I am bound to you. My duty before my heart, Lord.” “You will see her again.” The Irishman nodded, feeling doubtful, “I think… I should write ta her.” “Good idea, my friend. I’ve often been told girls love sweet words.” He chuckled. And with that, Finan walked to compose the first love letter he had written in over five years.

When Hild had come to tell her the news that Uhtred and all of his household had left to Coocham on business- Kelly was devastated, “I do not know how long he will be away, it may be only a few days?” She said hopefully, though she knew how many enemies haunted the waterways. She looked down and then took a deep breath, resolving that if he was gone, then he was gone, a tear rolled down her cheek, “He told me he would call on me today.” Maybe now that he’d gotten his kisses, he was finished with her. Hild nodded and frowned, “That is why he wished me to give you the letter. Did something happen between you two?” She flushed, “We kissed.” The Abbess smiled warmly, “I am happy for you. Read the letter, I pray you find comfort in it. I must go on to Coccham.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hild gave her Finan’s letter, but she could not bring herself to read it for months. Thyra did her best to reassure her friend that Finan would come back for her. That he was head over heels for her and he was sure to return. But that night beside the fire, the stolen kisses behind her home, haunted her. “It has been nearly a year, Thyra…” She cried, “He’s never coming back, and if he ever does…” She whimpered. It was almost her twenty-first birthday. “Read the letter, my dearest,” Thyra urged, “Tonight, alone in your room. See what thoughts your Irishman wishes you to know. Imagine him speaking them to you in confidence. Imagine him coming home to you and only you.”

Angel, I have been told I am to away to for an indefinite period, but my duty is to Uhtred and to the King. My heart shatters knowing I must be away from you, after we’ve only just begun to truly see one another. I do not know how long, I do not know what fate awaits me, but I do know that in making Wessex safe, I make it safe for you.  I wanted you to have in writing that I belong to you. And that I will replay your silver laugh over and over in my mind until I pray God allows me to hear it once more, and the vision of your beauty will be my guiding light in the days and possible weeks to come. Not a moment will go by that I do not think of you. The ghost of your lips on mine will be my only comfort here on this journey. My body may be on the water and on the battlefield, but my heart remains in Wintecester, with you. I hope to be back soon, and I hope you aren’t on another man’s arm when I return. Until we meet again my beautiful girl, Your Irishman, Finan “Oh Finan.” She sighed dreamily, tears rolling down her cheeks. That night, she lay down to sleep, clasping her hands in prayer, “Heavenly Father, please protect Finan. Keep him safe from harm and deliver him home to me. Please guide his steps and keep him on your righteous path. Help me to be good and do what’s right. Amen.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two Years Later… It was early summer when a knock came on the door of Urlworth’s home. The woman who answered the door was Kelly’s mother Brienne. They looked alike, except Kelly had more of a Saxon build to her, “Finan! How wonderful it is to see you back safe and sound with us.” Her own Irish accent was thick as he remembered, “Are you finally here for good?”

Clearing his throat, Finan stood straight, and tried to stop his hands shaking, “Good afternoon, Ma’am. Ah, back at last for long enough that I can finally come to call after so long… Is the Lady Kelly at home?” “Oh- no, Finan, she is not, I believe she is out in the western fields picking flowers, shall I leave a message?” The woman gave him a gentle, yet sly, smile. She knew how her daughter loved this man, and how she’d missed him. “Uh- no need, Lady, thank you.” He bowed low and moved to get back on his horse, riding west of the walls of Urban Wintecester— he saw her. Close by the gates, in case. She was just as beautiful as she ever was. Picking flowers, as close to a faery as Finan ever imagined he would see. She was full of Old Magick, that he knew for sure. And he knew he was head over heels for her, for he dreamt of nothing else while away. Oh he had gotten his fair share of ribbing from the men. Fearsome Finan the Agile bowled over by a maiden. But he didn’t care. It had been three years since he lay eyes on her, and he hoped to never leave her behind again.

