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@rueforyou.bsky.social

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30s | Dyke | She/Her | Izzy Hands Enjoyer | May Contain Vampires | Chaotically Multiship | ao3: rueforyou

The front cover of Fang Fiction by Kate Stayman-London. The image is a stylistic cartoon of a woman reading a book, she has a plaster on her neck with two blood drops trickling down.
The AO3 page for the fic Cheapside, 1718 by rueforyou (link in post)
A grainy black and white photo of a TV screen showing Sam Reid in The Vampire Lestat.
A white hand holding a kindle showing the front cover of The Woods All Black by Lee Mandelo. The art is a background of tall trees with a number of sketched eyes.
A pile of books: Fang Fiction by Kate Stayman-London, The Sleepwalkers by Scarlett Thomas, The Lamb by Lucy Rose, The Killer Question by Janice Hallett, Blank Canvas by Grace Murphy and Yesteryear by Caro Claire Burke
The book Bloom by Delilah S. Dawson nestled in a flower bed. On the cover you can see flowers and a wax anatomy model with the skin peeled back from half the face.
A pen and ink sketch of Izzy Hands from Our Flag Means Death ( a frame redraw of 1x2) on the side is written '#drawizzyhands @rueforyou 5/7/26 x'
A pencil sketch on a post it note. It shows a grumpy looking man with a beard. The beard has bows in it, his hair is in a bun (frame redraw of OFMD 1X5 with Ed dress as Jeff the Accountant)
The front cover of I Who Have Never Know Men by Jacqueline Harpman. The image is a woman's face in blue tinged monochrome with an orange circle covering one eye.
A watercolour painting of some cacti and succulents. The largest is a tall blue twisty cactus, the rest are various kinds of spikey plants of various shades of green
Israel knocks at the door of the Captain’s cabin, and then panics about what he should do with his hands after. For a wild second he thinks about placing one hand on his lip, leaning nonchalantly on the frame with the other but he quickly decides that that’s insane behaviour and instead settles for clasping his hands behind his back and waiting respectfully. He doesn’t have to wait for long. Hornigold opens the door of his cabin and Israel isn’t sure what he should focus on the most, the fact that this is the first time he’s been allowed so much of glimpse past these doors (Hornigold might be public with his business, but he keeps his quarters closed off) or the fact that the Captain has removed his jacket and is standing in front of him in a silk shirt, the top two buttons tantalisingly undone. “Israel!” His voice booms as he greets him, sounding genuinely happy that he’s here. “You did me one hundred knots?” The question is gentle but firm, though the suggestion that Israel would have disobeyed a direct order is laughable. “I didn’t bring them with me.” Israel tells him, he had thought about it, but wasn’t sure how best to transport a hundred ends of rope. Hornigold laughs, the same laugh that made Israel’s inside feel liquid early on. “I believe you, how are your hands?” Sore is the answer, and he could just say that, but instead Israel holds them out to show his captain. The skin at the edges of his fingers is blistered, his palms red.
She watches as he runs his hand along the wall of scrolls, the lightest of touches, fingers barely brushing, reverent. “These your Captain's logs?” He asks. “And ships manifests, duplicates of any correspondence sent, replies received, a few personal verses.” She smiles a little at the admission, not quite sure why she let that small personal detail slip. “Everthing since we first started sailing.” “It’s a lot of documentation -” he sounds impressed, if a little concerned; older sailors often after, men often are, but he doesn't sound condescending with it. “It’s a lot of evidence, if it should fall into the wrong hands.” She smiles. “Can you read Cantonese?” She asks, “Or know anyone who can.” “No one who isn’t on this ship.” He admits. “Though I think Bonnet is quite close to claiming that he can.” He smiles back at her, eyes sparkling. She finds that she quite likes the way the lines of his face deepen when he smiles, it makes him seem animated, alive.
