#OC: Pearl Stone

[buttercool-crystal]

My new super hero OC's

Bonus:

Cool ocs and COOL comic.

But, believe it or not: I have some ocs that have the names of gemstones too. Here's proof:

RAGEDSCAPS stands for: Ruby, Amber, Gold, Emerald, Diamond, Sapphire, Crystal, Amethyst, Pearl and Stone (I'm the purple one in the middle). And, all and I mean ALL the characters on this image here👆 are ALL females.

Obviously, the colored letters are the letters corresponding to the character's color so they are easy to find their name out.

It's kind of an object show comic series that I've made 2 years ago. I'll show you guys a comic strip I made recently-

Pretty cool right?

It was supposed to be a reference to this very YouTube vid:

The lightning bolt is my friend that helped me make this series. The character's name is...well, Lightning! I won't expose his real name, though.

There's 1 more, Dirt. He's my brother in this series but I couldn't add him in. People say his design is cool.

Did I mention that the digital pic of the gems was my whole FAMILY in my comic series? Yup! We are decuplets (yes, it's a real word. I googled it) Anyway, decuplets means twins but ten. I made us decuplets because I created all these characters in the same HOUR. So, that's how it ended up: all ten being decuplets + Dirt, younger bro (only male in the family).

I hope this wasn't a waste of your good golden time and this took soooooo much time to write as well. @anglerway PLS consider liking this post PLSSSSSSSSS!

[tryskomys]

Wet Sand

Stone Gossard x OC

Chapter 14 - Doing All Right

Summary: that’s a part of the nda you wanted.

masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

notes: tadaaa, we got to the aftermath™. this one rly depends on your pov - schrödinger’s tryskomys chapter, if you will. it might be fluffy, might be angsty, might be bittersweet - or maybe a plethora of all of these. you’ll only find out once you come inside - unlike stone, because he values safe sex. okay, that one was a bit uncalled for, i’ll stop now.

tws: i mean, i don’t think there are any today. maybe fresh injuries. and talking about sex, but we’re all human beings here - when are we *not* talking about it?

oh, and some easter eggs pointing to the fact that stone is a convicted freak. to those who have seen the infamous shoe incident and the lollapalooza spanking: yeah, i can’t believe that footage exists, either. and to those who haven’t: do not look it up, please. or do, i don’t know, i’m not your mom. but if i was, i’d tell you not to look it up. you might learn something earth-shattering about yourself.

song:

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

When Keeva woke up, she immediately felt like she’d just stuck her head into a running washing machine. The sunlight that peeked through the window was way too bright for April - but maybe her brain was just making it appear like a summer blaze to spite her.

Or it could’ve been the stitches in her forehead.

Yeah, that’s probably it.

When Keeva shuffled with an uncomfortable groan, the bed loudly creaked under her - much more than her own back home. Then she realized that she was, in fact, not in her bed.

She blinked a few times and looked around the lousy room to make sure that she didn’t dream this place up. But it was real.

The same ragged armchair, the same ugly carpet, the same mattress that was about as comfortable as sleeping on a slab of concrete.

Although, it was a bit lighter than when Keeva fell asleep. She knew why within a split second, but she still turned her head next to her as slowly and cautiously as she could, fearing that she would be right.

Empty.

Just one or two fallen-out brown hair on the pillow to reassure her that she did not dream him up, either. Keeva shivered when the bed sheets tickled her naked body - they weren’t even nearly as soft as his skin. She had to fight tears when the implication hit her.

He’s not here. He didn’t stay. He woke up and saw me and left.

She was trying very hard to stay determined. She wanted this. This was what she planned, wrecked her brain over it a million times and then willingly decided to do - and when the moment came, she initiated it.

So why does it hurt so bad?

Keeva’s whole body was on fire. She assumed that it would be even if she didn’t get beat up and didn’t spend six hours sitting on the dirty emergency room floor.

Somehow, though, the pain felt good. It made her feel more alive than she’d ever felt before.

When she looked around the room again to check if Stone wasn’t hiding somewhere to jump out at her, her eyes fell on a little folded note propped up on the chipped bedside table.

It was just a simple piece of paper with the hotel logo in the corner, but it nearly made her heart jump out of her ribcage. She snatched it with wide eyes, immediately recognizing the handwriting.

Went downstairs for a blunt & coffee. That’s an invite, by the way.

- beanpole

The B and E in the signature had a strange shape, thicker than the other letters. It almost looked like it used to be an L and an O.

But then again, Keeva’s state of mind was so compromised that she had no idea what was real and what was wishful thinking.

A wave of yesterday’s memories washed over her as she rested her head on the pillow again and clutched the note to her chest.

She didn’t even try to fight the burning blush that flooded her cheeks when she rolled over and buried her face in the fabric.

She took a deep breath of the warm scent it still carried.

Let’s pretend like he’s still here. Just a few more minutes.

For some reason, the bathroom didn’t have a mirror, so she couldn’t even check how colourful the wounds on her face were. It hurt like hell, though, now that the brain fog was slowly dissolving.

Keeva’s first instinct was to hop into the tiny shower, but then she remembered that she already did.

They did.

“Wait, no! No tickling, stop it!”

“You’re naked, what else am I supposed to do? You’re waving a red blanket in front of my face and that blanket is your ass. Which is really nice, by the way. Really nice. What a shame that you - hold still or you’ll fall! - that you hide it under those fucking dungarees all the time.”

“Stop tickling me, Romeo, and keep your hands off my ass! Eeeek, back off!”

“It’s just staring right at me, I gotta put my energy somewhere. It’s tickling or spanking, choose your poison!”

“Don’t you dare, y- OW! Nooooo-OW! Stop it, Stoney! Fuck, stop - ow! Don’t sp- OW! Stop or I’ll spank your ass like it’s never been spanked before!”

“Tough shit, I might like it. Maybe I’m into some weird shit and you have no idea. I would lick the soles of your boots if you begged hard enough -”

“Fucking hell, eugh, you disgus-OW! No - more - spanking!”

“Alright, tickling it is then!”

They laughed. They laughed so hard they couldn’t breathe. They laughed so hard they had to sit down so they wouldn’t slip.

So why does this hurt so bad?

Stone’s duffle bag was gone - he must’ve already packed up and taken it with him. They only had a few hours to get to DC, so she tried to pack as quickly as she could.

She didn’t even have time to unpack in the first place, so she was ready in a few minutes.

Keeva would’ve loved to just sit in the holey armchair and stay locked in the room forever, but she had to go down at some point. So she picked out some clean laundry, threw it on and decided to brave through the inevitable.

Her clothes from yesterday were scattered all around the room.

Stone was as gentle, sweet and attentive of a lover as one could ever be. But she’d noticed that a couple of times throughout the night, he had a sudden burst of raw brashness that was a lot more in tune with his usual sly personality.

As if he was trying to hold himself back, cracked for a moment and then went back to being cool and reserved.

Undressing her like a starved animal and mindlessly throwing the clothes away in all directions was one of those façade cracks.

Even though she had no other comparison, she knew that Stone had already shown her the best time she could ever have, thanks to his head-spinning finesse - that no one would ever come close to him.

But she’d be lying to herself if she wasn’t interested in finding out what else he can do when he really lets himself go. In fact, just the simple thought of it made her legs turn into jello.

Too bad this is never gonna happen again. He couldn’t even look at you in the morning, that’s why he left.

He changed his mind and it took him just one night with you.

Keeva grabbed her t-shirt from yesterday and just stared at it for a few minutes, a sad frown twisting her face. It was the one Stone made for her, stained with blood all over - she doubted that it would ever be possible to wash off.

With a frustrated sigh, she threw it in a spare plastic bag and stuffed it into her big backpack, next to the panties and socks.

Lastly, she grabbed Stone’s note, put it in the chest pocket of her fleece argyle shirt and left the room without turning back.

There was a lone dirty mirror in the hallway - and she looked terrible.

Shit. This looks even more painful than it is.

The sliced forehead had a bruise along the stitches, as did Keeva’s cheek and her slightly torn lip. However, her dark circles somehow looked less deep today.

With a big sigh, she tried to put on a few varying types of smiles - none of them looked even mildly genuine, so she shook her head and gave her reflection a middle finger.

The crisp breeze felt like a punch to the face in contrast with the stale air of the hotel room. It tickled her wounds and that wasn’t very comfortable. There was a little coffee shop right next to the hotel, so Keeva guessed that he would be there.

She lightly slapped her cheeks a few times before walking in.

And there he was - wearing the bright yellow sweatshirt that she loved to borrow from him, his worn-out leather jacket on top and the jeans that were getting progressively more ripped every time he wore them.

The half ponytail was slowly becoming Stone’s signature hairstyle, now that his hair grew out into long brown waves. Lately, he started wearing it more and more often and she found it irresistibly smug and charming.

On top of it looking remarkably hot, he always made her day better with his bizarre choices of colours and textures of the ties. Today, he neatly secured it with the thin turquoise hair tie he stole from her.

He must’ve grabbed it from the bedside table on his way out of the room - just where he put it after he gently untied her curls loose to play with them in agonizingly slow caresses.

Keeva wondered if this was supposed to be some kind of a gesture - maybe a hint at her stupid joke from a year ago. She highly doubted that that was his train of thought because he had the memory of a goldfish. But she definitely remembered.

‘Thou shalt belongest to the wench whose scrunchie thou wearest on thy wrist.’

Stone was casually sipping on a cup of coffee as if he had no care in the world. Even the intimidatingly big purple bruise on his cheekbone looked less poignant thanks to the careless aura around him, as did the large scab on the bridge of his nose.

He looked up from his cup right when he heard the bell ring as she walked in. As soon as their eyes met, he broke into a small reserved smile.

Before Keeva could take another step towards him, though, she felt an arm around her shoulder that appeared out of nowhere. She’d never been so disappointed to see Greg. He had a coffee in his hand, face twisted in a worried frown.

“Morning, Keeks,” he said, affectionately tickling her cheek with his thumb. “How are you feeling?”

“Hey, princess,” she chuckled and softly pushed the back of his neck down while stepping on her tiptoes to see the big bump on the top of his head. “Been worse, how about you?”

Keeva deliberately ignored Stone’s cough.

“Been worse,” Greg shrugged and nodded towards Stone. “Turns out I should’ve been a boxer, unlike this scrawny sack of bones.”

She subconsciously followed Greg’s movement - Stone darted away before she could see his eyes, choosing to stare into the table instead.

For a second, he seemed a bit sheepish, but then he tucked a stray strand of hair back into his ponytail and got back to his cool attitude.

“What can I say. I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

On any other day, that would’ve made Keeva giggle. Not at that moment, though. Greg, on the other hand, found it so amusing that he loudly laughed.

“Yeah, we can both clearly see that, baby boy.”

“What’s cracking, friends?” Andy cheeped when he walked in, rubbing his palms together as he turned to the girl behind the counter. “Morning, miss. Can I have a coffee on the road, please? Milkless.”

The waitress looked a bit worried - he was the third beaten-up person to walk into her coffee shop in a span of about thirty minutes. She was clearly an experienced Bronx resident, though, so she wordlessly nodded and poured him a small to-go cup without further questions.

Greg headed to sit next to Stone, which erased any hope of Keeva’s to talk to him alone.

Meanwhile, Andy slapped some coins on the counter and thanked the waitress before making his way to his short friend with a growing frown.

“Pooky?” he said as they both walked to the table side by side. He put the coffee down and took her head in his palms, turning her from left to right. “Pooks, let me take a look at you.”

“Why?” Keeva chuckled. Her eyes once again failed her and darted in Stone’s direction, who was staring at her too, clearly ignoring Greg’s rambling about the driving schedule.

He snapped away as soon as he’d noticed her, though.

“Hmm, you seem…different,” Andy mumbled, squinting when he inched a bit closer as if she had small letters written on her forehead and he was struggling to read them.

She raised an eyebrow and pushed down a dry swallow.

“Uh, I got punched in the face, Andy. That might be it,” she said, trying to sound resolute, but Andy frowned even deeper.

“No, no, no,” he vehemently shook his head. “Not look different. Seem different.”

This time she managed to keep her eyes on Andy, but she could see in her peripheral that Stone was the one to take a peek at them this time.

And with the way he shuffled in his seat and ran his hand through his hair, he was clearly uncomfortable at the notion of Andy suspecting anything.

“I - uh…again, I got punched in the face, sorry if I’m a bit cranky,” she forced herself to roll her eyes and put on a bothered face. Andy’s eyebrows knitted again and he put his hands on her shoulders to turn her around.

“Hm. What are ya up to, greenie?” he questioned when Keeva did a 360. She cleared her throat to get rid of the strain in her voice and then tried to be nonchalant by leaning against the table.

She didn’t calculate her move very well, though, and put her hand too close to Stone - the tips of their pinkies touched and a small static shock snapped upon the impact.

She suspected it was because of her woollen sweater. It always caused her hair to stand up and crackle. But it might as well have been just the tempest that was surging through her thanks to feeling his skin again.

He was wearing his trusty fingerless gloves - he’d had them ever since they’d met. Probably long before her, too, considering all the clumps of wool and threads sticking out of them.

But his calloused skin was still cold as ice.

Stone’s arm twitched - she couldn’t tell if it was because of the sudden contact or the static, but he didn’t move away. Neither did she - she didn’t want to be any more obvious.

“Pft,” she tried to focus on Andy again. “Let’s see…I wanted to get coffee instead of tea for breakfast, could be that. You’ve arrived just in time for a historical event, sleepyhead.”

Andy hummed - he was clearly having none of it.

“You slept good?” he squinted at her and folded his arms.

Ever since Keeva woke up, she felt like she had no control over her body - her eyes quickly snapped to Stone once again. Thankfully, he was fixated on his coffee.

“I did,” she simply said and hoped that her blush wasn’t too bright.

“You did?!” Andy gasped and made Greg and Stone turn their heads.

“First time?” Greg cheerfully asked and put his arm around her waist, dragging her down to sit with them.

Keeva’s eyes popped open. Stone was just taking a sip from his cup when he snorted into the coffee, making it splash on his chin and far up his nose.

“Wh- no?!” she yelped as Stone wiped his mouth with a snicker. He clearly tried to play it off as laughing at her outraged tone, so she tried to follow his suit and quickly compose herself. “I mean, I guess. Probably, yeah. I think I haven’t slept this long since second grade.”

Stone’s smile grew even wider and he tilted his head down to hide it, the tips of his ponytail falling in front of his eyes like a curtain. His hair looked so wavy today - it drove her mad.

“Well, eureka!” Andy clapped and sat down, too. “New York is good for you. I’m very honoured to be a part of this monumental affair.”

“What monumental affair?” Jeff’s voice appeared at the door.

Keeva could properly see his black eye for the first time - it wasn’t too bad, though. He was built like a brick wall and clearly experienced in dodging punches. She figured that he probably had a couple of notches on his street fight belt, considering he grew up in the middle of nowhere.

“Pooky’s had a good night’s sleep,” Andy explained and rested his head on the windowsill behind him.

“No way!” Jeff gasped, breaking into a toothy grin as he rushed to their table. Keeva theatrically flipped her hair - a move that, for a reason unknown to her, made Stone raise his head again and shift in his seat.

“Yep! I swept in and asked if she slept well and she said: ‘I did.’” Andy said, deepening his voice while doing a bad parody of her accent.

Now she could finally examine everyone up close. All the guys looked like they got into a fight, except for Stone. He looked like there was no fight at all - more like someone just simply beat the absolute shit out of him.

When she was only half-conscious, he seemed to be doing pretty well. Thinking back, that was probably just her wishful thinking. He was surely brave enough that it tricked her, though.

Blood was literally streaming out of Stone’s nose and mouth, but he still found the energy to scream insults - some of which she barely knew existed - left and right.

Also, she could swear she saw him straight up headbutt someone in the face with full strength. That was probably the moment he broke his nose.

The fact that she found the scene so incredibly hot was a concept so shameful to her that she prayed it was just her mild concussion speaking - for both her sake and his.

“Bruce started the van, we should dip,” Jeff tore her out of her thoughts when he slapped the table. “If you’re all packed up, I’ll go and do the checkout - could you grab me a coffee to go, Keeks?”

Keeva managed to quickly shake off her lapse of attention and rested her chin on her palm with a dreamy sigh.

“Anything for the angel walking among us. We’re not worthy,” she pouted.

“Yeah, yeah, you can thank me on the way, smart-ass,” Jeff scoffed and ruffled her hair before jogging to the exit. “We gotta stop for fuel, too, so move your butts. Chop-chop.”

● ● ● ● ● ●

“Ugh, I would kill for a Coke right now,” Keeva groaned when they parked next to the gas tank. She stuck her head out of the window and pointed at the gas station building a few feet away. “And I don’t wanna kill any of you, so I’ll be right back.”

Multiple orders of chips, candy and cans of whatever echoed through the van as she hopped out, along with Jeff’s ever-so-responsible: “You’ve got exactly five minutes, greenie, then we’re leaving without you!”

“At least you’d finally learn how to tune your own bass, babes!” she called after him and headed for the building.

She could hear Jeff’s mocking laugh over the crunching gravel under her feet, along with Stone’s still extra nasally voice when he got out of the van as well.

“I would kill for sour gummies. I’ll be right back.”