Kelly smelled a wild rose, sitting to pull out the well-worn piece of parchment written in Finan’s own hand. She had kept tabs on the events of the day, heard from the King and priests that Uhtred and his men lived, but they were endlessly fighting the Danes and the Northmen. Even if Finan never returned to her, she was proud to know a man who was so brave and so loyal. Finan watched her as she folded the parchment and kissed it gingerly before tucking it in her pocket once more. His smile was lopsided as he sighed, jumping down off his horse. When she heard rustling and the breathing of a horse, and the brush of footsteps in the grass, she jumped up. Spinning, holding out her dagger, she squinted up into the sun, confused as to the tall bearded man before her — and then gasped, “Finan!” “Honestly, woman, are ye gonna point a weapon at me whenever we meet?” Putting down her flowers and the dagger she set off at a run. Finan laughed and opened his arms, ready to embrace her. Running into his arms he picked her off the ground to spin her around, and she laughed in delight, “Oh Finan! You’re alright! You’re here! Its really you!” His response was only laughter. They did not speak for a long while. He just held her in the warm sun, “Miss me?” He purred in her ear. “Not really.” She answered and looked up at him. Finan grinned, “Ye know, one a’ these days, girl, yer gonna get a beatin’.” “Don’t promise me a good time.” Leaning down, Finan pressed his lips to hers. Their first kiss in years. They were sealed together by fate, the two of them. And fate is inexorable. Pulling back he looked down into her eyes and he smiled, “There is no greater felicity than this,” He cupped her chin and chuckled, staring into her eyes. Those beautiful blue orbs. After a few moments he kissed her again, and she responded, her lips playing right along with his. His kisses became hungrier, and then after a moment he pulled apart from her, looking down at her with shaking breath, “I’m sorry lass.” Kelly took a deep shaky breath herself, “Don’t you dare apologize. I’ve dreamt of nothing else but your lips on mine.” She admitted softly. “After all this time?” He smiled. The Twenty-three year old grinned up at him, “You said you were mine— but I didn’t get to tell you… I am yours. I kept abreast of your travels as much I could in town… I heard Sihtric is married- that Uhtred has two little ones…” “And what of me?” He smirked, “What did you hear of me?” “Your fighting prowess.” She sighed and ran her hand over his face, “Look at this beard.” “Don’ like it?” He frowned. “No I love it… your hair’s all evened out… your scars are faded…” She smoothed her hands over his face, “Yet you are the handsome man I met… the man I longed for.” “Ye’re still an angel,” He sighed dreamily. After a few minutes of silence, swallowing he grinned, “Come ta Coccham wit’ me. Say ye’ve been invited to stay with Abbess Hild in her new Abbey in Coocham. I can’t be apart from ye any longer. That’s why I’ve come, lass, I need you with me, so in between going out you will be at home with us- with me. Uhtred doesn’t much want to come into the city anymore... t’at’s why I haven’t had a moment ya sneak off and find ye. But I can’t spend another moment without ye.” She looked at him with a sly smile, “You intend to ruin me for another man, hm?” “I wouldn’t t’ink of it.” He said sincerely, “You will be stayin’ in a spare room. I just want ta spend time wit’ ye. Talk an’ do the thin’s I dreamed of whilst I was fightin’ these last years.” Kelly stroked his beard gently, “You must tell me of your journeys.” “I’ll tell ye all about it, and I have gifts to give you.” “Gifts!” Kelly gasped. He laughed softly, “Of course! Now— come lets get ye home, and pack for a stay with us.” He winked. “Yes, Lord.” She purred. He chuckled low in his throat, “Ooh, Lord, I could git used ta tha’, my girl.” He was silent for a moment as they walked toward his horse, and he cleared his throat, “Would ye… want another man?” He called back to her earlier comment. “What?” “Ye said… do I intend ta ruin ye for another man?” She huffed and hugged his arm, “Oh Finan! I was just teasing. You’re the only annoying Irishman for me, three years loyalty should prove that.” He smirked and nodded, “Come on.” He held out his hand for her, “Ye can ride on my horse wit’ me.” Her cheeks flushed as she was helped up onto the stallion, before Finan got up behind her. “If my father catches me on this horse with you…” “He’ll probably t’ank me fer takin’ his old girl off his hands, what are ye now, forty?” He smirked. Kelly gasped and looked behind her, “Finan!” The man leaned forward and kissed her again, “I love t’at fire in yer eyes. Never stop lookin’ at me like t’at.” “I never will if you keep being a pig, and besides! You’re the old man, what are you now seventy?” She smirked and kissed him again, lovingly. Pulling back he wrapped his arms around her and spurred the horse on. Kelly laughed and put her arms out with a shout of bliss. Finan grinned at the woman before him, joining her with his own shout of freedom- Hild and Thyra were right, as always, she was a wild thing.

After a good long ride through the countryside, Finan made it into town and stopped his horse a few blocks from her home, getting off the Stallion, and helping her down. Holding out his arm he smiled, “Yer escort, my lady.” She chuckled and took his arm, “Thank you, my Lord.” He growled softly, licking his lip, “I can’t wait to be alone wit ye… jus’ you an me… I want ta sit out wit ye under tha stars, and bathe you in moonlight, with kisses,” he whispered. It took everything in her not to swoon there in the middle of the palace courtyard. “Ah, Finan, you have returned to Wintecester at last—  and I see you are with Miss Kelly.” The cool voice of their King behind them, sounded surprised. Kelly spun around and bowed her head, cheeks red, “Lord King,” Finan repeated the action of bowing his head and he put a hand over his heart, “I hope you are well today, Lord?” She asked.           “Quite well today, praise God.” He smiled. He liked Kelly, she was smart and full of the good light of Christ, “You two seem to be getting along well. I’m a little surprised to see you two strolling arm in arm, I did not know you were acquainted, I haven’t seen you in the city for years, Finan.”           “Uh- Lady Kelly was invited to stay at Coccham, Lord— By Hild! I’ve been- been sent ta fetch her.” Finan managed. Kelly smiled bashfully, “Finan and I are indeed friends, Lord King, from years back.”           “Friends, I see.” A long look at the girls bashful face and Finan’s guilty eyes told him what he needed to know about the young people before him. He gave a smile. Finan was a great warrior and a Christian to boot. He was pleased. This would make a good union, “Well, then, enjoy your stay in Coccham, young lady, I’m sure you will find an excellent traveling companion in Finan.” “Thank you, Lord, I believe I will.” Kelly smiled and bowed her head. “I shall be sure to recommend Finan as a person of great esteem to your father.” Kelly’s eyes widened as the King bid them farewell and moved into the palace. Looking up to her Irishman, she noted he looked panicked, “What’s wrong?” “I—“ He stuttered, “I’ve never been recommended ta a lass’ father by a King.” “You have promised me nothing, I know.” She said gently, touching his hand. Finan sighed and kissed her hand, “It’s not tha. Tha’s no what I meant at all.” “Then what?” He took a deep breath, “Listen my girl, I’m not… good. I’m a devil on tha battlefield, an’ I’ve been a lecherous pig an’ a lover a’ whores. I’ve been a slayer a’ men and, God help me, lass, I’m a sinner.” She took his hands in both of hers, “As am I, Finan. We are not perfect. If God had made us perfect, we wouldn’t need him and his salvation and love.” Finan looked at her and smiled a little, “Aye girl… you’re right. Yer so right.” He leaned down and kissed her head, “Remind me ta always come to ye when I need ta be set straight.” Nodding she squeezed his hand, “I will, always.” He nodded in return, knowing he wanted to be entwined with her always, never letting go, “Ye’ll come wit me on our next journey? If its no’ too dangerous?” “If it is appropriate, lord.” She chuckled. “Good. Cause I never want ta be away from ye tha’ long ever again.” Kelly smiled warmly, shifting to hold his hand, “Nor I.”

[kariachi]

”So, we’re gonna start today’s Martin Mystery rewatches with The Vampire Returns. Should I have listened to more of the Young Frankenstein soundtrack during lunch in preparation? Probably. But here we are instead.

I love how this show always specifies the exact time shit starts going down. For instance, in this episode, 10:32 pm CEST

~~

Good on Lady Soulsucker’s date for paying enough attention to notice when the girl he’s out with grows fangs and her eyes start glowing. You don’t see that often enough.

