#POWDER BLUE CREW-NECK

[oneofthebestcontent]

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[ourflagmeansgayrights]

crew of the revenge halloween party where everyone goes as a different flavor of captain bonnet:

wee john goes as stede’s fancy party powdered wig 1.05 look (but with more glitter)

frenchie replicates the cursed red suit (it’s only a replica tho so it’s fine, it’s not cursed, don’t worry you guys)

jim goes as all-white gut-stabbed 1.03 stede complete with a loosely tied piece of rope around their neck. remember in 1.06 when they fake tortured a dummy during the fuckery? imagine that much gusto being put into pretending to be stede getting hanged to death at random intervals throughout the party

olu goes as leather pants + slutty blue shirt stede and honestly? he kinda wears it better than stede does

zheng goes as the same stede but with a wooden board tied to the back of her pants to commemorate the time she publicly spanked planked him

fang goes as stede wearing ed’s leathers. this costume involves putting flour on his face to simulate how stede was suffering from severe blood loss in that episode

the swede goes as classic pilot episode teal suit stede and does a dead-on stede impression (picture stede in the background huffing “i don’t sound like that!” and ed kissing his cheek and lovingly saying “yes you do, babe”)

roach goes as 2.01 broke era stede. this costume also involves a pillow and a blanket and occasionally moaning “ed, oh ed” out loud

lucius goes as 1.08 stede pulling an all-nighter to stare at ed and jack through a telescope. nightgown, pink robe, makeup to emulate the bags under stede’s eyes, gripping a telescope for dear life (stede tries to argue “it wasn’t all night” but olu is like “no i was there, it was literally the entire night”)

black pete goes as 1.02 stede with his shirt all ripped up (ed voice: man it’s a good thing he’s already dead bc i could literally kill izzy for not telling me about this)

ed goes shirtless and wears an orange skirt. the crew is like “that’s not a stede costume” and ed’s like “no listen ok. one time i had a dream where stede was a mermaid.” the crew is understandably confused and ed’s just like “had to be there ig” and they’re like “had to be there… in your dream?” and he’s like “yeah.”

archie panics bc she hasn’t known stede for long and everyone took all the good ones that she was actually there for. jim offers suggestions but it’s all s1 stuff and archie’s like “i can’t do the treasure hunt look, i wasn’t there.” eventually she gives up and just shows up fully nude and is like “im stede on the night of calypso’s birthday”

about halfway through the halloween party buttons shows up and de-birds himself, at which point archie sees that buttons is there and is also naked and is like “bro no fair, i called dibs on this stede costume!”

[urmum-lovesme]

Angel Baby - Rafe Cameron x Kook!reader P4

pairing: Best Friend!Rafe Cameron x Kook!Best-Friend!reader

summary: Rafe and Reader have known each other since kindergarten, always side by side, the king and princess of Figure 8. So why now does he start feeling different towards her, when all she's every been is his best friend?

a/n: here's the part 2 to the gangs day out on the yacht. I thought it was about time to sprinkle some angst in here somewhere. I also wanted to give some of y/n's past, so I guess some background on her and Rafe's friendship? Also I've sort of planned out the series but in a sense it takes a little darker turn (it's giving psycho season 2 Rafe) would you guys like that or should I do something a little less creepy lmk lmk lmk. Pictures are from Pinterest so credit to who ever they belong to. ENJOY READING (I feel bad poor baby y/n and Rafe also tbh. my poor babies :( ) (kind of ooc!rafe cause would he actually act this way in season2???)

warnings: alcohol consumption, drugs, overdose, death, dismissive father figure, kind of asshole!rafe (but a redemption at the end), talk of rehab, idk what else!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was getting late, the sun was slowly setting over the horizon, the sky gradually shifting from a light blue to a dark red. Kelce and Topper continued talking, both of them clearly enjoying the sunset as they sipped on their drinks, both tipsy now, clearly proven from the cans which had ended up empty on the table. Rafe was half listening to them, his eyes however kept drifting over to y/n, watching as she sat there quietly eating her fruit. He was irritated, needing something to distract him from the petty excuse of a swimsuit which clad her bod which was laying merely feet away.

Y/n chewed on the sliced fruit the crew member had brought up for them as she looked at the three boys who were invested in their own conversation. She lifted the watermelon triangle taking a bite, the cold fruit cooling her throat as she swallowed its sweet juice, some of it dripping onto her chin, rolling down her neck to her chest. 

Rafe watched as she brought the slice of watermelon up to her mouth, his eyes fixated on the way the girls lips connected with the wet fruit. It took all his self control to tear his eyes away from her, trying hard to resist the thought of imagining those same lips on something else. He clenched his teeth as he turned his attention back to Kelce and Topper, talking their own nonsense, desperate for a distraction as he leant over and shuffled around looking for something in his bag. 

Y/n reached out taking a napkin and wiping her mouth, noticing the sticky juice which had run down her chest, fingers coming down to get rid of the residue on her skin. 

The boy dug through his bag, searching through the mess until he found what he was searching for. He pulled out the small clear baggy filled halfway with white powder, taking it out and placing it on the table next to him. Kelce glanced over as the bag appeared in front of him, a smile appearing on his face as he and Topper both realised what it was, 

“about damn time.” 

The commotion had caught her eye glancing away from the plate to the boys across from her. 

“No.”

She spoke out instantly as she realised what they were doing, the girl noticed Rafe opening up the baggy, Topper rolling up two 100 dollar bills. 

All three boys looked over at her as she spoke out, all of them being shocked by how firm her voice had been.

“Oh come on-” 

“Don’t be like that”

Topper added, both him and Kelce watching where she sat from across their table. Kelce picked up the money and began to roll it up, Rafe looking at the girl, waiting for her to give them a ‘yes’. 

“No, not on my yacht.” She sat up speaking out to the boys clearly reflecting her disapproval. They both let out groans and sighs as she firmly stated that they were not allowed to have any ‘fun’ on her yacht. Kelce slumped back against the sofa as he spoke. 

“Come on, since when was your yacht a drug free zone”

“I said no. You wanna do that, take that shit somewhere else.” She spoke coldly as she stood up placing the plate down onto the table next to her wiping her hands. 

Kelce and Topper watched as she stood up, the two of them looking annoyed that the girl had forbidden them from using on her yacht, wasn’t that the whole point of a boat day out…?

“It’s just a bit of fun sunshine.”

Kelce’s comment past by her as she noticed Rafe now making a line on the smooth surface of the table they were sitting around, 

“Hello?! I’m talking to you Rafe.” She spoke out irritated at the boy's ignorance. 

All three boys looked up from the small pile of drugs Rafe was forming on the table. Topper and Kelce now looking cautious, sitting away from the surface. Rafe on the other hand just looked annoyed at how firm she was being,

“What? What’s the problem?”

The boy had been worked up all day with y/n parading around in her bikini.

If that’s what you can call it. 

Having the urge to touch her all day all he needed was something to take off the edge.

“I’m fucking talking to you!” She spoke out harshly, hand coming out to hit one off the empty beer cans off the table they were sitting at the metal clanged loudly to the floor. 

“I said get this shit off my boat.”

The boy's eyes widened slightly as the beer can clattered against the deck, rolling away from the swaying of the yacht on the waves. Topper and Kelce both looked somewhat shocked at the way she spoke. Rafe however, not so much, he was more frustrated now.  Both the boys looked to each other, silently praying that Rafe wouldn’t upset the girl any further, not wanting to see her go off on a tangent. Rafe was too worked up to think about anything but himself right now, his eyes narrowed at the girl as he spoke, a hint of anger in his voice as he looked up from the line sitting on the table. 

“What’s wrong with you, It’s just coke-“

“-Don’t”

She snapped back at him, her brows furrowed as she looked to the boy then down to the table, 

“get this off my table before I do it myself and waste your stock.” 

Her attitude genuinely surprised them, having never seen the girl so worked up before. Kelce and Topper just sat in a stunned silence, both of them looking guilty for pissing her off - it was her yacht after all. Rafe huffed in exasperation,

What’s her deal? 

“Listen man maybe we should just-” Topper started. 

“Jesus alright, I’ll get rid of it.” Rafe spat out bitterly. 

“Don’t ever bring that on this boat again,” she turned away coldly, walking towards her seat, snatching up her t-shirt and pulling it over her head. 

Watching as she stalked over to her chair, pulling the t-shirt on aggressively. It annoyed Rafe that y/n was so bothered by him bringing a little coke onto her boat, but he knew there was no point arguing with her, to be fair she’d never done it before. Thinking about it, he never did any coke in front of her, maybe they’d smoke together occasionally but she’d never done coke, never wanted to see him do it either. He knew she had an issue with him doing it but this much? He sighed loudly as he quickly gathered up the remaining coke on the table in the baggy, shoving it back in his bag. 

“You really overreact sometimes, what’s your deal.”

Her head whipped around as she looked at his eyes narrowed angrily, 

“You know what my ‘deal’ is.” 

She scoffed, pushing herself up off the sun lounger and walking down the stairs off of the top deck. 

Rafe’s head shot up as she spoke out, he watched her  with confusion and agitation at her behaviour as she stormed off down the steps. Topper and Kelce both watched just as perplexed, with Kelce being the first to speak out,

“The fuck was that about?”

Topper ran his hand through his hair raggedly, huffing out the air that he was holding in his lungs as their interaction as he looked from Kelce to Rafe, realisation dawned on him. He knew what this was about, the girl was like his sister, both their parents worked closely over the years. He spoke up clearing his throat,

“I think it’s her brother.” 

Rafes heart stopped. 

Fuck

He’d forgotten about that. How the fuck did he forget about that, it wasn’t even that long ago. His heart picked up its pace as he brought his hand running it over his face angrily, “shit”.

Kelce and Topper both looked at each other, Kelce speaking out softly,

“You don’t think she’s still sensitive about that?”

Rafe’s heart dropped, as he held his head in his hands. He had been so focussed on trying to drown out the thoughts of the girl in her bikini, his other thoughts had left his mind. Kelce and Topper continued to sit around on the upper deck as they looked over the railing, both their eyes following the girls figure as she walked down the stairs and out of sight. Kelce spoke up, Topper interrupting;

“Maybe she’s just… I mean it was a few years ago…”

“C’mon man it was her brother, they were close.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The paramedics moved in and out of the front door, their boots heavy against the hardwood, carrying equipment and murmuring updates to one another. Red and blue lights from the ambulance and police cars outside bled into the room, casting shadows against the walls. She sat on the living room floor, her back against the couch staring blankly at the coffee table, the voices outside felt distant like they were happening miles away. She could hear her mothers wails from the porch, loud, raw and unrestrained and her father’s voice was low but tense as he spoke with the officers, his words short as he discussed what happens next.

Her brother’s lifeless face was burned into her mind, a vision she couldn’t escape. She could still feel the coldness of his skin as she shook him, the white powder tainting the desk next to his body. It made her chest tighten in shock yet she didn’t cry. 

She couldn’t.

Her phone sat beside her on the carpet, the screen black; she stared at it, unmoving, her body feeling heavy. She reached for the phone, her fingers trembling as she unlocked it, the screen was too bright in the dim room, but she forced herself to type out.

Can you come around?  (delivered 22:48)

It felt wrong, she felt guilty to burden someone else but the thought of sitting alone, drowning in silence was worse.

The sound of footsteps crunching on gravel outside jolted her from her trance. She turned her head toward the window, just as a figure passed through the flickering lights. A moment later, Rafe stepped inside through the open front door. He didn’t need an explanation—he recognised the hollow look in the girl’s eyes as he noticed her slumped against the couch. 

It was the same look he had when he lost his mom. 

She had been the one to hold him together then, and now it was his turn.

“y/n,” he said quietly, his voice soft, careful. He took a few hesitant steps toward her, his eyes landing on her. She didn’t move at first, her arms still wrapped tightly around herself. She just looked up at him, her eyes red and hollow, her face streaked with tears.

“Hey,” he repeated softer, lowering himself beside her. When she didn’t respond, he reached out gently, his hand brushing her shoulder. That was all it took—she collapsed into him, her body trembling. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, his grip firm. 

“I’ve got you,” 

he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He didn’t let go, even as her sobs quieted into shallow gasps, her hand gripping at the material of his top. He stayed, grounding her in the way she had once done for him.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice steady, 

“Whatever you need, I’m here.”

Her body was shaking as she buried her face in his chest. He caught her, his arms wrapping around her tightly, holding her like he was trying to shield her from the bright flashing lights from outside.

“...I should’ve been there,” 

She whispered against him, muffled against the material of his polo shirt, her voice cracking. 

“I should’ve done more-”

“You couldn’t have known,” he said gently, his hand rubbing slow circles on her back. “This isn’t on you.”

She shook her head, the words spilling out before she could stop them. “He was right there. He was right there in the room next to me.”

Her sobs quieted, but she didn’t pull away, letting his arms anchor her. The police had sat in front of her, Rafe's presence never leaving her side. Shoupe questioned the girl but she didn't respond, not in words, but in the quiet aching sobs that continued to wrack her body.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n walked down the stairs, breath shaky as she made her way towards the lower deck, she walked to the front of the yacht, leaning against the railing as she looked down to the water. 

She was so angry. 

Well maybe it wasn’t anger, maybe she was just upset and didn’t know how to deal with it so she got angry. Her hand came up, rubbing her eye as she let out a sigh and looked down towards the water once more. Why did he do that? He knew how she felt about the subject. 

Fuck you Rafe. 

Rafe slowly stood up, looking conflicted as he looked over the railing and down toward the lower deck. His eyes spotted y/n leaning against the railing and staring out at the water, and at that point he knew he had to speak to her about it. He slowly made his way over to the steps and he made his way down towards her. 

The sound of footsteps filled her ears but she didn’t look up, eyes watching the waves which hit the side of the boat, falling and merging back with the ocean. He walked over to the girl slowly, his footsteps stopped as he stood next to her, looking out onto the water as well. He could feel the tension in the air and he knew he had to say something. It was his fault after all…

“Can we talk for a minute?”

She didn’t look over at the boy, neither did she speak. She sat in silence letting out a small hum to let him know she was listening.  He swallowed hard, knowing that he had to apologise, he knew he’d brought up some memories she didn’t want to resurface. He finally turned to look at her, his eyes watching as her eyes stayed looking forward out at the water.

“Look… uh, I’m sorry for bringing the coke. I wasn’t... it was a shitty thing to do”

She clenched her jaw as she kept her gaze away from the boy, her eyes burning slightly and she could feel the tears fighting to gather at her waterline. She shook her head in a silent acceptance of his apology. 

He could sense the discomfort radiating from her, the girl's shoulders tense as she looked away. His simple apology wasn’t going to be enough, he knew she expected him to acknowledge the real mistake. He sighed softly, before speaking again his fingers fiddling with the material of his shirt, his hand rose as he bit at his nail, a bad habit he’d picked up when he was feeling anxious.

“I’m sorry y/n…I wasn’t thinking, I forgot -  about Ethan.”