Daniel understands how the situation may have been misconstrued. To an innocent eye Armand’s hand hovering by his jaw, just shy of touching, may have looked like a lovers caress and not an implicit reminder that Armand could tear his throat out without so much as batting an eyelid - which is what it actually was. The fact that only seconds before Armand had shoved him against the wall and was now crowding him there probably didn’t help things. “What the fuck Dad? I was gone for less than ten minutes.” Kate looks long suffering, as any child of Daniel Molloy’s would. Explaining the truth of the situation isn’t an option. He’s a vampire. We both are actually. This is a vampire thing. Even half the truth is probably a bit much. He doesn’t like the book, or the people I’ve been hanging out with, so occasionally he turns up and threatens me. Kate’s been through a lot lately, it’s his job as a father to try not to be the one adding more to the pile of shit. So Daniel - well he doesn't lie exactly, he just fills in the logical leaps he knows that Kate has already made (knows not because he can read minds now, but because what else would you think if you walked in and saw your father being fondled by a man less than half his age) it’s not a great solution, but it’s the best one he’s got. He places his hand on Armand’s wrist, guides it away from his face and then steps past him. “I didn’t want to say, not right now, not with the whole Scott thing.”
Your Result: hyperfemme lesbian you may be into women but that is NOT going to stop you from being girly and/or extra. that's not to say that you're completely indistinguishable from straight girls; you're almost feminine in the way a gay guy is feminine, if that makes sense? it's very distinctly queer if you know what to look for.
The AO3 title page for Our Souls are Shuttles by rueforyou. Link in post.
A crop of Vermeer's painting Girl with a Pearl Earring. There is text on the image that reads: The Masterpiece, and Interview with the Vampire heist AU by rueforyou, Read now on AO3
Front Cover of The Wide Wide Sea: The Final Fatal Adventure of Captain James Cook by Hampton Sides - the cover image is a painting of a ship.
The front cover of I'm Glad My Mom Died by Jennette McCurdy. The cover image shows Jennette dressed in pink holding a pink urn with confetti coming out of it.
The front cover of Fun Home. The image shows a man playing 'areoplane' with a child
A plate of food! Described in post.
The front cover of Yellowface by R. F. Kuang - the background is yellow, there are two eyes with eyeliner as the only image
The AO3 page for the fic 'no compasses, no signs' by rueforyou. Link in post.
The front cover to the Picnic At Hanging Rock Audiobook. The text is pink. The background image is a landscape with a large rock in the foreground.
Ilya is in his element.The shop is dark, and smells like incense had dragged them in after catching sight of a ridiculously adorned mannequin in the window. 5 minutes ago he found a pair of oversized novelty sunglasses, bright pink+shaped like flowers,+ever since he has been peering over them seriously as he flicks through rails of clothing. Shane, who had thought that for halloween they could wear each other's jerseys, create a sensible PR buzz+maybe offer up an interview or two, is enamoured, but concerned. Ilya appears to be making his way over to a stand of feather boas and he really doesn’t want to have to pick between a fight with his boyfriend or his publicist. Luckily he pivots at the last minute to instead pull a silk shirt off the railings. His eyes light up. “I’ve had an idea!”The idea involves going back over the racks he’s already perused, loading Shane up with piles of silk and leather and finally topping it all off by grabbing a hat of a stand+jauntily balancing it on Shane’s head. He punctates this with a kiss to the end of his nose and Shane thrills the same way he always does when Ilya treats him like his boyfriend in public. Even if public today is a dingy little shop that they appear to be the only people in. Ilya steers Shane into the changing room, pulls the curtain closed behind them+says “take off your clothes." “Ilya!” “To try these on you prevert.” Ilya laughs, but his hands still linger as he helps Shane with the buttons of the shirt+he gets a little distracted as Shane wiggles into the tight leather pants. He wraps a slick scarf around his neck, adjusts the hat so it sits low over one eye. “Perfect.” “What’s perfect?” Shane asks, there’s no mirror in the changing room so Ilya pushes him out to hunt one down, obviously turning the opposite way to the one they came because none of the shop fittings this end are the same. Even the incense smell is different here" Ilya positions him in front of a mirror triumphantly, “You’re a pirate!"