Aw and then she takes the daintiest bite of apple with teeth bigger than Date-Dude’s face.

I wonder how they got out without being noticed... can’t remember if the vampires in this episode can do the ‘turn to fog’ thing. Sure I’ll find out later.

~~

Diana sitting there with a book and a crowd of impressed young ladies. What are you showing them, Diana? Did you make this book yourself? Did you mother write it? I can’t think of a reason for the ooo-ing and ahh-ing going on otherwise. Either that or you managed to attract a pack of lesbians and they are trying to get in your pants.

...ya know I’m kinda all for the idea that Diana has unwittingly attracted a chunk of Torrington’s lesbian population and they are all trying to smooze in the awkward way that only a young gay can manage.

Also hello Tonio, it’s nice to see you. I’m going to have to include you in this in some way, I believe, given the location and also that this is a fic for nix.

Martin, Martin, sweetie, no. You are not getting that girl. There were actual sparkles coming off her, you don’t deserve that sort’ve quality. Plus, ya know, she sounds like your brand of nerd isn’t her style. I know the saying is “aim for the moon, if you fail you’ll land among the stars” but let’s be realistic for five seconds

Tonio can see this disaster coming from a mile away.

Amber is not having it, solidly unimpressed. I’m shocked.

You think the girls at this school ever rate the boys and just, give Martin a solid 6/10 for effort and moxie alone? “We wouldn’t date him, but at least he’s entertainingly stupid.”

Amber’s look of shock and concern at the idea of Martin enjoying studying. Like she’s about to call in the Psi Psi Psi girls and Diana, clearly their moron has fallen ill. Diana, meanwhile, is just pissed and I can’t decide whether the idea that this is because Martin is lying to get a date or because ‘has he been lying for the past our entire lives’ is funnier.

Though, given we’ll be working with witch!Martin for this it’s not like he’s lying. He just doesn’t like studying, well, anything they teach at Torrington. (Although I am still a big fan of the idea that he’s perfectly bright and just doesn’t apply himself like, at all.)

Martin don’t growl at your sister, you’ll get enough chances to in season 3.

And Amber trying to let him down easy.

~~

“Very rare, and totally irreplaceable” and you, all the way into season 2, are going to work with them, in your office, immediately after calling in Martin- known disaster and Destroyer of Projects? I swear you’d think MOM wanted her crap ruined. After a point you have no one to blame but yourself.

Martin no.

I repeat, MOM, no one to blame but yourself. Most people with an ounce of sense would stow away the shit they didn’t want destroyed when the guy who keeps destroying shit was called in.

Diana no. You’re being sent on a mission not a fucking river cruise.

~~

Introducing, the world’s scariest tunnel of love. First condoms in the water, now people going missing, this dude is just done.

Well Lady Soulsucker just fucking demolished that place didn’t she. Godsdamn, forget shutting it down because people disappeared, shut it down because it’s officially a safety hazard.

Okay, access hatch in the ceiling, that explains that.

...Okay but Martin isn’t entirely wrong with his assessment here? Something strong and nocturnal is right on the nose, and while the werewolf and half-beast-half-humanoid (and I love he uses that word specifically) hybrid guesses aren’t quite right, they aren’t far off the mark. He brought his A game today.

Diana, darling, kids playing practical jokes generally don’t leave fair rides completely demolished in their wake. That is not a normal occurrence.

Java about to eat half-consumed food off the floor like child did Diana not teach you better than that? I wouldn’t be surprised Martin didn’t but Diana?

500 year old saliva. This is the sort’ve ridiculousness I expect from this show. What, did Lady Soulsucker not swallow, spit, or brush her teeth since she escaped her coffin? Was she going around with 500 years of no brushing on her breath? Of course she’s got vampire hypnosis it’s the only way she could get a date.

Vampire goes rwar at children, flees into the sun to escape capture. Also he may need some heavier clothes, those don’t seem to be keeping the sunlight out.

~~

Martin no.

Billy making himself useful. Helping them follow the massive flashing clue that is the vampire’s clothing.

Martin slow your jock-ass down

Martin no, purple isn’t your color.

Okay, can I just say here that Lady Soulsucker looks fucking weird? She looks like a haunted porcelain doll. Or a shitty oc. Here, a theme song to go with her.

Question, why is there a surf shop in the middle of Paris? Is Paris big for surfing? A true French sport?

Oh, yeah, Simone, I forgot her name. It’s very French. Also dude chill.

Diana will not be stopped by some weird hyper-jealous dude.

She also, ya know, looks like a fucking corpse. But yeah, the reflection thing is your first clue something’s up.

He doesn’t see her, he doesn’t hear her, he doesn’t smell the 500-yo morning breath. I claiming him as an anosmiac by the way, the flag is in.

Welp. I can’t decide whether this feeding was more or less extreme than the last one. I mean, this time was pretty fucking hardcore, but last time she demolished an entire fair ride.

Simone, sweetie, have you considered that if you are looking for a specific guy maybe, just maybe, the way to go about it isn’t to just eat whatever random dude happens to be within hypnotizing range? Just a thought?

“He needs help, I’m going in” Martin says right after watching a guy get eaten by a vampire, proving that while he may not be the moron we deserve, he’s the moron we need. Diana, on the other hand, is a voice of reason and doesn’t deserve this shit.

Lucky those clothes were there to break your fall, Martin.

Martin, after dropping from the ceiling into a vampire’s feeding ground, alone: Don’t make me fuck your shit up! Simone, seeing this: Oh yay it’s my moron! Speak of the devil!

Am I saying Gerard was probably just as much an impulsive dumbshit as his great-x-grandson? Yes. Yes I am.

“Clever, and brave.” And a complete moron of a dork. “Just like my Gerard.”

“And just as handsome” it’s nice to see the looks keep in that family? I don’t believe Gerard got the floaty hair though, but his hair looked stupid so really Martin has the advantage there.

Vampire minions are strong, holding back Java with one hand.

Vampire true love is apparently very sparky.

Well Diana, at least you saved the watch.

~~

Martin gets abducted by vampires, Billy immediately must run to the scene.

I’d be impressed with your strength, Java, if those doors hadn’t looked 70% fallen in before you got to them. You could’ve probably gotten the same result from a hearty cough on them.