The words felt heavy coming out of his mouth, guilt starting to slip into his chest as he spoke. 

“It’s okay,” she said quietly as she tried to swallow the lump in her throat. She still couldn’t bring herself to look at the boy next to her but she could sense his uneasiness. The fact that she was still being so cold and distant told him that she wasn't okay. He stepped a little closer, standing beside her by the railing as he looked down towards the girl,

“It’s not. I should’ve realised-”

He paused, eyes catching the look on her face, his chest starting to ache as he realised the effect that bringing the coke onto the boat had actually had on her. She let out a sniffle hand coming up to wipe her tear before it fell down her cheek her voice shaky as her bottom lip trembled,

“You’re so mean Rafe.” 

He could feel the regret coursing through him, he knew he’d messed up, he shifted uncomfortably, the silence between them stretching longer than he could bear.

“I’m sor-,” 

He said again, softer this time, his voice almost cracking. He took a hesitant step closer, but she stiffened, and it stopped him as she cut him off.

"You always say you're sorry, Rafe."

 Her eyes flicked up to meet the boys, red-rimmed and glistening. 

His chest felt tight, guilt sinking its claws deeper. He’d never been good at this- at being someone people could count on. But looking at her now, he realized how much he wanted to be. 

For her.

"I know I screw up okay?" he admitted, his hand balling into a fist as the other flew up to his hair tugging on it aggressively as he rambled out. His voice had an edge of desperation now,

"But I’ll fix this. I swear I’ll fix it-"

 "You can’t just fix everything, Rafe. You don’t get it—" 

She let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. She broke off, her voice catching on the words, and she turned away from him, her back now a solid wall of hurt he wasn’t sure how to break through. He slowly reached out, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder,

“I know, I know it was mean of me, I’m sorry.”

She let out a shaky breath, both hands coming up to wipe her cheeks. She closed her eyes momentarily struggling to steady herself. She felt bad. She knew it wasn’t his fault for falling so deep into the rabbit hole, she blamed herself for not trying harder. 

“I thought you were quitting…” she spoke out as she turned to the boy, not even angry anymore, just upset. The look on her face was like a knife to his chest, he hated seeing her like this, especially knowing that he was the cause of it. He looked down, unable to meet her eyes,

“I know, I know…I’ve just…been really stressed out recently, I needed something to take the edge off.”

“Why don’t you just talk to me..?” She spoke out gently eyes slightly red from her tears, tip of her nose rosy from crying

His heart skipped a beat as she spoke so gently, so vulnerably. He slowly looks back up at the girl, seeing the tears in her eyes and the slight redness, his own starting to burn,

“I…I just-“ he paused, his mind searching for the word to say, his heart aching painfully, being the cause of y/n’s tears,

“I just- I don’t talk about that stuff, I’ve learned how to deal with it myself”

“You don’t have to deal with it by yourself Rafe…”

She shook her head as she looked at him. She knew it was his dad's fault he thought like this. His father always told him he needed to man up. 

 “There’s always help… I’ll listen to you”

He stayed silent for a few moments as he thought over her words. He knew that how he was raised had messed him up in a lot of ways - after his mom passed away. He had so many bad habits, one of those being the fact that he dealt with everything by himself, and liked to repress how he was feeling constantly. He only relied on himself, he didn’t let himself open up to anybody.

Except for you

Hearing that the girl was willing to listen to him, to be there for him…it comforted him, it made his heart beat a tiny bit harder, knowing she truly cared. Why else would she be nagging him for so many months about it. He knew she’d listen to him, he knew she’d ever judge him for needing to talk about his problems.

He was still struggling.

“I- know that…I just…”

“Let me deal with it too.” 

She spoke out, stepping closer to the boy, arms wrapping around him, holding him in a warm embrace.

Let me help you 

A shiver ran down his spine at her touch and the feeling of her arms wrapping around his waist as she stepped closer. His eyes closed for a moment as he relished in the feeling of the girl's body pressed against him. He could feel the tension in his own body disappearing slowly as she held him. He was still for a moment, surprised by the girl’s sudden embrace. But he quickly returned it, his own arms wrapping around her, pulling her in close against him. He took a soft breath, taking in the scent of her hair, the way her body felt against his own, trying to ground himself. He finally managed to speak his voice soft and quiet guilt laced in his tone;

“You shouldn’t have to deal with my problems…” He mumbled, his eyes still closed, “I-I don’t want to be-”

“I don’t care Rafe… you're my best friend, you don’t have to do this by yourself.”

As they stood looking out into the waves, now dark as they lapped at the boat, Rafe’s chest tightened with the weight of what he was admitting, what he was accepting. But as he looked at y/n, he felt the weight of responsibility. He knew what the girl was alluding to. She doesn't just want him to stop his habit but to get professional help. It wouldn’t be easy, but for the first time in a long time he finally felt like he was admitting the truth. He’d tried admitting before, tried telling his father but he dismissed him every time. Yet here he was, standing in front of a girl, who wasn’t even his family, who was prepared to devote her time for him. He let out a slow breath, the tightness in his chest easing just a little. “Okay,” he said softly, more to himself than to her.

“I’ll try.”

Y/n didn’t say anything more, she didn’t need to. Her hand slid down his arm to his, fingers gently intertwining with his in a quiet gesture of reassurance.

I’m gonna try for you

I promise I’ll do anything to help you

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

taglist: @evermorx89 @bellaed1t @user381953 @lovemanheim @loves0phelia @yourcrackleflame

[xetlynn]

an artists muse- a viktor fic.

five.

[four] [five] [six]

to live my life as i do.

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s gooooooo!!!” Violet and Jayce cheer, punching their fists in the air as they enter their friend’s dorm without knocking. They were lucky he had heard them unlocking the door. He was in the middle of throwing on a black crew neck sweater. 

Viktor has almost canceled tonight due to yesterday morning. Still feeling a slight discomfort in his leg when he woke up. However if he had canceled he knew the two that are in his room right now would pretend to be doctors and try to take care of him like he was a child. “You ready to go, Viktorrrr?” Jayce asks.

“Who’s driving?” The shaggy haired brunette inquires, carefully crouching down to grab his cane that had fallen. “The love of my life, my dearest one, my one and only. My Mel.” Jayce tells while grasping at his chest, squeezing his eyes shut. Viktor lets out a sigh of relief. “Okay, let’s go before I change my mind.” He pushes past the two and Violet whoops excitedly. 

•••

“Bow or no bow?” You turn to your best friend as the both of you finish getting ready to go out. “No bow.” Powder shakes her head and you frown. You actually really wanted the bow. “The cream color doesn’t match your dress.” She explains her reasoning and you toss the bow to the side. “I guess.”

You check out your outfit in the mirror, swaying side to side. It was a light yellow halter top dress. It stopped about mid-thigh. Little risque but you needed an excuse to wear it before the summer truly came to an end. 

“How do I look?” Powder ponders, twirling her white dress and you purse your lips. “Like you’re so hot and I want to make out with you. Romantical style.” You tell her with slight squinted eyes causing her to laugh loudly. “You would want that, freak!” She points a finger at you, you kiss the air. 

“Such a freak for you.” You wink while grabbing your phone and little purse. “What a perv.” She snickers, following you out the dorm and over to Gert’s.

 “How do you think Mylo is going to react?” You whisper to your best friend. “Oh he’s going to be pissed with you.” Powder gives you a toothy grin before you knock on the wooden door. “That’s what I’m hoping for.” You mischievously say.

The door swung open, Gert stood there wearing a cute blue crop top along with black cargo pants. “So gorgeous!” You gush, fanning yourself. Gert’s face heats up, suddenly sheepish at your words. “Oh stop, look at the both of you.” She relishes the beauty in front of her. You do a little spin, then take Powder’s hand, forcing her to do one as well. 

Ring… ring ring….ring-

“It’s Ekko,” Powder answers the call. “He-” She gets cut off immediately. She presses her lips together, giving Gert and you a deadpan expression. “Mylo says to hurry up, you’re fucking up his time management.” She whispers over to you and you shrug your shoulders, mouthing an ‘oh well.’ 

“She said fuck you and suck a dick.” Powder lies and you along with Gert hear a very angry Mylo in the background. “We’ll be there soon, put my boyfriend back on the phone.” She blinks. “Hi, baby. We’ll be there soon.” She repeats. “Love you too, bye bye!” She hangs it up, stuffing it into her jacket pocket. 

“Alright, let’s go before Mylo gets his panties in a twist.” She sighs, you snicker, leading the way outside to your car. “You said there’s six of us?” Gert quizzes with knitted brows at the sight of your vehicle. “Powder’s going to sit on Ekko’s lap.” You tell her, motioning for her not to worry about it. 

“Oh… okay.” She climbs into your passenger seat after you unlock the doors. Powder throws herself in the back, laying on her tummy and you shut the door for her. You get into the driver's seat. 

“I come home, in the mornin’ light. My mother says “when you gonna live your life right?”” 

You turn the volume up, the boys all groan at the song. “Shut up and sing!” You shout over the music. “Oh momma dear, we’re not the fortunate ones and girls they wanna have fun! Oh girls just wanna have fun!!” You pretend to have a microphone in your hand as you sing. Eyeing the backseat as the boys still pout. “Sing it or I’m crashing this car!” You threaten them. 

“The phone rings, in the middle of the night. My father yells “what you gonna do with your life?” Oh daddy dear, you know you’re still number one!” Mylo actually begins to start singing the words and you cheer. 

Powder teases Ekko to do it as well. Gert was already quietly singing along with you. Claggor was staring out the window.  “But girls, they wanna have fun. Oh~ girls just wanna that’s all they really want!! Some funn!!!” And as you peek in the back once again you see them singing, no yelling the lyrics at the top of their lungs. Gert laughs as you sway your hips in the front seat. Powder gets her phone out, going to snapchat. Pressing the record button automatically. 

“When the workin’ day is done, oh girls, they wanna have fu-un…” Mylo was sat in the middle so he pressed his chest forward, serenading you and Gert in the front seats. You act like you're handing him a microphone to which he “snatches.” Belting out the next lyrics. 

•••

“For real? Party In the USA?’ Viktor asks with an almost disappointed look upon his face as his best friend of 12 years just asked him to play an idiotic song since he was in the passenger seat and that means he’s on aux. “Uh, yes Viktor. I want to party… in the USA.” Jayce sassily conquires. “Yeah, same, don’t be a party pooper to America! So unpatriotic.” Vi leans forward as well. 

Caitlyn has her legs crossed beside her girlfriend in the backseat. Pinching the bridge of her nose. “Just play the song. They’ll act like children otherwise.” Mel sighs, Viktor gruffs, pressing play to the song they requested. 

The beginning starts and Jayce claps his hands like he’s watching a football game. Vi clears her throat getting herself ready. 

“I hopped off the plane at LAX with a dream and my cardigan~” Jayce and Vi grab onto one another as they begin to sing. “Welcome to the land of fame excess. Am I gonna fit in?”

Mel chuckles at her boyfriend, Caitlyn tries to hide her smile creeping up on her face. Viktor just boredly sits there, leaning his face on the palm of his hand against the car door. 

“Jumped in the cab, here I am for the first time, look to the right and I see the Hollywood sign!” They both idiotically look to the left. 

“This is all so crazy!” Jayce shoves Vi over to Caitlyn, grasping onto Mel and Viktor’s shoulders. “Everybody seems so famous!” 

“My tummy’s turnin’ and I’m feelin’ kinda homesick. Too much pressure and I’m nervous.” The two sing,  again holding onto one another, feeling all the emotion of the song. “That’s when the taxi man turned on the radio! And a Jay-Z song was on!” And at that note they bobble their bodies back and forth. “And the Jay-z song was one! And the Jay-Z song was ON!” 

“So I put my hands up! They’re playin’ my song, the butterflies fly away! I’m noddin’ my head like yeah, movin’ my hips like yeah!” They follow the lyrics, choreographing together. “I got my hands up, they’re playin my song! Yeah, it’s a party in the USA!” 

•••

You park your car in the parking lot, turning down the radio accidentally exposing the boys for their continuation of the song. You burst into laughter, Gert gripping onto you as she does as well. Mylo’s face flushed, his long-time crush was laughing and he was the reason behind the melody. 

“C’mon I want to be the first one on the list!” Powder shoves the car door open and you squeal remembering that you want to as well. The two of you racing inside the bar that’s owned by none other than Vander. Your best friend’s father. 

Gert and the three boys climb out of the car. Gert was still slightly giggling at the scene from before. Mylo opens his mouth to say something but she’s already walking inside. Claggor smacks a hand on his back. “You got it next time, big guy.” He grins, following after the girl. “Yeah! Who knows what will happen tonight.” Ekko chimes in. 

You and Powder sign your names down to do a duet, Powder also does one for the group. Only making sure Gert was okay with it, not the others. 

You wonder how that’s going to go but you shrug your shoulders, sitting at the bar to wait until everything starts. “The environment in here is so nice!” A voice says beside you, it’s Gert plopping down in the empty seat. You smile. “Yeah! Vander has kept this place going for a while now. Takes care of it like one of his four children.” You joke, glancing over to the big man himself who’s chatting with Ekko and Powder. 

“Four children?” She inquires, not knowing Powder had siblings. “Oh you didn’t know. Right. Mylo, Claggor and this girl Violet. All Powder’s older siblings.” You inform her, pointing to the two boys who were already looking at you guys. Gert gives them a little wave and you watch Mylo get flustered, aggressively waving back. 

“Wow… that’s cool.” Gert compliments. Before you could reply, two drinks slid down your way. “Your favorite, [Name].” Vander grins at you and you beam. “Shirley temples!” 

“Gert have you ever had them?” You ask while taking the cherry out of the drink. “I think so?” She takes the cold drink from the counter, inspecting it. “Thank you, sir.” You nod your head to him and he rolls his eyes at your words. “[Name] you’ve known me since you were 10 years old. Still with this sir crap?” He grunts. 

“Just messin with ya, old man!” You laugh, popping the cherry into your mouth as he shakes his head, snickering. 

You give your attention back over to Gert, “do you like it?” You were hopeful, you loved when people enjoyed the same things as you. “It’s good, what is it?” She cocks her head to the side. “Uhh Sprite and grenadine. The maraschino cherries are the best part though!” You cried out, twisted the stem of the cherry you had just eaten. 

“Crap! What the heck is wrong with this thing!” The two of you jump at the booming voice coming from the front of the building. It was Benzo, Ekko’s father, hitting the speaker of the karaoke machine. 

“What’s wrong?” You stand up, Gert grabs your drink, following after you. “I can’t figure this stupid thing out!” He complains, going to hit it again but you stop him with a laugh. “It’s okay, don’t break it!” You hold his hand and he huffs. “I uh, I could probably decipher what’s wrong with it. I’m pretty good with tech and like DJ stuff.” Gert speaks up with a sheepish smile. Your face gleams. “That’s awesome, Gertyy!” 

“I mean, give it a try. I don’t know what the hell I’m doin’.” Benzo admits, backing away from the box. You take the drinks from her as she replaces the man. 

