I'm incapable of following the pattern without making modifications.

Working on a small gentlebeard fic involving Stede giving Ed flowers. (And a nod to the twine from the morning after.)

Here's a small bit for WipWednesday.

Ed presses his hand against Stede's chest, right over his heart. 

Everything goes quiet, Stede's world narrowing down to that one contact. He can feel Ed's fingers flex, the teeniest movement as he readjusts and loops a pinkie around Stede's shirt while keeping his hand flat.

It's warm, soft, gentle. 

Stede can't help but see the irony in it. Those books and wanted posters showed Blackbeard as a ghoul, a villain, and he knows Ed has the capability to perform that role when pushed, like a rattlesnake shaking its tail as warning but then forced to strike out when the other won't quit advancing. At the heart of it all, Ed's gentle.

Stede places one hand over Ed's, interlocking their fingers. The corner of his lip ticks up in a smile as he starts to tap out the rhythm of Stede's heartbeat. He bows his head, knocking their foreheads together. 

it's #WipWednesday plus a lot of people tagged me to do some last line thing? But that's buried in my activity so whatever, I'm gonna kill two birds with one stone here and post some feeding fic.

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The egg custard is too thick to pick up between his fingers so he drags them through it as if it’s whipped cream. Rich, pale yellow dollops that cling to his index finger and that Daniel has to hurry to suck clean before the food falls to the tatami. It sits like a stone in Daniel’s stomach. Makes him war with the desire to ask for a break, fight against the way arousal propels him to lean up when Armand holds his finger just a bit too high. He has to push himself onto his hand and the change in angle makes him groan around Armand’s fingertip. He’s going to have to lie here after this, he thinks. He’s going to wind up beached like a sea creature, too gorged to make his way to the bed. “Would you rather I put you over my shoulder and carry you there?” Armand asks. He swipes a bit of egg custard onto Daniel’s lower lip just to watch his tongue dart out and lick it away. It stirs up a memory in the back of his mind. Spilling on a young man’s face as a youth, the shock and delight at seeing him lick up his release rather than reach for a cloth. The way he’d darted in and licked it from his cock as well. Armand can’t come on his face, but- Daniel’s got a smart remark on the tip of his tongue. The spark of it smothers and dies when Armand plucks a piece of tofu from the miso soup, holds it high and lets the broth run down his forearm. “Well? Are you going to take care of that or let it drip onto the tatami?” Armand asks. Daniel hesitates. He’s so fucking full. Going from egg custard back to salty dashi broth, and then sugary desserts- the idea of it makes his stomach turn, just as much as the idea of licking up the length of Armand’s arm makes blood rush to his prick. If you let it fall to the floor it won’t matter. I’ll make you lick it from there instead. For a moment Daniel is frozen in place. The words rattle around in his head, fill him with desire he doesn't understand. He pushes it down, surges up. Still resting on his right hip he manages to prop himself into an awkward sort of half-push up to get down to Armand’s elbow where the broth threatens to drip to the floor. He licks a wet stripe from his elbow to his wrist, leaves Armand’s skin glistening in his wake. Sucks the dashi from jut of his wrist and leaves them both breathless. Daniel has never been so quick to obey and Armand teeters on the edge of drunk with it. Armand wants him always and forever like this; stomach gurgling, chest flushed. Alive. Daniel’s eyes search his face for approval as he takes the cube of tofu from his fingers, ignores his body’s protestations and swallows it down. His throat goes tight with nerves when Armand withholds his praise. Dessert takes many forms on the table. Little rice cakes, sherberts, more egg custards but with sweet toppings instead of savory. Armand lingers over the decision. He lets Daniel hover there in suspense, blood pounding in his ears as he waits. The bowl of fruit covered in sugar syrup. That will do. “I wonder if I told you that the only way I’d allow you to orgasm is if you eat all of this,” Armand says, casting a sidelong glance at Daniel’s lap where the fabric of the robe is tented awkwardly. “Would you choose comfort or release?”

I’ll try to draw again ! Have to take care of my wrist but hey, I’m (sort of) back !

@bachisagizine

It's #wipwednesday! What are you working on this week? 👏😃🤗

Next free blanket pattern on my hook! ✨️ 

Link to my blog/website: https://crochetml.com/

https://crochetml.com/free-crochet-patterns/  

Check out the tiktok here!