Gerard=Martin w/o floaty hair or modern fashion. Don’t know why the portrait is in black in white.

You’d think Billy could’ve taken the thirty seconds to read a brief overview about the woman while he waited for Diana and Java, but no.

No wonder Gerard looks weird, there’s not even a splash of warm color in that outfit. And warm tones don’t do Simone any favors. Coordinate your fashion better, people, you’re vampires for fuck’s sake! What would Mike say!

How do we know about genes from a 15th century vampire? Also I note she says ‘relative’ and not ‘descendant’, but I’m not in the mood to dig into that.

Billy you are literally a galactic conqueror, but your big boy underwear on and get in the basement.

Let’s be real, Diana, that’s just a sibling thing. You go into horrible places to save them so you can give them hell about making you go to a horrible place to save them.

How many minions has Simone gotten together? Like, the clan hasn’t been renewed yet, so... When did she get the time? It’s been like 24 hours

Okay, that explains new guy A, what about B and C over there, who look like they stepped out of Robin Hood? where they sealed in with you? Is this the old crew?

Simone, queen of the night and motivational speeches.

Martin you can’t just call on a specific guy, poor thing probably had a heart attack. “Fuck, my Lady’s new consort has beef, fuckfuckfuck” but no, you just want some fucking fries. And Simone is fucking loving it.

~~

Okay, so we know some of them sleep upside down.

It’s nice to see vampires can still be active sleepers.

Hissy vampires on all fours

Vampire!Martin is perfectly fine with being an evil trophy husband

Vampire!Martin standing there like “yeah, you rule the underworld, babe, rocking it!”

~~

“Do you know how much grief I’ll get at Torrington if my stepbrother comes back a vampire?” Would it really be that much more than you get just for having him as a stepbrother in the first place?

A vampire lord consort and yet still, at heart, an annoying brother

Simone: Get me back my fucking moron and we’re all screwed!

Tell me that’s like, Diana or Java’s dirty sock because I’m fairly certain even Martin doesn’t deserve to have his own stuffed in his mouth

And Simone becomes a massive fucking bat beast. Fur, muzzle, little winglet-dealies, big ears, big teeth, no tail...

Okay, yeah, Java’s sock, cool

Those are some seriously dirty windows. Or, well, were.

Sunlight burns everybody but also burns Simone to fucking ash right quick. Which then removes the curse on her victims.

Also I wanna know more about this apparent vampire gene. It is of much interest, especially given next episode will be dealing with werewolves and in some folklore werewolves when killed become vampires, so...

~~

Martin. No.

Amber really. Either you were setting him up or you yourself are dense as teak.

Oh Martin... stick with spies and monsters, honey

[jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets]

Katie’s B-Day Mckirk Challenge!!

First off let me just say a giant HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! to my dear friend Katie, A.K.A @goingknowherewastaken , who this fic is for <3 You are literally the best person ever! I love talking to you, i love hashing out random head cannons with you, and you deserve to have the most super awesome birthday ever! and so, here is the first chapter of your bday challenge fic.

Our Forbidden Love

Title: Our Forbidden Love

Fandom: Star Trek (AOS)

Relationships: Jim  Kirk x Leopnard McCoy

Warnings: there will probably be an explicit scene in here at some point.

Description: A drunken King sits atop a throne he does not deserve, his thirst for power, strength, and territory replacing his love for his only son and heir, instead making every attempt at using him as a pawn for his own gain. The young Prince Leonard has been promised to every girl in the land but his heart craves for a love that is real and true. He fears he will have to fall to his father’s fruitless attempts to marry him off until he bumps into a certain servant boy who manages to hold his attention. But, when war is waged upon his own people by his drunken lust filled father, Leonard will be left with a choice. Will he do a duty to himself and fight for love, or will he do his duty to his people and fight for his kingdom?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1:      Cheers erupted through the city. Deep into the night the people of Ellesteen flooded the streets, filled to the brim with drink, dance, and song. Drunken knights stumbled down the crowded roads, one by one being pulled into peasant girl’s houses for the night. Though the night air was chilled, threatening the winter season, the people refused to surrender to it, continuing their festivities as though it were the middle of summer.      

     Deep within the warm walls of the castle behind them, the many inside behaved in much the same way. Mountains of food piled every table, servants rounded the room filling every empty goblet they passed, knights and nobles danced the night away with the most beautiful girls in the land, and none could have been happier.     

     The king stood behind the table at the front of the room, a goblet in one hand and a girl in the other. The countless number of glasses he had already consumed clear in the way he swayed. A drop from his goblet fell, landing on the handsome young boy sitting beside him, a fowl look being sent his way as the boy wiped the red liquid from his face.     

     The king looked down to the boy, dark eyes glaring up at him from under messy dark grey locks. “Come now my boy,” he slurred, “this is a time of celebration! You should be rejoicing with your Knights.”     

     “Down there you mean?” he pointed to the mess of bodies on the floor below him. All squished together in a heap of sweat and lust, “I would much rather be on the battlefield.”     

     A hand landed hard on his shoulder as the king attempted to steady himself as he turned to face the boy, “You may be the prince but that does not mean you have to sit here, stone faced, whilst everyone else has a good time.”      “Yes,” he replied, pushing him away, “I think it does, Father.”     

     “Leonard, you should not be so stiff.” The King’s face was dangerously close to Leonard's as he released a breath, the smell almost making him sick, “One day you will take my place as king and you will be expected to partake in such festivities as these. You should welcome our new allies with joy, Leonard, you show much disrespect while you sit here with your head down and a frown on your face.”     

     “Father, this is absurd!” he roared as he rose from his seat, “I doubt showing the King of the North how drunk I can become will assure him of the bonds our Kingdoms have formed here tonight. I tire of this unnecessary show of false loyalties. You and I both know the Snow King is as steady in his bonds as the ever changing seasons.”     

     “Leonard, no matter how the King of the North may waiver in our alliance matters not now,” he whispered to his son, “what matters is the fact that for the time being he has agreed to stand by us in the event of war. He holds the North, he is King to the largest territory in the land, and he has the most Lords under his command. In the event of battle those Lords will fight for us and we will have the largest combined army any kingdom or territory will have ever seen.”     