Powder walks over, slinging her arm over your shoulder. “Benzo can’t figure out an oven sometimes… I don’t know why my dad put him in charge of this.” She whispers in your ear and you smack a hand over your mouth in order to hold your laugh in. “That was mean.” You jokingly smack her hand that was hanging in front of your body. “It’s the truth.” She giggles. 

“There, got it!” Gert announces and the people in the bar applaud the girl. “Amazing as always Gerty!!” You cheer for your friend. She does a little bow like a performer does after a concert. 

She then turns to Benzo, “if you want I can help you with this for the rest of the night.” She offers and he rubs the back of his neck. “I mean, I’m not gonna pay you.” He says and she lets out a snort. “I know, I don’t mind!” She earnestly tells. “Well, go for it. Let’s have our first singers begin!” 

“That’s ussssss!!!” Powder and you rejoice, jumping up and down. 

You get the mics ready as Powder chooses the song. She hurriedly joins your side, grabbing onto the mic. The tv screen next to you lights up and the song choice pops up. The music begins. 

A group of older gentlemen and women in the bar whistle and gush over the choice. This was a song that you and Powder have chosen since middle school whenever there was a karaoke machine in sight. 

“Don’t go breaking my heart.” Powder does a deeper voice for her part, looking over to you. “I couldn’t if I tried.” You break out into a smile. “Honey, if I get restless-”

“Baby, you’re not that kind.”

You adjust your hold on the microphone, you see the bar door open and a group of people walk in. “Don’t go breakin’ my heart!” Powder pokes your nose. “You take the weight off me!” You point to your chest. 

“Oh, honey when you knock on my door-”

“Ohh, I gave you my key!” You hold each other's hands, swaying to the beat. You weren’t the best singer but you loved doing this, having fun, acting like nobody's watching. 

Except somebody was definitely watching you tonight. 

Viktor’s eyes engraved into you as you sang with your best friend. He didn’t know you were going to be here tonight. Hopefully you get the chance to hang out… maybe. 

“Ooh-hoo, and nobody knows it!” The song continues and Jayce glances over to Viktor. He had never seen Viktor so… focused? Intrigued? He smirks, nudging the boy. “What?” The shaggy brunette asks, having to tear his eyes away from you. “You into that girl or something? You know her?” Jayce teases his pal. 

Viktor’s cheeks blush a bright crimson red. Really showing against his natural pale complexion. “We have a class together, we’re partners in a project.” He simply answers, folding his arms as his gaz continues to fall on you. 

Admiring you as you danced freely with the girl on the miniature stage. Knowing he could never get the balls to do that. “Project partners, ouuu~” Jayce shimmies his shoulder onto Viktor who shoves him away. “Knock it off.” 

“Alright, alright. She is cute, didn’t think she’d be your type.” Jayce rubs his chin, observing you. You seemed… colorful. Very bright and happy. His eyes flicker over to Viktor who was on the uh gloomier side. Look wise. 

He knows his friend has a talkative, bright side. He’s just more anti-social about it. 

“I never said she was my type, Jayce.” 

“So you don’t find her cute?” 

“I never said anything! Jayce, please.” Viktor grips onto his cane in annoyance causing the guy beside him to laugh. “I’m only messing.” And the song ends, everyone in the bar claps for the duo. You wave to people, acting like royalty until your eyes spot him. You gasp. “Vikkie!?” You excitedly say, sprinting over to him. “Vikkie?” Jayce whispers to which Viktor jabs him with his shoulder. 

Jayce stumbles into his girlfriend, holding the pain. “What happened?” Mel worriedly asks. “Viktor- he’s so in love.” Jayce grunts in “agony.” 

Her eyes go over to their friend who’s talking to you. You had this extremely… enthusiastic aura about you.

“You feeling alright to be out here? I know you said you were sick!” You worriedly query, looking him over. His lips twitch upward. “I’m okay, don’t worry. My friends made me come out though.” He tells you and you scrunch your nose. “Hahah! I probably would’ve done the same. I’m glad you’re feeling better though.” Your hand goes to his shoulder gently before sliding down back to your side. 

“Me too.” He lets himself smile. 

taglist: if you want to be added lmk! @policedeer @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @confusedgemposts @ang3lz-lov3

[sourbites]

do u write for jason? if so could you do a story where reader is a roadie on the damaged justice tour and she and jason get super close and eventually they both go to a party together and hook up ??? thank u :)

Whiskey and Coke

thanks for the request anon! this went a little off the rails (i got too excited by their dynamic, whoops), but i hope i did your vision justice! i hope you enjoy :)

The party wasn't as fun as promised.

Maybe that's because you're one of the few people here who aren't doped up on stuff. Honestly, even the beer is kind of awful. An after-party in the San Francisco area comes with a little prestige these days, but so far, it's been a drag. You weave through crowds of people, trying to get to the bathroom. You catch snippets of people's inebriated conversations. Some of the sentences you catch are quite amusing. You recognise a few half-lidded faces, too, some of your fellow crew members. Looks like you'll have to do most of the heavy lifting tomorrow, considering these princesses would rather spend tomorrow morning hurling up their three, four, or five shots of whiskey.

"Here to keep me company?" Jason dimples at the sight of you, his blue eyes catching on the warm lamplights throughout the main floor.

"Here to get away from you, actually," You joke, stepping towards him. Some band is in the corner attempting to play good music, and God, do you wish someone would turn their amps down. You lean closer into his bubble of space, trying to hear him better. Being around heavy metal concerts all the time hasn't been easy on your hearing. You know Jason's probably having a worse time of it than you, considering he's actually up there onstage.

"Told'ya you couldn't handle partying with the big kids, didn't I?" He riffs off of you, grinning. Jason's really good at bantering, and you know he likes it. He doesn't get many opportunities to do it with the other guys.

His body heat rolls onto you, also carrying over his scent. Clean, a little boozy and earthy. "So," You scooted closer, shuffling, dipping your voice into the warmth between the both of you. "What're you doing wandering around? Your prom date ditched you again?"

He laughs. Or chuckles, low and genuine. You catch a peek at his teeth, splitting his lips on a smile. "Just trying to find a drink."

You roll your eyes, amused. "They didn't set out any wine for his grace?"

"Doesn't seem like it," He frowns, his brows knitting together. God, he looks like a kicked puppy.

"How evil." You shake your head, sighing heavily with disappointment. Your breath ghosted down his clavicle, standing the hair on his neck up from the sensation.

Transfixed, Jason turns his shoulders sideways, leaning closer to you, arms brushing ever so slightly. Just giving you a taste. A mouth-watering taste. "I know." He agrees, wetting his lips. He watches you. Adjusts his pockets. "How'd you feel about cheering me up?"

⸻

Your hiding place is a loveseat in one of the powder rooms. Extravagant, yes. You wanted to go to the balcony, but the lingering thought of alcohol and heights not mixing well steered you otherwise.

Jason's knuckles brush your palm as he passes you the bottle of whiskey-coke you're sharing. The syrupy foam fizzes down your throat like butterflies in your stomach. Eat me, drink me, love me, it seems to say. Or maybe that's what you want to hear. The ceiling lights are warm and dimmed low, caressing the highlights of his nose and cheekbones. The bustle of the party seems to disappear behind the impenetrable, locked-from-the-inside door.

With the exchange of your drink, Jason leans closer into you. He tries to be subtle about it, hiding under the excuse that he doesn't feel like stretching every three seconds. But the way the drink sloshes in the glass tells you he uses a little more momentum than he needed.

"Y'know," He begins, propping up an ankle to rest on his knee. He turns to face you. You mirror his actions, falling into the plush cushion. "I'm really glad you decided to tag along tonight. It'd be an awful night without you."

Your heart stutters in your chest. Suddenly, looking into his pretty blue eyes all sincerely, is too overwhelming. You drum your fingertips on the cool glass neck of the bottle. "Is that why we're hiding in the ladies' powder room right now?"

He chuckles, interlacing his fingers that rest on his lap. His head tips back just a little. The warmth of the light catches on his brown hair, scattering through the strands like copper. "Exactly, honey. You're the only person worth being 'round right now."

You gulp, nervous. You mask it as thirst and take a sip of coke. Because you're nice, you give Jason the bottle. One hand curls around it. He places his mouth where yours was. His throat bobs as he gulps it down indulgently, his eyes forward, lashes fluttering. Fucking hell. He's got that cherub-sweetness like he can do no wrong, and yet, he indulges in every morsel of bought-in-bulk coke like it's not the ultra-processed, caffeinated caramel syrup he's savouring.

You could sit like this for hours. You just might.

Trying not to be weird, you try to think pure thoughts. "So why don't you just go to your hotel? Call it a night, you know?" You suggest.

Jason licks his lips. They shine in the light. Practically underlined. Looking so sweet, so delicious, peachy pink...

"Don't feel like it. I actually kind of like it here with you. It's really serene, don't you think?" He gives you a smile. Pushes the base of the bottle into your palm.

"Guess it's not about where you are, but the company you're with." You speak into the rim, barely sipping it. Just holding it makes you want to drink.

"Yeah." He agrees, speaking so softly that it unwinds that iron ball of anxiety within your guts. Spurred on by your silence, Jason talks again: "But seriously. I'm really glad you're here. You're a cool roadie."

You set the bottle down on the cold tile. You sit back up laughing. "Weirdo... Trust you to get all mushy at some random's party." You weave your words through giggles that bubble up your throat.

"Ow, watch it!" Jason places one hand over his heart. The other holds onto your knee. The heat from his palm sinks into you, tingling up your thigh. You hope your shudder was subtle. You suppose not, based on the way he tightens his (still gentle) hold on you.

Chasing the feeling that doesn't leave you feeling quite human, you lean into him. When your chest expands with an inhale, you brush against the side of his arm. He doesn't want barriers either it seems, because he moves that arm to drape over the edge of the loveseat, opening the metaphorical floodgates for you to pour into him.

"Cheer up, you big baby," You murmur, too aware of the suddenly tender atmosphere that you have no intention of shattering.

Jason gives you another gentle grin, reaching up to swipe your hair away from your face. No more hiding. You keen your cheek into his warm, sinking into his flesh. In the strangest way, Jason is familiar enough that you confuse him with the security that comes with being home. He is the threshold you cross where your shoulders finally relax and you lay on the warm frame of his chest.

Your fingertips are like an ocean against him, the shore. Constantly reaching and running away. You find purchase into his shirt and stare up at him, fascinated. You're stuck treading a thin line between wanting more and knowing that this should be more than enough. The question that seems to echo through your skull is, Should this feel so nice?

His fingertips brush against the edge of your jawline. "Can I kiss you?" His breath ghosts across your face, sweetening the air around you into something so hot you physically feel yourself melt.

With a brave inhale, you tip your weight forward. Both Jason's hands hook around the small of your back; your hands slide up, rounding out around his shoulders. It feels a little clumsy with the alcohol, a little intimate with nothing but the sounds of soft, hitching breaths in anticipation. The first thing you notice is that he's tense. And so warm that it feels as if he envelops you.

Mouths meet. In a slow, deliberate connection, all balmy and soft. Jason pours out a sigh, holding you by the hips, your breath shortening and closer to getting a taste of what heaven is painted of. It is between his lips, tucked under his tongue, and it glows and reaches down within you, tugging out all that bad and leaving you weightless, breathless, speechless. But not loveless. Your bones feel warm. Eyes closed to see that haze of colour behind your mind, your eyelashes flutter dreamily against the swells of your cheeks. Jason is just as hungry. Your hearts pound the same song. Beating that old hymn: I want, I want, I want. He breathes it into your lungs. A want that is sweet. It goes down your throat in a fiery burn.

Quite easily, Jason's lips slip down to kiss your chin. You giggle.

More than once, you'd imagined this. How Jason would cup your sides so cautiously as if he fears you'll spill out of the gaps of his hands. You've always wanted to unfold him from his seams; read the roadmaps of his skin. The idea is always the same: he'd scoop you into his chest and kiss you where it hurts — until it hurts. That part is very important in the scenario.

His kisses pool in your collar. His soft, wavy hair ghosts across your skin. "Is this okay?"

All the strength you had is turned into a weak, pleading nod. "More than okay." You confirm with enough clarity to surprise even yourself. He hums a bluesy purr, your personal siren song. That feeling— of bewitchment, fascination, so much want that you struggle to choke it all down, it soaks into you, beginning to take root.

You're rucked into his lap, your legs folded on themselves, kneeling around him. Something within you gives.

Jason's hair is in your hands, cupping the sides of his face, where you kiss him. On his cheek. Nose, lips, chin, throat. Jaw. Lips again. You don't know for how many nights you will be allowed to feel him like this. Maybe this is the only time. Anything could happen. You know that. The air around you is so intense that he quivers. Cock twitches in his jeans.

He makes a really hot noise: a rumbling, low groan of satisfaction. Still trying to be gentlemanly, he keeps his hands on your waist, though his fingertips itch to venture lower. Something within you squirms. You want more, more, more, always more, always hungry — starving for him. Jason excites you with his whole being. There's something wild beneath him that he's reluctant to peel away for you to gorge on.

You figure he'd stop you if he didn't enjoy this. And maybe that whiskey had more of an effect on you than you had originally suspected. Eager hands fumble beneath his shirt. Spurred on by you, Jason twists his fingers into the hem of your shirt. He glances up towards you, reading your expression.

Despite all the heat climbing in the locked room (and the fact that you can barely think through the smog of overflowing need in your brain), goosebumps prickle down your spine once you're shirtless. You kiss him again, grazing your teeth over his lower lip. Your hunger is entirely for him. Worn palms smooth up your spine, dutifully tracing along the methodical dips in your vertebrae. Jason rests a hand at the base of your neck, his fingers breaching into your hair from the back. With an open mouth, he glides his breath and the flat of his tongue over the swell of your tits still in your bra. You suck in a breath.

"Is this okay?" Jason immediately asks, again, caressing you as if you're something fragile. Something to be worshipped. You squirm against him, cagey, wanting the gritted sugar-sweetness of teeth and lips and tongue against you again.

"Jason," You begin, shifting restlessly, sat rigidly on the muscled curve of his thigh, "I appreciate it's the respectful thing to do — to keep asking — but come on." You urge, wanting to drag him down into the hazy smog with you. "Do whatever you want to me. I want it."

He wets his lips, no thoughts behind those swoon-worthy eyes. Then he grins. Pollutes any semblance of critical thinking left between you.

Clothes are palmed off. Gathered down or to the side. Pried from bodies as if it's suffocating.

Jason's hands guide your thighs closer, his jeans undone. The cold metal of his fly bites into you. You grasp at the carved-out shape of his bare shoulders, then tip your head back to take in a good breath. He slowly peels your panties away and off to the side, sticky with your ever-flowing arousal. A soft sigh escapes you. Jason leans to your neck. He presses his lips to your throat — wet and tingly with insistence. Those kisses snowball into something greater, climbing up to your jaw, glistening white teeth trapping your earlobe between his teeth. You tremble, pelvis pressing into his. Rough denim licks at the insides of your thighs, too close to your aching cunt for you to resist a shudder.