For today's WIPWednesday, have a little snip from the upcoming chapter four of A Little Bit of Love Goes a Long Long Way ft Ed and Stede being cute AF

#VCWIPWednesday

I almost forgot it was Wednesday given the holiday yesterday but I've been working on stuff for Kink Week and I'm so excited to share! I don't want to spoil too much of the surprise but I'm really happy with the first piece I finished (finished meaning drafted,and still needs edits) so I wanted to share a small snippet with some mild adult content under the cut (nothing more than kissing in this preview but some grown up words).

Not tagging anyone this week but feel free to play if you're so inclined!

“People use handcuffs, sure, but these are cheap.” 

He took them from Armand’s hands, surprised to find they were metal, not plastic. He set down his beer and, with his cigarette dangling from his lips, examined them. They didn’t seem as sturdy as real handcuffs—which he unfortunately had experience with—but they also didn’t feel as flimsy as he’d expected. They wouldn’t hold Armand. He doubted any handcuffs would. But Daniel wouldn’t be able to break them open or get free easily. His mouth went dry as he imagined being restrained with them.

He picked up the box from the counter and found the key in the bottom. He unlocked the the cuffs. The pink fuzz around the inside was silly and playful, but also soft enough to keep your wrists from getting chafed. 

“Give me your wrist,” Daniel said. 

Armand thrust his wrist out. Daniel slapped the cuff around him and snapped it shut. Armand frowned, lifting his arm to get a closer look.

Daniel ashed his cigarette and took a drag while Armand examined the cuff on his wrist, batting at the loose, dangling cuff like a cat. He stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray and moved toward Armand with the key, intending to unlock it. But Armand snatched the key with his free hand and snapped the dangling cuff around Daniel’s wrist, locking them together. He grinned.

Daniel laughed. “Great, you got me.” 

Armand yanked his arm toward him, jerking Daniel forward. He stumbled into Armand. “I could get use to having you on a chain.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Daniel muttered. He grabbed for the key but Armand yanked it out of reach. He undid the cuff around his own wrist and went back into the kitchen. Daniel looked down at his arm, the pink fluff exploding beneath the glinting metal on his wrist. He cleared his throat. “Are you going to undo this or do I have to walk around with it on my arm all night?”

Armand opened a second box of cuffs. “Do you think the keys are the same for both?” 

“How the hell would I know?” Daniel walked up behind him, reaching around him to grab his beer from the counter. He sipped at it while Armand tried the same key on the extra set of cuffs. It worked. He grinned and put a single key into the pocket of his pants. Then he gave Daniel a look that set all his hair standing on end, a mixture of mischief and desire. 

“What?” Daniel asked. 

“Do you wish to test these?” Armand asked. “You have had such a fantasy.” 

Excitement shot through him as he thought of a myriad of ways they could test them, picturing himself cuffed and helpless. But the pink fluff made them feel silly, like a joke, which made him feel a little dubious about using them for their intended purpose even as the idea aroused him. “They’re novelty toys,” Daniel said. 

Armand lifted Daniel’s arm. He ran his thumb over his wrist around the cuff. “They seem sturdy enough to me.” His voice was low, soft, and it sent tingles down Daniel’s spine. He looked up at Daniel with his beautiful, brown eyes and, the look imploring and full of something else. Desire? Need? Hunger?

Daniel’s breath hitched and blood rushed to his groin. “Yeah, okay, I guess we can see what these babies can do.” 

Armand smiled and warmth spread through Daniel at having evoked that reaction. He had a radiant smile that always made Daniel giddy. Armand kissed him, fingers stroking his cheek as his tongue pushed into Daniel’s mouth. His tongue was cool, the heat from the blood of his earlier kill now faded, and Daniel’s tongue burned hot as it slid into his mouth, desperate and needy. 

Armand took his hand and led him to the bedroom. He pushed him against the wall and kissed him again, more fiercely this time, and Daniel’s cock hardened with excitement. There was nothing silly about the way Armand kissed him, fingers threading into his short blond hair, tongue warring with his. 

Thank you @desertfangs and @apoptoses for tagging me to particpate in #WIPWednesday

So, this started out as a response to the Mermay prompt for week 3, Eggs. Which I'm sure was intended to be oviposition related, or something like that, and there isn't no smut intentended for this fic, but I also wanted to explore how Armand creates safe places for the people he loves, his nurturing and protective side, how he copes with loss (yes we are going to tackle child loss in this 🐠 fucking fic, strap in lads (the excerpt below is safe from that theme though)). There also might be some baby-trapping in the final fic I have plans okay.