    “That is, you mean, if in the event of battle he does decide to hold true to his bonds,” he reminded his King, “We have seen it before. If the Snow King finds himself on the losing side he will not hesitate to stab you in the back with your own sword. Father, I see more faults in this alliance than benefits.”     

     The King clasped his hand around the boys upper arm, shaking him back and forth, “But my boy, we are the first to successfully sign a treaty with the Snow King and his followers in the north, never before has he sealed it in ink. You hold little faith in humanity, my son.”     

     “I have yet to be proven wrong in my lack of faith.” He tore from his fathers hold causing the man to stumble forwards, nearly falling. Leonard gave a sigh, his father’s behavior was nothing short of new but it still remained an embarrassment in the young prince’s eyes. “Father, may I take leave? This celebration wreaks of desperation from one too many circumstances and I cannot breathe it in any longer.”     

     “And you will not take a dance with the princess before you retire?” his father motioned to the young girl at the other end of the table. She sat alone, three knights surrounding her as she watched on. Leonard knew this was no place for such a beauty, trapped like prey in the middle of all these drunken men, but his father’s attempts at marriage for his son saw no boundaries.      Looking back to his father he rolled his eyes, “I have told you many times already, father, I will have no more of your attempts to marry me off. Just because you and the Snow King have joined together does not mean that his daughter and I must follow suit. Now, just as I am taking leave so should she, this is no place for a princess, guarded or not.”     

     “Fine,” the king dismissed him with a wave of his hand, “I can see that if I don’t let you go now you will continue to wallow in your misery. Off with you.”      Leonard bowed to his father, who then turned his attention back to the young girl on his arm, before taking his leave down the steps and through the thick crowd below him. He pushed his way through the mass of people, none of them coherent enough to care that their prince was coming through. Though Leonard cared not, for all he wanted was to reach the door and sprint to his chambers.      

     He had made it halfway through the room, the door was finally in his sights. “Leonard!” a familiar voice called from behind him. He turned seeing his most trusted knight and dearest friend lifting his drink in his direction, “You take leave already? The party has just begun! Grab a goblet and come sit with us. Have a good time for once.”     

     He let go a small smile, “No thank-you, Sir Sulu, you know I do not fair well in such gatherings.” Sulu frowned and gave him a shrug as he continued, “but have you're fun Hikaru, I’ll see you for training at dawn tomorrow.” Leonard couldn’t help but chuckle at the look of pure horror on his friends face. Clearly he had completely forgotten about training, all the more reason for him to work his knights twice as hard tomorrow.      

     Leonard then turned sharply to make his way back to the door, only to collide hard with another body before he could make it any further. The Prince’s excellent reflexes found him still on his feet but the boy he ran into was on his back before him, a pitcher of red wine staining his white tunic, and Leonard’s crown landing beside him with a clang. He quickly reached down, extending a hand to the golden haired boy on the floor who took it graciously. “I'm so sorry,” Leonard began as the boy bent down to retrieve the crown from the ground between them.    

     “You have nothing to be sorry about, my lord,” he said as he stood, Leonard's crown in his hands, “it was I who was not paying attention.”     

     He laughed, “Actually, I was in such a rush to leave I'm the one who should be apologizing.”     

     “Leave?” he questioned, “the crown prince leaving the celebrations so early?”     

     “Yes, I'm afraid so,” Leonard turned to scan the room, still disgusted by the drunken actions of those around him, “this does not really appeal to me like it does others, though…” he turned back to the boy, a smile clear on his face as he took him in, “you have certainly managed to hold my attention. What is your name?”     

     “James, but everyone calls me Jim,” he smiled, “I'm a new servant in the palace and it seems I have already managed to make quite the fool of myself. May I?” he gestured to the crown in his hands.     

     Leonard bowed his head so that Jim could place the crown back where it belonged and smiled as he said, “thank-you, Jim.”     

     A silence fell between them before Jim spoke to break it, motioning towards the door, “Well, I must return to work and find a new shirt while I’m at it, and I shall let you take your leave now, my lord.”     

     “Actually,” he began, “you’ve managed to change my mind, I think I’ll stay a bit longer. Jim.” He bowed.     

     “My Lord,” he returned.      

     Jim watched as the prince walked back the way he came, only turning when a hand pressed against his shoulder. “What did you do?!”      

     A girl with long dark hair stared in awe at Jim, “I…I didn’t do anything. What do you mean?”     

     “What Nyota means,” another boy appeared, this one with short dark hair, bangs straight across his forehead, “is the prince has never shown interest in anyone. He is usually quite independent, only surrounding himself with the company of his Knights. He even refuses the help of the servants his father sends for him. But you have managed to not only hold his interest but also make him smile. I do not think there is anyone who can say they have ever accomplished such a feat.”     

     Jim looked to the dark haired boy and scoffed, “I'm sure it was nothing, Spock.”     

     “I am certain it was a little more then nothing,” Spock teased.     

     “What exactly are you implying?” Jim demanded, hands on his hips with a scowl.     

     Nyota danced around him, laughing as she sang, “Maybe the prince likes you!”      

     Jim paled and his eyes went wide, “I don’t think that’s it at all! He's a prince after all, he could never possibly fall for a servant! I knocked his crown off and he apologized for bumping into me, that’s all. It was a simple exchange.”     

     She stopped dancing and took one of Jim’s arms as she spoke with a theatrical sigh, “Look at you, only here but a week and already you are stealing the prince’s heart. All the princesses in all the territories will have your head on a stick, James Kirk.”     

     “I do believe Nyota is correct. It would appear that the only reason he decided to stay was so he could watch you for the rest of the evening.” Spock looked then to Nyota beside Jim, “I do not ever recall him staying at any of his Fathers parties much past nightfall. This is a first.”     

     “No,” Jim began, shaking his head, “you have got it all wrong!”     

     “Maybe…” Nyota teased, “Maybe not. I guess we will just have to wait and see.”     

     Before Jim could protest anything the two had scampered off into the thick crowd of people and out of his sight.      