You coyly bump your hips forward, wanting to rock on him. You can feel the heat of his cock through his strained boxers. Your brows knit together.

"You wannit, don't you, gorgeous?" Jason hums. One hand scoops yours up from his shoulder, guiding it down to rest on the curve of his bulge. Overzealous, emboldened by the last dregs of liquor swirling around within you, you palm him. He grunts, which melds into a smoky chuckle that gets you giddy.

"Go on," He urges, "Take it out, baby."

You have to pause, because what the fuck? That is easily one of the hottest things you've ever heard. And the worst (or best) part is, you know in a few weeks from now, Jason will say those exact same words to you again. You'll be in front of the instruments, probably around a fellow roadie or worse: one of the members, and Jason will enquire about his bass. You'll point it out to him. You know, down to your very atoms, he'll give you this pant-dropping, sweetheart smile, and nod his head towards it, and utter the exact same words. Take it out.

Regardless, after you come back to planet Earth, you comply. You need both hands to gingerly unwrap him from his boxers. Hot and cock-heavy, he bites down on his bottom lip to keep from squirming. For a few moments, you just sit on his thigh, your legs bracketing his sides. His blushed tip leaks pearlescent precum, smearing onto your abdomen as it stands proudly tall. You have to swallow the drool in your mouth because he's handsome and funny and talented and honourable, and as if that wasn't enough, he has to have a pretty dick that's so deliciously girthy it has you wanting to squeeze your legs together.

Jason's palms scrape up your back, bathing you in heat, soaking up every naked inch of your skin that he's allowed. You fist his cock, the side of your hand connecting against his base. You inch down onto him, enveloping him in tingling, syrupy heat. He sinks into your cunt, you roll your hips experimentally across his lap, which is slick with you at this point. The moan at the top of your throat stutters out. Jason watches your pussy slowly take him in, swallow him whole, coaxing him with squeezes and velvet heat. The only word on his mind is pretty.

With his cock putting tender stars in your eyes, you let Jason guide your head to the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder. Your cheek smooshes into his trapezius muscle. He kisses your hairline, and you think you hear him cooing at you, but you barely hear anything over your own squeaks and the squelches of eager cunt falling into a rhythm that echoes off the tiles, no matter how hard you try to ignore said obscene sound. Your heart is thumping in your ears — it physically aches, sitting heavy against your ribcage.

Each time you press into him until his hilt is snug between your puffy sex, the air is rolled out of you, leaving you with nothing but breathy, high-pitched uh uh uh's as praise to feed him with. He makes do just fine, palming the soft globes of your ass, bracing his boots on the floor. Both strong arms curl around you, squeezing you into him.

The more you exchange inhales and exhales, moans and grunts, praises and compliments, the more something washes over you. A realisation. You'd been dying to feel this for weeks— months, even. You wanted his hands on you, you wanted to knit your bones over his, you wanted him to come teach you a gentler way to say your own name.

"Jason," You plead into the warm curve of his throat, muscles in your thighs burning, your hips wobbling against him. Your voice ripples through him, rides him hard.

He gathers all the breath in his lungs. "I gotcha, honey," He rumbles out. He locks you to him, lazily drawing the molten ache of your cunt flush against his base, stuffing you full of him. So full there's no room for slick, which bubbles out through the paper-thin seams of your tight-as-a-fist, pulsing sex in pornographically gushing dribbles, which seep and gather at the beginning of your ass, and his aching balls.

Your head is spinning. Moans leak out of your mouth. Jason half guides you and half bucks his hips up into you. Your chest bounces with each motion. Your eyes flutter closed, not unlike the way your heart trembles. Jason scoops you into his arms, and rocks you against his lap with so much velocity and viciousness that the tempo pounds within you, skin rippling on impact, and it's so powerful that you're genuinely stunned. As if he's been taking you apart brick by brick, and only now are you realising you are nothing but a wooden foundation of where everything once was.

With clammy skin, you bleed into him, breathless and crying praises around a frenzy of filthy moans. Your eyes roll around in their sockets, brainless with every bit of bliss that's bestowed unto you by each bite of Jason's cock bumping into your cervix. Your back arches, the soft shape of your tits pressing into his chest. Only skin separates your breaths. He could've gotten off on the sounds of your noises alone. But then he'd miss out on the tremble of your eyelashes, the wispy hairs that stick to your sweat-beaded temple.

You blur into him, the long muscles of his arms pin you by the hips into his own, taut with effort, just like his thighs. The sloppy, indulgently messy thrusts are fizzling into something breathtakingly good. It feels natural. Like home. Jason whispers how beautiful you are, how well you're taking him, how you're so sweet and so soft, and just like that, you're under his spell. Your orgasm bubbles up until it tips over.

You've got the moon in your eyes— just a bright flash of firey white that drives you mad with the craze of your tight heat squeezing and gushing and, and...

Jason's thrusts stop, his cock stilling inside you, yet he still persists. Pushing into you like there's any more unclaimed territory. You writhe. He cups the back of your head, stroking his fingertips into your hair. You can hear his heart pounding in your own ear that rests on his chest. His skin is as sweaty as yours with the effort, he smells so natural and salty. Your mouth fills with drool. In a long, unintelligible groan, Jason hits his high: filling what's left of your fucked-raw cunt with wave after wave of hot cum that you're half-sure leaks between the both of you. Probably got on the seats, too.

Those stars swirling in your head dissolve into tingles down your spine. You feel comfortably numb, proud of that satisfied ache deep within your belly. Jason, eager to continue his gentlemanly streak, rubs an open palm up and down your back to soothe you. His mind is put to ease as he feels your upper body expand with breath, shrinking with an exhale.

"Should've done that a long time ago," He murmurs, just wanting to speak to you. Although you have miles to go before you can crash at your hotel bed and dream. Probably about this exact moment.

You hum lazily in agreement, the low sound rolling and vibrating around in your throat. "If you want..." He shifts around, speaking up again. "We can, uh, make a habit of this...?"

Your chin rests on his collarbone as you look up at him through your lashes. Light bounces and reflects off of your eyes. You look almost impish. "Sure, farm boy." You grin.

[aimenintrouble]

This picture of Rick in his classic underwear seems to have struck a nerve. A lot of you like it. There’s something so powerful and manly, but also vulnerable and exposed about a handsome man stripped to those classic powder blue boxer shorts, over the calf dress socks, and polished black dress shoes.

One great feature of AI is that you can put the same character in different outfits with just a few prompts. So I’ve tried Rick without an undershirt, and also in crew neck, vneck and athletic shirt variants. Which is your favorite?

[jeysecretive]

So, this story was written on inspiration from those fics: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29411574/chapters/72254715

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53701390

You also have to give credit to the music: https://youtu.be/IW-oVKrHupY?si=cPkeacsJjVej10id

And most importantly, who I wrote it for. @blu-ish , this is for you :)

Important Mention!!! This chapter mentions injuries and the use of weapons! Plus, this fic is kind of OC × canon. THE TITLE OF THE FIC IS EXPERIMENTAL!

The Dark Secrets

of the Deep Sea

Chapter One: The Hunt

Chapter two

Important text notes!:

🔵= Sonic

🔴= Shadow

🟣= Indirect characters

🟢= Omega

💓= Rouge

italic font + bold font = Capitan Ghost

Italic font + any color = Thoughts

Simple italic font = special moments

Bold font = special moments

"Oh, come on! Can't a marvellous captain like you take down such a lowly opponent!"

A bullet flew over the head of the hedgehog who said those words with a howl, nearly taking off his ear. But he was abruptly torn backwards by a red echidna, shouting "Look out!"

With an offended snort, the hedgehog struggled to roll to the other side of the deck to continue his taunts.

***

A storm was raging at sea. Huge waves were rising and crashing down, threatening to sink the two ships as they circled round each other in a frenzied dance.

But it was as if none of the captains of these ships paid any attention to the storm, and continued to fight. Though only one of them was really fighting, the other was manoeuvring between the shells and trying to strike at the most important parts of the enemy sailing ship.

"Go Omega, show them your strength!!!" A young hedgehog with dishevelled blue quills exclaimed in a fervour, slide across the boardwalk deck on one foot.

In a threat to his life, he was leaping all over the ship and teasing the men from the other vessel, as if he didn't notice the shells whistling over his head.

A huge mechanism made of ship's debris and covered in iron hoops threw up its arms in protest at the young man's frantic plea.

"We're running out of shells, sir! There's no way cap will allow us to waste them on this!"

"WHAT?! WE HAD PLENTY OF POWDER AND NUKES WHEN WE SAILED!!!"

"You wasted half your war supplies on a game of 'who can shoot the furthest', sir! AND IT'S NOT MY FAULT!!!"

"But you did enjoy being a part of-AAA!!!"

Hedgehog was grabbed from behind by the scruff of his neck and dragged towards the bilge. As he tried to fight off the strong hand squeezing his scruff, he heard a venomous hiss.

"Oh, come on, captain! I'm not done sending them curses yet!!! If you weren't mute, I swear you'd like it too!"

Instead of answering, the hedgehog was shoved sharply down the rickety stairs. The hatch cover slammed sharply over his head.

"Oh, well no! Sonic the Hedgehog is never left out!!!" Screamed the kid, trying to open his way out with his fist. But the boards stayed in place, proving that the hold door was securely locked from the outside.

"Hey! That's not fair! I want in too!" he wailed, hammering on the lid as hard as he could. But when he realised he couldn't get out that way, he sighed and put his hand on his hip, feeling the hilt of his blade with his hand.

***

The wind tore at his cloak as the captain of the brigantine called the "Black Wind" made his way to the helm.

The steering wheel was not occupied by the helmsman, for in times of battle or storms, the control of the ship was entrusted to the captain by default. No one could handle the "Wind" better than its master, and the crew understood that very well.

"HEY GHOST!!!" he heard a loud roar from the side of enemy frigate "STOP YOLOING AND FIGHT LIKE A TRUE FIGHTER, OTHERWISE THE WHOLE SEA WILL KNOW YOU'RE A COWARD!!!"

He snorted contemptuously upon hearing the voice. He had many names whispered by people all over the world, but this one specifically was used quite often. Threats didn't bother his hearing, it was far more important right now to fight off the enemy and keep the people on deck alive.

***

There wasn't a sea on this planet he hadn't sailed, and there wasn't a kingdom whose vessel he hadn't managed to plunder from. The fastest ship in the world belonged to him, and the captain of the "Wind" was elusive.

Despite the fact that he had only appeared on the open ocean about a year ago, the Cap had instantly become a household name as an outlaw.

He worked alone almost all the time, and getting on his ship as an employee was a big hit with the pirates.

No one knew his real name, but he was most often called "Ghost" or "Spirit". Not so often referred to by the simple name "Jack", but his rank and fame as an undead remained unchanged.

Rumours spread across the land that Captain Ghost possessed the most powerful spells in the world, thanks to which he always came out of any situation victorious and kept his ship intact. For this reason, he was constantly hunted, wanting to get the power he possessed. But no one had ever managed to learn his secrets. Perhaps it was the merit of clever magic tricks, but no one knew the exact reasons.

"Black Wind" and its master were covered with legends and tales like an old barque with clams, which made them even more desirable prey for all the pirates and sailors in the world. And perhaps that's the reason why this battle began.

***

Turning sharply to the left, the "Black Wind" nearly toppled over on its side. A hook with four iron claws was sharply thrust at the spot where the bow of the ship had just been. With a loud gurgle in the abyss, it attracted the attention of several crewmen.

"IT'S THE OTHER PIRATES! THEY'RE BOARDING US!!! Shrieked one of the crew. It was so obvious that the cap's tongue clucked unhappily.

But on the other hand he knew that ordinary people were not as observant as he was, so he continued to manoeuvre between the crests of the waves, shuddering unhappily at the rumble of thunder and the shouts of the people around him.

Something was wrong... He couldn't recognise what it was. The danger of being a prey to the waves did not let him forget about himself, and with all this it was necessary not to fall into the trap of "neighbours" and to keep an eye on the condition of "their own". But the sensation of a chill running between his vertebrae was so tightly lodged in the captain's soul that even now, fully absorbed in the battle, the alarm of unknown danger still tickled his nerves.

***

This crew he had taken to his ship a fortnight ago. The pirates, who introduced themselves as 'sea vagabonds', needed to cross the Sol Sea to meet up with, they said, old friends. Ghost knew that such explanations usually amounted to the phrase "it's none of your business," so he didn't go into detail.

These guys were generous with their pay and helped him with the ship, even though the cap was doing just fine on his own.

He hated being around people, and knew that anyone on his ship was a threat.

Despite their friendliness, all these pirates, including their blue-quilled leader, looked at him as dainty prey, and he could feel it.

A target for everyone he met, a target for the whole world.

But the money pouring faithfully into his coffers helped keep him in check.

Being dependent on bits of metal was horrible, but the brigantine needed immediate repair and maintenance after each adventure.

***

Which was why the captain now stood on deck, clutching the helm and trying to get away from the enemy. The pirates of the Wind, securely fastening themselves to the deck with ropes were monitoring the condition of the masts.

Another hook, this time on a longer rope, broke through the railing near the captain's cabin.

Damn it!

If the storm had cleared, he would have had no trouble rounding this frigate and disappearing into the distance.

At the thought that the ship might be captured, Ghost hissed quietly.

His passengers were favourable customers, and there was no desire to surrender into the hands of the enemy just yet.

At this time, a huge wave came up from behind, causing the Black Wind to tilt nose down. Feeling gravity pulling his body closer and closer to the edge of the ship, the captain used his secret weapon. His embossed-soled boots skidded across the deck, but the black cape wearer take some time to slamming them against each other. With a metallic click, sharp spikes came into view, catching tightly on the planks.

Tilting the helm as hard as he could, he tried to leap off the crest of the wave to keep the Wind from being turned into splinters.

But suddenly he was struck from behind, and Cap let go of the helm to avoid breaking it. Almost beside the helm was a hole from a cannon-ball.

At the same moment the sailboat tilted, losing control.

Realising that it was time to prepare for the worst, everyone on the Black Wind grabbed with all their might at the handrails and ropes by which they were tied to the main mast.

***

But a sudden cracking sound made everyone jump.

The sailboat suddenly levelled out and jerked sharply.

The ghost recognised the sound.

They were being hooked.

A thousand devils... Now we'd have to deal with three times as many problems.

Seconds later, hooks rained down on the deck in a hail, ripping boards and making holes in the hull.

A low growl rose in the captain's throat.

Glancing around, he realised that the storm was abruptly ceasing.

Of course it was the enchantments!

If he had more time to sleep, he would have been able to smell and dispel them.

But now...

It was a hopeless trap.

***

A huge frigate was approaching the Black Wind. The inscription on its bow said that the ship was called the Threat of the Seas.

Ghost recognised this ship.

It was worth preparing for the worst.

The pirates huddled together on the deck stared hopelessly at the approaching behemoth.

"We're screwed..." Rattled Omega in terror. The others murmured fearfully in agreement.

