#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!

[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

[tryskomys]

Wet Sand

Stone Gossard x OC

Chapter 8 - Over My Head

Summary: that would be a shame.

masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

notes: didn’t expect to finish another chapter this week, yay! i hate hate hate describing outfits, it always feels so wattpad. but hey, hopefully it’s digestable. this one somehow feels short - still, it’s 4,1k but you know, sometimes it just has this vibe. hope you like it anyway <3

tws: none this time, just lead-heavy tension and a bit of clumsy fluff.

songs:

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

22.4.1988

Keys rattled in the main door and Stone hurried in, his grown-out hair slightly sticking to his forehead. Keeva peeked out of the curtain in front of her room, holding an eyeliner pencil.

“Okay, this is the only brown colour they had, but I think it’ll do,” he called over his shoulder, waving to call her downstairs.

“Perfect! I asked your mom for a hair dryer, it’s in the bathroom,” she said and gathered her makeup. She hopped down, trying to shake the nervous chills off when he turned around and looked at her.

Xana worked in a little vintage clothes shop and when Keeva mentioned that she didn’t own a dress, she rummaged through the depths of the shelves and gave her one with a huge sale. She even altered the seemingly shapeless drape of dark purple linen into a cute sundress.

She wanted Keeva to have a fancy look for the first official Mother Love Bone concert - Andy came up with the name and no one had the slightest idea what it meant, but it was perfectly weird and off-the-wall, just like his lyrics.

Keeva felt so uneasy. She hadn’t worn a dress since fifth-grade prom and Xana didn’t exactly leave much to imagination.

The thin straps were really too much for her, so she put on a baggy checkered shirt she stole from Stone’s drawer and decided to wear the dress on top of it.

The dress was too short as well, but she managed to make herself feel a bit better with some bike shorts she found at the bottom of her suitcase and thick woollen socks.

She was dreading Stone’s reaction, expecting him to either laugh at her or at least tease her heart out of her throat for being scared to wear a skirt.

She could already hear his nagging nasal voice in her head.

‘Awooga! Look who’s here, the Virgin Mary herself. What are the shorts for, Baby? Afraid to show an inch of your thigh?’

It was very refreshing when he just looked Keeva up and down and quickly turned back around without a word, digging around the CVS bag he brought with him. She softly sighed, trying to shoo the uncomfortable thoughts out of her brain.

Wow. Great. Gee thanks, that was such a nice thing to say, Stoney. You’re so sweet.

“Lookit,” Stone said after clearing his throat and handed her a box of brown hair dye. “You think it’s fine?”

“Yeah, that looks about right,” Keeva nodded and reached up to compare the photo of the brunette woman on the packaging with Stone’s roots. “Yup. Well, bathroom, off you go. I’ll be there in a sec.”

On cue, he ran his hand through his hair and walked away, unusually sheepish. She shook her head and quickly finished the eyeliner, her fingers jittery.

Jesus, is it that bad? Should I change?

Keeva threw the pencil away on his bed with slightly too much strength before following him to the bathroom. Stone was sitting on the cold tiled floor, picking on his nails. She started unpacking the box dye while carefully watching him rub his fingers together.

“You want the roots too or just the grown-out part?” she questioned, skimming over the instructions.

“Just the orange bit,” he took a fleeting look at her legs and quickly focused back on his hands.

“Calm down,” she softly mumbled, making him frown.

“I am calm.”

Stone’s fidgets were a clear indicator that he was, in fact, not calm.

They played a few house parties over the last two months, but this was different.

A proper show at The OK Hotel.

“When was your last gig?” Keeva ignored his irritated tone as she put the rubber gloves on and vigorously shook the plastic bottle of liquid to mix it with the dye powder.

“October,” Stone muttered and put his index finger to his mouth to chew on it. “You?”

“May,” she answered, softly tutting to make him stop. He just threw her an annoyed look and continued to bite on his hangnails.