“A woman in Liverpool taught me to do this.”Ben says,“When I was younger than you are now.She was very particular,liked things done in a certain way."Izzy knows better than to turn his head as his arms are secured behind his back so he cant see the expression on Bens face.He cant tell from the tone of his voice what hes thinking+he feels an irrational spike of jealousy shoot through him.He likes that Ben is older than him.What he doesnt like is that Ben has a whole history stretching out behind him.He tells Izzy that hes special but how true can that be really, when so many others must have come before him?Ben tugs Izzys wrists, checks the ties.“She used to say ‘oh Benjamin, Benjamin, a child could slip this’.Shed be ever so disappointed”He leans in close, his breath ghosting across the bare skin of Izzys shoulder+neck.“So I had to practice. I dont think even a strong sailor like you could break these bonds now.”Izzy knows that this is his cue to test them, properly test them,not put on a show like some weak cabin boy but really try to get out.He strains the muscles in his back, twists his wrists but this only causes the rope to bite more, an exquisite burn against his skin.“Can you?”Ben asks.Izzy shakes his head.Ben hasnt said that he isnt allowed to speak yet,but he finds he doesnt want to.He tries the ropes one more time, whines a little.He isnt some weak cabin boy, but he can put on a show if he wants to.He can make Ben forget about women from decades ago.Bens breath grows hot against his neck,he presses a wet kiss into Izzys skin.Hed told Izzy what his plan was before he started, wrists+ankles, hogtied together, left on Bens bed while Ben got on w. his duties for the day, ready+waiting for him when the captain was done.But it seems like hes changed his mind, or at least added a step.He kisses Izzy again, moving his mouth down his back as he sinks to his knees, one hand bending him over the table, the other nudging his thighs apart. [Bites arse cheek, Izzy loud]
He jumps without planning his landing - kind of hard not to when something has just exploded behind you - which means that when he hits the deck, his foot slips a little too far to the left and something goes crack. He keeps moving because he has no choice but to, sword raised, adrenaline driving him forward but each step sends pain shooting up his leg and he knows that if he stops he won't be able to start again. So he doesn't stop. He answers Jack's hollering cry with one of his own and resolutely ignores Izzy's shout. Izzy who tracks Ed's body like it's his own would have seen the dodgy landing, would have noticed that Ed is now sweating from something more than exertion, his skin going pale instead of flushing. He pushes forward, he more that earns his share of the raids spoils, he fights like he's the best of them which, on most days, he is but he knows that as the smoke starts to clear he's clumsy and listing. Izzy is behind him to push him back up onto their ship because Ed’s knee won't move the way it's meant to and Izzy is the one who yells at the crew to get their prize below decks before the salt water damages the spices. He even sends Jack and Sam away, and they’ll be bitching about that by evening but for now Ed is grateful. “How bad is it?” Izzy asks when Ed has made his way to this cabin, supporting his weight on the walls because falling now is not an option. “Pretty fucking bad.” Izzy helps manoeuvre him onto the bed, helps peel his trousers off and lets out a low exhale at the way his knee is already swelling. He finds a bottle of something rolling about on the floor and hands it to Ed to drink before he starts pressing at the injury. Ed hisses in pain “fuck, not without foreplay.”
He dreams of Louis. Each morning, when the sun comes up, when Lestat pulls his coffin lid down and settles into the dark he dreams. He dreams of warm eyes and a clever mouth with that sharp smile. Of Louis’ laugh and his wit and the way he looks at Lestat when he thinks he isn’t looking, the way his heartbeat jumps and skips. He dreams of his lips against hot skin, his fingers greedy, his teeth, as gentle as he can make them. He dreams and he wakes up aching. He tries to hold sleep off for as long as possible so that he can follow Louis. Not really follow him, not the way he’s able to at night, but track his thoughts as he moves around the city. Slow syrup as he wakes up, hot flashes of anger, slices of cold guilt. Sometimes Lestat will think of Louis as Louis thinks of Lestat and Lestat swears that their hearts are beating in time despite the miles separating them. When sleep does, as it always does, dragging him cruelly away from Louis for hours at a time he dreams of impossible things. He dreams of Louis in the sunlight, in shirt sleeves and slacks, standing at the shore of a great expensive beach, skin golden in the light and Lestat next to him, basking in the warmth of the sun and his love in a way that he knows would never be possible. He dreams of tangling their fingers together and strolling through the sand, he dreams of kicking their shoes off and running into the waves. He dreams of Louis taking holidays with a wife, children, people who’d get to love him in the sun and in his dream the clouds roll in and the waves turn stormy. That evening, on waking he decides that he’ll detour on his way to Storyville and buy the biggest bunch of sunflowers he can find, that he will share his dream with Louis in the best way possible, until it’s time to have him properly.