This ship's fame spoke for itself: sunk fleets of the Kingdom of Eggmanland, many robberies of Soleanna merchant ships, and a rumoured kinship with the leader of the Pirate Community.

Attacks on peaceful islands and robberies of other pirates were not uncommon either. All of their atrocities could be listed forever, but to all of this there was a loud rumour that since time immemorial the captain of the Thunder of the Seas had been stealing other pirates and killing them with a painful death. Mostly it was about captains, but occasionally people mentioned ordinary sailors as well.

Legends said that the leader of the Thunderstorm thus wants to gain power over all the seas and become the only pirate captain on the entire planet. He calls himself "Shadow", and this nickname has fully justified him.

For three hundred years, he has been considered the main threat of all seven seas. Invariably he led his crew, remaining a constant danger to every ship he encountered. All pirates who managed to see the captain with their own eyes and escape alive spoke of a black aura hovering around him.

Rumours crawled around the planet that Shadow had made a deal with the devil himself to stay forever young. In return, he would bring the blood of the pirates he killed.

No matter how embellished the legends were, Ghost knew that somehow some of these rumours were true.

He prepared himself for an unpleasant encounter.

***

A large sand-coloured bear landed on board. Its weight made the deck shake slightly. He raised his huge club on his shoulder, and swiftly headed towards the pirates.

But he failed to fulfil his intentions as something black and clearly unstoppable came at him from above.

The big man roared in fright and fell to the ground, trying to throw the unknown creature off him. But suddenly there was a strong blow on his neck, and the bear fell motionless to the ground. The club landed close by, half breaking through the boards.

"Bilge!" Ghost signalled, urging the crew of the Wind to wait out the attack in safety. But none of them moved.

It was strange.

The air around the captain thickened slightly.

That's it. That weird sense of danger... It wavered in him more and more, but Ghost realised that he had to fight off the enemy first.

He stepped behind the ledge so that the next attackers wouldn't see him before his time. Cap glimpsed a glimpse of his crew. They all looked pathetic and confused. Everything inside him cringed.

A very strange feeling was emanating from the entire group. No, not hypnosis or suggestion.... But some bitter, long familiar feeling to the captain. But now was not the time for such thoughts.

It would be easier if these oafs would at least obey a little. Especially Sonic! The important thing was that they didn't find him. Or at least kept alive. He's the only one who handles the money in this gang. Even if they manage to get away without casualties, this youngster will definitely be pissed that his safety wasn't preserved...

But the captain was no longer sure of his thoughts.

This was too strange behaviour for everyone, and knowing the hedgehog, he should have gotten out of the hold almost immediately after being imprisoned.

Too many weird details...

***

Three more pirates jumped out onto the deck. From the looks of it, they were much weaker than the first guest. But unlike him, they were not going to attack the ship so quickly.

Respectfully, they gave way to the one who was honoured and feared by the whole world.

Captain Shadow, in all his splendour, jumped from the outstretched cable onto the planks of the Black Wind's deck.

His hair looked like tar in the faded sunlight, and Ghost could see that it was more like Sonic's quills in texture. Concluding that Shadow was also a hedgehog, Cap continued to watch carefully.

Something dark was indeed emanating from the hedgehog... Something incomprehensible and tense. And somehow it was connected to the change that had occurred in the pirates.

A feeling consumed Ghost and he tensed up, preparing to attack and choosing the right moment.

Something was going to happen.

Shadow slowly made his way towards the pile of Wind pirates. Stopping five paces before the group, he looked them over from head to toe. Even from this uncomfortable angle, Ghost observed the cold menace that cast the dark Capitan eyes.

The small red arrows on his upper eyelids gave his gaze the sharpness of a dagger. The same lancet marks were also on the ebony quills, but they looked paler. These marks were like needles digging deeper and deeper into Captain Ghost's mind.

It was definitely for a reason.

Suddenly, in the silence that hung over the whole sea, the tar hedgehog asked:

"Where is your captain?"

***

Space froze in mid-air. Thoughts and guesses exploded in Ghost's mind, causing his head to blaze.

There was something in that hedgehog's tone. He wasn't... An order. It was a tone one might use to ask a question about the weather, but not--.

He knew the tone one used when addressing prisoners. This one on the other hand was as if Shadow and these pirates were--.

"Right behind you, sire!" Rang out a ringing, cheerful voice behind Ghost's back.

"...Sonic."

He turned around sharply.

The peephole of a carved pistol was staring directly into his forehead.

"Ah-hu-huh, mate! You shouldn't make a move like that, you don't want me to take your brain away, do you?" the blue hedgehog said, chuckling merrily.

This was it. The feeling that haunted him.

All these pirate invasions were just cheap scenery.

It couldn't be said that Ghost was surprised. Disappointment was the overriding feeling in his soul.

How typical.

"Okay, now you're going to have to put your hands up, Cap. I don't want you stabbing me with a dagger or anything" said the blue hedgehog with a smile, watching as the dark cloaked figure noiselessly followed his order. "Oh, I know what you're thinking, mate: "Ah, why did my crew betray me! Were they so intimidated that they refused to listen to me?", weren't they? Well, Cap, I'm afraid to disappoint you further, but this whole mess was a set-up from the start!"

A smug grin spread across the hedgehog's face.

That was the signal.

***

Ghost. A nickname given to him for disappearing from the scene of a crime without leaving a trace. But there's a second bottom may to have every nickname, isn't there?

The flesh thinned to dust, forcing his consciousness to move to the object of his desire in a throbbing lump. Time slowly flowed and wavered as if it were a thick fog.

The bullet had no sooner left the muzzle when Ghost dissipated into the air.

Sonic didn't know what had happened.

The one he had held at gunpoint a moment ago had dissolved without a trace.

A blow from behind caught Blue off guard. He went face-first to the ground.

The gun fell out of his hand and landed with a clatter on the boards, but was picked up at the same second by a black-gloved hand.

Lifting the hedgehog by the scruff of the neck like a cotton doll, Captain Ghost walked to the edge of the ledge where he had been sitting. In his hand a weapon glimmered coldly.

Eyes hidden beneath the hood caught the bright red pupils of Shadow. In the fleeting meeting of the dark hedgehog's gaze glittered a fury almost elusive to those around him, but vividly discernible to the experienced eye.

The ghost realised how much this blue hedgehog meant to the dark one.

"What do you want?" The ebony captain asked calmly. But there was clearly an embittered animal growl in his question.

A flapping of wings was heard from behind. No ordinary man in the world would have heard it, but Ghost's ears felt the rustling as clearly as the splashing of the sea around him. It was clear that the trap was slamming shut.

***

A duplet sounded.

Two shells fired simultaneously from different guns raced towards the people standing on the edge of the wooden ledge.

"To let a stray bullet take a young life would be too low. No matter how violently this boy saw the world, his blue quills should have felt the wind of the sea, not rot in a coffin. Many things he had yet to see and do.

One was to pierce the spine, heading straight for the heart, the other to enter the lung. Death in forty-two seconds from pain shock, cardiac arrest, fear and loss of breath.

There's a 48.6 per cent chance my body would be unharmed. The wind did its job.

Let's hope I can still get out of here.... My energy isn't that durable."

With a sharp whistle, the two small balls flashed past each other and flew far out to sea. And five metres away from the boardwalk, space warped for a moment.

***

Sonic's head snapped up sharply. He didn't realise why his feet were now on the ground. Everything had happened too fast even for his supersonic mind. The dark figure beside him swayed to the side, letting the blue one go.

But there was something clear that Sonic could sense.

Two capsules launched through his body. He could feel their coldness.

But at the same time, he realised he was in one piece. No wounds, no marks. Only an eerie sense of consequence.

"What are you...?" Whispered the hedgehog in confusion, but he was interrupted by a loud whistle.

The bat that had been behind them only a moment ago was now hovering about six metres to the left, clutching a pistol with a perplexed and angry expression. Sticking two fingers in her mouth, she let out another signal before rushing to the attack.

"She shouldn't be there..." flashed through Sonic's mind.

In the next couple of seconds, he was pushed away by a strong arm.

Instead of pointing the weapon at Blue hedgehog again, Ghost forcefully pushed him away from him along with Blue and dashed in the opposite direction.

At exactly the same moment, the enraged girl struck the boardwalk with force, intending to punch her opponent in the head.

And Sonic realised with horror that she wouldn't have stopped, even if his life was in Ghost's hands.

***

Once again, a gunshot rang out. This time the source of the sound was very close to Sonic. Looking up sharply, he saw Captain Shadow standing on one of the zadarn planks left of the captain's cabin.

A blue smoke was billowing from the gilded muzzle of his pistol, confirming that it was the weapon that was causing the noise.

Tracing the direction of the barrel, the hedgehog spotted a dark cloaked figure standing in a fighting stance. Literally three centimetres from his fingers, Sonic discerned a small, sparkling copper puddle.

"Macarter blood. Instantly sedates and paralyses the victim for several days. So they want to take me alive."

"Let me tear him apart, sire!" The bat yapped impatiently, keeping his eyes on his enemy.

"There's no need, Rouge. He's already shown us enough." The black urchin replied in a level tone "...You're a smart captain who knows how to stand up for his own skin," he turned to Ghost. "And I'm prepared to offer you a choice: either you surrender to me, and I'll spare your life if you can be of any use to me.... Or, " his eyes glittered dangerously, "You can die nobly by my bullet and be buried forever in the ocean. Don't worry, the mere movement of your finger will be enough for me to shoot you, so the trick you pulled before won't work. So, what's your answer, Cap?"

A deep silence hung around.

Time seemed to start flowing three times slower again, but this time it only stretched for Ghost alone.

The first sound that rang out in that visceral silence was Sonic's exclamation.

"Oh my god, Shadow, did I forget to tell you about--?"

That was enough.

[agentsquirrelsgotrobots]

In a transformers-to-humans au:

The rescue bots didn't have time to flinch before the relic activated.

Heatwave came back to consciousness to Dani putting stitches in the neck of a screaming and wriggling nine year old, the painkillers clearly working a little too well on the struggling boy.

"Kid! Kid, stop, you are going to drown in your own blood if you don't stop moving. Dad, help me. Kade, check on the bots."

Kade offered Heatwave- a hand? And he took it, noting his now brown skin. Brown was the wrong word for it, but all he could think of to describe it was food names, and that wouldn't go over well with the audience of this fic. Anyway, Heatwave was now Hispanic with salt and pepper hair, and Blades is an aged up version of his canon holoform. Please don't murder the author over the character descriptions. He's the color of boiled chicken and can't describe a human being to save his life.

Chase was white with black hair and blue eyes, and Boulder was also white with grayish brown hair and a big smile. There, all the information you need, now let's move back to the boy vomiting up blood all over Dani.

Surprise, the boy had, in fact, started vomiting up blood that he had previously swallowed. He had also started to claw at Charlie, who was pinning him to Blades's stretcher so the gash in his neck could be sutured and stitched shut. On Charlie's orders, Graham removed a sedative from Dani's medical bag and handed it to her. She stepped back from the stretcher, measured out a low dose, and injected it into the boy's thigh.

After a few more seconds of thrashing, the boy relaxed, and Charlie stepped away from the stretcher and helped Kade with the transformed Rescue Bots. Miraculously, the vehicle modes were separated from the new humans, and the former Bots were all unharmed but confused.

Luckily, the town was cued into the alien thing, so this fic won't be a nightmare to write.

Blades, who were the last to wake up, rushed to Dani's side. "Dani, what can we do?"

"The laceration missed all major arteries but shredded the vocal chords. As much as I hate using chemical restraints, having dad help me was making him even more distressed, and his vitals were already not great. He's stable now, and you can keep an eye on him while I fly the helicopter back to the mainland." Dani had gotten the stretcher into the helicopter while she was talking, getting into the pilot's seat.

A very tired sounding Optimus redirected Dani to a military base near the Canadian border. There, she wasn't surprised to see Ratchet's alt mode and a grumpy human that looked exactly as you would expect a humanized Ratchet to look like.

An old white man with red glasses and graying ginger hair, with a five year old white boy that was dressed as if he had stepped away from a NASCAR pit crew, minus the dirt and stains, clinging to his lab coat. Ratchet had track marks in his elbows, a leftover from his brief experiments with Syth-en. Smokescreen was shaking, a very patient June crouched next to him, trying to convince him to let Ratchet go.

Ultra Magnus had none of it, the man pulling him away with a yank on his shoulder. His military general dress uniform was impeccably clean, though Miko wiped her sticky, powder sugar-coated hands on the tail of his jacket before handing Smokescreen a jelly glazed one. Apparently, they had stopped for Dunkin Donuts.

Ultra Magnus ran a hand through his short black hair, bemoaning Smokescreen's longer cut. They could have easily passed for father and son, and now that the author thinks about it, Chase looked a lot like Magnus too...

That's besides the point, Bumblebee is nine and was puking blood ten minutes ago.

Optimus picked the former bot now identified as Bumblebee up and carried him into Unit E's military hospital, careful to make sure that Bee's head was angled in a way that he wouldn't choke if more blood came up.

The doctors confirmed Dani's theory, and besides a neck brace and some pain medication, there was nothing they could do to repair the boy's vocal chords.

Bee woke up in a hastily thrown together bedroom, Optimus waking up at the sound of Bee's strained gurgle, pink tinged drool trailing down his neck. Optimus wiped it away and sat him up, where he threw up nothing but bile. June came in with some water and rubbed Bumblebee's back while he drank in small sips. Luckily, he kept it down well enough to try some food from June's bag, which he gobbled down eagerly with his medicine.

"The Decepticons are human too." Optimus said. "I am shipping out tonight with some Marines to kill him. If I want to keep him and Smokescreen in our care, I have to go. Bee, hopefully I will see you in two weeks. If not, Fowler will help to get you and Smokescreen into good foster homes." Bumblebee reached for a hug, and Optimus wrapped him in one, pulling the hood over his cleaned and returned cat-eared yellow hoodie. Bee smiled, and June pulled out two somethings she had picked up for him when she went shopping for Smokescreen and Bee.

Bee snatched the Minecraft bee plush as if he was afraid June would take it back, burying his face in the soft plush, a goofy smile on his face.

"And, I have something else too. I was talking with some of the medical staff, and we decided that this might be the best option for the time being." June pulled out a tablet in a blue case. "Bee, this tablet has a special software package called an AAC. Through it, it has thousands of words programed into it that you can use to speak without speaking. Of course, if you want to learn and use sign language, that is completely up to you, and we can arrange that. But, for now, this might make communication easier if you are up to using it. It's also a normal cheap kids tablet, so if you decide you don't like it, I can take the software off, and you can use it like an iPad."

"Yes. Want. Will learn. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Crap. Vagina. Stomach. " Clearly, Bumblebee liked it.

"June, why the swear words and organs?" Optimus asked.

"The software isn't able to be age locked, and it's not like Bumblebee doesn't know what those words mean."

"Yeah, you're right." Optimus got up and left to get packed up to ship out to the downed Nemesis.