Keeva rolled her eyes as a jolt of nervous nausea stabbed her stomach.

Jesus, talk about subtle.

She heard Jeff’s muttered ‘now it’s only four minutes’ before his voice got lost in Stone’s slapping footsteps as he jogged up to her.

When he caught up, he immediately took her around the shoulders, nonchalant as always. This time, the crackling she felt discernably wasn’t from static clothing.

Keeva thought that maybe - after yesterday - all the time she wasted fantasizing about him would be erased and this intense heartburn she felt every time he touched her would finally stop.

But she had to curse her own naivité - it got much worse.

What was an even bigger gut punch, though - Stone didn’t seem to flinch at all. Careless as ever, he just affectionately squeezed her shoulder like he always did as they walked side by side.

She couldn’t decide if she was glad that he didn’t change his attitude towards her or if it hurt her ego so bad she wanted to cry.

“Morning,” he simply said - she heard a smile in his voice, but didn’t dare to look up at him. The tips of Stone’s long waves tickled her forehead, still carrying the irresistible scent he left behind on the pillow.

“Morning,” Keeva mumbled and took the opportunity to lean closer to him when she stumbled on one bigger piece of rubble - her legs felt wobbly in his presence, now more than ever.

“Slept well?” he asked and shook his hair out of his face, making the locks tickle her again. Stone’s tone was sly enough to sound like flirting.

Combined with his soapy cologne and the strawberry scent he always emanated, it made a small surge of confidence rush through her.

“Never better, actually,” Keeva smirked and raised her head - he was already looking down at her, breaking into an even bigger smile than he had before.

“Good girl,” Stone chuckled and scratched the crown of her head a few times.

He spoke the words in such a strikingly lighter tone than just a couple of hours ago, when he addressed her that way many times. They sounded so aloof now, so friendly - almost as if they were pronounced in a completely separate language.

Not to her, though. And she’d never believe that Stone had no idea that it would immediately send a buzzing shiver down her spine.

He had many faults, but stupidity wasn’t one of them.

“I’m glad,” he added.

“Glad?” Keeva scoffed, folding her arms. “You should, uh - you should be flattered instead.”

Stone might’ve been casual about it, but she could still feel some sense of excitement from him. Pride, even. She couldn’t discern if he was being cocky or genuinely thrilled, though.

“So you enjoyed yourself?” he asked, squeezing Keeva closer again.

“I did,” she shrugged, trying to emulate his coolness, but Stone’s joyful tone made her crack a wide smile.

“You did?!”

“Yeah!” Keeva nodded and the tense knot in her stomach slowly began to unwind. She nudged him with her elbow. “Did you?”

To her dismay, Stone paused. Just for a few seconds, though, as if he was trying to find the right words. He followed the silence with an even brighter smile that made up for it.

“It was amazing.”

Keeva couldn’t hold in a sigh. Stone seemed so bright and weightless that it hurt her senses, like staring into the sun for too long.

For one, she deduced that it wasn’t tormenting him as much as her and that had its own disappointing implications. And for two, she truly couldn’t fathom the possibility that he was telling the truth.

She had to hide her face before she reacted, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“I’m sorry that I was so -” she started, but Stone immediately shook his head and interrupted her.

“No, believe me, you did so good. So good. Really.”

Stone sounded so genuine he almost had her convinced. And when she turned to him again, he looked genuine, too.

Fuck. His eyes are like a fancy sparkling kaleidoscope. All-green glitter. All shades twinkling at once.

Oh no, my head is spinning. Dammit.

Jesus, is this what being on acid feels like?

The overwhelming beauty made Keeva lose her ability to think before speaking, so she couldn’t stop herself from babbling. She regretted the words as soon as they came out of her mouth.

“You know, uh, now I - I technically owe you for taking pity on me and therefore should repay you sometimes, so…”

To her surprise, Stone nodded without taking a second to think. That slightly fueled her ego - it seemed like there wasn’t much thinking involved in either of their heads.

“Sounds fair, count me in,” he said and she noticed a little giddy tremble in his voice.

Might be just the trashed nose - his voice is even more annoying now and everything he says sounds giddy and shaky. Or…

“Sounds fair, right?” she quickly retorted and squeezed her folded arms closer to her chest to stop them from shaking.

By now, she knew Stone was unmistakably happy. It was those cursed eyes of his. He reached out and poked her side with his finger.

“So we could, you know, repeat it?” Stone asked confidently, still keeping his aloof attitude. “If you’d be interested? Sometime?”

Once again, Keeva couldn’t stop herself from responding right away as the swarm of resting butterflies in her abdomen awakened and began to flutter around in circles.

“Very interested,” she said with a big smile, nodding. Stone mirrored her movement and hugged her closer.

“Great. Deal,” he chuckled and playfully ruffled her hair again as if he really wanted to drive the point home - she was still just his munchkin little shit of a roommate.

Thankfully, the conversation had to be cut there, because they reached the gas station. Meaning Keeva was naturally freed from the awkwardness that would definitely follow.

He opened the door for her, a never-fading smile still plastered on his face.

When they bought what they came for and paid for the gas, they headed back to the van and silence fell between them. And just as Keeva had expected, it was a long and incredibly awkward one.

Both of their arms were full of snacks and drinks, so Stone’s casual hug couldn’t save them this time. She side-eyed him discreetly enough so he wouldn’t notice - he was staring at his feet, studying the peeling suede leather on the tips of his Docs.

Shit. Why can’t I just read his fucking mind? Or maybe not.

Yeah, I think it’s better not to know.

Even after such a long pause, they both managed to take a breath at the same time to try and say something. They awkwardly chuckled in sync.

“Oh, you go on,” Keeva said, an uncomfortable burn settling in her cheeks. Stone shook his head, trying to whip away the few strands of his ponytail that got stuck in his mouth.

“No, you, come on,” he mumbled, waving his huge hand around.

She had to take a pause to formulate her thoughts, but there was no way to make her words sound any less dumb.

Keeva would stay silent if she didn’t know him as well as she did. But sometimes, like at this very moment, she could read his mind.

And she liked - loved Stone too much to throw the burden of having to say it out loud on him. The weight of that responsibility made her stutter even harder.

“Um, I mean - maybe let’s not, uh - let’s keep it as our little inside joke. Right? And not tell anyone. ‘Cause, you know, it’s not like we’re together or anything.”

Even though she knew how terribly hypocritical it was of her, she still couldn’t do anything but cry inside - the butterflies in her stomach stopped moving and aimlessly floated down, dead and slowly dissolving into bitter dust.

Because Stone didn’t even skip a beat with his answer.

“I love inside jokes,” he said, raising his eyebrows. Going back to the usual pattern, she couldn’t get a read on his real feelings at all. “I was about to say the same thing.”

Great.

“Great!”

“Jesus, can you imagine the outburst if they found out?” he continued with a scoff, popping his huge eyes open when he looked at her. “No way. That’s a part of the NDA you wanted.”

Now he was the one to spin into rambling.

“Plus it’s different than if we were, like, dating or something, right? Like, then I’d have no problem telling them, but we’re just having fun, aren’t we? And we can do that whenever, wherever and however we want because we’re fucking grown-ups and we’re authorized to make any decision without their dumb stupid comments, right? If we decide to fuck against a dusty vodka shelf in the corner of a room at a house party, we will fucking do it and we will take no shit from anyone. I mean, we trust each other enough to have a friendship that’s so strong that it can occasionally be sprinkled with amazing sex and it works fine because we’re both smart enough to fucking leave out stupid encumbering shit like ‘being in love’ or whatever. Basically, roundabout way of saying that our sex lives are none of their business.”

If Keeva didn’t know better, she’d think that he sounded like he was vehemently trying to convince himself, not her.

She didn’t need any convincing, though. She’d take anything that even slightly resembled his attention.

She could barely remember how her brain got to that point, but it was an insatiable feeling.

Pathetic.

As she watched Stone stumble his way through the incoherent explanation, he flapped his hands around to help himself formulate his thoughts. They were so comically big that he managed to hold four packs of chips in one of them and still wave left and right.

Even though Keeva was pretty sure that she would regret her decision sooner than later, it was once again his eyes that startled any common sense out of her.

They were still glowing - just like holding two peridot marbles to the flaming sun - and completely focused on her face.

As the butterflies slowly rose from the ashes in sync with his suspiciously oversaturated monologue, she felt a minuscule nagging feeling tingle at the back of her neck.

Something told her that he wasn’t being entirely honest - and in this single second in time, she couldn’t have wished for more if she tried.

“Right on.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

[princess-pacman]

SU AU Stobotnik

Long post (probably ooc White Diamond and Robotnik)

I love making Steven Universe and Homestuck AUs of random characters, so here’s my Dr. Robotnik and Agent Stone as gems idea.

Robotnik is a one of a kind red emerald owned by White Diamond. He would have been shattered for being “off color” if not for the fact that his uniqueness makes him significantly smarter than all the other emeralds and White feels she can use this to her advantage. He’s White’s resident scientist/weapons engineer, and her sort of “pet/secret weapon” thing. He starts going by Bixbite to further separate himself from the other “rocks for brains” emeralds (yes, I know there’s a cannon Bixbite, but I found that out after I made this AU, so too bad, Robotnik’s the only Bixbite in existence in this AU). However, he’s incredibly difficult to interact with, so White usually has another gem relay messages for her. He often ends up poofing said messengers, though, out of irritation. This becomes a problem, so out of passive aggressiveness and trying to fix the problem, White makes him a Pearl specially suited to match his personality (so as not to be afraid to talk to him) and act as a barrier between Robotnik and every other gem. This Pearl is Agent Stone. At first, Robotnik is the happy with another plebeian gem in his lab, calling Pearl “nothing more than a common stone to him.” Eventually, he starts to grow on him, and the nickname “Stone” sticks. Stone, of course, in typical pearl fashion, starts to fall in love with his Bixbite.

I have more to their story, but it’s not all fleshed out, yet. Some random tidbits I have…

-Pearl’s weapons are handguns

-Bixbite hates working under White and wants to be his own boss

-They’re not for the revolution, but they’re not against it either. They couldn’t care less about some planet called “Earth” with other creatures on it. But at some point, Bixbite gets cracked and needs to be healed. Pearl hears about a rebel Rose Quarts with healing powers and escapes with his broken boss to Earth to heal him. They end up getting stuck on Earth as Homeworld fugitives.

-Bixbite enjoys making ships, but is envious of the fact that the other emeralds get to actually fly them, while he’s stuck on the ground. He secretly wishes to see the stars and often daydreams about space.

-They accidentally fuse very briefly while Bixbite is cracked, so he has no memory of this happening, but Pearl remembers. He never said anything to anyone (not even his boss) about it, but has been trying to recreate that moment ever since. When he finally does, their fusion isn’t very stable, breaking apart only moments later. Bixbite ends up having a distaste for fusion, feeling like he’s losing himself when he fuses.

-Bixbite does eventually return Pearl's romantic feelings, but they find other ways to show their love outside of fusion.

That’s all I have. If you guys like this AU, let me know! If you have questions, I’ll try to answer as best I can

[necesito-mas-cafe]

I found this awesome Au, and was given the blessing to do a (1) fanart, except I got a little excited and decided sleep is optional; so I made 3 pictures.

This is the first fanart I do for this fandom, and I'm fucking proud. Stone's in love and it's painfully obvious.

Anyway, I tried to draw robotnik's long coat, but I didn't succeed.

Post war (i guess), Pearl misses her diamond. Stone and Robotnick are being gay.

I imagine if he ever had to reform, Robotnick would remove the diamond pattern on his clothing.

I also gave Stone a rectangular neckline because Robotnick's gem is rectangular *wink wink*.

I'll not comment on this.

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@princess-pacman

Thanks for giving me the green light, and sorry if I went too far 🗿, I got a little excited.

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English is not my first language, sorry if it's confusing.

[bluu3berry]

steven universe gemsona!

i made gemsona's for me and my girlfriend! I did it off of are birthstones, mines march which is an aquamarine and my gf's is a diamond! So i made them red diamond mweheheh!

@anon-coke (my beloved gf U_U) More art + the story under the cut!

Story: Red diamond was the one who made the technology, but when red fell in love with an aqua she was casted to the shadows... the basement under homeworld, all alone only with the same aqua as a sort of assistant...

[starlitmothart]

Crown Jewels - Gemstone themed magical girls

This was the very first magical girl team I ever created, from many many years ago. Back then, it was before the pandemic, so their team name was "Corona" lol. I have since changed it. There's 12 main members, but this is the main team! They're fighting against an organization that wants to revive an ancient evil deity and gain immortality by draining the lives of others.

The Main Team

Crown Pearl, Lulu (center, white) - the leader, uses a staff

Crown Ruby, Robin (red) - uses a smashing board shield, Sophie's twin

Crown Sapphire, Sophie (blue) - uses a magic orb, Robin's twin

Crown Garnet, Avaka (pink, @lucensspem1414's OC) - uses a scythe, her family has an abnormally high amount of magical girls

Crown Amethyst, Amy (purple) - healer, but uses a sword as well

Crown Turquoise, Mani (turquoise) - uses a microphone/her voice

As usual, I'll be making more posts to introduce each character!

[saiimonellaboy]

An edited screenshot of my off colors

Pearl pair, Smoky, Cinnabar, moon pearl, lafist and nebula stone

[otakunerdgirl94]

Need to bring the OC stuff back to tumblr. Missed Umiko and Ryusui a lot so finally got more art

1/2 commissions for Otakunerdgirl!!

[druidwolf21]

Part of first impressions

Find part 1 here

Sanguinius/f reader

As with the others, there are 2 endings and smut waaaaay at the bottom!

Sorry it took so long, my brain has been melted!

For a list of my other stories, check out here

Taglist: @beckyninja @lemon-russ @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @moodymisty

There's a little character Easter egg in here, an OC belonging to @jaghatai-khock, go check them out they're awesome!

You wrapped a slender finger through the soft fabric of your dress and lifted, ghosting the hem along your ankle as you avoided stepping on the material, your steps hurried as you rushed towards the varnished door. The rolled velvet of the carpet shifted beneath your feet as you danced between bodies, trying desperately to reach your exit, but the heaving mass of suits and dresses pressed you back toward the center. The cologne and perfume rolled over you like a wave, filling your nose with a cloud of fake florals and synthetic smoke.

You backed away from the sudden assault as your eyes watered and leant against a table for support, your head swimming and pulsing with nausea. You ran a hand across your brow as bile rose in your throat. Kneading your brow, you were brought back to your thoughts when you felt the table bump and shift slightly.

You frowned slightly and pulled your hand away from your forehead, cocking your head as the table jumped slightly again. Looking around, you gently sunk into a squat, pulled your knees up to your chest and lifting the edge of the linen cloth.

Bright eyes Vermillion red looked back at you from beneath long fluttering lashes as you peered underneath. A small round face framed with spiraled locks of caramel twitched in confusion at you. you stared, mouth slightly agape as it shuffled where it sat, revealing a pair of small downy wings, white as fresh snow and fluffed in delight as it kicked it's small feet up and down.

Was this a cherub? no, a child?

The little creature under the table giggled, dimples creasing it's rosey cheeks as itraised its fists up, displaying small fingers greased in cake icing and syrup. Laughing, it smeared the mess across its face, giggling in delight as it licked sugar from its palms and spread the mess down the front of his scarlet tunic. You smiled slightly and shook your head, letting the tablecloth fall back to the floor and raised yourself to your feet again.

"I have definitely had too much to drink if I think I'm seeing kids here"

Brushing your hands over the front of your dress to smooth the pearl fabric, you looked about the glittering ball room. The candelabras and chandeliers flickered warm light over the opulent gathering and glittered off the golden threads in the banners gently waving across the walls. You cast a cursory glance around, searching for the source of the breeze until your eyes alighted on an open balcony door, cracked open a fraction to allow the scent of fresh rain to snake it's way through the aroma of wine and body heat.

You sighed in relief and strode across the marble floor, head held high and eyes set straight you walked with purpose to avoid unwanted conversation. This approach seemed to work better than skulking through the crowd as you finally managed to break from the drone of voices and slipped through the glass frame and clicked it shut softly behind you.

The air was fresh and cold against your skin, sending goose bumps across your arms and flushing your cheeks against the chill night air. You breathed deep and felt the stress begin to melt from your frame, the sound of the party now slightly muted through the closed metal and perspex. Leaning on the ornate balustrade and tracing a finger over the carves swirles and whorls of the carved stone, you looked out over the city below, scowling wistfully at the twinkling lights and faint echos carried up on the evening wind. You closed your eyes and tilted your head upwards, relishing the soft drip of gentle rain on your chilled skin.

Laughter

The click of the door.

Someone was coming out.

Whipping your head around at the noise you panicked and searched for an escape, finding a trellis wrapped in ivy and climbing wisteria clinging to the wall. Without a second thought you gripped the wood and threw yourself up the crosshatched pine, feeling dew and vines coating your skin like a blanket as you hastily climbed upwards. The laughter and hushed voices from the couple now entangled together on the balcony drew your eyes down and you felt acid boiling in your throat.

That was a long way down.

Eyes squeezed shut to blink way tears, your ripped your gaze from the abyss of black below you and resumed your climb. The faint reflective light of the roof agonizingly close and yet impossibly far. Reaching out a hand, you craned upwards, stretching your fingers to clasp at the cold tiles just inches ahead.

