Delphi

@wax-and-wings

18+ and then some 🐝 they/them 🐝 adults only, please Dreamwidth is my primary fannish home. Feel free to add me over there at: My fic and other fanworks are on AO3 at:

313 Siguiendo262 Seguidores2445 Publicaciones

Bluesky

fetish

¿Es tu perfil?Reclámalo y wax-and-wings.dirty.social es tuyo.Reclamar perfil

Delphi@wax-and-wings· Jul 15

For #OFMDWIPWednesday

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Izzy scratched a tally mark into the wall of the cave every night, finding satisfaction in making each individual line and despair in the collection of them.

The days were passing easily, the way days did when work was plentiful and productive. He and Fang took turns tending the fire and climbed the hill twice a day to watch for ships. They drew water from the spring, fished in the bay, and hunted in the forest. They gathered conchs and cockles and whatever fruit either of them was confident enough to gamble on, cooked and salted and smoked the contents of their little larder, sharpened sticks and knapped limestone and wove nets, hollowed out gourds and coconut shells, and filled their bellies with single-minded dedication.

They were also fucking at least once a night now, largely for want of something to do in the dark hours while keeping the fire going - although maybe all that fresh fruit was a contributor.

Delphi@wax-and-wings· Jul 3

My first Izzy turned out sadder than I intended (to be honest, that happens when I write him too), so I also drew him getting railed by Fang.

A line drawing of chibi Fang fucking chibi Izzy from behind. Fang is naked save for his headband and is smiling happily. Izzy is naked on elbows and knees with heart-eyes.

Delphi@wax-and-wings· May 20

For #OFMDWIPWednesday

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Frenchie turned his head away just before the other boot came off. He busied himself transferring a few coins and a bundle of dried cashews from the outer pocket of his coat to the inner one, making a show of being completely deaf to Izzy's muffled whimper and the trio of harsh breaths that followed.

Something had happened the other day. A lot of things had happened the other day—a lot of things were happening every day now, which was enough to make Frenchie more than a little sorry for complaining back when things were boring. But this particular something had happened when Izzy had gone to talk to Blackbeard about putting in at the Republic of Pirates.

Not that Frenchie had been eavesdropping, but being in want of a new hobby and considering desertion as an option, he'd found a reason to be moving some boxes very slowly back and forth along the passageway outside the captain's cabin. There, he'd overheard the quiet part of the row, followed by the noisy part, and then the part when it dangerously started to go quiet again. Silence. Blackbeard saying something too soft to make it through the door beyond its sing-song shape. Silence again, of the sort that made Frenchie's shoulders creep up. Then, loud and sudden, the violent chorus of sounds that reminded you how soft a body really was compared to everything it could hit, and how much air there was in a person's lungs until there wasn't anymore.

Delphi@wax-and-wings· May 13

For #OFMDWIPWednesday

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Sometimes, with the pretty ones, the captain wanted his evening entertainment to play like they were sweethearts. Kiss and feel each other up and all that. Hands wasn't that pretty, but he was young and fresh, with all his own teeth and a softness in his cheeks that his patchy scruff wasn't quite out-bluffing.

Other times the game was discipline. It didn't matter if you'd actually done anything wrong. No one around here had a clean conscience, and they weren't long for this world if they did. It was as good as a coin flip, deciding who'd be bent over and rogered sore and who'd be captain's helper in dishing it out. And if you went and got smug over being the second man, you'd just as like as not be singing another tune once old Hornigold decided he didn't want sloppy seconds and took you down a peg with that whopper of his.

Delphi@wax-and-wings· May 6

For #OFMDWIPWednesday

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They were meant to trade off watches, keeping the fire going, but Izzy was too weary to sleep. With the sky still obscured by tatters of cloud, he couldn't reliably mark two hours anyhow. He sat up half the night, out of the way of the smoke as the damp firewood sullenly burned, and glanced over at Fang now and then just to see if his chest was still rising and falling.

Everyone died eventually, and men in their trade didn't usually drag their feet about it. He'd never sat down for a proper accounting, but he'd guess there was no one living he'd known as long as Fang. Not even Edward, although it was close.

It wasn't as though he'd ever thought Fang would be the exception to the long list of those he'd sailed with, fucked on occasion, and inevitably buried. More like he'd taken it for granted that whatever got Fang at this point would probably get him too. They'd end up on the same hanging docket, or if they were luckier than most they'd have some words said over them on the Queen Anne in between getting sewn into their hammocks and heaved over the rail.

Delphi@wax-and-wings· May 3

Chance (2015) is a very sweet short film about two bereaved older men who meet in a London park and fall in love, which is free to watch on Vimeo: vimeo.com/506533143 I also wrote a short sequel fic for it, as part of the recent Be The First exchange: archiveofourown.org/works/83890761

Screenshot of AO3 metadata for Here We Are by Delphi.