As Keeva hovered above him with the dye bottle, Stone laid his hands in his lap and closed his eyes as if he was bracing for some sort of impact.

“You ready?” she sweetly scratched his head and he visibly relaxed, humming in agreement. “Good boy.”

That made Stone snicker and he reached out to pinch her calf. She squealed and gave him a little kick before proceeding to squeeze a bit of dye in his hair and smearing it in.

After a few moments of anxious silence, it was as if a switch flipped in him and he straightened his back with a big sigh, levelling his head with her stomach. Then, he rested his forehead on her hip bone. Keeva shivered.

Don’t do this to me.

“Careful, you’ll ruin my fancy dress,” she near-whispered and took a tiny step back, but he just chuckled, his breath tickling her thigh.

“That would be a shame,” Stone mumbled and lifted his head with an absent gaze. He raised his hand to softly tug at the rim of her skirt. “It’s nice.”

A painful rush of red filled Keeva’s cheeks as he slowly ran the tip of his index finger up her thigh and under her skirt. A freezing jolt of chills ran down her spine and she twitched - accidentally sending her knee forward. She softly kicked Stone in the chest, but he didn’t seem too bothered, tutting.

“Ow,” he lazily deadpanned and finally shuffled further away from her. She let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding.

What the fuck is your problem, beanpole?

Keeva couldn’t decide if the silence was awkward or not, but it was nerve-wracking either way.

“You’re still breathing on my leg,” she said as she rubbed the dye between her fingers, working it into a strand of Stone’s hair. He hummed.

“I am.”

“It tickles.”

“Tough shit,” he scoffed and softly blew on her skin. She kicked him again, this time on purpose. Stone grabbed her leg mid-air and started tickling her knee.

“Stop!” she yelped and and tried to step back. “I have your precious hair in my hands, asshole, don’t test me!”

They yanked each other back and forth for a few moments before Stone finally let go of her leg with a loud hiss.

“Ow! Okay, yield, yield, Jesus!”

Keeva stopped pulling his hair, too, giggling.

“The longer you distract me, the longer it will take and we have to leave in two hours. So if you want to go out there with ammonia mud in your hair, go ahead,” she spewed, nudging him with her foot. Stone wolf-whistled.

“I’m distracting you? You sweet talker,” he chuckled.

“Yeah, your pants are too tight,” she gave him a sarcastic smile and he - slightly panicked - quickly looked down at his jeans, then back at her.

“Your dress is too short,” he mirrored Keeva’s smile and watched her get red in the face again, clearly entertained.

Yeah, thanks for the honesty, mate.

Encouraging as always.

“I know it is,” she muttered under her breath and then took a long pause. “You think I should change?”

Her voice came out much more insecure than she planned. Stone tilted his head and Keeva was surprised that he seemed so puzzled.

“Of course not,” he frowned as if it was the most obvious answer under the sun.

“What’s ‘of course’ about that? It’s short and I’m short and my knees are scabby and I have bruises all over my legs and -”

“You look amazing, shut up,” he said matter-of-factly. Keeva raised her eyebrows.

That almost sounded like a Stone compliment.

“You shut up,” she shook her head with a bashful grin and hurried to break the eye contact. She pretended to squint at whatever she was doing. Whenever Stone’s hair was wet or tied back in any way, his stare somehow managed to be even more overwhelming.

“Thanks,” she silently added and quickly tried to change the subject. “What are you wearing, anyway?”

“Nothing this cute, let me tell you that much,” Stone started poking her knee again and she gave him an annoyed frown.

Yup. Here comes the mocking.

“Sorry,” he chuckled and raised his arms in surrender. “Uh, I don’t know. Probably a Green River t-shirt, that seems like a nice touch of irony.

Keeva snorted.

“No, you will not.”

“Watch me,” he shrugged. “I think I’ll take the Scumbag cowboy hat, too.”

“Oh, good grief,” she whined, holding back a laugh.