You felt the wood snap before you heard it.

A scream caught in your throat, stolen by the wind as you felt the flimsy wood finally surrender to your unfamiliar weight. Time froze for a moment as you felt backwards, hand still outstretched towards the guttering as gravity claimed you for its own. Desperate clenching of your fist into nothingness did nothing to persuade the darkness below you to relinquish you as the wind tore through your hair, ripping the golden pin from your locks and freeing your treses to the cyclone of screaming air around you.

Your fall halted as abruptly as it began, jolted upward suddenly you felt warmth spreading through your body as your face and chest suddenly pressed into a firm soft texture. You felt weight on your back and slowly pulled back from the mass before you.

Hunched over to hide himself, Sanguinius watched from the roof as the woman stepped out onto the balcony and leant over the edge, admiring the way the ghostly fabric clung to her skin in the soft rain. He found himself bemused at her panic when the door slowly creaked open and laughed as he watched her launch onto the wall in a desperate attempt to escape any attention, listening to her mutter as she heaved herself up.

When he saw her fall he had reached out and caught her, pulling her close to him instinctively. He felt his muscles tense and his wings bristle as your body collided with his. His nose was filled with the scent of fear emanating from you, but underneath he could smell the scent of flowers and fresh grass, parchment and warm spices.

As the woman pulled away from him he looked into her eyes, still dilated with fear as she slowly realized what was going on.

"a fall like that will not end well without wings, my lady"

You lost yourself in the moment as the primark looked down at you with a gentle smile. The moonlight cast gentle light across his golden hair as it fell about his face, framing his handsome features. The crimson hue of his garments reflecting warm shadows into your pale skin.

His palm slid from your back and he took your hand in his own as he helped you to a flatter portion of the rooftop.

"what's life without a little risk, my lord" you replied, shaking yourself from your reverie and tearing your eyes away from his face as you stepped gingerly over the slick ceramic until you found a spot that felt level.

A chuckle escaped from him as his grin widened and his fingers twitched around your hand before releasing you from his grip.

"That desperate to escape high society, little sparrow?"

You blushed, embarrassment deepening the red hue across your cheeks as you realized you'd been found out. His golden eyes twinkled in amusement as you eventually shrugged, accepting you'd been caught.

"A boring event, as with everything else that happens here. But my lord if I might, I'm not the only one hiding out in the rain"

He laughed deep and sonorous and you felt a flutter in your stomach as he flashed you a brilliant smile. You found yourself hungrily trailing your eyes over his scarlet clad body as he swept a hand through his hair, slicking it back with the rain.

"alas, you were not the only one to find the evenings events lacking, my lady"

He lowered himself down next to you, taking a seat on the cool patchwork of tiling and gesturing for you to join him.

"so tell me, little bird, what brings a lady of the court to these lofty heights"

Perching yourself safely next to him and stretching out your legs, you surveyed the patchwork of lights and distant engine jets that stretched into the darkness of the evening. The low hum of activity faint as the world kept turning as you sat and watched.

"wishful thinking, I suppose" you sighed

Sanguinius studied your face as you scanned the horizon, a wistful look in your eyes as you watched a distant thunder hawk roar into life and skim through the gathering clouds, the amber glow of its engines igniting the sky briefly with a clap of burnt colour. The flash of bright light lit your face for a split second, and he enjoyed the way your cheeks dimpled as a smile crept into your lips.

You looked over at him, holding his gaze steadily. No fear or reverence in your eyes, just curiosity. Not looking at his as a God or an angel. Just a man.

It was intoxicating.

He nodded, encouraging you to talk as he lent back and listened. He enjoyed the way your voice lifted as you spoke about the events that landed you at the oarty and he laughed with you as you both shared in the discomfort of social events.

He found himself sharing tales of bhaal secundus and reveling in the way your eyes lit up when he told you about leading the astartes from the helm of the red tear.

You lost track of time and yourself as you sat and talked with the angel beside you. Your eyes grew wide as he regaled you with tales of battle and foreign worlds and, whilst a lot more mundane, he seems to appreciate your stories of teenage rebellion and tearing through the manor to avoid a scolding.

"I would expect nothing less of you at this point " he snorted as you finished telling him about the ill-fated turn of events that befell you when you attempted to race your father's new kreig warhorses around the grounds.

"Never have I met one as wild as you, save perhaps my brother, but that is another story"

Streaks of burnished bronze began to creep across the horizon and the rain began to fall in earnest as you sat. Briefly turning his eyes to the sky, sanguinius raised an immense wing over your head and gestured for you to take cover. You stared at the limb, his wings lucent and ethereal as he raised it over you gently.

When you didn't react he coughed slightly, pursing his lips and narrowing his pupils.

"your dress, my lady"

Mortified you looked down, finding the fabric slicking to your body and revealing the pink of chilled skin through the now translucent silk after hours of windswept droplets had settled into the thin threading.

You clutched your hands to your chest and squeaked.

"oh throne I didn't realize, the rain must've... Oh damn it"

The angel coughed again, pausing and bringing his hand to his mouth before he spoke.

"We should find you a change of clothes, before straying eyes find you." He rose to his feet in one graceful movement and blinked at you slowly.

"In fact, there are plenty enough robes aboard the red tear" he reached out a callused hand to help you to your feet as the question hung in the air.

Go with sanguinius.

You stared up at the man above you, the soft light of dawn gently playing through his hair and the pinions of his wings casting his figure in a resplendent halo of burnished light.

"The... Red tear?"

He nodded down at you, eyes searching your intently as he waited.

You sat frozen for a moment, your brain turning over itself as you comprehended what had just been said.

A place on the primark's ship, a chance to escape the gilded cage you find yourself trapped in. No more ridiculous rules, no false smiles ,no fake pageantry. The chance to finally shake off the weight of expectations.

You felt your breath catch in your chest and your heart thrummed in your chest. It would be dangerous, no doubt, you might not make it home. But then again, this hasn't felt like home for a while now.

"the choice is yours, of course. But I can guarantee you wouldn't be climbing manor walls to escape boredom if you joined me"

You chuckled and took his hand, gasping slightly as he hauled you to your feet like you were nothing. Although thinking about it, you probably DID weigh nothing to him.

"I'll hold you to that, my lord, but if I do, I expect you to catch me again"

The blonde smile grew into a toothy grin and he pulled you towards him, pressing your vulnerable figure into his bulk. Your heart pounded as you breathed in his warm comfortable scent, like sunlight and warm grass. Your heart rate increased further as he clutched you to him and took a step towards the edge, muscles flexing and stretching as his wingspan stretched its their full extent.

"we'd best get back to the ship, don't worry I can get us there quickly"

"you've got to be joking"

Refuse sanguinius

You eyed the broad figure above you as his hand hovered just within reach. You trailed your eyes up his arm to his face, meeting his intense gaze and holding it for a moment.

"you want me to go with you?"

He nodded in response, his jaw tight as he waited for your decision. You blinked a few times, assessing his motivation as you searched his face for anything. After a moment you sighed and gently took his hand, allowing him to guide you to his feet.

"my lord, I am flattered, but the red tear is no place for me, as I'm sure you already suspect. I am no astartes, nor a remembrancer. I would be confined to the ship as I am confined here."

He continued to stare at you for a moment, eyes grazing over your face until he nodded and withdrew from you, releasing your hand. He rolled his shoulders and flexed his wings, the primary feathers tensing and flicking water off in a shower of iridescent spray.

"A shame to be sure, but I will not contest your decision, that is your right"

He turned his back to you, stretching out to his full height before casting a glance over his shoulder.

"I will escort you back to your room"

You nodded sadly, hair hiding the welling tears in your eyes as you slid over the roof to join the man's side.

"thank you, for this evening my lord"

He looked down at you, a disappointed frown creasing his forehead as he tipped his chin at you.

"of course my lady, the pleasure was mine"

🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽

Smut below!

An alt ending to going with sanguinius.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

"your dress, my lady"

You looked down and sucked in a sharp breath through your teeth. The soft fabric of your dress clung to your body like a second skin, your pebbled skin clearly visible through the rain soaked silk.

You swept your arms across your chest, covering your perked nipples as a growing heat spread up your neck and across your face.

"my lord I am so sorry, I didn't realize I.." You stuttered as you realized more and more of your skin was flushing through the gossamer textile. You raised your brow tentatively as you stammered your apology and found the words frozen in your tongue.

Sanguinius' cheeks were hued soft pink and his eyes dark as he looked down at you. his pupils dilated and flicked his stare to your face before jerking away when he caught your eye.

"my lord?"

His head was pointedly turned from you, but you could see his chest rising and falling as his breath hitched. You reached out a cold finger and, after hesitating for a moment, ran a finger along the back of his hand. He jerked at the touch, twisting his head round and watching your hand dance along his wrist, he trailed his sight up your arm, along your shoulder, swallowing as he ripped his stare from your chest to your face. He leaned over, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath tickle your face.

Thump, thump, thump.

You heart was pounding so hard you were sure he could hear it. In fact you knew he could.

Shaking his head slightly he began to pull back from you.

"forgive me, I don't know what"

You interrupted him with a chaste kiss, tracing the line of his angled jaw with your thumb. He held back for a moment before returning the touch, his own hand finding the small of your back and his wing sweeping from over your head to behind you, pulling you close to him. Moaning into him as you felt his tongue run across your lips, you threaded your palms into his hair as you melted into his kiss. The blonde pulled from the kiss and you whined as the taste of him left your lips.

Sanguinius lost himself in your touch as he felt your fingers run through his hair, the taste of wine and heat from you was intoxicating as he licked along your bottom lip, blood rising in him as you moaned, his hands pawing hungrily at you. He wretched himself away and breathed, pushing the hunger he felt down as you teased his scalp. He searched your face for anything telling him to stop, something to force an ounce of self control into him.

But when you reached back for him, your lips tracing his jaw and trailing down his neck, all thoughts of sensibility flew out of his head. He reached out and pulled you onto his lap, a great hand tugging at your hair as his tongue lapped at your throat, nipping and sucking at your jugular until blood trickled and a bruise bloomed across your tender skin, your soft moans feeding his hunger as his hands found your ass and squeezed.

You squeaked as you felt him palming your ass and you ground yourself into his pelvis, feeling his hard cocks pressing against the fabric of his trousers, earning you a hiss and a sharp nip to your neck. His tongue trailed down to your collar bone and you pressed your chest up to meet his eager lips. The hand from your back ripped at the dress knot and sanguinius mouth latches to a nipple as the dress fell away, his tongue tracing hot circles on your sensitive flesh.

"please" you whimpered, kissing the crown of his head.

He raised his amber eyes, almost glowing in the moonlight as he smirked at you.

"such a song bird, piping your sweet voice at me"

He moved his hand from your rear, sliding it down gently between your thighs, a callused thumb brushing gently against your clit, circling the nub gently, teasing as his index finger slowly slid towards your drenched core. Hips rocking into his hand, you hiccupped as he finally slid a finger inside you and dug your hands into the soft cotton of his tunic, feeling the muscle twitch under your touch.

He hummed into your chest, releasing your overworked nipple with a wet pop. He moved his lips to your ears as you shuddered under his touch. "Such a needy little thing" he breathed, enjoying how you were walls clamped around his finger at his words.

You could feel yourself being pulled so close, rocking back and forth in his palm as he worked his fingers into you. Suddenly his withdrew and you whined, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you felt yourself tripping away from the edge. His hand slid from your thigh and fumbled with his bottoms, pulling his throbbing member free from the drenched fabric.

Reaching for it, you slowly stroked his dick, sliding the precum from the tip up and down his shaft as you pumped. You looked up when you heard him gasp gently and a mischievous smile crept across your face as you slid your hand up and down, teasing his tip with your thumb every so often.

"it's not nice being teased, is it" you smirked edging him closer before slowing down again. You felt his hips buck against you and you slid forward, your hand flew up and pressed against his broad chest for balance and you shuddered, suddenly feeling his dick pressed against your wet folds.

Your eyes met and you nodded, sliding yourself against him to coax him to take you.

His large hands found the soft flesh of your hips as he lifted you slightly before lowering you onto him, you clutched around his neck, whimpering as you felt him stretch you out, inch by inch sliding in.

"so good, song bird, you're doing so well" he cooed into your ear as he kneaded your flesh "so tight for your primark"

He grunted as you twitched and tightened around him at his praise, muscles spasming as he finally bottomed out inside you. Your chest heaved at the exertion as you relaxed into the sensation of how full you were, burying your head into his shoulder you began to move , grinding your ass down against his pelvis before beginning to slowly bounce on him.

His hands guided your waist and kept you balanced as you rode him, crying his name like a prayer with each motion, you slid up and down his shaft. You felt his chest vibrate and he groaned, hands tightening on your hips as he rutted into you and you threw your head back as you came, seeing stars both literally and figuratively as you stared at the night sky gasping as shivers wracked your whole body.

"San.. sanguinius" you croaked, voice harshed from overuse. You trailed your hand from around his neck to the top of his back, running along the lines of muscles to the base of his wings and twisted your fingers into the soft white down, earning you a soft groan from the angel below you.

You could feel him getting close as he continued to grasp you, using his giant hands to manhandle and bounce you on him erratically.

"my lord, my angel" you chirped softly to him, huffing as each thrust of his rigid cock bullied your insides "I need it so bad, sanguinius"

You felt him thrust deep inside as he finished, his teeth finding your shoulder and biting down hard, hot tongue lapped the blood from the bite wound as he spilled inside you. You twitched and shuddered under his touch, the pain from his hungrily mouth and the pleasure of him buried inside you melting your brain to a hot mess. You remained unmoving , slumped against his chest with your arms hanging uselessly over his shoulders as you tried to piece your mind back together.

Blissfully warm and glowing, wrapping in muscular arms and shielded from the still pounding rain by his canopy of feathers you found yourself unwilling to move, even as his cum dripped from your abused cunt.

"you should come with me"

"hmmm?" You mumbled in response, burying your face into his soft hair as it fell around your face.

"I want you to come with me" he shifted slightly as he spoke, pulling you away from his body and turning to look at you. You grimaced at the sudden lack of body heat before it clicked what he'd asked.

"you... Want me to come with you?"

He nodded, stroking your slick hair back from your face. "I do"

You chewed on your bottom lip for a moment before shrugging

"I suppose it's the polite thing to do after.." you gestured at yourselves, still intertwined "this"

A bright smile spread across his gorgeous features and you felt butterflies in your stomach all over again as he kissed your forehead.

"a fine choice, my lady"

[cdragons]

Bound by Embroidered Chains - Aemond Targaryen x Seamstress!OC x Jacaerys Velaryon - Chapter Two

Previous Chapter

Summary: Dragons have a habit in hoarding the prettiest of jewels, and pearls are of no exceptions.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ Obsessive Behavior (we all knew this was coming), tiny!Jace is delulu, tiny!Aemond is kind of a jerk in this one, Dark Themes, shit is going down, not betaread we burn like Harrenhal, etc. Also, translations for Valyrian will be added at the bottom! Also, I used an online translator for the High Valyrian, so it may not be great 🫠

Author's Note: I'M BACKKKKKK! I am so sorry for leaving this story alone for so long! I have been getting into other fandoms and making new stories because of those fandoms. But the two new trailers for HOTD season 2 brought me back! I swear I will be better at updating this story! But on the bright side, I made this chapter over 5k word length! I own only the plot and OCs of this story, please do not repost without my permission.

Despite living in the Red Keep for nearly your entire life, you still felt hopelessly lost as you walked down the corridors beside the prince. Like you and Aemond, the sight of you walking side by side with the heir of the Iron Throne’s firstborn son made for an unusual sight for the courtiers of the Royal Family. But this was not the case with the serving staff, which comprised smallfolk. Your mother was a favored companion by Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra. Despite coming from such humble beginnings, Doreah of Essos became a highly regarded member of the serving staff belonging to the House of Targaryen. All the maids respected your mother, while most stewards who served under knights idolized your father. And as your mother’s daughter, they were very used to the vision of one of their humble sewists’ children playing with the Royal children.

As a result, no one so much as batted an eye when they saw you walking down the halls directly beside Prince Jacaerys. It would have made a much more unusual sight if your presence was absent by either his or his uncle’s side. The older staff bowed their heads in respect to the prince while also flashing a small but kind smile at you. The younger serving girls were still too new in the ways of the court and beamed with broad smiles at the sight of you before acknowledging Jace. You grinned back as you inwardly beamed at the knowledge that Head Septa Marlow was with you.

She would have scolded those girls fiercely if she had caught them greeting an apprentice seamstress before the prince.

You turned your head to glance at your childhood friend, who happened to be second in line for the Iron Throne, as you both made your way to his mother’s chambers. Your eyebrows furrowed as you took in the troubled expression on his face. Just a few minutes ago, he was practically bouncing on his feet as the two of you left Aemond alone in the Godswood. But now it felt as if he was a thousand miles away from you despite being so close. Having been by his side since his birth, you always felt a sense of protectiveness toward the young prince. No matter his station, you were a month past your third name-day when he was brought into this world. It was natural that you were perspective to his shifting moods.

“Jace?” you softly called out to him. You were relieved to have brought him out of his thoughts. “Are you alright?”