Spoiler alert, assassinations are a lot easier when sniper rifles are an option. The war was over in literally three gunshots. Optimus had a laugh over Predaking being turned into a Great Dane wearing a harness with foam butterfly wings. He fell asleep on Optimus's feet on the way back to base, the Burns being gifted a very big lapdog.

Fowler arranged for the purchase of a big old house on Griffin Rock for Ratchet, Optimus, and Bumblebee, who were very happy to live out their old gay couple and adopted son dreams on an island where nobody even batted an eye at them.

Chase took in Smokescreen and Strongarm, who oddly enough was fifteen, a seventeen year old Sideswipe staying with a forty year old Grimlock at the junkyard.

Ultra Magnus joined the military as a strategist, Wheeljack as a ballistics expert.

Breakdown and Knockout opened a luxury auto body shop.

Arachnid, unsurprisingly, continued being a horrifying serial killer and is still at large to this day, though she is buried behind Knockout's auto body shop after she tried to kill Breakdown yet again.

Also, Knockout did give Arcee Arachnid's skull and hands as trophies, but if anyone asks, Optimus definitely doesn't know about it and certainly doesn't have Megatron's brain in a jar in his closet.

[chivalryburdened]

@celestiialnotes...... continued.

what a complete asshole. chopping up his sentence to emphasize it, like sanji was a child who couldn't understand what as being said to him, makes the blond positively seethe, unimpressed by the swordsman's clear goading. can't he speak like a normal person? a vein throbs, angry hot, on the pale underside of this throat as his adams apple bobs, flexing & tensing as he struggles to hold onto his sizzling temper; blunt teeth crushing & grinding his fag to bitter, unenjoyable powder between tight incisors before he's fully aware of what he's done.

despite the sheer blaze of his ire, when he finally looks at zoro again his gaze is chilling in its prickling, blue-bright intensity. cutthroat in its defensiveness. beseeching, but also belligerent.

'.... you really think that low of me?' he wants to ask, no, to scream. but doesn't. he scoffs roughly instead at zoro's flippant response, aggressively snuffing out his ruined cigarette & tucking it into his breast pocket to dispose of later. did the moss really believe that sanji wanted to one up him so much, that he'd use something not of his own making or desire to gain power? did those two years apart, vying to grow stronger, mean nothing in the end? apparently. even to his crewmate, he'd always be weak. needing tricks to win. his own personal strength was not enough, it never would be. just like his shitty family's always told him, ever since he could walk.

wonderful. why had he bothered to even wake up this morning?

"you're just finding an excuse to waste my precious time to inflate your ego." sanji spits out as one does when there's shit on their shoe, posture rigid & coiled like a viper about to strike as he stalks forward at a puma's pace, fingers twitching minutely at his sides. desperate to yank at his hair as his stress continues to spike & vibrate deep within his chest like a doomed echo. or wrap around zoro's thick neck & shake some sense into his thick skull.

the only thing sanji was scared to lose was his humanity. zoro didn't completely understand yet, despite the promise sanji made him make, but it still made sanji feel like a hot-cold livewire at the mere thought of it. it was terrifying.

"fine." he relents with a sneered snarl, chin jutted out stiffly as he glares into the other's eye. "after lunch, nami said we're stopping to check out this inhabited island. I'll kick your ass then, prick."

& with that, abruptly ending their conversation, sanji makes sure to go out of his way to shoulder check the crew's first mate on his way back to the blissful safety of his galley; scowl & furrowed brow heavy on his face.

[enjomo-arch]

(  flame  command  ━  prompted  :  deuce )   //    [  ♠ @feufist  ]

he'd been planning this prank for the past two days. it was well - deserved payback for the other keeping him up the other night with questions about koala's and other animals, which, normally deuce wouldn't have minded if it hadn't been / three in the morning !!! / sneaking into his brother's quarters, he picked up his shorts and shoes and pulled a small cylinder from his back pocket ; itching powder. with a quiet snicker he sprinkled the powder in both ace's shoes, then his shorts, before putting them back carefully where he'd found them and leaving the room to wait for tomorrow.

  the  morning  passed  without  a  problem.  ace  kept  performing  his  normal  chores  he  owned  as  a  commander  of  the  ship  to  keep  up  with  the  rest  of  the  crew  and  their  daily  routine.  however,  the  more  time  passed  with  the  sun  which  in  its  natural  pace  slowly  moved  across  the  clear  blue  sky  the  more  ace  began  to  feel  a  strange  discomfort.  his  whole  legs  felt  like  they  were  burning,  not  in  a  way  the  do  when  the  blessing  of  fire  emerges  from  the  flesh  to  engulf  potential  enemies  with  its  flame.  his  skin  felt  itchy,  to  the  point  it  was  getting  worse  and  worse  with  how  he  started  scratching  himself  through  the  material  of  cargo  shorts.  

❝  what  the  hell  ....  ❞  ace  hissed  to  himself.  unable  to  stop  scratching  himself.  the  sensation  even  radiated  down  his  spine,  and  he  could  even  feel  it  in  his  shoes.  gritting  his  teeth  a  visible  frown  appeared  on  his  face  the  more  it  started  bothering  him.  ❝  am  i  allergic  to  some  shit  ?  ❞  he  questioned  himself,  thinking  loudly  as  he  began  to  undo  the  belt  of  his  pants  to  get  them  off  as  quickly  as  possible.  a  cling  of  the  silver  buckle  followed  by  rustling  of  the  leather  being  pulled  out  of  the  pant's  loops,  landing  on  the  floor  before  completely  his  pants  fell  off  with  a  silent  whisper  when  they  hit  the  ground,  leaving  the  fire  fist  in  only  black,  fire  -  patterned  boxers  on  display.  it  was  not  only  embarrasing  but  frustrating  when  he  started  scratching  his  thighs,  now  feeling  some  powder  under  his  fingernails.  

his  eyebrow  lifted,  cheeks  burning  bright  red  when  he  sat  down  to  pull  off  his  shoes  as  well,  one  hand  engaged  in  removing  his  shoes  while  the  other  scratched  so  hard  that  red  nail  marks  appeared  on  his  skin.  everyone  looked  so  baffled  watching  the  commander  lose  himself  in  boiling  anger  about  this.  all  until  he  noticed  the  powder  spilling  from  his  boots.  bringing  it  up  to  his  face,  the  realization  hit  him  like  a  tsunami  wave.  so  hard  that  visibly  throbbing  veins  appeared  on  his  forehead  and  neck  with  how  much  rage  was  boiling  in  the  fire  fist  now.  ❝  this  fucker  ...  i'm  gonna  kill  him  !  ❞  he  yelled  so  loud  that  the  seagulls  scurried  away  flying  from  the  ship's  crow  nest.  not  even  was  he  embarrassed  for  standing  in  just  boxers  on  display,  but  the  fact  he  fell  for  such  a  cheap  joke.

[swordduels]

Sigfrid's pirate crew, One Piece verse

Sigfrid’s pirate crew Alfhild Birka Age: 25 Species: Human Appearance: Her brown hair is put up in fish bone braids. She often held an ax leaned against her shoulder. Around her neck are several necklaces made of wooden beads. Personality: Secure, confident and calm. A bit bossy and views herself as the mother figure, affectionately calling the others ‘children.’ Matter of fact when calling out things that concern her. Cares deeply about friends and family. She likes to paint and draw which she happens to be pretty good at. Powers/abilities:  Alfhild can use runes for healing. The runes are a family heirloom that goes from mother to daughter as women of her people are known for being better at magical abilities. She’s also very adept at different fighting styles, preferable ax wielding. 

Background: 

She’s born a princess who ran away from home and became a pirate after her family had declared an arranged marriage for her with a prince. The ship she uses for travel is called Blue Maiden. At one point she met her fiance during a fight with a warship and realized he was a childhood friend. In the middle of said battle they met, fell in love and got married. It didn’t stop her from living as a pirate with the loving support from her husband who would prepare food or beer for her crew. Historic inspiration: The story of Alfhild is still debated if she ever existed or if the stories are just that, stories. If Alfhild did exist it’s believed she would have lived around the year 400. Her story and my interpretation are basically the same with the key difference that Alfhild stopped her viking ways after getting married to the Danish prince. Small note, everyday people didn’t call themselves vikings, viking is actually a term for acting as pirates and one would say “he became a viking” or “he went viking.” No one was born a viking. Birka is a famous historical place in Sweden. It was also known as a pirate nest. Blue Maiden is rumored to be a haunted place where evil and magic resides. People believed evil witches would gather there and feast with the devil. It’s also known as a hideout for pirates who wanted to hide their treasures.  

Bellman Age: 23 Species: Human Appearance: Rosy cheeks. Chubby. A pointed nose. Blue eyes.He’s often wearing a white powdered wig. Personality: A lover of art, music, gambling and alcohol. Bellman is famously bad at keeping his money as he spends everything on his interests. He’s a bit of a coward who doesn't like fighting but he’s very loyal to his friends. He enjoys writing song lyrics, playing on his lute and singing. Powers/abilities: Has eaten the devil fruit with the ability to create notes that can be used as weapons. Background: Bellman is a musician and songwriter from Holy Marjorie where he entertained the nobility. He has a bad habit of drinking and gambling which led to him being hunted by debt collectors. He’s currently running away from them while being grouped in with the pirate crew. Historic inspiration: Carl Mikael Bellman was a real Swedish musician and songwriter. He wrote songs that included greek/Roman mythology and mixed it with stories about ordinary people. He wrote songs about sex, alcohol, death but also love. Some of his earlier work had more christian themes. He’s often portrayed with a lute. Bellman became famous and had the king’s permission to perform for him. While he was popular and had the king’s blessing he was also hunted by debt collector since he was a heavy drinker and gambler. Another detail is that Bellman spent a lot of time with a group which he named “Bachus order” - “The Bachus order.” It was basically a group of friends who made up rites about drinking. Some of the people from the group can also be found in certain song lyrics. At the end of Bellman’s life he was poor as a church mouse and his last song was written in a feverish haze. Eskild Age: Unknown. Species: Beaver, sentient but non verbal. Appearance: 

Personality Bites people he dislikes or if he’s angered. Loyal to friends and family. Passionate about sword fighting. Has a tendency to fall into traps. Is a heavy sleeper and not a morning person. Dislike when it’s too hot. Like to build things. Powers/abilities: Is good at sword wielding and charades.  Is good at woodwork and fishing. 

Background: Comes from a small unmarked island with sentient beavers and otters who were in a feud with each other. Before Sigfrid arrived at the beaver village he freed Eskild from a snare. With time they became closer friends after sparring and spending time together. Sigfrid came into conflict with the otters after taking down snares since he believed it was their attempt to mess with the beavers. In order to right his wrongs he tried to make both groups to end their feud which was fruitless. At one point Sigfrid saved a child otter from a giant pike, an action that was rewarded. After said action he made an apology for taking down the snares and fighting otters. It was believed Sigfrid would be executed but was saved. It was then revealed that the snares had nothing to do with catching beavers, instead they wanted to catch land walking clams. Realizing this he tried to explain it to the beavers. After this scenario there was a battle between the leaders from each group which ended in a tie and a big peace celebration. Some time after Sigfrid learned different fighting styles from otters and beavers he managed to become friends with the others as well and helped both groups. After Eskild spent time sparring together with Sigfrid they became friends and upon leaving he followed him to travel. 

Ingela Hammer Age: 20. Species: Human Appearance: Personality: Likes violence and destruction. Ingela likes adrenaline and she’s very curious about anything new. She likes to touch things, especially things belonging to someone else. She likes to cook and bake. Powers/abilities: She has eaten the devil fruit with the power to turn body parts into hammers. She mainly turns either or both arms into hammers while fighting. Ingela is very good at metal work and other constructions.

Background: Lived on Gothen island, a pirate infested village together with Lassie Street. Her mother worked as a blacksmith, her father worked as a baker. The Hammer household held a strong support for the Marines and kept complaining about the increased population of pirates, except for grandpa Rutger Hammer who kept telling Ingela stories about pirates. He also claimed there was a treasure he himself had hid many years ago at Blue Hills where witches had their midnight feasts and danced. Ingela was fascinated by these stories and in turn told Lassie about the treasure. Together they secretly declared themselves to be pirates. When Lassie’s mother was taken by the Marines her family took in Lassie even though it created some friction. Ingela’s mother believed Lassie had a bad influence on Ingela. Bad luck struck down on the Hammer household as the Marine now took in all the grown ups for questioning. Before anyone came to take Ingela and Lassie they fled on board a pirate ship called The Winter dog. It was during the travel with The Winter dog they each ate a devil fruit and got their devil fruit powers.  Lassie Street

Age: 10. Species: Human Appearance: Personality: A classic troublemaker who lies, cheats in games and creates schemes. Though all schemes are not brilliant and it happens more often than not that a scheme fails in a spectacular manner. She enjoys working with her hands and sewing helps her calm down. Has a distaste for the Marines and can rant about them for hours on end. 

Powers/abilities: Has eaten the devil fruit which gives her the ability to use magical sewing. Lassie is pretty good at coming up with traps. Background: Grew up on Gothen island in a pirate infested village together with Ingela. Her mother had a fabric shop which was getting customers frequently and she loved to help out. Most of the customers were pirates who respected the Street family since the business had served everyone with equal respect no matter what background anyone had. However things changed as the Marine once and for all kicked down doors to catch every pirate on the island. Even though her mother had nothing to do with pirating himself she was put on trial for aiding pirates and put in jail. Since Lassie had no other family she was invited to live with Ingela and her parents. Historic inspiration: At the start of year 1700 there was a pirate duo called Ingela Hammar and Lasse på gatan. I renamed Ingela Hammar to Hammer but the original name is not far off from the Swedish word for hammer, which is ‘hammare.’ 

Lasse på gatan -  Lasse on the street, is originally a man but I changed his sex into female. I also renamed them to Lassie Street. Ingela Hammar and Lasse on the streets were known for using disguises, raising false flags to avoid battle and having a feud with the Norwegian pirate captain Peter Wessel. The pirate duo was often seen in the pirate infested town Gothenborg and managed to become legal pirates, which meant they had a signed paper from the king which allowed them to attack and plunder foreign ships. They also built a store in Gothenburg, by legal means, where they sold stolen goods by legal means. During this period they began wearing powdered wigs and attempted to walk among the nobles. Gotham island - I simply took the first part from Gothenburg and made it an island. Blue Hills During the witch trials people believed witches took their broom and traveled to Blåkulla, translated to Blue Hills, were they danced with the devil during the Sabbath. During easter celebration it’s tradition to dress up children as witches as protection from evil forces and jokingly say they are gonna fly to Blåkulla on their brooms. Blåkulla is a real place but it’s never been documented to have real witch meetings, as far as I know. 

[daymeeawn]

Cultivation

The Scarlet Specter was far and away the strangest spacefaring vessel planet Earth had to offer; shaped like an oversized wine bottle, with a body built from high-impact glass tinted a dazzling crimson, and a large white propulsion jet at the end of its neck. Despite its unusual appearance, the Specter's eco-friendly design and unbeatable speeds made it the go-to choice for The Cultivators; a traveling band who had officially traveled further than any other band in history. Their mission —as their name implied— was to cultivate peace among interplanetary populations using the power of music.