My main issue with this fic is I worry that it suffers from a lack of clarity around things like how Armand and Daniel learned to communicate, how they met etc. so I almost feel like it needs a prequel fic, but then I also feel like that will be boring and I may be overthinking how much people will care about the Lore(tm) of this mermaid!AU fic? So any feedback on that would be great

Tagging: @covenofthearticulate, @faerywhimsy, and @hekateinhell

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"Surely it's easier if I just get in and swim with you?” 

Daniel didn’t need to be able to translate the chirps and whistles that made up his strange friend’s vocalisations to know he did not approve of that idea.  

And as if to emphasise that, he stopped swimming to lift his head from the water, deep brown eyes glaring sternly with furrowed brows, as an almost translucently pale arm emerged from the water to push firmly against Daniel’s legs. Stay on the rocks, got it.  

This would be less of an issue if the path he was taking Daniel down was less treacherous, but these cliffs barely provided even a precarious foothold, with little to grab on to as the waves crashed against his legs up to his thighs. It wasn’t unusual for Armand, the name his aquatic companion had chosen to go by, to drag Daniel places, whether to scenic, secluded islands and beaches, or to busy ports and piers bustling with activity he wanted Daniel to explain. But he usually got Daniel to swim with him, often hauling him through rough currents that would otherwise have swept the young marine biologist away, replenishing his depleting oxygen with kisses so they didn’t have to surface. Daniel couldn’t understand why Armand was making him inch my way along this crumbling cliff-face, at any moment just once bad step away from smashing his head against the rocks as he fell into the rough seas below.  

Eventually though the waters calmed as they headed into the shelter of a bay, at the far end of which lay an opening to a cave, obscured somewhat by the formations of stone that had resisted erosion and the tendrils and branches of plants hardy enough to make their home in the craggy cliff face battered by the elements. It was only when they got closer that Daniel realised why Armand had not wanted Daniel to swim with him. The closer to the cave they got, the higher the ledges he was walking on got from the ocean, there would be no way for Daniel to climb out of the water and onto land. And the entrance to the cavern from the water appeared blocked by a barrier of branches, kelp, driftwood, and other plants. As if some giant, marine beaver had been building a dam to block out the ocean from this hidey hole in the side of a cliff. With a graceful flip of his silvery blue tail, Armand dived down towards the blockade at the mouth of the cave, presumably finding a way under it, and Daniel took that as permission to follow him inside.

Pushing through the foliage hanging from the top of the cave entrance, Daniel stepped into the cool shade of the sheltered cove. He hadn’t realised just how oppressively hot it had been out under the sun, but being in here felt like seeking refuge. It wasn’t a large area, he had to watch his head to avoid banging it on some of the lower portions of the rocky ceiling, and the pool of water which dominated the space was maybe 2 meters in diameter, just large enough that if Armand came right up to the edge and stretched his body out behind him, there would be just a little gap between the ends of his tail and the opposite edge of the pool.  

Except he hadn’t, and couldn’t, come right up to the edge where Daniel was standing, as there was wall of marine plants much like the one at the entrance, creating a smaller, portioned off area of the pool.  A nursery, he supposed, given that it was filled with what had to be hundreds, if not thousands of eggs. Each perhaps the size of a large marble, they were faintly blue in colour, translucent enough that he could see a darker shape at the centre of each one. They didn’t match the description of the eggs of any local marine life Daniel had studied, unless- Daniel never had got around to asking Armand the specifics of how merfolk bred, was it possible...  

“Are they yours?” 

Armand had been fussing with the plants blocking the current at the entrance, making sure they had closed-up behind him and patching up a spot that dipped lower than the rest where some waves were still making it over, but at the sound of Daniel’s voice he turned to look at him and gave a nod in response to his question.  

“Who laid them?” Was Daniel’s follow up question, as much inspired by curiosity as it was the fear of an angry mother showing up who might understandably view a strange human as a threat to her young. Armand, he thought, had never mentioned having a partner, strangely, even though they had discussed, as much as they could discuss anything with their limited communication, that merfolk did form long-lasting monogamous relationships. But it wasn’t jealousy sparking in Daniel’s chest, no absolutely not. That would be ridiculous.  

But Armand looked puzzled by the question, eyebrows knitting under the unruly auburn hair plastered over his forehead in a way Daniel found ridiculously endearing. Oh, of course, Daniel was an idiot. To answer that question Armand would need something to write in, something like... Well something like loose sand spread across one of the rocks on the other side of the cave. But then why did Armand look so perplexed?  