Fandom: Chance (2015)
Relationship: Amir Abbas/Trevor Bunting

Rated General, No Archive Warnings Apply, tagged for the following: Slice of Life, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Ramadan

Summary: An early morning during the first Ramadan of Trevor and Amir's marriage.

Language: English
Words: 868
Chapters: 1/1

Delphi@wax-and-wings· May 1

A photograph of Con O'Neill embracing David Fane in a restaurant with Joel Fry seated beside them. Con's shirt is unbuttoned down to his breakfast, a fact he is accentuating by tucking his thumb into the open vee at nip height.

Delphi@wax-and-wings· Apr 29

For #OFMDWIPWednesday

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People changed behind closed doors. You learned that early when you were in somebody else's house and service. When they didn't really think you were a person and didn't care about what you saw any more than they'd care about being judged by the pet canary or the wash stand.

He'd only ever seen it run in one direction, that was all. Smiles to snarls. It was new, having a man who'd bark and growl and call his fellows pox-ridden twats from sunrise to sunset, only to sigh and soften and show his belly when he had you alone.

Delphi@wax-and-wings· Apr 28

I repped the Feral Five over on the polyamships Dreamwidth comm, on this post about favourite poly ships: polyamships.dreamwidth.org/33354.html?t... I am mostly mentioning this because I spent time taking the murk off this screenshot of them and liked how it turned out. You can see their faces!

Screenshot of the mutiny scene from s02e02 of Our Flag Means Death, with Archie, Jim, Frenchie, Izzy, and Fang together standing wet and bloodied, looking down at where Ed lies out of frame on the deck.

Delphi@wax-and-wings· Apr 26

Film you've watched more than six times with a gif. Hard mode: no Star Trek, Star Wars, LOTR, DC, Marvel, Disney, Pixar, Spielberg, Cameron, Wachowskis, or Ghibli

Delphi@wax-and-wings· Apr 23

100% my entry point into fandom, although on the old man yaoi path instead of the furry one, since the character I had a crush on was the lion man's father who was the leader of the ren faire tunnel society. (Featured here in "Don't talk to me or my science experiment lion son ever again" pose.)

Promotional still of Vincent and Father from the 1980s Beauty and the Beast television show. Vincent is a tall lion-human hybrid in a cloak. Father, a grey-haired and bearded white man in a motley collection of pseudo-historical clothes stands next to his son with his arms crossed.

Delphi@wax-and-wings· Apr 22

Izzy!!!

Delphi@wax-and-wings· Apr 22

For #OFMDWIPWednesday

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Izzy's on his back, handcuffed to the headboard, mouth stretched around a ball gag, clamps screwed onto his nipples. His brow and chest glint with sweat, and his hips move in plaintive, jerky thrusts as Roach works a transparent stroker smoothly but slowly over his cock. A little faster, a little faster, the well-lubed squelching audible on the mic until it's overtaken by Izzy's breathy moans and--

"Uh-uh." Roach pulls the stroker free before Izzy can come, provoking a muffled holler of indignation.

Delphi@wax-and-wings· Apr 15

For #OFMDWIPWednesday

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The ship could have circled around, Fang supposed. The island didn't look familiar to him, but Blackbeard always knew all sorts of coves and temporary harbours.

He lay back down, his aches and pains griping properly now that he was awake enough to listen to them. You could never win a fight with the ocean. All you could hope was that she'd be merciful enough to let you cry uncle. He wasn't drowned. He was all in one piece. He was breathing. Izzy was breathing.

"Thanks," he said, extending a hand toward the blue waves spitting sea foam on the shore.

Izzy muttered something again, punctuated by a feeble cough. He winced and shifted to curl up to the other side, protective of his ribs or his right arm, or maybe both.

Fang patted him carefully. "You all right, boss?"

The fact that he wasn't immediately told to get fucked made his worry mount.

Delphi@wax-and-wings· Apr 9

IZZY HANDS

Delphi@wax-and-wings· Apr 8

For #OFMDWIPWednesday

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Izzy's next moment of awareness held no conscious thought, only the knowledge that choking meant he was still alive.

He surged up onto hands and knees and proceeded to sick up half the Atlantic. His body shook wildly as his stomach heaved up the seawater onto a blurry patch of white sand, every inch of his flesh feeling beaten and bruised.

He'd been keelhauled, his brain provided uselessly, lagging behind him in another time, on another ship. No, no, that wasn't it. He'd been on the Queen Anne, chasing the Dutch Indiaman through the storm, and he'd gone over, he'd gone over after—

"...fang."

The word had barely any breath or strength to it, no more than another watery cough as he looked to both sides through the sodden curtain of his hair.