Its strange that a place thats so cold+quiet is where he feels most alive.The rink during practice,on game days is buzzing,a thrum of heartbeats and thoughts,joy+disappointment rising+falling so thick that he feels like he could almost drink the air,but he likes it best like this.In the small hours,when he’s the only creature alive in the whole building(when he isn’t really even that).Hes been skating for hours,lost in the ritual,hasnt turned the lights on,hasnt changed into his gear,just strapped the skates on+hit the ice.It takes practice, discipline-when he first decided this is what he wanted to do he’d score deep grooves into the surface with each push of his foot,stop too hard+send cracks spiderwebbing across the rink-now he knows how to glide over the ice like hes weightless.Its almost like hes flying.Its better than that.Its like how he knows that,if he wanted to,he could break a body with a check,could render all that padding useless+shatter bone,pop organs.Its knowing this could be easy,bloody+beautiful+deciding that thats not what he wants.Each time he plays he has to hold himself back+each time his body sings at the exquisite pain of it.But here,he can let go,just a little.As he skates now his heart is pounding,theres blood sweat prickling across his skin.His world has narrowed down to the point where blade meets ice,the whole of existence in that one thin edge.He only notices the distraction because hes been waiting for it.Hes not sure how Hollander found out this was where he comes,but ever since he did hes watched.Crept up into the stands+sat in the dark,eyes trained on the impossible figure on the ice.He doesnt know that Ilya knows.Because Ilya never turns to look at him he thinks that hes hidden, secret.Hes not mentioned it in the light and neither has Ilya.Perhaps neither of them ever will.Ilya pushes himself further,skates faster his heart screams in his chest+up in the stands Hollanders blood pounds through his veins in a tantalising echoing rush
The cover of Gideon The Ninth by Tamsyn Muir. The cover illustration is of a figure dressed in black holding a sword with skull face paint on, the background is a whole load of bones.
The AO3 page for You Know What It's Like When You're New To the Game (but We're Not) by rueforyou (link in post)
The front cover of Murder At The Black Cat Cafe by Seishi Yokomizo. The cover image is an illustration of a cat sitting on an open window looking out to a garden.
Three white mugs that have Captain, Captain and First Mate written on them.
The front cover of Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit by Jeanette Winterson. The image on the cover is a white woman's legs, her feet covered in orange socks.
[Right indented] The words are problematic in a number of ways. First, they’re in English. And yes, the plan has always been for Ilya to move to America, and yes, speaking English doesn’t necessarily make you American, but it does suggest you’re not Russian, which is less than ideal. The second problem is that they reveal that whatever he might say to the contrary, he is not picking up the occasional cigarette and instead developing a habit, a habit that will apparently have him in such a thrall that one day soon he’ll be smoking where he’s not meant to. The third and biggest issue with the words is that they’re there in the first place, curling around his thigh all bold and accusatory. Marks like his may have been acceptable in the time of the tsars but really, what self respecting Russian these days would dare believe that he’s entitled to such a ludicrous thing as a soulmate? [Left indented]“Okay” Okay? <i>Okay.</i> O-kay. Okay. Shane can work with that, it’s not like he has a choice either way.
