What are your Port Leiry Crackships?
“Oh my god I’m so glad you asked.”
He turns around and yanks a dusty sheet off a bulletin board the size of a door. Red string everywhere. Images, blurry polaroids, annotated timelines. One post-it just says FANGS OUT, EMOTIONALLY in all caps.
“Let’s break down my latest—and by no means comprehensive—list of Port Leiry crackships.”
Julieta Yazdani × Malcolm Deveraux
“Blood-slick betrayal meets sadboy guilt spiral. She’s Lady Macbeth in a silk slip. He’s a tragedy in slow motion. Together? They’re either going to kill each other or get married.
"Here's the scene I envision: She finds him outside Satin, smoking like the world’s ending, and says, ‘You smell like regret and cheap bourbon.’ And Mal just goes, ‘And you smell like trouble I’d crawl back into hell for.’ She laughs. Actually laughs. Next scene? Her place. Velvet everything. He’s holding a glass of blood like it might burn him and says, ‘You ever get tired of playing god?’ And she goes, ‘Only when people beg for mercy.’ They don’t kiss. Not yet. But he lingers in the doorway when he leaves, and she doesn’t stop him."
Ael Ruyter × Caitlin Siltshore
“Two mythic nightmares in trench coats pretending to be people. They speak in loaded silences and threats that sound like affection. Do I think they’ve kissed? Emotionally, yes. Physically, not yet."
“Here's the scene I envision: Cait walks into the Heron Club like she owns the fucking night and drops a satchel full of ash on Ael’s table. Doesn’t explain. Doesn’t blink. Just says, ‘They said it was a hex.' Ael, looking like war wearing perfume, says nothing—just pours her something stronger than whiskey and waits. They sit like that. Two weapons cooling down. No questions. No comfort. Just shared silence. And then, finally, Cait mutters, ‘If I ever go missing, burn my journals.’ Ael replies, ‘If you go missing, I burn the world.’"
Allie Fleur × Autumn Howell
"Sunshine bunny witch meets traumatized wolf girl. One brings tea and sparkles, the other hasn’t slept since the full moon of 2021. It’s grumpy/sunshine with bonus emotional damage. Allie would kiss Autumn’s bruises. Autumn would growl at anyone who looks at Allie too long. It’s adorable and a little feral."
"Here's the scene I envision: Allie shows up at Autumn’s place with a hand-drawn map of her favorite wildflower spots, and Autumn’s like, ‘You walked here?’ and Allie just beams and says, ‘I wanted to see your face in the sun.’ Like??? Girl??? Anyway. They go to the cliffs and Allie makes a flower crown while Autumn pretends she doesn’t care—and then gently adjusts it so it doesn’t fall off. No kiss here either. Just a moment where Allie rests her head on Autumn’s shoulder and Autumn lets her. No flinch. Just warmth.”
Damian Erikkson × Quin Servatius
“Trauma vampire meets centuries-old coward. One wants to die, the other wants to live forever but only if no one sees him do it. They absolutely do the whole ‘you should hate me’ / ‘maybe I do’ dance. It’s got knifeplay energy and I’m into it.”
“Here's the scene I envision: Damian catches Quin sneaking out of a Rearden handoff, cloak askew, hands shaking. Quin freezes, expecting a fight. Instead? Damian just says, ‘You’re really bad at this whole eternal damnation thing.’ Quin is STUNNED! Anyway. Later that night, they end up in a broken-down crypt, passing a flask back and forth like they’re human again. Damian’s sitting in the moonlight, bare fangs and sad eyes, and Quin tells him, ‘You’re not the monster you think you are.’ And Damian just says, ‘Don’t say that if you’re gonna leave.’"
Aoife O’Sullivan × August Choi
“Regal vampire with trust issues meets lone wolf with self-hatred and a jawline that could cut glass. They’d make each other feel seen in that horrible, healing way. Aoife would gift August a book. August would sleep with it under their pillow. Romance.”
“Here's the scene I envision: They’re in this half-collapsed church, right? Glass everywhere, blood dried on their sleeves, and Aoife’s like, ‘Don’t follow me.’ And August? August looks her in the eye and does it anyway. It’s not even hot, it’s holy. It’s two disasters finding sanctuary in each other."