Jacaerys stopped in the middle of the stone corridor. Staring at you with those large brown eyes, he looked much older than his actual age. When someone as happy and bright as Jace became somber, it was always a reason to worry. Was Rhaenyra all right? Had he been listening to those awful rumors of his true birth?

“Ashi’,” he began, “what were you and Aemond discussing in the Godswoods’ Heart Tree?”

Ah, so that’s what this is about.

You inwardly grimaced as you realized how foolish you were to worry. With Aemond and Jace, it was always something one did to the other. And almost every time, it was up to you to stop their squabbling by being forced into the middle. You were not as blind as everyone in the castle liked to believe you were. You knew that both boys had an unhealthy attachment to you for whatever reason they conjured in their minds. Reasons that were only encouraged by their mothers.

You were still cross when they interrupted you and your mother’s reunion with your father. The matter was really very stupid. Jace had made fun of Aemond for not having a dragon during their family supper with the King. However, Jace only did so because Aemond and Aegon were snickering to themselves about how fat Princess Rhaenyra had grown due to her third pregnancy.

It didn’t make any difference to you, in all honesty. All you remembered from that time was that your time with your beloved father was forcibly cut short. To make matters worse, the two boys’ outbursts startled your mother, and the stress was so terrible that it nearly caused her to faint.

As a result, you decided not to speak to either boy for nearly two weeks. It had grown to the point where Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra practically begged you to forgive their sons—but even a royal command would not budge you. It did not matter how many blueberry tarts or honey cakes they gave for your forgiveness. You made it very clear that you would resolve never to speak to either boy unless they sincerely apologized to your mother for the awful fright they gave her. You finally resumed your friendship with them after your mother asked you herself to forgive them after Aemond gifted her a lovely bouquet of blue and purple hyacinths, and Jace gifted her a basket full of her favorite honey lemon cakes.

“Jace,” you groaned, “you cannot be serious.”

“Ashi’, you’ve been spending so much time with him lately. I feel like I don’t ever get to see you anymore.”

Rolling your eyes, you walked away from him as you sped up your pace to reach their destination. You only made it a few meters from where you were earlier before Jacaerys caught up to you and firmly grasped your wrist to keep you in place.

“I’m serious, Ashi’!” he insisted. “Unless it’s for fittings or when the Maester seeks your help teaching us High Valyrian, I rarely ever see you anymore!” His eyes had a wet sheen in the light, and his lip quivered slightly. “I miss you. Luke misses you. And so does Mother and Father!”

If the pitiful sight was enough to fill you with guilt, his next question nearly broke your heart.

“Do you – do you still consider me your friend?”

“Oh, Jace-” you pulled your younger friend into your arms “- of course I do. I’ve been so busy with my duties and my mother’s health. She and Princess Rhaenys have been so concerned over Lady Laena’s pregnancy and are trying to convince Prince Daemon to travel to Driftmark for the baby’s arrival.”

Jacaerys wrapped his arms around you, eager to feel your warmth. If the gods were kind, time would stop, and he and you would stay like this forever. But he became sad at the mention of his Aunt Laena. He had heard his father recount hundreds of stories of their time together at Driftmark in their youth. Jace knew his father missed his sister terribly, and he was sure she missed him the same.

You noticed your friend’s change in behavior. You looked at him with concerned eyes, and his heart began to race at your care for him.

“Oh, Jace,” you whispered, “have I upset you somehow? I did not mean to!”

Jace frantically shook his head. “No, Ashi’! I just wondered…do you think I’ll ever meet my Aunt Laena?” he softly asked. “Do you think she’ll like me? Can you tell me more about my cousins?”

You rolled your eyes at his request. He had yet to do so despite your advice for Jace to send a raven or two to his cousins. You hadn’t seen the twins for many years, but the three of you wrote to each other so often that it felt like you would recognize them by how they spoke alone.

“I’m sure she and your cousins will adore you, Jace. Baela is excited about her new sibling. She says she’s close to riding Moondancer! Once she gets big enough, she hopes to ride her with Rhaena!”

Jace wondered how you’d react if you knew he didn’t write to his cousins because he was scared they wouldn’t like him. To be honest, he didn’t really care about them at all. He only cared about the way you smiled at him, and only him, when he asked.

“Mother!”

Still seated at her dark-stained ebony-wood desk, Princess Rhaenyra of House Targaryen scribbled away with her black swan’s feather quill, nearly hidden behind stacks of dusty tomes and piles of scrolls from across the Seven Kingdoms and, despite being heavy with child, remained to be one of the most exquisite beauties across the realm. Hearing her eldest son’s voice, she looked up from her papers and smiled at the two children standing in her chambers' doorway.

“Jace! You made it and brought our little Lady Ashirri with you.”

You looked down at your feet as your cheeks slightly pinkened at the attention brought to you. Princess Rhaenyra was one of your mother’s closest friends and one of the few belonging to the noble houses that approved of your father’s rise in status. But his title was only in name, and so many in the keep look down on him with ill-hidden disdain. And as a result, many in the keep looked down on you with the same contempt and disgust.

The image of Lord Otto Hightower’s cold and judging eyes gazing down at you with arrogance came to mind before you could block it out.

You lifted your skirts and bowed in a deep curtsy in respect for Princess Rhaenyra. “Yes, my princess. Prince Jacaerys told me that you required my assistance with something?”

Princess Rhaenyra warmly smiled and laughed. “Yes. My husband seems at a crossroads in deciding which fabrics best suit his sister. Although, as you can see, he is being unnecessarily picky about it all.”

Her husband, Prince Consort Laenor of House Velaryon, stood beside your mother with his arms spread wide apart. On each arm were textiles of luxurious materials and superb stitching patterns. His close friend and confidant, Ser Qarl Correy, stood close behind him. The crown princess spoke truthfully as the entire room was filled with dozens of fabric bolts, from brilliant orange-marigold Dornish satin to iridescent light-azure Yi Tish silk. Your eyes were filled with excitement and wonder at the magnificent sight. You raced to touch the imported textiles.

“Is this silk truly from Yi Ti?” you softly whispered while carefully stroking the surface with one finger. “It looks almost too pretty to be real. This color would beautifully complement Lady Laena’s complexion and silver curls.”

Your mother and Prince Laenor smiled in agreement. It was softer than anything you’ve ever touched. Yi Tish silk was famous for its textile quality. One bolt was worth double your mother’s monthly wage at the Red Keep. The color alone was mastery at its finest. You knew from personal experience that blue was an incredibly tricky dye to handle. Although it was a primary color, it was rare in nature. You had to devote hours, if not days, to find the correct materials to yield the desired tone and shade properly. But that work is useless if the dye ends up damaging the fabric. Dark blue was one matter – it was still stunning, and many nobles would pay a hefty amount of coin for it. But to own such beauty, you wouldn’t dare imagine the price for a few yards, let alone an entire bolt.

“Fine eye as always, little lady,” Laenor jovially laughed. “Yes, I’m sure at least one of these fabrics will make a suitable dress for my sister before she gifts me another niece or nephew. I’m afraid your mother is very cross with me at the moment. Any delay in choosing the fabric will result in her being unable to finish the dress before the baby is born.”

“Lady Laena will need it to be loose and not so tight around her waist,” you spoke matter-of-factly. “Muña says that most pregnant women have rashes and inflammations after giving birth, so the dress must be made of a fabric that won’t cause irritation. Let’s see…excuse me for a moment?”

 You took out the small leather-bound journal Kepa gave you as a gift from one of his many voyages with Lord Corlys that you kept in your dress pocket, along with a small stick of charcoal. You drew out the image as quickly as possible whenever inspiration struck, regardless of the time or place. It was a habit that could lead to horrible misunderstandings, but being scolded and berated mattered little to you if it meant you could train yourself to be half as talented a seamstress as your mother.

After flipping past all your previous ideas, you finally spotted a blank page. Racing to your mother’s side for help, you excitedly shoved the journal in her face.

You thought aloud and drew out the concept simultaneously. “I think it should be blue. Even if Lady Laena married Prince Daemon, she is still a Velaryon by birth! Maybe if we chose a material that looks like water, it would make her feel closer to Driftmark and Lady Rhaenys!”

Doreah beamed from ear to ear as she crouched down and took you in a tight embrace. It filled her with such joy to know her daughter had developed such a tender and compassionate heart. You were a deeply empathetic girl who always considered the needs of others before your own. Her little pearl had a heart of gold that shone through the darkest storms. She planted a loud kiss on your cheek before letting you go.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea, my little pearl,” her eyes twinkled as she cupped your cheeks. “I have just the fabric in mind for it.”

Lady Doreah Pyke pulled out a large bolt of shimmering azure blue silk velvet. The rippled pattern and texture matched the transcendent and melancholy shores that surrounded High Tide. You gasped in delight at the sight of it. It was exactly the color you imagined! You gently caressed the hand-pleated panels, expecting it to feel crinkly and cheap despite its luster. But the fabric sheen and its soft, velvety texture made you want to wrap yourself with it like a warm blanket.

Your mother thoughtfully inspected the fabric. “Yes, this will be perfect. However, I think instead of a dress, it may be better to be used as a cloak. If the result is as beautiful as my little pearl envisions it to be, it would be a shame to be a dress for one lady. If it is a cloak, it can be passed down from mother to daughter.”

“An heirloom cloak…” you murmured in excitement. Your mother was a genius. “It sounds so romantic…the waves should be hand-painted and glass beads strung and stitched into the fabric. Oh, Lady Laena will look like a sea goddess! Would she like it enough to pass it down to Ladies Baela or Rhaena?”

Doreah chuckled at your delight and booped your nose. “She will love it, my darling – especially because you will be helping me make it.”

“A wonderful idea!” exclaimed Laenor. “Who better than our lovely Doreah and her little pearl to complete the task?”

“Really?” you gasped. To work beside your mother on such a prestigious project…was like a dream too good to be true. “Mother, do you…do you truly think I am ready?”

Jace jumped to his friend’s side to hug her. “Ashirri! This is wonderful! You and Lady Pyke will make the most beautiful cloak in the Seven Kingdoms - I know it!”

Rhaenyra and Laenor glanced knowingly at their son’s support for his dearest childhood companion. Everyone in the Red Keep knew of Jacaerys Velaryon's infatuation with Ashirri Pyke. If only the gods had allowed their stations to be so different. It seemed cruel to let two young souls meet and grow beside one another without the hope or possibility of love being borne.

You beamed at Jace with a brilliant smile that shone with so much radiance that looking at you felt nothing less than sin. You took his hand in yours as you squeezed his hand in silent thanks and appreciation for his words. In the young prince’s eyes, you were more heavenly than the Maiden herself. He hopes to be seen as strong as the Warrior in yours one day.

“Kirimvose, jorrāelagon raqiros,” you said in your mother’s native tongue, softly stroking your thumb on his skin as a rosy hue bloomed on Jace’s cheeks. “Muña, īlon līs jiōragon naejot mirre rȳ istin! Nyke jāhor sagon going ēlī!”

You were about to leave before stopping and tracing back your steps to bow to Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Consort Laenor quickly. Your cheeks were bright red from embarrassment from forgetting such basic etiquette.

“My princess, my prince, forgive me for not remembering to thank you for granting me this opportunity and forgetting to leave before you dismissed me. I was too caught up in my excitement. But, I swear that I will not let you down.”

The adults in the room shared amused expressions at your excitement. Ashirri Pyke’s transparent honesty and sweet nature were so refreshing to not only the Targaryen Princess and her prince consort husband but also the entire Royal Family. She was the perfect combination of her parents’ personalities. From Hotho, you adopted your father’s unwavering honesty and sense of justice. From Doreah, you were your mother’s copy in sweetness and purity. You were a highborn noble in all but birth and title.

Rhaenyra waved off your apology and nodded. “No need for apologies, little pearl. Run along. There is work that needs to be done, and your mother and I still have things to discuss between old friends.”

You pouted to hear that your mother would not be joining you. After all, this was a very important job, and you had hoped this would provide an opportunity to learn more of your mother’s secrets in her trade. But who were you to refuse a princess’ orders? You bowed once more before waving goodbye to Jace and everyone in the room before racing to your chambers. The disappointment you felt moments before was washed away by the jittering and buzz of your creativity rushing through your mind.

The waves would have to be hand-painted – that goes without saying. But should you paint silver instead of ivory for the sea foam? And did you have a steady enough hand to replicate each pattern perfectly? You were going to need a template to trace it.

You were going to need dozens if not hundreds, of beads ranging from violet to turquoise to teal. Were there any artisans in Kings Landing that could make such a large quantity? Were there any skilled enough to ensure the glass and crystals would yield such clarity and durability? You may need to ask Kepa if he made any glassmaker friends from Essos or the Free Cities.

Could you dip into your personal collection of sea crystals and pearls? Mother would be cross with you, but it would look so splendid against the fabric!

While racing down the many halls and past the flurry of chambermaids and squires, you came across Aemond. His trademark frown on his freckled face quickly turned to a kind smile.

“Ashirri! Mother wants to–”

But you did not have time to stop and quickly ran past him. You interrupted him with an apology.

“Usōven, Aemond! Yn issa muña se Dārilaros Laenor teptan mirros hen rōvēgrie import! Nyke emagon naejot jiōragon naejot mirre paktot qrīdrughagon!”

Aemond owlishly blinked before realizing you had spoken to him in High Valyrian. He took a few moments to mentally translate what you said before calling out your name and asking you to explain.

“Umbagon! Skoros gaomagon ao nūmāzma?”

But when he turned, you were nowhere in sight, and he was left alone in the middle of the stone corridor. His shoulders slumped in deep disappointment at seeing you running away from him. But he supposed that such a slight could be forgiven since you were his loveliest and dearest friend. On the plus side, he was gifted with the sight of how the sunshine rays peering through the windows darted your glossy locks and wrapped you in a warm halo that brought out even more of your natural charm and prettiness.

As soon as you reached your room, you shut the door and grabbed every colored charcoal stick you’ve been gifted since you began learning your letters. Grabbing your big sketchbook, you immediately began jotting down your vision. By the time your mother joined you, your entire floor was covered with pages filled with a kaleidoscope of blues, greens, violets, and silver. Doreah was ecstatic of the display of your budding talent and took you in her arms for a tight hug.

The next few weeks were the most thrilling of your young life. You would spend hours on end with your mother, going over and debating which colors would match the tone of the cloak. Your mother found out about your idea to incorporate your pearls in the stitching, and she gave you a lecture that put all her past scoldings to shame. Eventually, you relented. In truth, you were a tad reluctant to part with your pearls. Each pearl was a gift from your beloved kepa for each country he visited. He said it was his way of giving you a tiny part of the world to his little pearl.

Because you were so busy trimming and stitching, you barely had time to read with Aemond under the Heart Tree in the Godswood or watch Jace practice his sword fighting with Ser Harwin Strong. You and your mother could only be removed from the cloak when either Queen Alicent or Princess Rhaenyra ordered your presence. They often expressed their woes at your decreased presence in court. As a result, your mother would take small breaks to share tea with Queen Alicent to discuss your progress as a seamstress, or she would get called by Princess Rhaenyra to her chambers so that they may speak their most private thoughts and troubles in High Valyrian.

You would often escape their orders by spending time with Princess Helaena. She would sneak into your workspace to bring her own embroidery and ask for your guidance with the more intricate patterns. While most of the court found the second princess a bit…odd – you took to her presence like green to pink. The two of you greatly differed in personality, but that made your friendship with her all the more special. You always made sure to treat her with kind words and common courtesy.

The most rude you had been to her was when she showed you a massive spider in her hands, and you loudly shrieked before crawling under your bed as a reflex. It took a few minutes before you could rejoin her. When she asked if you liked to hold Gerald the Spider, you took your father’s thickest riding gloves before you went near the beast.

You only held Gerald in your palms a few moments before you cried and begged Helaena to remove him from your person. But despite the terrors you got from Gerald the Spider that night, it was worth it if Helaena could smile as happily as she had when you agreed. She was so pleased that she didn’t correct you when you called her by the nickname you made for her, ‘Hel.’ In fact, you were almost certain that the nickname made her happier than you holding the spider.

But despite the peace these past few weeks have brought you and your family, such joy was not granted to the rest of your friends. Trouble was brewing in the Red Keep for House Targaryen – a fact you were unaware of until much later. You were returning from the rookery after being notified of receiving a letter from Baela. She was so excited about the arrival of her new sibling. You were reading the letter until you heard soft cries in the library. Searching for the source, you were shocked to find Aemond crying in a secluded section of the Royal Library. Distressed at your friend’s tears, you immediately knelt and hugged him close to you.

Clinging to your arms like you were his anchor, you could only make out the words: ‘pig’ and ‘dread.’ When you voiced your confusion, Aemond explained once more.

“They gave me a pig!” he barked, wiping away the angry tears from his violet eyes. “They said they found a dragon for me, and it was a pig! The ‘Pink Dread’ they called it!”

You lowered his head to the crook of your shoulder. “Aemond, who’s ‘they’?” you softly asked.

“Aegon! Who else?” he exclaimed. Your simple linen frock muffled his yells. “My sister’s bastards were there, too!”

Your blood chilled. He couldn’t mean…Jace wasn’t…

“Aemond, you can’t say such things,” you warned. “It’s considered treason by your father’s laws.”