“Here we go! This is the shit,” Andy exclaimed and reached into one of the large bags of clothes in front of him. He fished out a felt cowboy hat with a few huge feathers sticking out from behind the rim. Stone started laughing, immediately grabbed it and put it on.

“Jesus Christ,” Keeva stuttered out and slapped her forehead. Andy and Regan clapped.

“Oh, you have to,” Regan cackled, whistling when Stone batted his eyelashes.

“It looks so fucking good with the whiskers, you’d be drowning in pussy if you wore this every day,” Andy giggled and kept on digging in the bag.

“Ew, don’t encourage him! I live in the same room,” she complained and started searching through one of the bags as well.

“Shut up, Baby, you’re just jealous that you don’t have a cool hat,” Stone grinned as he took it off, studying the feathers closer. She hooted.

“Oh, but I do,” she said and pulled out a big satin top hat. They all gasped.

“Put it on! Put it on!” Regan chanted and loudly wolf-whistled when she did. It was slightly big for her, but she felt amazing. It felt like armour.

“Are we playing any T. Rex today?” she giggled, looking up at the rim of the top hat with childlike delight. Stone giggled.

“Well, now we are!”

“Yay! Thus, Tom and Jerry’s Scumbag Jukebox was born,” Andy announced and clapped, clearly overjoyed.

Stone and Keeva exchanged a look and after a few seconds of silence, they both burst out in giggles - and they continued to do so until they were both on the floor, tangled into each other as they cramped through a fit of laughter.

“If you wear your Scumbag hat, I’ll wear my Scumbag hat,” she warned and wiggled her finger at him after putting a plastic shower cap on his stained hair. “Done.”

“Please, wear your Scumbag hat. That will be, like, a crown to this outfit,” Stone chuckled and tugged on her skirt one more time before getting up. Keeva narrowed her eyes at him.

Great. Great for my confidence.

“What now?” he added, taking a look in the shabby little mirror above the sink.

“Thirty minutes and wash it off,” she said and took her rubber gloves off. “But honestly we could keep it like this, too. The slicked-back look really makes your eyes pop.”

Stone looked at her and slowly widened his eyes while extending his arms, creeping closer to her. She squealed and started running out of the bathroom - however, he caught up with her in two brisk steps. He grabbed Keeva from behind with a theatrical growl, lifted her off her feet and started spinning in a circle.

“No, put me down! Careful with the dress!” she screeched through laughter, frantically slapping his forearms. Stone cackled and squeezed his arms around her waist.

“Would be a shame, wouldn’t it? Haha!”

“Yes, it would, put me down!”

“Say you look great and I’ll release you from my clutches,” he squeezed tighter and started spinning faster.

“Let me go!”

“Say ‘I look great!’” he mocked her accent with a high-pitched voice.

“Stop, I’m gonna be sick, Stoney!”

“Say it!”

“Okay, I look great!” she yelped and Stone finally stopped spinning, but still didn’t put her back on her feet.

“See? Wasn’t that hard,” he hummed, shaking Keeva from side to side. He squeezed her one more time in a tight hug and then set her back on the ground, planted a quick kiss on her burning cheek and hopped away to his clothes drawer with a cocky grin.

● ● ● ● ● ●

“Ow! Son of a bitch!” Stone’s yelp echoed from the bathroom, followed by a fierce kick into the lousy cupboard under the sink.

“Calm your tits, I’m not fixing the door again,” Keeva chuckled and walked in to see what’s going on.

Stone had washed the dye off and blow-dried his hair, now attempting to detangle a scrunchie out of his ponytail. It was a bit dehydrated from the dye, so it easily matted into a big messy knot.

The darker hair looked amazing. It definitely gave him a certain air of maturity, a thought that made Keeva laugh as she watched his childish frown.

He was redoing the ponytail for the fourth time. She had no clue why, it looked the same as always, but Stone just wasn’t satisfied with it. Now, he was just aggressively pulling while grunting in frustration.