     He turned slowly towards the table at which Leonard and his father sat. He watched as the prince returned to his place at the table and spoke quickly to his father before turning back to the crowd below him. Nyota and Spock were right, he was staring right at him, eyes not moving an inch. As their eyes met in an intense gaze Jim quickly tore himself away, a blush appearing rapidly on his cheeks. Could they really be right, he thought, could the prince actually have interest in a servant?

                                                  ~~~~~~~~~~~     

     As Leonard left the servant boy behind him in the crowd and made his way back to his place at the table, he couldn’t help but let his thoughts linger on Jim. There was something about him that captured him in ways that no one had ever managed to before, something he couldn’t quite understand just yet that sent a foreign feeling soaring through every inch of his body.      

     He sat himself back in his chair behind his father, who managed to tear his lips off the young girl in his arms long enough to ask, “You have returned? I thought you wished to retire for the night?”     

     Leonard quickly glanced to his father, then back to the crowd as he leaned casually back in his chair. His eyes locked with just exactly what he was looking for, and a small smirk spread across his lips as Jim immediately turned away, too shy to hold their gaze. Without removing his eyes from the servant boy he answered, “I was, but I decided to stay a while longer…there is something I wish to keep my eye on.”

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A/N: if any of y’all would like to be added to the tag list for future updates please let me know!!! XD

[selfproclaimedunicorn]

what’s your favourite thing (could be character or line written or even a theme, etc) to write about in a fair and handsome seal lord?

oooooh, this is good, but also hard. Because on the one hand, I love this story, but on the other it mostly just exists as a series of drabbles & then the only "serious" writing is an AU of it 😅

As of right now, I think my favorite part is just that I get to work on/with such different characters than I do in SOTF. I'm not focusing a lot on Alicent there (not at the moment anyway, & when I do bring her in there it feels different because she's not as much the focus there. Y'know?), & Aldreda is so different from a lot of characters that I usually write (I mean, I write a lot of Women Who Would Be Canceled By Fandom, but not quite of Aldreda's flavor)--she's deliberately Not For Everyone & kind of in-universe unpalatable the further out from her insular circle you get. And then Aldreda's supporting cast is just A Lot & not at all usual character types I pull out so it's just really fun for me to get to work with different character types & look at the canon characters at different angles than I do in my main fic.

IDK, there'll probably be a different answer if/when I turn A Fair And Handsome Seal Lord into a proper fic (or even as I get further into the AU of it), but right now it's just "it's so different from normal & I think all the characters are fun!"

[selfproclaimedunicorn]

You can call me Misa. 30+ aroace. I do art & write fic & scream about OCs. This blog is 18+.

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Current Projects:

Sins Of The Father: HOTD OC fic centered around the three children of Lady Rhea Royce & Prince Daemon Targaryen, as well as their extended families. Follows the three OC children from childhood through adulthood. 20+ chapter WIP, currently over 200k words. [all promo posts linked here]

Sins Of The Father Extras/Drabbles

The Red Princess: HOTD OC fic focusing primarily on Rhaenyra's younger sister born by Queen Aemma Arryn, & her relationship with Tyland Lannister. Currently upcoming, will be worked on seriously once Sins Of The Father concludes.

A Fair And Handsome Seal Lord: HOTD OC drabble series that might become a full fic. Alicent Hightower x OFC. Currently has 6 tumblr exclusive drabbles. | Currently has an Age of Heroes AU being published on AO3 [all promo posts linked here]

Project SnakeKnight: HOTD OC drabble series. Gwayne Hightower x OFC. Drabbles are interconnected, there is currently no plan for a full fic.

Overture To The Sun: Skyrim OC fic mostly following the Dawnguard questline. Platonic OC/Serana/OC. Currently on the backburner, being outlined very slowly.

The King's Game: OC centric ASOIAF fic that adds a lot of lore & extra Houses & world building. Constantly being reworked & only half outlined. It technically exists though.

Commonly Talked About OCs:

Rhaella "Ella" Royce: The daughter of Lady Rhea Royce & Prince Daemon Targaryen | Twin sister of Yorick Royce | Rider of Vermithor | Wife of Ser Robert Tyrell | Attached to Sins Of The Father

Ser Robert Tyrell: Second son of cadet branch of House Tyrell | Husband of Lady Rhaella Royce | Attached to Sins Of The Father

Lord Yorick Royce, The Dragon of The Vale: The oldest son of Lady Rhea Royce & Prince Daemon Targaryen | Twin brother of Rhaella Royce | Rider of The Cannibal | Husband of Shireen Baratheon | Attached to Sins Of The Father

Lady Shireen Baratheon: The daughter of Lord Boremund Baratheon & his second wife | Younger sister of Borros Baratheon | Wife of Yorick Royce | Attached to Sins Of The Father

Ser Aemon Royce, The Black Knight: The youngest son of Lady Rhea Royce & Prince Daemon Targaryen | Rider of Silverwing | Betrothed to Lara Mormont | Attached to Sins Of The Father

Lara Mormont: Daughter of the Heir to Mormont Keep & his second wife | Betrothed to Aemon Royce | Attached to Sins Of The Father

Rhea Royce: Oldest daughter of Lord Yorick & Lady Shireen Royce | Rider of Kathalak | Attached to Sins Of The Father

Stannis Royce: Oldest son of Lord Yorick & Lady Shireen Royce | Heir to Runestone | Rider of Starfyre | Attached to Sins Of The Father

Baldric Royce: Second son of Lord Yorick & Lady Shireen Royce | Attached to Sins Of The Father

Myranda Royce: Second daughter of Lord Yorick & Lady Shireen Royce | Attached to Sins Of The Father

Griffith Tyrell: The son of Rhaella Royce & Ser Robert Tyrell | Rider of Greenhand | Best friend of Aegon Targaryen II | Attached to Sins Of The Father

Aerea Tyrell: Older daughter of Rhaella Royce & Ser Robert Tyrell | Twin sister of Adrienne Tyrell | Attached to Sins Of The Father

Adrienne Tyrell: Younger daughter of Rhaella Royce & Ser Robert Tyrell | Twin sister of Aerea Tyrell | Attached to Sins Of The Father