But Aemond wasn’t listening. “I hate those bastards. They shouldn’t carry the Targaryen name. Their last name should be ‘Waters.’ It’s the name that bastards born in the Crownlands carry. Northern bastards are called ‘Snow,’ ‘Sand’ for Dorne, ‘Flowers’ for the Reach–”

“‘Pyke’ for the Iron Islands,” you snapped and let him go. “Am I a bastard, Aemond? Am I what you hate? Do you hate my father?”

Aemond was shocked at your venomous tone. When he realized what he had done, he quickly tried to make amends.

He shook his head. “My pearl…no, no, no,” he said. “You aren’t a bastard. I wasn’t talking about you. I was talking about–”

You clenched your fists and stood on your feet. “I know who you were talking about! That does not make it right!”

Aemond was getting angry. Why weren’t you taking his side? Had his whore of a sister already poisoned you against him? Had Jace already dirtied you with his filthy, bastard blood? He stood up and stared you down with fury in those beautiful violet eyes that you once so adored. But all you saw was his grandfather.

“Your father is a bastard,” he stated matter-of-factly. “He was a bastard from the Iron Islands that Lord Greyjoy didn’t want! He wasn’t worthy of his noble father’s house name, so he is named ‘Pyke’!”

You shook your head. “There is more to family than names and blood. I am neither a Targaryen nor a Velaryon. I do not carry a speck of your noble house’s blood, but I consider you and Jace my dearest friends! To me, you are my brothers! You and him are my family because I love you, not because of blood! Does that count for anything?”

“I never thought of you as a sister,” he spat out. “Not once did I consider you family.”

Devastation overwhelms your broken heart as tears flood your and Aemond’s eyes. He reaches out to hold your hand, but you step back. Once more, he tries to keep you closer to him, but you turn around and run to the door. When you reach it, he calls out your name and begs you to let him explain. Once more, you turn to face him to see he has not moved an inch. You feel so small and insignificant underneath the massive stone framework, but you summoned the sea of hurt and rage crashing inside your heart.

“I used to wonder how a horrible and mean-spirited man like Otto Hightower could be the grandsire of such a sweet boy,” your voice trembled, but you continued to steel yourself. “I thought…you were smart enough not to listen to such horrible things. I thought you were my friend. But I was wrong. I was so horribly wrong. What your brother, Jace, and Luke had done to you was cruel and unfair. But Aemond…what you had become…I-I don’t even recognize you anymore.”

With that being the final word, you raced to your mother’s chambers. You cried into her skirts and told her what happened – of the Pink Dread, Aemond’s cruel transformation, and the ruin of your friendship with him. You sobbed out your wish to leave the Red Keep and never return.

Doreah Pyke immediately thought of what Princess Rhaenyra had informed her in the afternoon. ‘Nyra told her that she would be moving her family to Dragonstone. Each day since her failed attempt to match Jace with Helaena, the Red Keep feels less safe and more hostile to her and her children. Since Harwin assaulted Ser Cole, tensions between the princess and the queen have reached an all-time high.

“Come with me,” her princess begged Doreah. “Come with my family to Dragonstone.”

“Oh, ‘Nyra,” whispered Doreah, “I don’t know. Dragonstone is so far from King’s Landing. And Ali would never–”

“Alicent is becoming more like her father each day,” Rhaenyra interjected. “She wants to put her son on my father’s throne – both she and her father are conspiring against me.”

Rhaenyra clasped Doreah’s hands in her own. “I know you want to believe she is the same girl from our youth. But Otto Hightower has sunk his poisoned claws in her and will stop at nothing to crown Aegon when my father passes. I need people I can trust by my side. People like you, my sweet Dory, and your husband.”

“…But Ashirri, my pearl,” sighed Doreah. “She will be so devastated. She grew up running in these halls, playing in the Godswoods, exploring this castle’s corners and shadows. This is her home.”

“Your daughter will flourish wherever she goes,” insists Rhaenyra. “She will never be alone – not with Jace, Luke, and Joffery by her side. And forgive me for what I am about to say, my friend, but…King’s Landing no longer agrees with you as it used to.”

Doreah sighed and gazed out the window with slumped shoulders. What her princess said was true but hard to hear. As she grew older, she found the air and noise outside the Red Keep more sour and rancid. It made her miss the clean and fresh sea breeze in Essos. Rhaenyra was not the only one who had noticed Doreah’s melancholy. Hotho, her beloved Iron Knight, has remained in King’s Landing after learning of her despondence. Her husband implores her to care more for her health – if not for herself, but their daughter.

Doreah waved off their concerns, but perhaps…they had a point. Stroking your hair to calm you down, your mother asked if you would be open to the possibility of moving to Dragonstone. She reassured you that she and your father would be there with you and that you would still be around Jace, Luke, and Joffery if you ever felt lonely.

You agreed before she finished and immediately started packing. By the end of the month, you had not spoken another word to Aemond and left with Princess Rhaenyra and her family to Dragonstone. You did not look back. You wanted to leave King’s Landing and Aemond as soon as possible. You wanted to leave this wretched castle and have peace once more.

While others stared at the obsidian castle with trepidation, you felt hope. Unpacking your things from your trunk and knapsack, you were determined to leave behind all the political headaches and focus solely on stitching with your mother and sailing with your father.

If only life could be that simple.

Translations:

Muña - mother

Kepa - father

Kirimvose, jorrāelagon raqiros…Muña, īlon līs jiōragon naejot mirre rȳ istin! Nyke jāhor sagon going ēlī – “Thank you, dear friend…Mother, we must get to work at once! I will bet going first!”

Usōven, Aemond! Yn issa muña se Dārilaros Laenor teptan mirros hen rōvēgrie importance! Nyke emagon naejot jiōragon naejot mirre paktot qrīdrughagon! – “I am sorry, Aemond. But my mother and Prince Laenor gave me something of great importance! I have to get to work right away!”

Umbagon! Skoros gaomagon ao nūmāzma?” – “Wait! What do you mean?”

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[deepperplexity]

Prompt 1: December Moon [A1]

Pairing: Colonel Brandon x Fem!OC

POV: First, OC

A/N:  IT'S THE FIRST OF DECEMBER! IT'S RICKMAS TIME!

I hope you're ready for a month of Alan Rickman fics - I certainly am even if most of them have yet to be done 😂 I have, however, managed to write the first draft of a few here in the beginning, and I'm super excited to kick this off in what is now the traditional way - with Colonel Brandon of course! 😍👏

Happy December, Happy First Advent, Happy Sunday AND HAPPY READING!

Tags/TW’s: First Meeting, Love At First Sight, (Light) Mutual Secret Pining, Miscommunication (Body Language), Fluff & Angst

Word Count: 4.1k

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

December Moon

There was little to do but wait. Mrs Marble fussed with my dress, Miss Abel forced my hair into an elaborate updo with entwined pearls and loose locks around my neck, and I stood there like a mannequin. Never had I thought December would be ruined for me. But, here we are, and I’m for once not a ball of sunshine close to Christmas.

“There we go, Miss. All settled,” Mrs Marble said with a twinkle in her little eyes surrounded by wrinkles. “You shall be the centre of attention, such a beauty you are, Miss.” My nose wrinkled at her words. In anyone's eyes, that was all there was to me. Beauty. Golden locks, hourglass figure, pale skin dusted with a blush to highlight my cheekbones, and clear blue eyes not unlike the sky during a cloudless summer day. My appearance to any and all was that of a stunning woman in her prime at twenty-one springs of age — soon twenty-two.

“Time to go, Miss.” “Give me a minute alone.” They nodded and departed while I stepped up to the silver-framed wall mirror displaying the entirety of me. Dreary… The only thought echoing in my head was a sad affair to have when looking upon oneself. My eyes were not bright today, my smile not flawless, my shoulders slightly slumped and the weight atop them only grew heavier by the minute.

Outside, the snow fell slowly, just enough to dust the ground in white but no winter wonderland appeared beyond the large windows lining one side of my bedroom. In the middle sat a matching door leading out to the stone balcony, which was privy to a beautiful view of our large gardens with fountains and a large span of open grassland beyond the intricate layout of the land created by a landscape artist.

I stepped out into the cold, my skin instantly pebbling in the light breeze despite my dress covering nearly every sliver of skin from my collarbones and down. The sound of carriages, people chattering, and hooves stomping against gravel travelled through the air and a sensation most dreadful crept through my veins. This Christmas would be unlike any other. No use dawdling any longer…

I sighed, and as I began to turn, a black dot appeared on the horizon where the grassland slope began tilting toward our estate. I watched for a moment as the dot became an outline of a rider in full gallop, and wished — for just a moment — that I could climb my mare and gallop across the grasslands for a while to rid myself of the weight resting on me. No amount of riding will ever be able to take away the demand to marry before the year is out. How cruel a demand… There is none I hold even the smallest amount of affection for, how can father demand such a thing of me?

⁛•⁛

The hall gleamed. The polished marble floors, the spotless mirrors and golden candelabras reflected the glow of thousands of candles and the odd lantern here and there. The entire ballroom I entered, at a slow pace so as not to ruffle my perfectly fitted dress too much, was a haven for all things white and gold. The two colours I abhorred, along with pink in every hue. Still, it was a wonder to behold. A fairytale-like sensation lingered in the warm air while jolly, upbeat music filled the whole space where the rich and mighty of society had gathered. None were the wiser, none knew the true reason for my father’s sudden invitation to a “December Ball” — it had little to do with the season, and everything to do with my unwed state.

When Mother passed during the early summer, he became obsessed with marrying me off. Always under the guise of me being protected… Lies. For one, I was in no need of protection, nor were I in need of any rich man to keep my house should anything happen to my father — I was the last and only living relative of our family so all would become mine once he was old and worn out of life. I was perfectly protected in that sense.

“Miss Haymnick,” said a man in his mid-twenties, his brown hair neatly trimmed and his green coat perfectly tailored to his lean body. “Good evening,” I said with a short nod and curtsey. “May I request a dance with the lovely lady?” How bold of you. “No, sir. I am not sure I shall dance this evening,” I said with a soft smile to ease the blow. He merely nodded and stepped away with a slight rush and pinkish ears.

I moved further into the room, watching the well-dressed people filling it. My eyes landed on my father, dressed splendidly as usual and with a glass of brandy in his glove-clad hand. He was a handsome man, my father, but he was handsome in the traditional way — the boring way that seemed to be all the rage with the three young ladies standing a tad too close to him (I was no fool, he was a sought after man, my father, but he would not remarry — my mother had been his all and I was all that was left of her so protecting my future heritage was a priority of his in turn).

My eyes kept skimming the faces and clothes of those all around me. They were mostly known to me, one way or another, but none had ever caught my interest and did not manage to do so now either.

There were such shallow values, such lack of depth in those within the confinements of the ballroom I nearly felt my own soul dim under the weight of finances, politics, and outer beauty not deep enough to allow any true value to shine. Do not judge so harshly. You don’t know every person in this room. My mind whined at me, and I had to yield under its words — yet still, I felt as if I had met every person now present. Of course, my father had only invited the grandest of the grand, the richest of the rich, the most important in society to this celebration — which purpose had not been revealed to those attending. Such fraud…

I turned and Lady Hilliard stepped up with her son in tow. Oh, fantastic. I steeled myself as she beamed at me and forced her son, Mr Timothy Hilliard, to stand a step closer to me than her. “Miss Haymnick, what a marvellous celebration your family has put together, such lovely decorations and such high spirits.” I curtseyed slightly. “Lady Hilliard, Mr Hilliard.” I looked between the two and they both greeted me with a curtsey and a bow. “How fine of you to attend our celebration of December’s arrival,” I said, smiling to the best of my capabilities.

Mr Hilliard’s eyes roamed all over my being, the way he studied my neck had me swallowing a lump. He wasn’t a nice man, or one I found particularly attractive even if he in general was quite the catch in most young women’s eyes. “We are so sorry about Lady Haymnick, Miss Haymnick. My son—” she nudged him forward “—wishes to offer his condol— Oh, my word, is that—” she interrupted herself as the pair’s eyes moved past me and toward the opened double doors of the ballroom.

I slowly turned, as many had begun looking the that direction as well. “Oh, my word, it is!” Lady Hilliard squeaked quietly, a nearly hissed whisper of shock. I could not fathom her reaction to the man, my own being completely different. I had no idea who the tall man with broad shoulders dressed in red, gold, and black was. That did not stop my heart from skipping a beat at his unorthodox beauty, though.

I fully turned without realising, watching the man stride into the room with a regal air about him none I had ever met before could ever match. He was stunning, straight-backed but not high-and-mighty looking. He appeared strong and unfazed yet the way he moved spoke of a soft elegance. What truly made my breath catch in my throat was his eyes, though. They were on the smaller side, but in the golden light they shined while speaking of uncharted depths hidden beneath the slight veil keeping his secrets safe.

As I had watched, stunned, he had moved through the room and were now passing me without so much as a nod to Lady Hilliard who tried fervently to catch the man’s attention. His eyes, though, were fixated on me. My heart thumped harder and harder until he passed me by and turned his head — looking in the direction of my father who now walked toward the man in turn with determined steps I rarely saw him stride forward in.

They shook hands, exchanging pleasantries I could not hear over the murmur and music in the room. “Lady Hilliard,” I said, without looking away from the man’s back. “Who is that?” “Who is— Who is that? My word, you are young, Miss Haymnick. That is Colonel Brandon. A fine gentleman, rich and proper, unreachable yet gentle in his manners. He was sought after in his prime when ladies would line up to attend his balls and gatherings. Well, the few moments he was at home, that is. The man has been all over the world, fought in wars and returned unscathed time and time again. His estate, Delaford, was in disarray upon his overtaking of it but now it is most grand.” She blabbered and rushed the words out in a quiet tone so none other could hear, but I did not miss the longing in her tone.

“Is he wed now, then? Being so sought after?” I never thought you’d be of use, Lady Hilliard, with your gossiping from one end of the country to the other. “Oh, goodness, no, Miss Haymnick. He never married, he never sought a wife after his first love was lost. He is a broken but fine gentleman. My niece would do him good,” she said, the last part slightly under her breath and as I watched her for a moment her eyes seemed calculating. “She is too young for him, but nonetheless, he would be a fine catch,” she continued just as quietly, and the hunger in her features made me wrinkle my nose in disgust. She was a prime example of all things wrong with all in the ballroom. It was only thanks to my mother I had turned out differently, if that is such a grand thing given my circumstances, I don’t quite know…

“He’s such a catch,” she continued and my eyes hardened. “Rich, fancy, away most of the time and— Oh, he’s looking this way!”

I turned my head, unable to untangle my features from the disgust and annoyance before meeting the man’s eyes. His eyebrows drew together, his head gave a slight tilt as I managed to school my face into indifference — removing the ugly emotions and hiding the absolute flutter of emotions he stirred in me. His eyes hardened, though, and his thin lips turned into an even thinner line a second before I averted my gaze as his handsome features turned too harsh for my heart’s liking.

“Excuse me, Lady Hilliard.” She gave me a nod at my words but her eyes were hooked on the handsome man who now had looked at me differently. Perhaps my father had said something not to his liking about me?

I had no idea, but for whatever reason, his eyes had turned sad when he viewed me and the veil I had noticed before had solidified in a sorrowful manner. I might have been mistaken, perhaps he’s just like all the other frauds here… Calloused, cold, money-hungry and politically attached. My shoulders slumped.

I grabbed the many layers of fabric to lift my dress, making my escape from the ballroom easier as I rushed my steps to get away from the room giving me a sinking feeling of despair. One of the men in there would have to become my husband, and the suddenly appearing ray of hope when Colonel Brandon entered with his beautiful eyes, soft yet strong elegance, and stunning features, vanished as swiftly as it had appeared.

There was no more to it, I would be wed to someone I had no interest in — someone who would never understand me, would never discuss the depths of poetry an entire afternoon or share my love of fictional stories all through the night, nor would I be able to discuss the intricate turmoil within an artist viewed only through the harsh brush strokes across a canvas painted many years ago.

I did not wish for a husband to keep me on his arm for display. I wanted no husband whose conversation was limited to finances and politics. No husband would ever suit me if he did not have a depth to his soul, a passion beyond money, or even a love of something that existed to please the heart and not the bank — something that garnered emotions without any further value.

I had walked myself right through the grand hall, out the doors, and along the gravel path around the house in my deep thoughts. I shivered in the cold evening air as the wind tugged on my hair and pulled at my dress.

The sinking feeling in my gut only ever grew with each passing thought, each hope of my heart being lost. I stopped at the frozen fountain, the ice glistened in the moonlight every moment the clouds parted above. My foggy breath seemed to shake out of me as his eyes haunted me — the way they changed without me having any knowledge of why. They had been so beautiful, so deep, so captivating when he passed me. Yet, when he looked upon me again, and our eyes had locked, his features had changed so swiftly.

“There is no hope…” I whispered while looking out over the gardens with a most forlorn sensation within my chest. “You will catch a cold.” I spun around, startled by the perfect voice taking me by surprise with my mind occupied of self-pity. “Who’s there?” I asked, looking toward the corner of the house where the silhouette of a man stood.

The silhouette moved closer, each step allowing me to see more clearly as the lantern light behind dimmed in intensity and the light of the pale moon turned brighter. Colonel?