“Jesus, how did you manage to do this?” Keeva squinted, stepping on her tiptoes. She tugged on his kaleidoscope vest to take a closer look.

Stone was already in his chosen gig outfit - he really did put on a Green River t-shirt and she could do nothing as he threatened to spin her around again if she didn’t stop nagging.

“I don’t fucking know, I’ve been standing here for, like, half an hour and I can’t get…this…fucking…thing…out. Ouch!” he squealed again when Keeva tried to help him.

“I can’t see shit in this lighting, move,” she mumbled and grabbed the hairbrush he was holding. She dragged Stone out of the door by the wrist like a little kid.

“You’ll be bald by thirty if you keep fucking with it like that,” she said as she tugged him down on the floor with her. “Sit.”

“I’m not a dog, asshole,” Stone muttered back but did as she said and crossed his legs. He hissed when Keeva pulled him by the tangled mess so he’d shuffle closer to her.

“Yeah, dogs don’t yap as much. Stop bitching and stay put,” she retorted and slapped his hand away when he tried to rip on his hair again.

Now softer, Keeva pulled a little so he’d tilt his head back, giving her a better look at where the knots were.

“Good grief. Why did you redo it, anyway? It looked great on the first try,” she tutted and started carefully untangling the mess strand by strand. Stone finally seemed to calm down a bit.

“It was uneven and it looked like shit, so I tried to make it straight, but I loosened it too much. So I untied it and did it again and that was off, too.”

“Ehm ehm, Narcissus,” she teased, giggling when Stone reached behind him to pinch her thigh.

He hissed in pain when she accidentally ripped a lone hair out in an attempt to wiggle it out of the scrunchie.

“Fuck. Sorry, Stoney, sorry,” she whispered, cringing at his pained grunt. “Stop wiggling.”

“It’s just at this weird length where I can’t put it up without having a bunch of little hairs sticking out like a muppet and it’s bothering the fuck out of me and now it looks even worse when it’s not bleached,” he rambled and waved his arms around, which caused another few accidental rips. “Maybe I should shave it off.”

“Yeah, over my dead body, mate.” Keeva scoffed and quickly checked her watch. They still had a solid hour before Bruce was supposed to pick them up for the soundcheck.

“What, you think I couldn’t pull it off?” Stone asked with a grin, finally easing under her hands.

She couldn’t stop her vivid imagination from carrying her away.

She pictured him with a buzz cut, which made his strange features even stronger - the Roman nose seemed longer, the cheekbones and jawline sharper, and the freckles more noticeable.

And the eyes. Oh, the eyes. She definitely couldn’t take any more of that.

The glistening sweat on his temples and cheeks without any hair obscuring his flushed face made her heartbeat far too quick for her liking, snapping her out of her thoughts.

She shook her head when the fading image of an older Stone - with a shaved head and an unshaved face - smirked.

Keeva successfully detangled the last strand and theatrically threw the scrunchie across the room, then gave Stone a brief playful scratch and took the hairbrush.

No way I’m allowing that. Keep it ‘til you’re old enough to be hot.

“I mean, sure you could. But you seem to be -” she raised an eyebrow at Stone’s perfectly timed heavy sigh, “- enjoying yourself just the way it is. Maybe we could make a deal…let’s see. If we ever play, like, a really big festival, then you can shave your head.”

As soon as the brush touched Stone’s scalp, he leaned his head back and his eyes fluttered closed.

“What’s a really big festival? How many people are we talking?” he said with a growing smile.

“Not in terms of people, just…you know, the feeling,” she shrugged.

Stone chuckled.

“Deal.”

After all the knots were gone, Keeva neatly brushed half of his hair up, took the thin blue scrunchie on her wrist and softly tied it into a high ponytail.

She noticed that he tilted further and further back under her fingers, slowly resting his body against her chest. By the time she was done, Stone’s head was lying on her shoulder as he silently hummed an unintelligible tune with his eyes closed.