Three years into their expedition, however, the quartet had yet to make any significant progress in their search for alien life. Not that they were trying very hard. The clouds of smoke constantly hanging on the curved ceiling were not due to any technical malfunction, but rather the crew’s recreational drug use. They spent most of their waking hours giggling about nothing, stuffing themselves silly on snacks and gliding back and forth on the sleek glass floors, while the ship's on-board navigational systems handled all the hard work.

Sadly, their miracle drug did nothing to loosen up the tightest ass in their ranks; Melanie Waters, a tall, blond bombshell with the voice of an angel and the temper of a tyrant.

She wasn't considered the captain per se (as the group at large didn't adhere to such archaic concepts as elected leadership), but the way she behaved, you would be forgiven not only for assuming that she held absolute dominion over her bandmates, but that she possessed some sort of seniority, when in reality she was the youngest of the bunch.

The remaining three supposed they ought to be grateful for all she'd done for them —after all, it was her stubborn nature that ultimately coerced the Aerospace Administration into granting their group the opportunity to pave a path of peace across the cosmos with their melodic messangery—, but that admitted appreciation didn't make Melanie's attitude any easier to deal with. Take for instance an incident which occurred roughly an hour before their ship touched down on alien soil for the very first time:

Melanie plopped down in the pilot’s chair and popped open the compartment under the dashboard. She rooted through the clutter without looking, feeling for the crisp paper wrapping of the chocolate bar she’d kept stashed inside. Her fingertips soon brushed the back of the drawer without ever having met with the desired dessert.

She glanced back across the cabin and eyed her associates with growing suspicion. Edsel Bogori sat cross-legged atop a yoga mat, strumming wistfully away on his guitar, his squinty eyes darting back and forth behind his dark-lensed spectacles, his fingers skillfully dodging the colorful tassels dangling from the collar of his bulky black cardigan. Beside him stood Nora Pouteria, the golden rings adorning her attire jingling merrily as she bobbed up and down in time with the melody, her flowing brown locks swaying with equal energy. And in the far corner of the cabin stood the shaggy-haired Cantel Lopez, smoking a joint. Melanie's bright blue eyes narrowed in on her latter companion, or more specifically, on the faint brown fingerprints staining his tie-dyed t-shirt. She wasted no time in taking authoritative measures, strolling swiftly toward her crewmate and swiping the spliff from between his fingers.

"You filched my candy bar, didn't you?!"

Cantel cowered under Melanie's interrogative gaze. Whereas most of the Cultivators despised direct confrontation, their lead singer seemed to almost relish in it.

"Aw, lay off Mel, you know I've got low blood sugar!" Cantel stammered.

"And you knew I was saving that candy bar for a special occasion! That was the last bar of milk chocolate we had!"

"So what? We've still got plenty of dark chocolate left. You could melt it down, stir in a little powdered milk, wait for it to harden-"

"That's not milk chocolate, goddamnit! That's dark chocolate with milk in it!”

“What on Earth are you two arguing about?” Nora cut in.

"It's nothin-" Cantel began.

"Cantel ate my candy bar!!"

Nora didn’t respond immediately, nor had Melanie expected her to. Nora wasn’t known to pass judgment on others regardless of circumstance, making her especially easy to confide in.

"Hey Mel, I think I finally figured out what your problem is: you love looking for things to complain about, don't you?" she asked.

Well, so much for confiding in Nora.

"What? No I don't!" Melanie barked back.

"Sure you do, you've been griping ever since we set out on this mission. Whenever we're drifting aimlessly through the cosmos you complain about how dark it is, when we get close to a star you complain about how bright it is! I bet if all three of us died tragically you'd complain about being left all alone!"

Blood began to rush to Melanie's face. True, she had a proficiency for pointing out what was wrong in any given situation, but she was only speaking the truth! She wasn't trying to be a drag, there were just some things she thought her friends ought to be made aware of, for better or for worse.

Suddenly, from his corner of the cabin, Edsel erupted into an all-too familiar tune:

"Miss-Miss Pessimist

got a problem, can't resist

letting everybody know~"

"Be quiet, Edsel!" Melanie snarled.

"No, she ain't much fun,

makes it tough for everyone.

At least she puts on a helluva show.

The woman's warnings did nothing to deter the guitarist from further prodding her patience. In fact, it only encouraged her remaining bandmates to chime in as well.

She'll let you know when it's blistering hot,

she'll let you know when it rains.

When trouble starts brewing

you know what she's doing;

complain, complain, complain!

And that clinched it; Melanie continued to bitch and moan right up until landing.

The very first planet to catch the Cultivators’ eyes since their initial departure was a vast, lush jungle world not marked on any of the Earth's star charts. Of course, that didn't mean that it was totally uncharted, but the visiting humans had no way of knowing that just yet. As far as they were aware, it didn't even have a name.

Despite Miss Waters' apprehensions, the ship's landing went off without a hitch, and soon the four crew members were setting foot on solid ground for the first time in what felt like forever.

Melanie stretched out, allowing the soft forest breeze to tickle her midriff, savoring the feeling of her bare feet sinking into the soft dirt. Looking around at her companions, she was surprised to see that the reclusive Edsel had decided to join them outside rather than stay behind and watch the ship, though he was apparently unwilling to part with his beloved guitar, as he kept it hung from his back by a leather strap. But how could she blame him when she herself was concealing a cordless microphone in her pocket just in case the opportunity for an impromptu jam arose? She guessed that Nora had her patented triangle stashed somewhere on her person too. And Cantel completed the quartet as he came bumbling down the exit ramp resembling a one-man-band whose experience lay solely in percussion. Lugging a disassembled drum set through the jungle seemed a bit like overkill in Melanie’s humble opinion, but if Cantel wanted to blow out his back doing so, then she wouldn’t stop him. She was trying to cut back on her griping, anyway.

"You ready to go, Mel?"

Melanie, pulled out of her ponderings by the shrill voice of her best friend, nodded.

"Okay, let's go find some aliens!" her curly-headed comrade cried out.

Nora's optimism was somewhat misguided; while humanity had established contact with otherworldly intelligence a year prior to the team’s departure —kicking off a series of similarly ill-plotted expeditions— , there was no guarantee that this, of all planets, played host to alien life.

Beyond the confirmation that there were other civilizations than their own out there in the universe, the earthlings learned surprisingly little from their preliminary discussions with the alien ambassador. Nobody knew what these lifeforms actually looked like —according to their correspondent this was not due to a lack of trying on the extraterrestrial’s end, but rather a failing of Earth’s electrical equipment to unscramble their video signals—, and the coordinates provided for the faceless figure’s base of operations did not correspond to any known sector of space. At least one thing was certain; these aliens were perfectly capable of speaking the human language.

Twigs and leaves crunched under the merry band's feet as they trekked through the trees.

Walking around barefoot was a long standing habit of Melanie's, and the soles of her feet had grown so calloused as a result that no amount of scratching and stabbing could phase her, so the slog through this hostile environment didn't bother her in the slightest.

She was busy examining the local flora when her ears caught onto a rustling in the bushes close-by. The band members stared in total silence. Cantel raised his hand and pointed toward the bush, as though nobody else had traced where the noise originated from. Before anyone could think of something to say, the bush rattled again, and something crawled out of it, something bug-like. Its eyes shone a radiant red, its hair forest green, its weathered skin a creamy shade of brown, almost —like my chocolate bar!

Little did Melanie know she’d just met the future father of her child.

The enormous insectoid blinked at the Earthlings. They blinked back.

Finally someone screamed. It was Nora. But she wasn't terrified, she was ecstatic!

"OH…MY…GAWD! I CAN’T FRICKIN’ BELIEVE IT! IT'S AN ALIEN!"

Nora's cry attracted even more of them. One by one they emerged from the wilderness, the bushes, the treetops, fluttering down on their housefly-esque wings to see what all the buzz was about.

The boys still hadn't spoken, their mouths hung wide open on their hinges like a couple of five-year-olds who had just seen their first pair of boobies.

"Don't just stand there you guys, let's sing them our song of peace!" Melanie ordered.

This seemed to snap everyone out of their collective trance. Despite how unlikely a scenario this was, the group happened to have rehearsed for just such an event. Quickly Edsel swung his guitar around to his front, Nora produced her triangle from her pocket, Melanie whipped out her portable microphone, and Cantel scrambled to assemble his drum set.

With the pieces finally in place, Cantel seated him in his foldable stool and clicked his sticks together, prompting his partners to kick off the one and only song they had prepared:

Put your mind on huggin'

put your mind on kissin'

If you don't know lovin'

you don't know what you're missin'!

A sickening splat cut through their chorus, and Melanie turned to see Cantel slumped back in his stool, an arrow slotted stubbornly in his throat. His diabetic blood poured down his front, pooling atop the batter head of his medium tom, dripping down the coils of its springs, and finally pattering to the earth —No, this isn't Earth!— at his feet.

The next thing she recalled was hearing Nora's scream, and this time it was entirely warranted. She would have screamed too, but she knew she had to keep a level head; she needed to be the one who remained in their right mind. After all, she was the leader of this expedition, whether her bandmates knew it or not.

She looked back at the natives still standing stiffly in place, holding all manner of rudimentary weapons —spears, crossbows, daggers— in their clawed hands, their beaks quivering in anticipation, waiting for the invaders to make another wrong move.

"W-We need to get back to the ship!" Melanie commanded.

"WHAT ABOUT CANTEL?!" Nora shrieked.

"There's nothing we can do for him, come on!"

She grabbed Nora by the wrist and took off running back in the direction from which they came.

And all at once, the weapons went off. Their ears were assaulted by the twanging of bows, followed by the dull thuds of arrowheads piercing the trees on all sides of them.

A dagger flew straight toward them and jammed itself in a trunk right by Nora's head, causing her to scream so loud that Melanie thought her ears would have their period.

Edsel did his best to keep up, but the quick ducking and weaving under branches was something the large instrument on his back would not allow. He stuck fast when his strap was snagged by a low hanging branch, and shrieked in terror as the hunters caught up with him. It was the loudest noise anyone had ever heard him make.

Melanie didn't dare look back.

A chorus of chirps filled the forest, gradually growing louder and louder, until Melanie actually began to crave the dull, empty silence of deep space. These definitely weren’t the articulate aliens they heard from a year ago.

Finally she saw it; the scarlet sheen of the ship they'd arrived in, and that they would leave in, Nora and her.

As they were scurrying up the ramp leading toward the wide open door of the ship. Melanie inexplicably slipped, and toppled over. Her body slammed down on the steep metallic incline, and began to slide back down. She looked around wildly, wondering what could have happened to cause this.

The ramp was coated in blood. Her blood. All of this running around had caused the skin on the bottoms of her feet to blister, creating a trail of her own liquid essence leading straight to the ship. Silently cursing her own body's natural functions, she clambered to her feet and made another go at ascending the ramp, only to slip and fall once again. This time, she managed to salvage her progress by propping herself up on her hands and knees, but they too were beginning to succumb to the slickness of the surface.

Nora was already in the doorway, blabbering a useless advisory for Melanie to get inside, quick.

I'm trying, chill the eff out!

Melanie reached up and took hold of Nora’s outstretched hand, and with a surge of unexpected strength, her curly-haired comrade managed to hoist her up the ramp. The high pitched chorus of chirping had reached earsplitting levels. They were close.

Not trusting her to do it correctly in her hysteric state, Melanie shoved her shipmate aside and rapidly input the Specter’s lockdown code. The heavy door slammed down and Melanie watched through the transparent wall of the hull as the Lianhuan hunters slithered out from the underbrush and circled the spacecraft. They examined the battened-down bottle with immense fascination. Their targets were still in clear sight, but were unobtainable behind the hard redness.

"This is so not cool! We're, like, totally surrounded!"

Melanie’s skin crawled ceaselessly. The sight of all of these aliens around them, was, for lack of a better word, alien to her, but if she had been forced to describe it, she’d have likened the feeling to lying her down on her back with a sheet of clear plastic hovering above her face, and then having a bucket of cockroaches dumped on top of it. Despite the layer of material between them, the very sight of the creatures, and knowing they saw her, was more than she could handle. Nora on the other hand, had her nose pressed against the glass, looking down on the scene with childlike wonder.

"Huh...they're actually...kind of cute..."

Melanie had never understood Nora less, and Nora could speak Latin.

"Uh, did you forget what they did to our crewmates not two minutes ago?!"

"Of course not, but you have to try to see things from their perspective. To them, we're the aliens, we invaded their territory, and —let's just be honest here— we were kinda overbearing with our greeting. You can't blame them for wanting to defend themselves. Besides, look how confused they are now, it's adorable!"

"Sure it’s adorable, in a "trying to figure out how they're going to kill us" kind of way." Melanie muttered.

Then she heard the door slide open, and knew at once what Nora had been thinking. Before Melanie could do anything to stop her, her best friend was stepping toward the archway, calling out to the monsters as she went.

"I know we got off on the wrong foot before, but my name is Nora, and we-"

Melanie dashed towards the door, sliding in her own blood as she went, but it was too late; a pair of claws had reached out, seized Nora by her wrists and dragged her down the ramp. She arrived in the doorway in time to see them bent over the body of Nora, ripping and tearing, shredding and slicing, savoring the taste of Nora.

"Ew...I'll try to retrieve your remains later!"

Even as she watched her best (and last) friend being forcibly extracted from the mortal world, Melanie couldn't bring herself to lose her cool. Empathy had always been something Melanie struggled with, while Nora had not. In the end, it was clear to both of them who things had worked out better for as a result.

Melanie calmly pressed the lock button once again, and strolled across the room to the captain's chair as the door resealed itself.

Doing a thing like this isn't really in my nature, but I need to get rid of these monsters somehow, and the engineers shouldn’t have installed them if they hadn’t meant for me to use them! Melanie reasoned as she seated herself at the dashboard.

She activated the supersonic modulator, cranked up the dial on the external sequencer, and switched off the auditory restraints, then cocked her head back to look out at the swarm, lying in wait for their next meal.

Okay alien scum, it's time to send you running back where you came from!

Finally, she pushed the activation key, and a hatch slid open on the roof of the ship. A long rod extended high into the air, affixed to the top of which was a red and white striped siren, which released an alarming tone over the treetops.

The Lianhuans scattered in all directions, frightened to their cores by the blast. Melanie couldn’t deny gaining some small catharsis from finally being able to torture others with sudden loud noises the same way she had been. Soon enough, the panicked natives had vanished into the treeline, and Melanie was alone.

She radically reduced the homing horn’s hearability and reclined in the captain's chair, wiping away the sweat that had formed on her forehead.

Some day, discovered alien life, all my friends died...what a drag...

Oh well, nothing to do now but report back to Earth.

She removed a headset from the overhead rack and placed it on her head, switching on the radio as she unstuck her hair from the dead zone between the speakers and her ears. The communications channel came through with a satisfying crumple of static.