My breath stuttered out of me, the wind tugged at the ends of his long coat as he walked toward me in a harsh stride. “You will catch a cold, Miss Haymnick,” he said anew, and I could have sworn my heart did a somersault at the delectable rumble unlike any other I had ever heard. “A lady such as yourself should not be wandering the grounds unaccompanied and under-dressed so late at night,” he continued and stopped just two steps away from me.

The clouds parted as I turned fully toward him. His harsh features were cold to view when his eyes seemed so closed off and empty. “Colonel Brandon,” I said and curtseyed. “Miss Haymnick.” He nodded his head deeply, his voice slightly harsh yet wonderful. “Have I offended the lady?” I blinked. “Excuse me?” He straightened. “I may be no beauty to look upon, but even that has yet to warrant such a display of disgust upon a woman’s face before introductions have even been made. Therefore, I ask, have I offended the lady in some manner?” he asked while holding my gaze captive.

I blinked a few more times, seeing the gorgeous man up close again — this time in pale moonlight — had my mind out of sorts and my heart in an uproar. He was striking, stunning, powerfully elegant. “No, you have not, Colonel,” I said, my eyebrows drawing together while his features softened a smidge. “Nor have I looked upon a handsome man as yourself in such a manner, sir.” He arched his eyebrow and a flutter broke out in my stomach. “I may be up in years, but I am not blind, Miss Haymnick.” “I’m sorry?” “You viewed me with the most abhorrent of looks, disgust smeared over your beautiful features. I shall not pretend I have not received harsh welcomes before, but paired with the lie you but a moment ago told regarding my looks I cannot—” “Lie? I have not lied, nor have I viewed you with disgust, sir,” I said, my hands balling to fists at my sides.

He reached up and unclasped his cloak at the neck. “You said I am a handsome man,” he said as he stepped forth, his voice slightly lower — softer. “After having viewed me with disgust, I find that to be a lie, miss.” He draped the warm cloak over my shoulders as I leaned back, taking half a step away from him before he had time to tie the string around my neck.

I glanced down, the fabric was lush and warm while thick and heavy at the same time. It smelled like heaven — of hay, horse, musk and wind. How something could smell of wind I could not fathom but as I drew a deeper breath to calm my raging heart at his sudden proximity it hit me with full force.

“There,” he said, taking a step back. “You ought to dress for the weather, miss.” I looked up at him, stunned at his sudden kindness amid the accusations of lies. “Thank you… But, wait, I have done none of the things you accuse me of, sir.” He arched his brow again. “A good person, as I have heard rumours of you being, ought to strive for honesty. No?” “I am honest!” I shouted and stomped my foot in frustration — Mrs Marble would have a fit if she saw my manners. “You saw me,” I continued loudly, “before I had time to—” no! He cannot know of anything, a man like him would laugh at the pitiful feelings my soul harbours. How could a colonel ever understand such things…

His eyes had widened, the shock of my outburst apparently enough to spook him out of the withdrawn, colder state he’d been in ever since our eyes had locked for a second time in the ballroom. “I am not lying, my good sir,” I said quietly. “A man such as you, so perfectly attuned to the world we live in, would simply not understand, as I cannot understand the likes of men such as you.” “Men such as me?” “Yes. Men such as you, colonel.” “And you have met many men the likes of me?” I merely sighed at his calm words, nodding toward the estate housing a party filled with men such as him.

He chuckled and shook his head slightly. My heart stopped beating for a second. “So that is how you view me, after a handful of seconds. Then I shall bother you no more, miss. Excuse me,” he said and clicked his heels before turning to leave. “Sir!” I called, not truly knowing why but my heart roared at him leaving. Something about him was so different to any other I had ever met despite the words I had just spewed in my dismay.

He stopped, only half turning so I could view his profile before he turned his head fully. I took a step closer, curious and something else moved around within that curiosity, too. “Yes?” His voice, so dark and deep, made a shiver slip down my spine. “Are you not?” I asked. “Am I not, what, miss?” “Like them.” “Life would have been easier had I been, but I’m afraid I must disappoint you.” “That does not disappoint me, colonel.”

His eyes widened as I took another involuntary step, something about him pulled me in and the more time passed the softer his expression turned and the brighter his eyes appeared. There were layers there, depth and that warmth I had always searched for in the eyes of others. So I stopped two steps away, spellbound by the beauty he was — even if that was shallow of me.

“Is it true? That you think me a liar for calling you a handsome man?” I asked quietly. “I am not a handsome man, make with that what you see fit.” “But, you are—” his eyes widened “—and I do not know what to make of the way you changed when you viewed me for a second time.” “You viewed me with disgust—” “I was disgusted by Lady Hilliard, for how she spoke of you.” “And, how did she speak of me?” he asked, his voice turning even softer yet it kept the depth that rumbled through me like gentle thunder in the distance. “I’d rather not say such things, but she wishes for you to marry her niece.” “Many wish to see their nieces and nephews wed—” “No, not like that, sir. She spoke about your-, your wealth and how you are never home.” “I am not home, for there is no reason to be. I have wealth for I have none to spend it on beyond the orphanage and my estate.”

I blinked at him, feeling lost for a moment. “If I had a wife, I would be here more. If I had a home, and not a mere estate, I would venture out into the world less. As it stands, none have caught my attention. That is, until tonight.” Why my heart faltered and saddened by his words I could not say. The man was far beyond me in years, he was a sophisticated and aged gentleman with beauty I could barely comprehend — every second I looked upon him he simply turned more handsome, inside and out. The way he spoke of a wife, of a family being what makes a home, it was beautiful and poetic.

“Then why are you standing here, sir?” I dared ask while I gripped the edges of the cloak he’d hung around my shoulders. “Because you are standing here, miss.” “I— I don’t understand, should you not pursue her before the evening ends?” “I am, by asking if I had offended her, given her change in view from the most beautifully wondrous look rivalling that of clear summer skies, to one as harsh and cold as disgust distorting her stunning features unlike any I have ever witnessed before.”

My breath snagged in my throat in the blink of an eye. My shoulders stiffened and as he held my gaze unyieldingly I turned warm on the inside. Those eyes had seen horrors and beauty all around the world, yet now they appeared solely focused on me with a warmth within them rivalling the sun.

“You find me beautiful?” I asked, my voice a mere whisper. “Most beautiful.” I sighed and averted my gaze. “As they all do.”

His cold finger came up under my chin and I jolted back. It was not proper for him to touch me, for us to stand so close with no chaperon near. “I apologise,” he said. “Have my liking of your appearance offended you?” I shook my head. “No, sir.” “Then why..?” “I am beautiful, sir. I am aware,” I said with a soft smile while drowning in his eyes that had gone most soft and deep. “It is not always something…” my voice trailed off, for how could I explain that my beauty was a curse in the disguise of a blessing?

“It does not matter, miss. I am no match for you, either way. I shall take my leave so another, more suitable match can sweep you off your feet as you deserve.” What a romantic thing to say… “I wish you the happily ever after you deserve,” he said a breath later and clicked his heels together with sorrow in his eyes that tugged at my heartstrings. I had no time to make my brain understand he was leaving until he was out of view.

I jolted. I finally connect with someone and I, what, shoo him away? Oh, no… I drew an unsteady breath, feeling that warming scent of him waft up my nose. I ran after him, my feet thudding against the ground. “Colonel!” I called as I rounded the corner, just as he galloped out of the gates too far away for him to be able to hear me over the snorts of the horse and spraying of icy snow around its massive hooves.

To Be Continued...

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

NEXT PART » Prompt 5: Open Doors [A2]

A/N: I'll be adding links to parts as I go along through Rickmas - so if you revisit or find Rickmas2024 later on you'll have access to direct links to continuations. My plan for this year is several serial fics and a few one-shots here and there as I know I'll get stressed and need breaks where I can just write whatever my little heart desires from time to time. Rickmas is INTENSE to write for, so 🙈

Anyway, how we feeling? We ready for this month's shenanigans? 😊

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[Dec:2024]

[magizra]

Realized I never posted this here!

I've had something like this forming in my head (like a pearl in an oyester or a kidney stone in a kidney) since the book of bill was announced

Ft. my FIRST EVER and ONLY gravity falls oc, the Therapschist, a sentient geode assigned to help Bill out while he's back on earth

And a little something extra:

[tryskomys]

Wet Sand

Stone Gossard x OC

Chapter 11 - She

Summary: let’s say that it was bad for my self-preservation.

masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

notes: w o a h. this halloween story took so long that it’s half-past november. but finally, here it is. sorry it took so long, dearest readers. i feel like this is short af for some reason, even tho it’s fucking 6,6k words? idk i hope you like it <3 my timeline might be a bit off with this one - you’ll know what i’m talking about when you get there - but hey, that’s the way the cookie crumbles. the next chapter will be very important, so fingers crossed guys, let’s hope that it turns out cool! love you all <3

tws: mentions of shitty childhood, awkwardness, realisations. rude words (btw tipper gore is a ***** **** ** ***).

songs:

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

October 31st, 1988

“Oh, look at you!” Keeva hollered as Jeff emerged from the staff room of the café, wearing little furry cat ears on top of his bandana. “Will you meow for me?”

“I’m not sure where you’re going with this, but you know - anything for the birthday girl,” Jeff shrugged and started re-filling the to-go cups.

“It’s a marketing strategy, Ames. You and your trapezoid jawline paired with cat ears equal big Halloween tips from every chick that walks through that door,” she explained, pointing at the paper bat decorations hanging along the walls. “And I really appreciate it, you’re like my little personal party clown!”

Keeva dreaded the celebrations that came with birthdays but thankfully, being born on Halloween slightly diluted everyone’s attention.

Back home, her birthday was usually acknowledged as an afterthought at dodgy Halloween parties and celebrated with a round or two of cheap alcohol. She never had enough friends to have a proper birthday party, but she didn’t mind - even a simple congratulation was a tough moment of awkwardness to swallow, so she appreciated the peace that came with being alone in the world.

But now, being in Seattle, she made more good friends in a year than any friends during all of the twenty years she’d been alive. And it showed - the day before, she visited Andy at the rehab center and he somehow managed to sneak in a piece of cake and wrote her a little song. They talked for hours, laughed, cried - and that alone was the most heartwarming celebration she’d ever had, which was strange considering the circumstances.

Chris called her first thing in the morning to congratulate her and to make sure she and Stone could make it to the release party of Soundgarden’s first album. It was supposed to be Halloween-themed - he was trying to sniff out whether they already had their costumes.

As soon as she came to work, Jeff popped out of the staff door with a cupcake and his signature cat-like grin, singing Happy Birthday as loud as he could because he knew she would be embarrassed - he got her the new guitar strings she’d been dying to try out.

But to her surprise, Stone didn’t tease her much in the morning before they both left for work. In fact, he didn’t make much of a fuss at all. She was glad, but deep inside she’d hoped that he would be the one to tease her the most, as always. It was strange that he was deliberately missing the opportunity to embarrass her.

“Well, if you make it ‘til the end of the day through all the birthday crap, you might get a little something.”

Keeva was inspired when Jeff put on Kiss at work a few days earlier - she did have a certain phase when she was a pre-teen, so she decided to tap into her inner child and dress up as Ace Frehley on the cover photo of Dressed To Kill. She’d borrowed a suit from Stone - she had to heavily cuff the pants and the sleeves and her tie was a couple of inches longer than it should be, but the whole attire ended up looking not too shabby.

The guys’ album was amazing. Electric, heavy and nothing like anything else going around. They played it live from start to finish at the official release party with all the important folks and then moved on to Kelly Curtis’s house to a more intimate party.

Keeva dropped the jacket some time ago, so there she was, sitting on the fluffy carpet of Kelly’s floor, her back resting against the wall. After tapping off the debris from her cigarette in the ashtray next to her, she took a big drag and let the smoke out through her nose with a big exhale.

She rolled up the sleeves of her white shirt and loosened the tie around her neck. When she was done, she sat back and silently observed the mayhem going around her - and for once in her life, she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else than a party.

Regan, sporting denim overalls and a straw hat, was in the corner next to the snack table, listening to a girl with pink bunny ears as she animatedly explained something to him. When he giggled, Keeva squinted with an amused smirk.

Is he blushing? What the hell…

Jerry, Mike and Sean from Alice - as the Three Blind Mice - were standing in a circle with Susan, who was the Tooth Fairy (Chris was the tooth), holding hands and frolicking to the rhythm of the Paula Abdul song that was booming through the speakers. She scoffed and took another puff.

God, Stoney must be having a field day with this soundtrack.

On cue, she searched for him in the crowd. He wasn’t with Kim or Jeff - The Godfather and Steven Tyler - who were standing by the speakers laughing, neither he was anywhere around the snack table. But after a few minutes of searching, her eyes finally fell upon him - he was alone, sitting on a cushion next to the fireplace and reading a magazine.

His face was obscured with thick weed smoke that swirled from his pipe, but the silver glitter around his eyes twinkled even through the cloud. She couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of his green boa jacket.

“Well, what do you think?” he exclaimed when he walked out of the bathroom and twirled around. She did a spit-take just as she was finishing her tea and stared at him. He had silver glitter smeared all over his eyes, along with some really strong black eyeliner. He had his hair down. It was unusually wavy today.

He looked otherworldly - from the neck up, that was. Keeva couldn’t hold a loud laugh when she darted between the big fluffy feathers he was wearing and the torn, clearly home-dyed jeans of a similar shade.

“You’re a hot frog?” she questioned, unable to tear her eyes off of the outrageous outfit. Stone rolled his eyes.

“No, try again.”

“A glittered-up bag of weed?”

“What? No!”

“A glammy quasi-reptile?”

“Yes! Exactly! I’m T-Rex!” he said and failed to keep a straight face, breaking into giggles. “T-Rex. Get it?”

She started cackling, too and felt her face paint smudge as the laughter forced a tear out of her eye.

“Sometimes I can’t decide if you’re a misunderstood genius or a complete moron.”

“Both can be true at the same time, Baby.”

Just as she was about to get up and go to him, something caught her attention.

Huh?

She wasn’t sure if she’d heard correctly, but under the general chattering and music appeared a silent melody from the other room. She could barely decipher the song.

Who the fuck is playing Stevie Ray Vaughan at one in the morning in the middle of a house party?

Her eyebrows knitted as she leaned backwards, curiously peeking into the room next to the hallway. Her lips slowly curled into an amused grin.

On a big velvet armchair next to the window sat a guy, clutching an acoustic guitar as he leaned closer to a record player to hear better. He was thin as a twig, the shadows of his ribcage kinda made him look like a kid. She could see all of that, because - for whatever reason - he was shirtless. He nodded his head back and forth to the rhythm of the song, brown hair shaking from side to side.

The widest of smiles spread across her face when he flipped his hair away, revealing his face - and most importantly the poorly drawn Ace makeup that was smudged all over it.

His eyes were rolled back into his skull and she could’ve sworn a droplet of drool was forming in the corner of his mouth. Most likely because he was shredding licks like there was no tomorrow.

He wasn’t playing as precisely as Stone or as sneakily as her - he was a completely different beast. It reminded her of a strange shamanic ritual, like he was trying to summon some sort of a blues deity that was living inside of him.

Keeva tried to perk her ears as much as she could, but she couldn’t properly hear him, so she decided to move a bit closer. She hopped up and snaked through the crowd to the other room. Even though the floor creaked as she stepped into the doorframe, the guy didn’t notice at all and continued his meditation.

She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe as her grin grew wider. The way he was able to sustain the licks on an acoustic was mesmerizing. She was surprised she’d never seen him around before. Then, the record scratched and he went on his own for a few moments before finally stopping.

When he opened his eyes and noticed Keeva, he jumped in the armchair and let out a loud gasp. She could’ve sworn he muttered the tiniest “Ace?” under his breath in shock before grounding himself in reality.

Keeva giggled as he clutched on his chest. She could pinpoint the moment he snapped out of the trance - the melody visibly disappeared from his brown eyes as he rapidly blinked to focus on her, clearly somehow still not certain if Ace Frehley was really just standing there, judging his guitar playing.

That apparently wasn’t an easy task - with the way he was swaying in the armchair, rock and roll clearly wasn’t the only thing he was high on.

“Shit, how long have you been here?” he mumbled after he rubbed his eyes and squinted to get a better look at his surroundings. She sighed and nonchalantly checked her non-existent watch.

“About an hour and a half,” Keeva shrugged, but couldn’t keep a straight face when his button eyes nearly popped out of his head. Along with the thin pointy nose and bushy eyebrows, he reminded her of some small owl.

“Christ, sorry. Like, ten minutes,” she giggled, scratching her head. He huffed and cursed under his breath, softly banging his head against the guitar to wake himself up.

“Sneaking away, are we, Ace?” he questioned, giving her a cheeky smile. Keeva raised her eyebrows.

“I could ask you the same thing, Ace. You’re the one shredding along with the mighty SRV instead of socializing,” she quipped back but slowly began to feel bad that she interrupted what was clearly a moment of absolute peace.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude on you, just wanted to hear you better. I’ll be on my way again,” she continued and gave him a small smile, tapping the doorframe. “Just wanted to say you’re fucking amazing.”