A figure lay up the beach, ten or twelve yards away.

Arms and legs uncooperative to the point of mutiny, Izzy dragged himself over to Fang.

"I swear to fuck...if you're dead, I'm going to fucking murder you."

Delphi@wax-and-wings· Apr 5

A photograph of an ermine in its white winter coat. The dark markings above its eyes give it the appearance of an angry expression. A small black 'x' has been edited onto its cheek.

Delphi@wax-and-wings· Apr 1

For #OFMDWIPWednesday

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He'd told him--Izzy had told him. He had reported conditions, pressed hard as he could for an answer he liked better, but he had his orders. All he could do was trust that even out of sorts and the worse for drink, Edward Teach knew the sea better than he ever would. Maybe this squall really would just be all sound and fury.

Still, he gave a stomp and bellow. "Lifelines!"

He had no idea if his voice managed to cut through the gale, but Fang was raising his head at the capstan and their gazes locked. Izzy mimed a rope across his middle with the sharp slash of his hand, and Fang nodded quickly, passing his position off to Sankoh and setting off for the lines.

The ship reared again and then dove straight down an even deeper trough, dropping the deck out from under Izzy's feet and nearly sending him sprawling. He clung to the wheel, then took hold of his own line and started to tie himself to the pedestal. Halfway to pulling the knot tight, he faltered, looking back at the crew's lagging process. The mainsail wasn't back up yet. Nothing on deck was lashed down save the powder that should have been below. Three men that he could count were still up in the shrouds like they aimed to have a Sunday picnic up there.

"Fuck."

Delphi@wax-and-wings· Mar 29

Who is your favorite muppet?

Delphi@wax-and-wings· Mar 25

For #OFMDWIPWednesday

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That was the thing about storms. Survive enough of them and you'd get an eye for spotting one moving on the horizon, or brewing in the sickly colour of the sky overhead. Maybe you could smell it from up in the shrouds, above the sweat and salt and oakum, that sharpish and sweetish scent on the air. Maybe you could feel it creeping down the back of your neck when everything was still.

But forewarned or forearmed, you never really knew what kind of beast a storm would be until you were already in its jaws.

This one struck fast and vicious off the coast of Barbuda—too far off the coast to be worth the reckoning. The Queen Anne's Revenge was in fact out in the open Atlantic, following the captain's two-day-old orders to chase down an East Indiaman that they all knew had to be empty to be running that fast.

Everyone felt the weather turn. The ship lost the wind's favour, and the first mate lost the crew's when he returned from the captain's cabin with the smile of a cringing dog and assured them that all was well, the orders stood, and to hop-fucking-to after those Dutch pricks.

Delphi@wax-and-wings· Mar 23

The man himself:

Photo of a Northern Rustic Moth, fuzzy and silvery grey-brown, perched on a leaf. A small 'x' tattoo has been photoshopped below its eye.

Delphi@wax-and-wings· Mar 18

For #OFMDWIPWednesday

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The camera blinks on, the screen momentarily taken up entirely by Frenchie’s face. He steps back and gives a cheery wave, then turns around and promptly trips over his own feet while trying to get his pants off.

"For fuck's sake," Izzy says from the edge of the bed where he's sat removing his prosthesis. His impatience is sanded off around the edges the way it always is for Frenchie. "Come here."

Frenchie presents himself, shooting another look over his shoulder with eyebrows upraised in happy conspiracy.

There's a briskness to the way Izzy undresses him, but the camera captures the brief moments when he lingers. The way his palms slide up Frenchie's chest. His thumb brushing over the jut of a hipbone. His fingertips pressing into the softness around back.

With a shivery wiggle, Frenchie climbs astride Izzy's lap and topples them both down onto the mattress.

Delphi@wax-and-wings· Mar 11

For #OFMDWIPWednesday

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A filter pops up on the video, framing Izzy in pink as cartoon hearts appear over his eyes. A parade of little eggplants and water droplets march across the screen.

The phone pans down again to the rapid working of Lucius's mouth and then the pull-back and slow spit as he lets the load of pearly spunk dribble messily down Izzy's cock into his bush.

There's a split-second "Oi!" from Izzy—even hoarser than usual, but blunted with pleasure—before the audio track gives way to a familiar song.

"My boy Lollipop / You make my heart go giddyup"

Fang had wondered if Lucius gave Izzy the password to take a sneak peek at the movies. He now suspects that's a no.

Delphi@wax-and-wings· Mar 11

Want to see some trans/gnc live theatre and comedy (including some featuring Vico Ortiz, for the OFMD fans around here)? The Joy Who Lived festival will be kicking off in LA soon, and tickets for each show are also available to stream live or watch within two weeks! joywholived.com/events