Keeva had never seen him so peaceful before. So innocent. A whiplash-inducing contrast to his prickly attitude from earlier.

How very you.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep on me now, you’ll mess up my masterpiece,” she softly nudged Stone, but he didn’t budge.

“There’s a knot right under my ear and it’s really pulling, maybe you should give it another brush,” he mumbled, not moving an inch. Keeva chuckled again and decided to entertain his jabs.

She put the hairbrush away and ran her fingers through the loose waves. Stone sighed again.

“Still pulling.”

She briefly brushed her knuckle against his artery while reaching up. She could swear she felt his heartbeat fasten. There were no knots left, but Stone’s eyelashes fluttered every time she touched his scalp and that was enough to make her play along.

“Pulling,” he lazily muttered, egging Keeva on to continue.

“Oh, wait, I think there’s a tangle right here,” she whispered and reached to the other side of his head, running her fingers through the brown strands behind his ear.

A chuckle rumbled in his chest, followed by a deep sigh.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he breathed out.

A rush of blood inflamed her face and she snapped out of the dreamy limbo she was floating in.

Stone was lying in her lap, resting his forehead on the nape of her neck. When he spoke, his nose brushed against her clavicle and his shivering exhale tickled her skin.

“Fuck, I wouldn’t shave it if they paid me.”

Keeva couldn’t stop herself from caressing him again. She knew that she was just adding new knots by brushing through the hair over and over, but he didn’t seem to mind.

On the contrary, Stone’s ears were growing warm and red and so were his freckled cheeks, forming a burning patchy blush to match hers.

She was too busy studying his peaceful features to realize that she rested her arms around his neck in a loose embrace.

“You’re a witch, you know that?” he mumbled after a few minutes of silence, finally opening his eyes. Up until that point, she thought that he’d actually fallen asleep.

However, Stone seemed completely lucid when he darted across Keeva’s face with curiosity, as if she were a compelling book. His eyebrows slowly knitted into a soft frown when he stopped at her lips.

“What time is it?” he suddenly asked before she could speak, completely glossing over the previous comment. Keeva blinked a few times, still digesting his scrutinizing stare.

“Uh, half past four. We still have, like, a bit over an hour -”

“Cool,” Stone interrupted her and abruptly snaked out of her arms, stood up and skipped over to the bathroom in long hops.

“Thanks, Baby. I dub thee my official hairstylist from now on, looks fine,” he called after her. Keeva still sat in stunned silence, giving her cheeks a few slaps to drag herself out of the haze.

“Wait, like I’m forever stuck untangling your knotty scrunchies like you’re a little girl? Braiding your pigtails?”

“Better leave it up to you, then it will be your fault if I’m bald at thirty,” Stone peeked out of the door and stuck his tongue out at her.

“And pray tell, what do I get out of it?” she crossed her arms and squinted at him. He shrugged.

“You get to play with my luscious locks, of course.”

Keeva raised her eyebrows.

“You just said you look like a muppet, but fair. You know what that means though, right?”

“Hm?” he frowned.

“You have my hair tie. You’re branded as my property now.”

“Backhanded flirting doesn’t work on me and you know it, sweetheart,” Stone shot back a bit too casually for her ego’s liking and disappeared back into the bathroom. “I’m free as a bird and I intend to keep it that way.”

“Keep whatever you want, Casanova,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “But it’s like, the kindergarten rule number one. ‘Thou shalt belongest to the wench whose scrunchie thou wearest on thy wrist.’ Something like that.”

Stone’s chuckle rang in her ears, but he had no further snappy comments.

● ● ● ● ● ●

The OK was packed. Way more than they’d expected. Although Andy carried himself like the confident frontman he strived to be, his giddy nervousness backstage was extremely contagious.

Keeva didn’t mind, though, as it was a welcome change from her sickening nervousness - she had to leave the soundcheck two times to vomit.

Once they came on, though, it was like something possessed her and took away the tense cramp in her stomach.