Ser Yarwyck Royce: A cousin of Lady Rhea Royce | Nephew of Ser Gerold Royce | Husband of Cassana Strong | Aid of Ser Tyland Lannister | Attached to Sins Of The Father & The Red Princess

Cassana Strong: The daughter of Lord Lyonel Strong & his third wife, Lady Brialla Thorne | Wife of Ser Yarwyck Royce | Best friend of Princess Daenys Targaryen | Attached to Sins Of The Father & The Red Princess

Princess Daenys Targaryen: Second daughter of King Viserys Targaryen & Queen Aemma Arryn | Younger sister of Rhaenyra Targaryen | Rider of Windscream | Wife of Ser Tyland Lannister | Attached to The Red Princess

Aldreda Farwynd: Only daughter & surviving child of Lord Alfric Farwynd | Heir to Lonely Light | Captain of The Silent Selkie | Master of Ships to King Aegon Targaryen II | Lover of Dowager Queen Alicent Hightower | Attached to A Fair And Handsome Seal Lord

Lady Taryne Swann [nee Sand]: The wife of Ser Bryce Swann | Lady-In-Waiting to Queen Alicent Hightower | Lover of Ser Gwayne Hightower | Attached to Project SnakeKnight

BG3 OCs: Mardora Stormheart; Dwarf Cleric of Moradin; Tav | Aerea; Half-Drow Vengeance Paladin; DURGE | Guemarir; Tiefling Bard; Tav | Lilith; Tiefling Wizard; DURGE | Orulan; Gnome Barbarian; Tav

Ask me about my OCs for other projects

[selfproclaimedunicorn]

🏆 - Best friends (past, current or future) for an oc of your choice?

Have to talk about Aldreda, because I started watching Black Sails last night & I am full of Pirate Mother™️ feels from it (especially since I've poached from that show to cast her bestie now. And no I don't care that he was Samwell's brother in 1 season of GOT, there was nothing wrong with the actor Tom Hopper replaced who looked more related to--and younger than--John Bradley anyway.)

Aldreda's best friend is Vickon Sharp: the eighth son of Lord Sharp & former ship boy to Aldreda's abuser/cousin. They both served under Westley before they were deemed worthy of going off on their own if they wanted to, & he immediately "jumped ship" (so to speak) to be the first member of Aldreda's regular raiding party. They were the only two tweens/young teens on Westley's boat & they grew up adjacent for a big chunk of their lives, they just didn't interact much until the whole Aldreda Learning To Raid thing.

Vickon is her right-hand-man & her main confidant. They both looked up to General-Shitty-Guy-Westley in one way or the other before he (just brief enough to shake things up) went Mask Off, so they both feel betrayed by him & they both just kind of Get It in regards to where the other is coming from. She's also the person at Lonely Light he's the most loyal to. Vickon is in some weird nebulous zone of "Aldreda is one of the boys" & "Aldreda is a girl that I actually give a shit about so I should protect her honor if anyone questions her even though I know she can & will kill." Kind of an "I respect her 90% unquestioningly & so should you" type situation. The 10% wiggle room is for when she does some real side-eye earning shit (side-eye earning by Ironborn standards, but still side-eye earning).

[selfproclaimedunicorn]

Me with Aldreda & Alicent rn

[selfproclaimedunicorn]

a fair and handsome seal lord! i think that one sounds neat

@rottengrowls asked me about this one and another one, so I'm gonna talk about AFAHSL here

A Fair And Handsome Seal Lord is my Alicent Hightower×OC Problematic Yuri project that's mostly drabbles & headcanons & a vague road map for if/when I turn it into a proper fic (I can kind of only work on one or maybe two proper fics a time if I want anything to get done).

It's my OC Aldreda Farwynd & her weird, complicated fuckyness being coerced into being Aegon’s master of ships during The Dance after she fled from her home a year before said war starts, & then becoming the dowager queen's controversial younger girlfriend 😂. The plan so far is

Start en media res with Aldreda already on the mainland, getting offered the job of master of ships

Build character dynamics via multiple POVs

Have occasional flashbacks to Aldreda's backstory or her mom at Lonely Light to fill in the gaps

Yuri

Secret Gay Drowned God Wedding

Cool battle scenes probably

Murder! Vengeance! Blood!

Aldreda & Alicent don't fix each other, but they aren't making each other worse either (they at least work on themselves to a mildly helpful degree)

There's an ending for sure

More yuri

?????

Profit

This is mostly not in order & a lot is probably subject to change. And, ngl, I don't have any google doc currently languishing in an incomplete state (more WIP on a conceptual level), but I want to work on a drabble for Aldreda & Alicent real bad

[selfproclaimedunicorn]

Secrets In The Dark

Sooooo, I wrote another drabble set in Aldreda’s backstory. It's not not a sequel to the last one, but there's probably a couple months between them. Also it's from her shitty cousin's POV, so content warning for being in the brain of the guy actively deciding he wants to groom a 13-year-old. Fully understand that not being something everyone will want to read, I just needed to expunge my soul of the idea I had. Anyway, felt slimy after completing this & again while editing so I'm gonna plan nice things now

Aldreda Tag | AO3 Series | Other Flashback Drabble

Stars blinked above in the great expanse of black as water gently sloshed against the sides of the longship, making it rock and softly creak as it sat still in the waters of The Sunset Sea. Westley groaned as he sat up. His arm was numb from having laid his head on it for so long, and The Sharp’s eighth son had rolled over enough to be on the edge of the blankets he’d wrapped around himself to keep out the cold and the wet and offer some cushion between himself and the hard planks of the ship. If it weren’t for the cold glint of a blade in the dark, and the shadow of Beorn Merlyn’s form huddled near the port side of the hull, he would have pushed the ship boy further away from him. He didn’t want to risk shoving him into one of the other men and waking up more people before he could talk to him.

Westley stretched, working limberness back into his shoulders and arms before pushing himself up and stepping over the sleeping man at arms that lay between him and the huddled form near the hull. Beorn's posture stiffened, and he watched Westley with hard, dark blue eyes. He didn’t move, the knife in his hand pausing in its work against whatever silly little trinket he’d been whittling to pass the time. A good bit of shavings crunched under Westley’s boot when he stepped in front of Beorn; he’d been at this a while it would seem. He crouched down before his man, arms rested on his knees and a manic grin on his face.