“Uh, no, I’m rusty as hell, sorry. Haven’t played in some time. Thanks so much, though, thanks!” he humbly retorted just as she was turning around to leave. “I’m Mike, by the way!”

Keeva turned back and chuckled.

Rusty my ass. If you’re rusty, then I’m a freshly mummified Egyptian.

“Hey, Mike, I’m Keev-”

“Kiki, I know! So nice to meet you, greenie! Loved the show last night,” he babbled, motioning her to come back into the room. His enthusiasm was too contagious to shrug him off.

“Glad you did, Mike -” Keeva giggled and then a realization hit her, her eyes widening. “Wait. Mike…Mike? As in McCready?”

“Yeah?” he said, raising his eyebrows. She gasped.

“Oh man, so that’s why I haven’t seen you around!” she excitedly clapped and pattered over to him like a giddy child. She sat on the floor next to him, crossing her legs.

“Yeah, just got back a couple of months ago,” Mike said with a little slur in his voice. Her heart skipped a beat.

Fuck. Shadow. Let’s not go there.

"Stoney told me so much about you!” she rushed to change the subject and patted his bony knee. “Feel like I should get an autograph or something.”

“Not sure if that’s good or bad,” he chuckled and Keeva noticed a little blush filling his cheeks, even through the smudged white paint.

“Are you joking? We have a signed Shadow poster on the wall, sometimes I touch the little heart above the ‘i’ in your name for good luck,” she giggled again, but mentally punched herself.

Shit. No Shadow, idiot.

Mike was clearly not sure whether he should be happy or not.

“That’s cool.”

A few moments of awkward silence filled the otherwise empty room before he slid from the armchair like an eel and sat next to her, putting the guitar down in his place.

“Love the Jag, by the way! Such a cool one,” Mike said and ran his hand through his hair. Keeva grinned.

“Thanks! I love offsets in general, but Jags just have a special place in my heart. It’s like they have a bunch of built-in effects.”

“Yeah, that’s why I never learned how to work them,” he explained with a chuckle. “It feels like you gotta know fucking quantum physics to figure out all the switches.”

“Good point,” she leaned on her knees. “I’ve never really played anything else for as long, so…”

Mike’s eyes popped open.

“Wait, like this is your first guitar?”

“Well,” Keeva sighed. “Before that, I had a cheap little Mustang that fell apart almost as soon as I brought it home - bought that one off a kid at school for a bag of weed I stole from my parents.”

His innocent laugh indicated that he probably thought that was a cool thing. She continued with a shrug.

“So the first proper guitar, yeah. Seven years and counting. Although I think it’s, like, a ‘64, so it’s been going for quite some time.”

“Woah, nice,” he nodded and whistled. “Mom and Dad gave it to you?”

She let out a bitter scoff, which made him jump a little.

“Pft, fuck no,” she waved her hand and paused for a second. She surely wasn’t one to share childhood stories with anyone she stumbled upon at a party, but something about Mike’s eyes was so kind, so inviting. Like an old friend catching up with you, eagerly waiting to hear the tales of what had happened while he was gone. “One day I stumbled upon this tiny little music store near Shoreditch, that’s where I lived. I needed my Mustang repaired real bad - something wrong with the bridge.”

A tiny girl walked through a dim alleyway, dragging a guitar case that was nearly bigger than her - she was clearly struggling, her thin arms about as strong as two matchsticks. Little mousy curls were sticking out of her two pigtails as if she hadn’t brushed them for days and then braided them without a mirror.

Her eyebrows were twisted in a nervous frown and she chewed on her lips - even they were peppered with fair freckles, matching her whole face.

As she nearly stumbled through the door into a shabby music store, the bell above the frame rang so loudly she had to cringe. And her stress only grew when she walked in - behind the counter stood a man with a bushy beard, full of muscle and sporting an irritated glare.

He must’ve been at least six-foot-five. His huge hairy arms were crossed as he scanned her up and down, his face still hardened.

She could tell that he stopped to stare at the alarming grey patch of hair that was woven through the curls above her forehead - along with the deep dark circles under her eyes, it was obviously puzzling. Clearly, his sales didn’t come from malnourished greying pre-teens.

“Can I help you, pipsqueak?” he asked. His voice was gravely and deep as if he’d been smoking red Marbs ever since he was born - which must’ve been at least fifty years ago. She shuddered and dared to walk a bit closer.

“Um, t-this is my Mustang - I mean, my guitar,” she squeaked, looking everywhere but his face. The man scoffed.

“Yeah, I know what a Mustang is, love. What’s wrong with it?” he pressed and leaned on the counter. “Speak up, I don’t have all day.”

His accent was so thick that she had a tough time understanding him, even though she was born in this East End hovel with a similar one.

She had to swallow a sarcastic remark about his delusional belief that he was busy.

This is a run-down music shop in a dodgy alleyway in the middle of East London, mate. On a Tuesday.

“Well, here it is,” she said instead and struggled to lift the case up on the counter. When he reached out to help her, she gave him a shy smile and peeped a ‘thank you’.

He did a double-take between her and the guitar - the blue finish was battered and peeling, the bridge was covered in rust and the tuning pegs were falling apart.

“This bridge is fucking wank. This thing -” he pointed at the rusty piece of metal holding the strings. She interrupted him, though, unable to hold back her natural smart-ass attitude.

“Yeah, I know what a bridge is. Maybe you can tell me what’s wrong with it?”

She was surprised when he heartily chuckled, shaking his head.

“Little shit.”

He lifted the guitar and started studying it from up close - it looked like a toy in his hands. He grumbled when he fiddled with the bridge under the strings - it was wiggling from side to side.

“There’s a lot more wrong than the bridge with this piece of shit, love. Might be cheaper for you to just buy a new one,” he shrugged, pulling on the squeaking tuning pegs.

A wave of warm tears flooded the girl’s eyes, but she bravely pushed them back, fishing around the pockets of her leather jacket - it was at least three sizes bigger than it should be. Her hand shaking, she laid a crumpled ten-pound note on the counter and cleared her throat so her voice wouldn’t crack.

“What could I get for this? Maybe new strings at least? Or if you could just change one or two tuning pegs? I’ll make it work,” she pleaded, her cheeks flaming bright red when he raised his eyebrows even higher, darting between her devastated eyes and the money.

“That’s not how tuning pegs work, love. And you can’t put strings into this. Ask your old folks for some cabbage, I’m sure they’ll help out,” he said and put the guitar back into the case.

He frowned when he noticed a tiny tear falling out of her eye as she still stubbornly stared into the floor.

“Like fuck they would,” she muttered under her breath and unceremoniously wiped her wet nose with her sleeve before putting on a small smile. “Sorry. It’s okay, sir, thank you. I’ll figure it out.”

He hummed and crossed his arms again, but his expression started to soften.

“Let me guess, this used to be a twenty-pounder but half got dissolved into booze.”

That was the moment she looked up at him, proudly straightening her back with a defiant frown.

“No, it did not! It used to be a twenty-pounder and I worked very hard for it!” she said, her eyes filling with tears again. “Dad bought a bag of coke for the rest, not me.”

The man let out a big sigh and scratched the back of his neck, clearly feeling bad for judging so quickly.

“Sorry, pipsqueak,” he said and reached out to clumsily pet her head. “My folks were the same. I’d tell you it gets better, but you just gotta wait ‘til you’re old enough to move as far away as possible.”

“Yeah,” she peeped and started scratching off the already peeling faux leather on the case. There were a few moments of awkward silence as the man thought of his next words and then he pointed at her chest.

“You know any Zappa?” he asked, his voice gruff again. She nearly forgot she had this t-shirt on and now she regretted it. Warm goosebumps ran through her from head to toe and she felt like she was going to be sick. She didn’t expect having to play.

“N- well, y-yes…uh, I mean, no - or, I don’t know, I’m not very g-”

“You play me some Zappa and I’ll consider giving you a sale. Deal?” he raised his bushy eyebrows and walked behind a curtain made of wooden pearls before she could answer.

After a short minute, he came back - carrying a run-down pastel Fender Jaguar with deep wide scratches and dents in its baby pink lacquer. It was gorgeous.

“Try it on this one, love, think you two could be friends. Same attitude.”

Keeva woke herself up from the memory with a dreamy sigh, not even knowing how she told the story. But Mike’s smile was wide, latching onto each one of her words with an excited twinkle in his eyes.

“I ended up working in that shop, actually,” she said and couldn’t help but smile, too. “Mr. Hobbs kinda took me under his wing, taught me everything I know about music.”

“We should send him a gift basket, then,” he chuckled and nudged her with his elbow. She theatrically gasped and pressed her hand on her forehead.

“Oh, you flirt.”

Keeva could almost sense the familiar pattern of comically huge feet approaching the room.

“Who the hell is disturbing my Paula Abdul with this blues bull-” Stone’s mockingly agitated voice lamented as he entered. His coat was gone, hair even messier than before and glitter now all the way down to his chin. She couldn’t help a twitch in her eyebrow.

Fucking hell, why does he always look like he just made out with someone?

When Stone’s eyes fell on Mike, his grin grew so wide that his rare dimples appeared.

“Holy shit, McCready! I knew it was you! You’re fucking amazing,” he spewed and she eased up a bit. Stone suddenly had this childlike energy around him and it just melted her heart. And If Mike was excited before, now he was positively beaming.

“Stoney, my guy!” he exclaimed and spread his arms. “What’s up, man? Greenie here tried to sneak away but I trapped her. Saw the show last night, you guys are killing it.”

“Thanks, buddy!” Stone said, patting Mike’s shoulder. He sat down next to Keeva and slapped his knees. “You should’ve said hi!”

Mike scoffed.

“I had a shift from 5 AM today and you’re fucking irresistible. I knew you’d end up getting me hammered by midnight.”

“So you’re responsible now?” Stone groaned. “God dammit, another victim of the LA lifestyle.”

Another tense silence paused the happy attitude in the room. Keeva could tell Stone knew he talked before he thought his words through - just like her. Thankfully, Mike was happy to speak and change the subject.

“So when’s the record coming out?”

They both rolled their eyes and shrugged in unison, making Mike chuckle.

“Not sure yet,” Stone sighed. “It’s changing all the time. We want an EP out in Spring but no clue about the album.”

“Right now, we’re aiming for early ‘90, but God knows,” Keeva added and Mike’s eyes popped open.

“Early ‘90?!”

“Yeah,” Stone muttered. “Takes ages, I feel like it’s cursed or some shit.”

“How’s Andy doing?”

Now it was Mike’s turn to talk without thinking. And he, too, clearly regretted asking when they both let out an identical cheerless scoff followed by a big sigh.

“Great. Yeah, he’s great. Good,” Stone repeated, trying to sound positive. Keeva took a quick peek at him before nodding.

“Great,” she said, giving Mike a tight-lipped smile. His eyebrows knitted and he nodded, too.

“Got it.”

Suddenly, it seemed like no one in the room wanted to talk - as if they were all scared that they’d make another unfortunate remark. The joy in the room was snuffed out too easily for Keeva’s liking.

Just when she thought this birthday would pass without crying, she knew that was exactly the plan her mind made up for when they come home.

“So you guys live together I’ve heard?” Mike broke the silence, trying to lift the mood. “Finally moved out of your parent's basement, Stoney?”

That made Stone chuckle and Keeva took the opportunity to jab at him. It always loosened the mood in the crowd - somehow, people enjoyed watching them bicker.

“Still live in the shack behind their house, only there’s two of us now,” she said, elbowing Stone in the ribs when he reached out to pinch her waist.

“Yeah, I guess Baby expected to move into the fucking Waldorf-Astoria when I told her I have a free attic room,” he gritted his teeth as he pulled on her hair, causing her to yelp and slap his thigh.

“You never mentioned your sweaty underwear on the bathroom floor, you smart-ass,” she hissed back and kicked his shin, causing him to retreat and raise his arms in surrender while sticking his tongue out.

Finally, Mike broke into joyful laughter and they looked at him, both hiding a satisfied grin from each other.

“How long has that been going on?” Mike said through giggles, pointing a finger between them. “You’re cute as fuck together.”

Once again, the joy turned into awkwardness.

“Oh, we’re not - no. God, no,” Keeva babbled, forcing a disgusted grimace. She looked at Stone, who followed her suit and raised his eyebrows”

“Ever heard of the term ‘roommate’?”

Mike darted between them for a few seconds and then squinted.

“…yeah, right.”

Not allowing another cringy silence, Mike quickly whipped out his wallet and took out a scratched laminated card with dog ears.

“Check this out, Stoney!”

Keeva felt her eyes fill with tears as she stared at the silver-rank Ace Frehley collectible card in front of her as if it were the Holy Grail.

No fucking way.

“Holy shit,” Stone exclaimed and lunged forward, snatching the card from Mike’s hand. “You still have it!”

Keeva followed it with her eyes, pushing the tears back with an unbelieving smile. It was as if their words were deep under the sea, dulled in her ears by the mass of water.

No. Fucking. Way.

“Yup, my good luck charm,” Mike proudly straightened his back, laughing when Stone slapped his forehead.

“Oh man, you ripped me off pretty bad on this one. Who did I get for it again? A bronze Lemmy?”

Before Mike could answer, Keeva entered their conversation, her voice still breathy with disbelief.

“Fucking hell. I can’t believe you actually have it,” she whispered, reaching out. “Can I hold it?”

Stone frowned and snorted, clearly thinking it was one of her sarcastic routines. She looked at him with such sincerity that he handed it to her without question, though.

“You good?” he asked and she shuddered when her fingers brushed against his. They were soft and cold as ice, casually handing her a piece of her lost innocence.

“Yeah, just…fuck. Long story,” she shook her head, still smiling as she studied the silver line around the card, running her thumb across the printed figure of the twig-thin man in the same face paint that was smudged on her cheeks.

“It’s not like he’s busy or anything,” Stone said, hoping to get a reaction from her, but he only got a punch in the arm from Mike.

“Fuck off, Gossard,” he chuckled. “You go on, greenie.”

For the second time that night, Keeva decided to share a memory, still squeezing the card as if her life depended on it.

“Well, first off, I was never really that into them until I saw them on the telly in, uh…’76 I think? A re-run of The Midnight Special show -“

“Oh!” Mike popped in, clearly aware of what she was talking about. Stone seemed to have no clue, though. “Good ol’ sexual awakening by Paul Stanley’s chest hair?”

“Uh, not exactly,” she grinned and looked up at them for a second before turning her attention back to the card. “You know how Ace ripped that solo on She?”

Keeva saw Mike nod in her peripheral, while Stone shook his head.

“Tall as fuck, hunching, built like a malnourished toothpick, face full of weird makeup. The shiny Sunburst…” she dreamily sighed and slowly laid on her back, lifting her feet up on the armchair. She felt a bit lightheaded. “Man, I was gone.”

She turned to them again, clutching the card to her chest like a teenage girl with her diary. Mike was beaming with enthusiastic nods. Stone, though, had one of his unreadable expressions on, laced with a small smirk. Her heart skipped a beat in her chest as she dared to linger on the sparkles around his overwhelming eyes.

It’s your birthday, girlie. Be a little bold.

“So that planted the seeds of my chronically bizarre taste in men.”

“Entertain me,” Mike chuckled, suddenly unaware of the subtext behind her stare. Keeva snapped to the ceiling, leaving Stone’s puzzled squint behind. She focused on the tiny cracks near the light - she couldn’t tell them apart from dirt smudges thanks to her poor eyesight.

Stoney Gossard’s bony shoulders accidentally shimmying off his kaleidoscope vest.

He’s so unathletic.

“Uh, Peter Gabriel - stage makeup and reverse mohawk phase,” she started counting on her fingers.

Stoney Gossard’s chicken legs bunny-hopping around the stage.

God, he’s like a newborn chicken.

“- Thin White Duke,”

Stoney Gossard’s sweaty nose scrunching when he mouths his own riffs like a nerd.

It’s definitely too big for his face. Isn’t it? It is.

“- Brian May and his spider fingers in that white bat wing blouse…”

Stoney Gossard’s bug eyes dissociating into a different plane of existence. Glowing in the harsh stage lights like two eerie gems, silver eyeshadow running all the way down to his cheekbones. Black eyeliner smudging around his eyelids, glistening with beads of sweat.

He looks so unhinged, it’s baffling.

Stoney Gossard. Period.

“Yeah, that is a fucking weird bunch,” Stone’s irresistibly annoying voice snapped her back to reality as if to spite her.

Yup.

“Thanks, Stoney. Anyway, after that, I was looking for an Ace card for years, and it was nowhere to be found. Couldn’t get any records either, ‘cause even though I was saving up, they were always sold out…so I gave up after a while,” she continued her story.

“But, like, four years later, one of the kids from band brought a tape to a rehearsal, the Kiss interview with Tom Snyder.”

Mike nodded again, leaning forward like he wanted to encourage her to keep on remembering.

“And Ace was fucking wasted, funny as hell - that maniacal laugh. It was hysterical, the best thing I’ve ever seen. True love never grows old, I guess,” she chuckled and lifted the card to her face again to admire it. “I think that was the day that I changed from a girl to a woman.”

“Honestly, I think I changed from a boy to a man with that one,” Mike said, making her giggle.

“I believe that. Well, the next day, the record store I talked about got stocked and they had a silver Ace card, just like this one.”