Greg was tightly holding everything together, effortlessly professional and giving her encouraging smiles whenever the two of them found the right groove for a song.

Jeff was jumping around and bopping his head while never missing a beat, she had to come over to him a few times to lift his floppy hat away from his eyes - and she earned a huge twinkling smile from him.

Andy bounced around like a flying comet, commanding all the attention of the crowd and playing them like a fiddle, while Bruce watched him with a gleeful smile, overjoyed to be on stage again working his black-and-white Telecaster.

The lights were low and dimly glowed through the small venue. She could see the encouraging faces, familiar or not, whistling and headbanging like there was no tomorrow.

The whole of Soundgarden, Regan and his and Stone’s friends Shawn and Josh, Jerry and Mike from Alice in Chains, some of the guys from Sub Pop and hers and Jeff’s co-workers. Even Mark and Steve from Green River showed up, along with their new bandmates - all four of them screamed their hearts out and Mark even crowd-surfed at one point. Xana was there, too, clapping and hooting from the side of the stage.

Stone was in his element, writhing from side to side as he mouthed along to his riffs. It was mesmerizing - the way his flushed cheekbones shimmered when Andy called for a lone string of light to be pointed at his lanky friend.

She could do nothing but stare at him in awe, quickly closing her agape mouth shut whenever he turned at her with a half-lidded and out-of-focus gaze, barely present as he gave her a firm nod to cue her to join him.

He had such a strange way of handling himself while playing, a silhouette that haunted her dreams.

“What?”

“Nothing, just your posture.”

“What’s wrong with my posture?”

“Nothing wrong with it, it’s just…it suits you. Perfect ninety degrees. Edgy.”

“I get cramps when I angle it. It’s the arms. You know - beanpole.”

“Hey, can you turn the reverb down a bit?” Stone called after her during one of Andy’s in-between-song comedic routines. They stood right next to each other, but her ears were buzzing, so she gave him a confused frown.

“Huh?”

“The reverb,” he mouthed again, but Keeva shrugged. He shuffled over to her, a bit out of breath from jumping around.

He affectionately took her around her shoulders and squeezed her closer - his cheek was sweaty and flaming hot as he brushed against her forehead while bending down to her.

“The reverb, could you turn it down?”

This time she heard him, leaning back to press her lips against his ear.

“Come again? Sorry, I can’t hear a word you’re saying over that absurd hat, feels like it’s screaming into my face.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

[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.

-------------

@princess-pacman

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

-------------

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...

[coulrology]

🔓 NEW JUNIPER SKINS UNLOCKED!

Coven Head 🦚

No Concealment Stone 💍

No Vest ❌

Eyes 👁

Ex Coven Head 🦋

The Knee ❄️

[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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[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:

[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.

[tryskomys]

Wet Sand

Stone Gossard x OC

Chapter 11 - She

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

masterlist

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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.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

[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!

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.

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

[crus-tulum]

Пока не рисую особо, но вот карточки второстепенным камнеосам! Основным пока нет =')

Special for @shiny-gem-ocs sorry my english is bad))

1) pearls (2,3,4,5,7,8,9)

2) rosasite and aurichalcite - they're local fashionistas xD

3) soapstone (in russian - talc chlorite - therefore abbreviated as chlorine) she is doctor

4) gravel-36. there are a lot, that's why they're fighters.

5) shale. On her feet shale shoes (?????) lol

This is only part of them :D

In general, my AU have 3 classes: precious stones, geodes and just stones. the first get high, the second decide for themselves what to do, the third are "for slaughter". I can explain the details about classes in other posts.

My three main OC - two amethyst geodes and one pebble (in Russian GALKA) - were in another drawing on the beach... about them some day :P old art ↓

Русские надеюсь тоже поняли я вас не бросаю! Я не умею ни рисовать ни говорить по-английски извините я неуч (с гугл переводчиком с горем пополам)

Извините постараюсь рисовать вкатываться немного обратно....