“Hope you’re not planning a mutiny with that.” He tried to keep his tone light as he inclined his head towards the knife, hoping his words would be taken as a jest. Beorn had been a good friend to him, loyal and true and willing to listen to his orders in spite of being a few years older than him. Westley had been just as true to Orwen, and he’d loved his older cousin like a brother…but that did not mean his loyalties to his cunt uncle’s now-dead son outweighed those to his own father, The True Farwynd. Such caveats to loyalty existed in everyone, even the fourth son of The Merlyn sent off to serve ‘one of those crazy Farwynds out in their lighthouse.’

“Not planning anything…unless you do something.” Beorn’s gaze faltered, unable to hold Westley’s unblinking eye contact, and he mumbled the second part.

“Do something?” his grin relaxed, and true humor played at the edges of his voice this time, “Where’s that coming from?”

Beorn’s eyes darted towards the sleeping figure curled up between him and the hull, and he followed the other man's gaze. Aldreda. Westley looked back from his cousin, fair and vulnerable, to his man. He said nothing, his smile fading to blank neutrality.

Beorn shifted under his near-black gaze, anxiety dripping from him like water off the oars. His hushed whispers came out as a desperate plea, “I know we've never cared, but she is too much risk, Westley!”

He didn't say anything, continuing to just stare at Beorn. The other man swallowed, and he rubbed his thumb over one of the rough edges of the half-formed carving in his hand. “I know The Farwynd said to do what you wish, but that was more for her than you. It had to have been, and you know that.”

“Beorn.” Westley’s low voice was cold and stern, a warning to shut his stupid blabbering mouth. He did not heed it.

“Westley, you cannot touch her. If you take her maidenhead, The Farwynd will have you stripped naked and thrown into the walrus rookery slathered in clam juice at best, and during their rut at worst. Naga's Bones, Orwen even–”

Before Beorn could continue, he grabbed his jaw, holding so tightly that he winced. Westley’s brother-in-arms didn’t need to be brought into this. A dead man had no business in his affairs, especially if his words were still being honored. The honoring was not how he meant it in life, but it was still happening.

“And your plan for if I touch Aldreda is what, exactly? To cut off the fingers I put in her and present them to The Farwynd? To take off my cock and throw it in the ocean? To betray House Farwynd and kill your captain?”

Beorn did not respond, probably because he could not. Still, Westley searched his face as he held fast to his blocky jaw, fingers pressing hard into the bone. It was uncomfortable for him as well, but there was a malicious sort of pleasure in the discomfort on his man’s face while he tried to impart his thoughts without words.

“You only care because Aldreda is special…which is why you have nothing to worry about.” An easy smile spread across Westley’s face as Beorn’s thick brows furrowed with confusion. He let go of him, and patted his cheek as the other man tried to work some amount of comfort back into his jaw.

“Aldreda is special,” he reiterated, careful to continue keeping his voice low, “which is why no one will have her. There will be a proper time, of course, but that is for me. When she is six and ten I will make sure that in these three years she has learned that she’s mine. Your only job, Beorn, is to ensure that Aldreda hears and knows nothing of anyone else. I have needs, you understand, and they are none of her business. Her only business is taking what I give her, when I give it to her; training, raiding experience, love as Orwen’s sister, and one day as my woman. Promise me you’ll do this.”

There was still that same confused sort of concern on his face when he started to respond, “Westley–”

He frowned, quietly furious, and moved his hand from Beorn’s cheek, to his neck. Westley hauled him up onto his feet by the scruff, and the knife and hunk of wood clattered to the floor of the longship as they were dropped in the process of being dragged to the hull. He bent Beorn over the edge, the other man’s face barely above the black brine.

Westley loomed over him as he spoke again, his words coming out through gritted teeth. “If you do not swear to make sure all she knows is that I waited for her–”

“Westley?!”

The rustling of waking bodies and Aldreda’s worried cry saw Westley leaning forward, dunking Beorn’s head into the sea, and grabbing his upper arm to get a better hold on him. With a grunt of put on effort, he pulled him back up and away from the hull. Beorn coughed and sputtered over the water that had gotten in his mouth and up his nose as all that salt soaking his hair and the collar of his tunic dripped down and softly pattered onto the floor of the longship.

“There you go,” he put on a show of straightening his tunic and caring for his waterlogged man, “you have to be more careful!” Beorn's eyes met Westley’s for a moment, angry and disbelieving, before ultimately a look of resignation crossed his face.

“I will…I promise.” When he spoke, the words were horse and brought about another coughing fit. 

“What happened? Beorn, are you alright?”

“He tripped.” The lie fell easily from Westley’s lips as Beorn coughed into his fist, and Aldreda and Vickon and other men looked on with concern.

“I am fine,” Beorn rasped, “I got pulled out before anything too bad.”

“Vickon, get something for him to dry off.”

“Aye, Westley!” The Sharp’s son scrambled to gather something at least mostly dry for Beorn as the men all mocked or checked on him, stretching and then easing back into the spots where they’d been sleeping. After a moment, Beorn went to Vickon’s side to dry off, leaving only Aldreda and Westley by he hull

“Beorn is usually so sure-footed.”

“Everyone has their moments, and it is a good thing I was up to see his. Best to not be down a man, we will need everyone once we hit the coast. House Reyne’s land is rich with plunder.”

“So that is where we’re going?” There was a sparkle of excitement in her black eyes, and a wild grin pulled at the corners of her mouth. Naga’s Bones, Westley wanted her now; wanted to see how that grinning mouth would feel around his cock. It wasn't the right time though, he wanted her to want it as much as he did.

“It is,” Westley returned her grin and tucked some of her hair behind her ear, “I thought you deserved something big for your first raid.” Her cheek felt warm when his fingers brushed it, and something soft entered her smile.

“Get back to sleep, Aldreda. We'll talk about the plans tomorrow.”

“Right…good night, Westley.”

A smug sort of satisfaction filled Westley’s chest as Aldreda did as he bid her. It wasn't much, not yet, but the willingness was there; his work could be done in three years.