Armand swam to the ledge covered with sand as Daniel carefully crossed around the edge of the pool, being very careful not to lose his footing and fall in, afraid to disturb the nest. The sand didn’t seem like it belonged in here, suggesting that Armand had brought some in purely for the purpose of communicating with him, a gesture that left Daniel feeling something he couldn’t quite name, but it was high and warm in his chest and far from unpleasant.  

He didn’t have time to dwell on the mystery emotion though, as Armand stretched his arm out of the water to trace a wet finger in the sand.  

Me   

I will burn your kingdom down if you try to conquer me and mine

WIP Wednesday for Knight of Pentacles, King of Spades

I think this is the first time I've something ready for this hashtag? yay!

So Art-0 here, still a WIP but also a proof hard surface in zbrush and I don't work as intended, and I'm WAY more confident in organic modelling which I bet makes me a weirdo. I'll embrace that fact XD

Is wipwednesday still a thing?

Ok, as motivation for me to finally finish the edits, here's a WIP for my first OFMD fic. It will be out by the end of the month!

Stede sucks in a breath as his fingers skate across the wooden surface. "I thought you had gotten rid of it," Stede states quietly, hugging the robe around him tighter.

Ed thinks of the books and all Stede's clothes he had tossed overboard. He wanted all the evidence of Stede gone, out of his sight just like Stede was. He only kept some of the furniture to sit on. "Yeah. Uh, the piano was different.”

Stede gives him a knowing look, waiting till he gets a small nod from Ed before returning his gaze back to the piano, his hands to the keys. Not even the shine in his eyes dims when he hits a few of them, and the spoiled string plays loud in the smaller space. But his face scrunches up in clear distaste at the sour note. “We'll get that fixed.”

“Glad I hid it in here. Bet Ned would have loved to have a go at it. Maybe restring it with someone's guts."

"Or paint it silver." Stede shudders at the thought.

"Couldn't have that."

"It would completely ruin the wood. Just like on his violin. His torturing being so off key is completely his own fault." Stede’s dimple on his face comes fully visible as his face scrunches in judgment. It's perfect. Ed finds himself looking at it with contentment until the dimple disappears and Stede's face turns to confusion.

is #wipwednesday still a thing? are we doing that? because i'm doing it.

this is part of what was meant to be a quickie piece about post-canon armand and daniel trying those dr. fareed drugs (you know the ones). and somehow it expanded out into them re-visiting venice, asking some really tough questions about change, and struggling with integrating your past and your present.

and i'm not gonna lie, i'm having a rough go with this one! i don't know if it's personal life stuff getting me but it's been slow progress. they keep asking things i don't have the answer to and figuring out how to get them from point A to point B has been a winding thing, but i'm determined to do it.

this is from their visit to the palazzo armand spent his youth in:

“What did you want to become?” Daniel asks, violet eyes earnest in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the room. Never before has Armand seen someone so clearly in this room at night. He’s never known anything but the flicker of candlelight on immortal marble skin. “Or what did you imagine yourself becoming, if he’d really sent you off on your own?”

Armand rubs at the bend of his own elbow and turns the question over his mind. His youth had been so brief. Never had Amadeo dreamed of setting out to create his own life with Riccardo, of settling down and having a wife and children of his own. Amadeo had been so blinded by red velvet and frozen blue eyes he’d never been able to see beyond the endless night.

“Nothing. Without him I thought I would die. But then so does every young man who believes himself to be in love, I suppose,” Armand says. “In truth it’s likely I’d have gotten a child on Bianca by accident and caused calamity for us both.”

Daniel huffs out a sound between an exhale and a laugh, unsure whether Armand had intended there to be humor in his statement or not. He pulls a package of cigarettes from his pocket, fumbles for his lighter, and as he inhales acrid smoke Armand uses his gifts to disarm the smoke detectors in the room. For all Daniel changes, he remains the same. He’s never seen a warning sign posted that he hasn’t disobeyed.

Armand wanders the room as lost as a ghost. He runs his fingers along the carved foot board of the bed and searches his mind for the details of his Master’s bed. But they’re distant, blurry. Distorted by time.

He’d read once that memory is not a fixed thing. Every time one remembers an event, what they are picturing is not the truth of the event itself but the last time they thought of it. And thus instead of being carved in stone it’s a malleable thing, prone to distortion. Armand attempts to conjure the image of embroidered pillows he’d once laid his head to rest on and then second guesses himself, uncertain whether the cherubs in his mind are real or the amalgamation of memory and museum artifacts he’s seen, blended with his own imagination.