Eleanor Monroe × Oh Ha-Jeong
“Two women who absolutely know how to kill you and would only do it if they cared. They communicate entirely in eye contact and loaded silences. If they ever held hands, the earth would shudder.”
“Here's the scene I envision: Ha-Jeong finds Eleanor in the lab after hours, soaked in blood—not her own—and Eleanor just looks up and says, ‘It was supposed to be clean.’ And Ha-Jeong? Doesn’t flinch. Just walks over, takes the scalpel out of Eleanor’s hand, and places it down gently. She whispers, ‘You’re not a butcher, Monroe.’ And Eleanor laughs, sharp and bitter. ‘Aren’t I?’ The next line? ‘Not to me.’ And then they’re quiet. Just standing there in that horrible sterile room, close enough to feel each other breathe."
Arleen Bailey × Arte Ryan
“Born-wolf purist with a badge and a spine of steel meets cursed alpha who still flinches at kindness. They would argue about protocol, then slow dance to Springsteen in a parking lot.”
“Here's the scene I envision: Arleen brings Arte a busted carburetor she’s trying to diagnose, and they’re both too stubborn to admit they need help. Arleen cracks a joke and Arte —just shuts down. And then Arleen, stone-faced as ever, rolls closer and goes, ‘That wasn’t a dig. That was… me flirting, maybe.’ Arte’s whole face cracks open. Arte hands over the fixed part without charging a dime. Also there's peanut butter involved, maybe."
Birdie Templeton × Blair Davenport
“Two girls too damaged to believe in softness but too lonely to stop trying. One calls herself a monster. The other already knows she is. They’d fall in love in the middle of cleaning up a murder. Tender. Feral. Beautiful.”
“Here's the scene I envision: Blair finds Birdie in a blood-slick bathroom, mid-panic. And Blair—cool, collected Blair—just kneels. No magic, no fix. Just touches Birdie’s shoulder and says, ‘I don’t care what you did. I care that you’re still here.’ And Birdie—this monster-slayer, trauma-guts girl—breaks. Like actually sobs. And Blair holds her. No judgment. Just contact. It’s the first time Birdie’s touched someone without bracing for pain in years. And I just—yeah. Five stars. Painful. Gorgeous.”
Olivia Rivera × Juniper Kessler
“Olivia’s a stray puppy in need of love. Juniper’s a half-dead forest witch trying not to be seen. It’s all candlelight and ‘you’re too good to be near me’ and one rain-soaked kiss that changes everything".
“Here's the scene I envision: Olivia stumbles into Brewed Awakening just after dawn, hoodie damp with rain, hands still shaking from a night she barely remembers. Juniper sees her. Doesn’t ask questions. Just slides a steaming mug across the counter—chamomile, of course—and says, ‘Sit where the sun hits.’ Olivia does. She curls into the smallest version of herself and says nothing. Fifteen minutes pass. Then the tears come, slow and silent. Juniper doesn’t reach for her. Doesn’t offer hollow comfort. Just quietly refills her cup and lights a nearby candle. It’s not dramatic. It’s just safe."
Avi Hassim × AJ Astor
“Smug bastard meets feral golden god. This is ‘let’s kiss or kill each other’ with custom cocktails and power plays. They’d absolutely fuck on a desk during a some negotiation, idk what rich people and pack leaders do."
“Here's the scene I envision: AJ’s throwing a party in some glass-walled penthouse, right? Gilded everything. Champagne fountain. He’s bored to death. And then Avi walks in, no invite, just nerve, and AJ is amused, impressed. Cut to them on the balcony ten minutes later—Avi smoking, AJ sipping something he definitely drugged himself with. Avi says, ‘You don’t actually want any of this, do you?’ And AJ goes, ‘No, but it wants me.’ Then they kiss like it’s a dare, like neither of them believes in softness anymore, and for one second they both forget the masks. I’m feral.”
Jasper steps back, out of breath. The board tilts dangerously.
“Anyway. That’s the current state of my brain. Would you like a yarn pin? You’re in it now.”