The AO3 summary page for make my wish come true by rueforyou (linked in post)
Me aged 21:been really getting into Illyas lately Me age 27: I can't remember the last time I've felt genuine happiness Me age 31: been getting really into Ilyas lately
The AO3 page for The Tower by rueforyou (link in post)
The AO3 page for Learning The Ropes by rueforyou (link below)
A screenshot of H's storygraph 2025 summary. She has read 40 books and 13,039 pages. Butter was first, Game Changer was last, Queen of the Dammed was the longest, Night Sky With Exit wounds the shortest. Chain Gang All Stars was a 5 star read
A screenshot with a Christmas tree in the background. The screenshot is of the fic 'Lestat de Lioncourt's Guide to a Successfully Secular Vampire Christmas' by rueforyou (linked below)
A banner that reads 'Canyon Christmas Stocking Fillers'
They pool the majority of the money they earnt in the last raid and use it to buy a suckling pig, Jack haggling the butcher down through flattery and threats (and god there'll be hell to pay if that gets back to the captain) so that they have some money left over for alcohol and sweetmeats. It's an indulgence, but then it's been years since any of them spent Christmas ashore. That it's happening this year is more by chance than any sentimentality on the captain's part and he's agreed - to keep the crew loyal - that as long as everyone is present and correct for midnight mass on deck, and ready for duty the following morning, they can have the day to spend as they please. Izzy knows that some men have their wives traveling for days to meet them for the holiday, others have booked up the best rooms in the town's brothels, Old Tom, the ship's carpenter, has said that he intends to drink until he can no longer tell a chisel from a hammer, as long as nothing vital breaks on St Stephen’s day, he should get away with it.
A class Christmas tree ornament in the shape of a heart. It's red with gold glitter in a check pattern and pearls stuck on. It opens with a clasp.
Kent Parson from Check Please. He is an illustrated white man with blond hair and grey eyes, he's wearing a check shirt and a cap and he is scowling.
A white hand holding a blue bowl. In it is a dish of gnocchi, tomato, spinach, and parsley with a chorizo crème fraiche sauce.
The promo image for the ITV show frauds. Jodie Whittaker is on the left wearing a sleeveless shirt, cargo trousers and holiday a bag, Suranne Jones is standing next to her wearing a Hawaiian shirt and holding a gun. They're in a breachy setting.
A white bed spread with a pair of red round glasses and headband with moth antennae attached on it
Screen shot of info for the fic Floatsam and Jetsam by rueforyou The summary reads: The man catches Stede wrist and grins. His teeth elongate, canines slipping from his gum line and crowding his mouth. He closes his eyes and when he opens them again his pupils are blown black to the very edges, not a trace of white, reflecting Stede's startled expression back at him. “Hi,” he says, “I'm Ed.” Stede feels heat shoot through him. The wolf howls and then settles, conquest for the night found, something new and exciting to sink its teeth into. + Stede meets Ed at a bar and is invited back to his.
A black and white photo of the stone henge stone circle, there's a crow in the foreground.
The same picture, but with a black and white grainy filter over it
A picture taken from inside a cave looking out across the back and to the sea.
Ralph Wigum on a bus. The text reads '(chuckles) I'm in danger'
Canyon Christmas, Stocking Fillers
It’s like a thread, Jack tells her, because he’s been reading again, or because someone’s just come to port with a new story to tell, and sometimes it stretches and others it won’t let me be apart from you. Does it coincide with when you’re feeling horny? She asks him, because she’s feeling cynical and not in the mood for sentiment. Or when I sense that you’re about to do something particularly stupid he replies, understanding that for whatever reason she won’t be soft. Maybe later, when the lights are low, when the tide has dragged back out across the beach and everything feels exposed. Maybe then, maybe not.
A tiny black bat made out of a cork and paper sitting on the edge of a table. It has little white eyes, small fangs and concertina legs hanging off the edge.
A still from Black Sails. Three people walk together. On the left is Jack Rackham, in the middle is Charles Vane (who is shirtless, for some reason, and smoking) and on the right is Anne Bonney.
An IWTV take on that parks and rec meme. The top panel shows Louis, Armand and Lestat walking together, the text reads 'This is my boyfriend, Louis and this is Louis boyfriend, Lestat' under this is a picture of Daniel looking confused/pissed off, his text reads 'the thing about vampire culture is, I don't understand it'
A model iguanodon wearing a sign that says 'hello, my name is Iggy'.
A hotel room with the lights off, you can just about see the edge of the bed, on the TV is a still from Episode one of Interview With The Vampire (In Throes of Increasing Wonder), Lestst and Louis are on screen, Lestat is about to bite Louis during naked sexy time.