The windows, though- those are unchanged and so he approaches one he’d leaned out of so many times to watch for a gondola and a man clad in a crimson cape floating down the canal. He rubs at his face and his hands come away scarlet.

“I wonder whether it would be more painful to be here were it the same as when I was young,” Armand says suddenly, voice echoing in the room. There’s no longer a single tapestry on the walls to absorb the sound. “I never meant for you to see me grieve in this way.”

Daniel’s smoke drifts across the room. As an immortal his footsteps are silent but Armand recognizes his approach by the strength of the scent. He wipes his palms on his jeans just before a warm arm drapes itself across his shoulders.

“After you went into the sun I made all sorts of rash decisions. One of those way to return to Philadelphia and to sneak into my parent’s home. Luckily they were gone- my father, I found out, had been sent to a hospice facility and my mother refused to leave his side,” Daniel says. The rumble of his voice vibrates in his ribs; a soothing sensation that travels along Armand’s side. “I went up to see what they had done with my old bedroom.”

“And what did you find?”

“It hadn’t changed since I’d left for college. The bed was still made, my posters were on the wall, faded but still hanging on. There wasn’t a speck of dust in the place. My mother must have gone up and cleaned it fairly often,” Daniel says. “They kept it like some monument to me. Like I might come home at any minute and apologize for taking so long to drop by.”

Armand licks his lips. Down in the canal a gondola floats by, empty of anyone but the man with his long oar pushing it along.

Never once has he gone to Daniel’s hometown. After they’d met he’d been so relentless Daniel hadn’t felt safe going home, and then once they became lovers they’d been so swept up in their exploration of the world he hadn’t the time to visit his family.

Daniel had always brushed it off with the excuse that bringing home another man would raise questions his parents would be unable to handle the answers to. Armand had taken his excuses at face value, but as he looks up to see the set of Daniel’s jaw, the tightness around his eyes, he has the stab of realization that perhaps he’d deprived this boy of something. That in the tight grasp of his love he’d deprived an entire family.

Armand fixes his gaze upon the wine dark waters of the canal. “Your absence left you ever present in their lives.”

WIP Wednesday

Excerpt from: The Wolf Lord

“I warned you,” Dimitri rose his voice. “There is no space in my army for stragglers.”

The maiden yelped, turning to look at him with terrified eyes. “I— um— I was—”

“I don’t care,” Dimitri took the paddle from the maiden’s weak grip. “Leave.”

“B-but…!” The maiden’s eyes filled with tears. “Please! Give me another chance!”

“No,” Dimitri scowled. “You’re wasting my time, now go.”

“This isn’t fair!” The maiden yelled, “I didn’t do it on purpose!”

“Once you make a mistake, there is no undoing it. Reflect on that on your way home.”

The maiden clenched her fists, her body shaking. Her face was twisted with rage and anger. “I… I can’t let it end here. I need to get my revenge…!”

If Dimitri had some semblance of pity, he would have been concerned for her. But instead, he couldn’t help but feel somewhat impressed. Those dark and hateful emotions bubbling up within her were not aimless. She could hone her own rage to make it useful.

“Do you truly wish to avenge your brother’s murder?” He asked.

The girl looked up at him. Her once-terrified face now a scowl of rage, anger and bitterness.

“That’s good,” something almost like a smile passed by his lips. “Let’s see how determined you are.”

He rose the paddle. The maiden didn’t wince. She looked at him head-on, her rage stronger than the fear of being struck down by a fearsome foe.

He lowered the paddle— on the soaking clothes. Both of them were soaked, but he kept on mercilessly beating the cloth until all the dirt was smacked out of the fiber. Which, thanks to his strength, didn’t take long.

“Never lose that rage. Use it,” he handed the paddle handle-first to the maiden. “Not just for your revenge, but for your other chores as well. Now get to work.”

It's #wipwednesday! What are you working on this week? 🤗💝✨️

Next premium blanket pattern on my hook! 💕 

Link to my blog/website: https://crochetml.com/

https://crochetml.com/free-crochet-patterns/

Check out the tiktok here!

Wip Wednesday!

I don’t usually post for Wip Wednesdays but I’m really excited for the upcoming Inuokko week so here’s a tiny wippet (wip snippet) of one of my fics! It’s my first time writing JJK since I’m relatively new to the fandom but I’m actually obsessed with Inuokko so I’m having a blast with the Inuokko week prompts!

Janna hugs Luxanna ~ wip.