She allowed herself a second to decide if she wanted to continue.

“I didn’t have any money, though, so I dragged myself to my favourite spot in Hyde Park and cried for hours.”

Okay, that’s enough for today.

As endearing as Mike was, she felt like she could’ve told the whole story only if it was just her and Stone in the room. And that made her feel more vulnerable than she’d ever admit to herself.

Strangely enough, maybe she would admit it to him.

“Christ, that’s devastating,” Mike said and reluctantly took the card back when she handed it to him with a sincere grin.

“It felt like the worst day of my life. And my parents were dope addicts, so that’s saying something.”

● ● ● ● ● ●

As soon as they got home, Keeva let out a loud groan.

“Home sweet home. Man, I can’t wait to take this shit off my face, ugh,” she shivered and headed straight to the bathroom.

“At least your tear ducts aren’t blocked by glitter,” Stone mumbled, clearly tired as well.

“Your choice, smart-ass,” she called before she closed the door behind her.

They talked to Mike for a few more hours and then beelined straight home, surprisingly from Stone’s initiative. He was really eager to go for some reason. They didn’t drink that much, considering that it was such an event. Keeva was tired from all the dealing with Polygram and clearly Stone must’ve been too.

When she finally rubbed all the makeup off, she got out of the bathroom, but he wasn’t there. The curtain to her room was open, though.

Shit, is he up there? It’s so messy, Jesus. I left the bra right in front of the entrance.

“Stoney?” she called, confused.

“Uh, over here!” his voice came back from upstairs - even further than her room. Then she had a realization.

Oh. The roof window?

Keeva hopped up the stairs. The window was indeed open, just big enough for one person to squeeze through. The roof wasn’t really angled and seemed kind of stable, but…

“The hell? Are you snooping around my room? You won’t find anything, officer! Search the bottom floor, my roomie consumes more grass than a common barn animal -“

She trailed off.

“Ta-da!” Stone exclaimed and threw his arms open just as she popped her head up the window. She felt like she was in a dream.

There was a thick checkered blanket spread on the wonky roof tiles and on it laid a bunch of snacks, a six-pack, Stone’s acoustic, a few scattered papers and a plate with a tower of pancakes, a lit candle stuck in the top one.

“Come hither! Sorry that I didn’t get a cake, but I made your favourite trampled-tyre-instant-pancake extravaganza earlier,” he said and reached out to help her up. When she was fully on the roof, he scratched the back of his neck with an embarrassed grin as he continued to ramble.

“Oh, and I brought a guitar and your notes for the stuff we haven’t finished yet, you know, in case you wanted to work on them so you wouldn’t be stressed. And I got you something else than a Bud for a change. And I have some Sun Chips and that disgusting cheddar dip you love, you know, the one that doesn’t share a single molecule with any kind of cheese on the planet. And a pack of M&M’s that only has the brown ones. And we have grapes! Grapes! Can you believe that? Can you? Uh…happy b-”

Keeva almost knocked the wind out of him with the sheer strength of her hug. A risky move since they were standing on a lousy roof, but she couldn’t think about anything else than him at that moment.

No. I can’t say it. I’m not gonna say it. Don’t say it.

“I love - I love it. Thank you so much, Stoney,” she mumbled, burying her flaming red cheeks into his chest. He chuckled and tightly wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her head.

“I know you said you hate surprises but I thought that maybe -”

“You changed my mind,” she finished his sentence and hoped that he would realize the weight of that statement. She felt a tiny kiss in her hair and before she could say anything else, he lifted her from the ground and swung her around like a doll.

“Holy shit, we’re standing on a roof! Put me down!” Keeva yelped, but couldn’t help but laugh at Stone’s little ‘wee’ sounds as the material squeaked under them. When he put her back down, he quickly flicked her nose and reached for a little paper bag next to the pancakes.

“This is for you.”

She grinned as she peeked into it, a blush spreading across her face. Her smile grew even wider when she pulled out an oversized black t-shirt, her eyes popping open. It had a big handwritten sign that spelled ‘I FUCKED TIPPER GORE’.

“It might be a little big, but I thought it was funny.”

He remembered the night they spent in the middle of the woods on his birthday drinking and devouring every snack they got their hands on. And he remembered their hour-long discussion about the whole ‘85 Tipper Sticker fiasco and her uncompromising drunken monologue.

“They just can’t handle the fact that music is inherently sexual! Like, it always has been and always will be, the very first songs were either religious or love songs and that makes complete sense! And when you play, you’re completely devoured by music as a feeling and it controls you. Your movements, your tempo, the way you slide on the strings, everything. You are fully under its control. And if music decides that it wants to express itself in an erotic way, then fucking fine! There’s nothing I can do, I’m just a medium that the music uses to do what it pleases. Christ, fucking ‘mothers for chastity’ my ass. No sad middle-aged housewives whose husbands don’t fuck them enough should have the power to tell kids what they should and shouldn’t listen to or how they should or shouldn’t express themselves. Especially when you just know those creepy old hags have been getting railed from the back in the front seat of a car at the drive-in movies not too long ago and creamed their knickers every time Elvis shook his fucking ass.”

Stone didn’t say anything after that, just broke into a fit of hysterical laughter until he couldn’t breathe.

“You made this by hand? For me?” Keeva said, astonished at the craftsmanship. He shrugged, clearly a bit embarrassed by the homemade gift.

“I took one of my plain black t-shirts and bought some fabric paint, the one that you iron after painting so it stays on. And, uh, yeah…I- I’m sorry it’s so shitty, but I wanted to give you something s-”

“It is so special, Stoney. I love it so much, I don’t even - I don’t know what to say, all of this is just…thank you, really,” she stuttered, giving him one more tight hug.

“It was like a ‘eureka’ moment for me back there, so I thought that the rant needed to be immortalized,” Stone chuckled and gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

“A what? Why?” she giggled as she pulled away and started putting the t-shirt back in the bag.

“Uh, let’s just…let’s say that it was bad for my self-preservation,” he mumbled with a smirk and sat down on the blanket. Keeva wanted to comment on Stone’s sudden sheepishness, but it was like she was frozen in a spot at the sheer beauty of the moment.

The sky was almost laughably cliché - clear with countless twinkling stars and a full moon that shined so bright it made Stone’s skin look almost transparent. The whole city skyline was visible from where she stood, the Needle proudly stretching out into the settling fog.

“Well, let’s rip off the bandaid, Baby,” his obnoxiously charming nasal voice tore her out of her thoughts. “Your cake is getting more inedible with every minute and I don’t want you to chip your little vampire teeth before you even got a chance to suck me.”

And when she looked at her grinning friend, Keeva felt lightheaded.

Stone’s eyes were glowing brighter than ever - a head-spinning green field, full of mischief and hope for the future - as a realization slowly wrapped around her whole body like a delightfully warm blanket.

I’m in love with you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

[princess-pacman]

So, yeah. Here’s their reformed outfits. Pay no attention to the stockphoto watermark. I changed Robotnik’s coloring because I like this better. I don’t know what else to say about it.

[ask-the-pioneer]

Hello and welcome to @ask-the-pioneer! This is a scripted ask blog dedicated to a slugcat OC of mine called Marbles (she/her), titled the Pioneer. She is a re-interpretation of Artificer’s blue slugpup, set in a AU where the pup survives, grows up, and receives a name. The main story begins some short time after the end of Artificer’s campaign. At that point in time Marbles is already a young adult (early 20s in human years). She parts ways with Hunter - her mentor - and ventures out to seek the knowledge contained within the pearls that she was always captivated by.

This blog is run by @kalivasquez (@kalivasquezart). Keep in mind I’m not a native English speaker. There may be spelling errors or weirdly constructed sentences at times. This is my first ask-blog ever so idk what I’m doing but I’m trying my best 👍

CONTENT WARNING: This blog has content rating of +18 due to potential sensitive themes: mental trauma, depictions of violence, suicidal ideation, blood and gore, or other graphic imagery that may be uncomfortable, scarring or otherwise triggering to witness. Viewer discretion is advised. Posts containing mild themes will be tagged appropriately, while posts showing heavy themes will have "mature" filter applied to them. Please be aware that all the content shared on this blog is intended for an adult audience!

More info below the cut, including blog rules. Please read it!

Blog Rules 📜

Last update: 10th of October, 2024

By default you address the main character - Marbles, aka the Pioneer - in your asks. If you wish to inquire me directly (as an author of this blog), please include “[OOC]” at the beginning, or otherwise indicate that the message is directed at me and not the character.

Asks are answered in-character. Sometimes the character may react to your ask in a seemingly negative way. Please keep in mind that it is done from their point of view, and it does not imply that I (the author) personally reacted badly to your message.

I appreciate all the asks that I receive. However, I reserve the right to not answer some of them, at my discretion. It is not guaranteed that you receive a response. Still, I’ll try my best to answer as many messages as I can.

Be aware that some asks I receive may be skipped over, especially ones that are short and vague, in favour of more complex asks that help me push the plot of this AU forward. This is also relevant for asks that refer to the same subject (duplicates).

Please be tactful! Asks that are inappropriate or confusing in their intent (like spam, baits, asks containing slurs) will be deleted. Sorry!

Do not send me asks via direct messages (DMs)! I keep my DMs open in case someone needs to contact me for other reasons, like incorrect tagging or important offsite matters. If you send me a DM meant to be answered like an ask, your message will be ignored and deleted.

Do not repost my art onto your own social media accounts. Honestly, don't. I don't care about publicity, I have enough following here to last me a lifetime. Anyone can see this blog without needing to log in or register on tumblr.

More rules may be added later. Please check this section again periodically.

General Character Info ℹ️

As of now, this ask-blog has only one acting character - Marbles the slugcat, aka the Pioneer.

Name (given): Mirmyntasseth, Eight Marbles Cast in Stone

Title (given): the Pioneer

Nickname: Blue (for family), Marbles (for friends, after being named by an iterator)

Pronouns: she/her

Age: young adult (very early 20’s in human years)

Personality: energetic, curious, savvy, humorous, short-tempered, resilient, drive, a little naive and too trusting, exhibits mild case of abandoned child syndrome

Specific traits:

good at finding pearls (she loves them, goes about as crazy for them as scavs) and other trinkets,

knows martial arts, can incapacitate enemies by hitting their pressure points,

can craft explosive spears and grenades - they do less damage, but stun for longer; crafted explosives have deep orange color,

already has a mark of communication, granted by NSH,

Tools:

Marbles is often seen wearing a light colored “sling bag” on her back, where she keeps her pearls and other items,

at a muuuuuuch later point in time, she receives a gift from a kind interator - her very own citizen ID drone; the drone can read from pearls and translate slugcat speech into other languages.

Current reference sheet:

For more in-dept info and drawings/references of the character, please visit Marbles' ToyHouse page.

AU Timeline ⏱️

the story of Pioneer takes place some years after the end of Artificer's campaign, and begins at the same time as Hunter's campaign in-game

this AU assumes the following timeline for slugcat campaigns: Spearmaster -> Artificer -> Hunter -> Gourmand -> Survivor -> Monk -> Rivulet -> Saint,

Artificer/Hunter/Gourmand campaigns happen close together, with Hunter/Gourmand overlapping slightly; all three scugs are roughly the same age, with Arti being the oldest (early 40s), and Hunter the youngest (39),

Saint and Monk are still slugpups by the time the story of Pioneer beings,

Spearmaster is unlikely to be present in this AU as it is assumed that over 432 cycles have passed, meaning they are no longer alive,

Rivulet is unlikely to be present in this AU as here their campaign is assumed to have taken place *much *later in the future,

Saint is thought to be stuck in a time loop, and *may *appear in this AU.

AU Setting 📝

Pioneer’s Backstory (before the events described in this ask blog):

Marbles/Blue (the Pioneer) was born in the Garbage Wastes area, raised by a single mother (Artificer); the other parent remains unknown,

she had a sibling (who was also the runt of the litter) - a brother named Bryn, the green slugpup; the two were fraternal twins,

she got separated from the rest of her family in a scav toll incident,

was not killed, but abducted instead by the scavenger toll tribe, brought into their local shelter just before the rain started,

initially assumed to have been taken in as a fodder in case of predator attack,

in the end she has earned her keep when she learned how to make grenades and explosive spears, turning herself into a valuable asset for the tribe,

was treated fairly well, but never truly incorporated into the local scavenger community,

had stayed with the tribe for many cycles, learning how to fight and survive, but also how to look for valuables (mainly pearls) and haggle with other tribes,

could probably have run away, but she held on to hope that mom would come back for her,

whenever she got “lost”, the tribe would look for her to bring her back,

after one of her short solo expeditions, she came back to the camp only to find out the entire scav tribe has been wiped out,

ran away and been wandering aimlessly for a while, eventualy stumbling upon Hunter who adopted her, took back to NSH's superstructure, and underwent training alongside him (under NSH’s supervision),

promised to accompany Hunter during his important mission, but had to suddenly part ways due to unfortunate circumstances (just before the beginning of Hunter’s campaign).

Post Tagging 🏷️

I use the following tags:

#rain world, #rain world oc, #rain world au - default tags added to all answered asks (unless OOC),

#rain world spoilers - is included in posts that may spoil RW lore, for example: when answers hint to the conclusion of Artificer’s campaign,

#rw - rain world-specific characters that are present in a post, such as: “#rw hunter” or “rw five pebbles”; i will try to use the full name(s) intead of abbreviations,

#au lore - posts that contain important worldbuilding information for my AU,

#ooc- out of character posts, or anything else that doesn’t fall under “rain world” umbrella,

(more tags will be added to this section once I actually start posting stuff)

I also tag sensitive content with appropriate tags like #tw [trigger], if shown.

Text Key 💬

Most dialogue takes form of narrated drawings, where Marbles speaks in her own voice. The speeches are a part of the drawings themselves.

However, if a post contains additional text, the following key is used:

[Narration]

[The road was long and arduous, and she was glad to have finally found a shelter]

(Thoughts)

(This place is full of scavengers, I should be able to trade those pearls for some food)

“Speaking”

“How come you have not seen a vulture before? Climb up to Sky Islands, they are everywhere!”

//OOC

// more art coming soon woohoo!

Credits 📑

image in the blog's header belongs to Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash

Yoŋasabi script (slugcat language, original conlang) in the top banner by @opashoo

all the other drawings posted on this blog were made by me, unless stated otherwise

[blackstarchanx3new]

My pokegirl refs are finally done!!!

Currently not going to bother with SM USUM because...I don't feel like it lmfao.

There's a few more girl protagonists I could take a crack at but my love/nostalgia for the protagonists mainly spans 1-6 generation wise since customization got so heavily featured overtime and this "AU" I guess is mostly centered on "OC" versions of the protagonists from Pokémon.

This is what childhood joy is made out of.

For more context: These gals are based on my personal playthroughs of Pokémon games and the redesigns match what I'd personally think is comfy to wear/what would be cute on them ^w^

I wanna draw them with the teams I end up/have already done for them!

I'm very excited about that.

Going down the list I'll give some fun details about each gal (Yes I'll draw the boys/companion versions down the line too! They won't be left out for long.)

Gold -

I've decided for simplicity's sake "lore wise" my take on Gold is the same character from the GBC game to the remakes haha. So we get both outfits here.

Crystal-

The weird glitches I've done in Crystal virtual console are cannon to her adventure so she got caught in a time loop at the start of her journey resulting in her getting all three starters. (Because it's funny to me Dialga is messing with her)

Sapphire-

She is also the same between OG Sapphire and AS. I binge played both games and mained Sapphire both times soooo. It fits.

Her mega stone is on her cute lil bow because I despise jewelry even when it's drawn. (...yes that's why all these ladies have none)

I also am very jealous all the important characters with keystones get to have CUSTOM STUFF. It's truly not fair.

Pearl-

Haven't actually PLAYED her game yet so not much to say about her other than I adore this redesign and I love her so much. 😭

Hilda White and Rosa-

I wasn't just gonna name her "White" because that'd be silly as hell so she gets that as a last name I guess lmfao.

Her and Rosa don't have too much design changes because uhhh I happen to have a LOT of nostalgia for gen 5's protags and you can't add much to perfection. Her and Rosa have similar changes though since they deal with the cold (Especially Rosa because of kyurem's role in the story) I gave them jackets. ^w^ Girls need to be comfy.

Random detail that Pearl similarly got more coverage because that walk to snow point SUCKS.

Lady Y-

Lady Y is the reason I began this project.

When replaying Pokémon Y I decided to have my character be a cute girl who's obsessed with fashion be my vision for her character and it stuck the entire time I played.

She's a model. And Shauna is her GF.

Her full name is "Yveltal"...Because it's hilarious to me she just so happens to be named after the Pokémon known for sucking the life out of things. But her friends call her "Lady Y" because it makes her sound fancy.

She loves fighting trainers in that stupid battle chaetae which is how she funds her shopping sprees for clothes.

Her other interests are pokedex completion but ALL the pokegirls shown are deep into that so that's not a particularly special thing for her to do.

Her Ace is an Aegislash named "Sword".

She deeply apposes Lysandre because she thinks he's a pussy who can't except "The beauty of decay".

Her starter was Chespin who she basically immediately boxed lmfao. Idk what that says about her but it's what I did in my playthrough X'DDDD

Aegislash basically BECAME her starter and she had a Charizard.