"Mission control, this is Major Melanie."

No answer.

Assuming the lead operator was on break, she delicately twisted the dial to the secondary support line.

"Mission control, do you copy?"

Still, nothing.

This was getting absurd. Those turkeys at the command center assured her these lines would be manned twenty-four seven! She desperately hoped that those hacks at the dear old double-A hadn't lost their research permit while she was away.

With a frustrated sigh, Melanie removed the headset and tossed it across the cockpit.

Fine, I guess I'll just have to report back to them in person!

She swiftly removed the ship's key from her pocket and crammed it into the ignition. She gave it one good turn, two good turns, three good turns, but the engine refused to start. The fuel light flashed on the dashboard with an accompanying ping.

"Out of gas?"

Something was grinding against the hull of the ship. Looking to the side, Melanie discovered that a lone Lianhuan had returned, and in a strategic move she’d not known his kind to be capable of, had chewed straight through the hull into the ship’s fuel line. Now the liquid contents of the gas tank were steadily draining onto the grass, where the alien slurped them up greedily. Melanie suddenly wished that the ship didn't run on vegetable oil.

"Hey, get away from there!"

She banged on the glass, trying to scare the scoundrel away, but still he continued to gulp away her precious fuel. Apparently these creatures also had the mental capacity to ignore.

Melanie was stuck here. She was undeniably, unequivocally, un-solution-ably stuck here. All this time her friends had assured her that no situation was ever as bad as she made it out to be, that she was being too negative, that there would always be a way out of any seemingly hopeless situation she might find herself going through, but she knew that wasn't the truth. There was such a thing as an unfixable problem, and Melanie was smack in the middle of one. And now that her faithful friends were dead and gone, there was no one here to tell her otherwise. So here she was, pacing back and forth through the powerless ship, having at long last been vindicated, and it sucked ass.

She spent the next hour or so in a state of restless rumination, trying to discern what the best course of action would be now that her only means of escape had been compromised. She could have tried sneaking outside to repair the fuel line, but even if she had had any idea how to go about doing so, the tanks had already run dry, and there was no way for her to recollect their contents, given that half had long since soaked into the soil, and the other half was sloshing around inside an alien’s stomach (and she would be, too, if she wasn’t careful). The radio wouldn’t run if the ship was out of fuel, so even if the operators miraculously returned to their stations, she had no way of reaching them. Her only option was to live out the rest of her days bottled up inside this ship. With the other members of her crew gone, she had enough clean water and dehydrated meals to last the next twenty years, and plenty of pot in case she got bored. But what sort of life would that be, lounging around this cabin, eating up resources and creating emissions without doing anything to better this planet or its people?

She decided it would be best to think about this for a little while, and what better way to increase her prospects than to get totally stoned?

It was during this period of contemplation, as she lay sprawled out in a bean bag chair, covered in cookie crumbs and cold sweat, that a third option presented itself, albeit one which put her life at risk.

Oh well, it’s not like I can do much with it anyway.

Melanie flipped the emergency door override switch and descended the blood encrusted incline, her hands placed firmly atop her head in a show of seeming surrender, making a mental effort not to dwell on what might become of her if this plan fell through. Still, the image flashed incessantly in her mind; her carcass being picked at similar to that of a dead bird lying on the side of the road, her insides swarming with feasting ants and flies and maggots. The only conceivable difference between her and this nondescript dead bird was that birds rarely volunteered to wind up in such a state. Such was the evolutionary contrast between humans and animals; only the former possessed the mental capacity to purposefully place themselves in a vulnerable position.

Melanie shook her head, trying to cancel out those thoughts before her survival instincts could take over. Any second now, the savages would see her, hear her, smell her, or however it was these creatures located their prey, and that would be the deciding moment.

She didn’t have to wait long. Shortly after setting foot in the forest, a band of vengeful Lianhuans sprang from the shadows, thrusting their stony spearheads toward her tender throat. Melanie reacted fast, flipping the switch on the portable microphone concealed in her cupped hands, then watching amusedly as the ensuing feedback left the hypersensitive hunters quaking in fright. They dropped their weapons at the woman’s feet and retreated. Melanie watched them go with a grin on her face.

Aversion therapy. Works like a charm.

Her former bandmates might have cited such methods as cruel and unusual punishment, but Melanie begged to differ. She wasn’t needlessly tormenting the tribespeople, just nudging them in the right direction, was all. Already an avid nature-lover, Melanie would have no trouble adjusting to the simplistic Lianhuan lifestyle, and if the nasty natives raised any objections (in the way of raising their weapons), she would swiftly and decisively shut them down with a dose of gnarly feedback. If all went according to plan, the Lianhuans would gradually gather that it was in their best interest to leave her alone, eliminating the need for negative reinforcement altogether. For now, however…

For the first few nights, Melanie slept aboard the Scarlet Specter, but it quickly grew to be too much for her to handle, knowing the great things this ship would be capable of —the least of which getting her off of this planet— if only she had some kind of fuel. Sadly, the vegetables grown on Lianhua weren’t anything like the ones on Earth, and failed to live up to the Scarlet Specter’s nutritional standards (or hers either, come to find). So although her cell had greatly expanded, Melanie was still essentially imprisoned.

Luckily, the village she eventually stumbled upon was greatly accommodating (not that they were given much of a choice), providing her with food, water and a small hut of her own.

It wasn't long before Melanie began to feel lonesome. She felt no shame in admitting (if anyone cared to ask) that she was no stranger to the occasional group love-making session with her bygone bandmates, but now that those had been put to a sudden stop, she was beginning to get pent up. So one night, after most of the hunters had turned in, and the guardsmen were performing their patrol around the perimeter of the village, she decided to experiment a little.

Under the cover of darkness, she snuck into the hut where a lone hunter resided. She scanned his sleeping body up and down, and couldn’t help but utter a gasp as she set her sights upon it. She'd seen it in passing once before, but the appearance of it when viewed directly (and deliberately) was truly breathtaking; his reproductive organ. She tried not to look that way very often, —since it wasn’t polite to stare, and all that— but on this particular warrior it was much too enticing not to. As he slept, she had all the time she needed to thoroughly inspect his equipment.

Yes, she thought. This will do perfectly.

But before anything could be done with it, she needed to be sure that the owner reciprocated.

She carefully stirred the warrior from his slumber with a gentle shake, and he blinked up at her with a confused, crimson stare. She stood a few feet back from his cot so he could get a full view of her body, then slowly pulled down her puffy pink bellbottoms. It wasn't long before everything from the stomach down was completely exposed.

She was surprised with how quickly he took to her.

And even more surprised when weeks later, the morning sickness began, and the cravings, and the swelling.

Against all odds, that alien creature turned out to be biologically compatible with her. Or perhaps she was biologically compatible with him. No matter who was responsible, the point still stood; in a few months time, Melanie would give birth. She wasn't quite sure what the resulting lifeform would look like, and a part of her was afraid to find out, but she knew that she was bound by nature to love it regardless. Though for its own sake, she prayed it would take more after its father.

"Sssh, sssh, it's okay, momma's here," Melanie cooed to the wailing newborn.

She had been riddled with worry about how the Lianhuans would react to her child, but she was especially worried about the crying. If their reaction to Nora was anything to go off of, the wails of her infant daughter may very well be the nail in the coffin for both of them.

The crowd of insectoids watched with respectful restraint, however, letting her tend to the child with no intrusion whatsoever. One of the females even brought a clay bowl filled with pond water for her to wash the newborn’s body.

The baby looked exactly like its mother; smooth skin, pronounced whites in the eyes, five chubby fingers on each hand, and the beginnings of hair on the top of its head. It looked human.

Once it was nice and clean, Melanie held the baby girl tight to her bosom, tears of pain turning to tears of joy. For the first time in her life, the infamous Miss Pessimist could find nothing to complain about. Her child was flawless. Her child was perfect. And a perfect child deserved a perfect name.

“Welcome to the world, my darling Gerine.”

Years later, that baby would grow into a pretty young lady, whose facial features were nearly identical to those of her mother, whose body was well toned and built for survival in the harsh forests of Lianhua, and whose name we know well. But Melanie would never get to see her little girl grow up, for on the day that her daughter was born, as she lay in her bed nursing the infant, the savages circled in.

The beasts began clawing at her and the newborn, rattling roars rising from their throats. Melanie knew something like this might happen, and luckily, she came prepared. Her hand fell to the microphone lying by her bedside and raised the instrument high above her head like a warning beacon.

Radio silence accompanied her actions.

She frantically flipped the power switch up and down, raised and lowered the volume dial, beat the damned thing against her leg, but it wouldn’t turn on.

The batteries were dead.

But that didn’t mean Melanie was going to just give up and let these beasts take the life of her newborn. She threw the microphone directly into the mosh pit, striking one of the beasts right between the eyes, then set about beating another over the head with her bare fists. She didn’t know if her lover was among those in attendance and she didn’t care. She would fight off whoever she had to if it meant keeping her darling daughter safe.

But the baby wasn’t the one they were after. They could clearly sense that this child was —at least in part— one of their own. The baby’s mother, on the other hand, was an invader. An invader who’d had all the fight taken out of her. Her body was basted in blood and sweat. She was malnourished. She was weak. Now was the time to finish her off for good! If any harm came the child’s way, it was only as a consequence of trying to reach the mother.

Melanie realized this, and reluctantly released Gerine. Released her into a reality full of violence and bloodshed, of heartbreak and betrayal, of sadness and anger, and without anyone to guide her. Although, Melanie acknowledged, there existed equal opportunity for caring and kindness, for love and laughter, for peace and prosperity.

And so, able only to wish her baby girl the best of luck in life, Melanie Waters was swallowed by the swarm.

[es46]

Airplaneshipping Prompt - Modelling

- Skyla doesn't think she's ever sat so still for so long in her entire life. Hands firm on her lap, fighting back every urge to twitch or even breathe, Skyla keeps her eyes tightly shut as Elesa's make-up artists bustle around her. They're a gaggle of voices and motion, brushing around Skyla as they touch up every little detail of her appearance. Make-up has never been Skyla's forte. Too impatient, too unconcerned, and then her career took off and the only foundation she applied was oil, grease, and sweat. Dating Elesa hadn't changed her stance on make-up, though Skyla couldn't deny she felt quite pampered whenever Elesa prettied her up, whispering how beautiful she looked… Brushes running through her hair jolt Skyla from her daydreaming. Right now, Skyla feels like she's made of make-up. There's powder on her cheeks, glitter on her lips, various sprays settled into her hair, some eyeliner here and some perfume there- Skyla's mind boggles at how many brands Elesa's make-up artists sound off. What feels like an eternity later, the crew withdraw, and Skyla hears the lead artist, a firm but fair woman named Maria, speak directly to her. "Alright, that'll do. On your feet, Miss Skyla. Eyes stay closed." Skyla obeys, guided by an offered hand, and slowly totters after Maria in her fancy shoes- wedge heels, thank the heavens- as she leads her from the stand. Skyla finds herself led to what may be the corner of the room, and judders as Maria stops her. "Eyes open." Skyla opens her eyes, and she gasps. The woman in the mirror gasps as well, a figure more glamorous and stunning than Skyla could ever expect to be stood in her shoes. Her face is radiant with a variety of exotic touches and effects, her hair lustrous and tied aside in a braid. How do her lips look so glittery? How does her skin look so sparkly? The dress she wears emphasizes Skyla's newfound flair. A blue-and-white piece that flared out into a feathery petticoat, emulating a Swanna with shell-like pads and a variety of ties around her back. The white gloves she wore extended into long feather ribbons, fluttering like wings when she waved her arms, and bronze leggings glimmered as she swayed in wonder. Maria drapes a sky-blue feather boa around Skyla's neck, arranging it tactfully to sway just short of her chest, and gives a slight smile at how Skyla marvels at herself. "We do good work. Shiela will take you to Miss Elesa now. Good luck, dear." Shiela leaps over and takes Skyla's hand, giggling as she led her from the mirror; it was difficult for Skyla to tear her eyes from herself. Out the door and down corridors they go, Shiela chattering about how gorgeous Skyla looked, wondering if she'd consider a career change. Skyla remains silent, mind fixated on the woman she saw in the mirror. She couldn't believe such a fanciful figure could be her. Usually Elesa was the one to leave her dumbstruck; how surreal to see herself in a similar light. Shiela leads her onto a backstage set with a vast curtain on one side. Shiela lets Skyla go and wishes her luck as she leaves. Skyla fights the urge to bite her lower lip, unease starting to writhe in her stomach. The lighting was dim in here, leaving her uncertain as to whether she had what it took to stand beside her girlfriend… "Skyla." Skyla turns. Oh, Elesa. There was Elesa, in a stunning ensemble designed to complement Skyla's own attire. She was clad in form-fitting yellow and black, the dress slit to emphasize her legs, her gloves similarly draped with ribbons. A gleaming gold feather boa around her neck, Elesa's smile is adoring as she strides forward in glittering high heels, the lights of her headphones adding a glow to her blonde hair. She looks radiant, electrified- fitting, since the dress was meant to evoke a Kilowattrel- and all that dumbstruck awe hits Skyla anew. She wants to rush forward and hug Elesa, kiss her, but the need to stay perfect like a porcelain doll keeps Skyla still. Elesa stops before her, eyes twinkling with a devout admiration.

"You're so beautiful. I, oh, I can't even think of anything clever. You're just so beautiful, Skyla."

"You're even more beautiful."

Elesa snickers with a slight shake of her head. She leans down, so close that both were tempted to kiss, but the soft warmth of their breath would have to do.

"Not today, sweetie. Just once, be confident that you shine more than I do."

Skyla can't say she is, but Elesa's sincerity bolsters her confidence. Matching her girlfriend's smile, Skyla trembles as Elesa links an arm with hers and guides her towards the curtain. Stood behind it, Skyla takes deep breaths, readying herself as best she can. Elesa murmurs gentle assurances, and having her by her side keeps Skyla strong.

The curtain opens. A glimmering stage awaits them, a small crowd watching as blue and white spotlights sweep over the pair. Skyla glimpses familiar figures- Iris, Burgh, the twins, her grandfather- before Elesa leads her forward, waving an arm amidst a din of 'oohs' and 'aahs'. Blushing, Skyla copies her girlfriend, trying a dazzling smile as she waves her ribbons. So many eyes on her, admiring, and the rush of adulation is thrilling.

There's a panel before the stage, hosting Elesa's longtime managers and advisors who look at Skyla with critical eyes. Her confidence falters, intimidated, but Elesa is at her side, sliding her arm around Skyla's waist as she whispers.

"Don't think. Dance with me."

Her other hand taking Skyla's, Elesa twirls her around and Skyla gasps as her dress flutters. The spotlights follow them, emphasizing every spin and every step, always avoiding their eyes. Skyla can hardly think straight, held close to Elesa and gazing at her as they danced. Elesa's expression is controlled, dazzling for the audience, but Skyla sees the ardent love in her eyes.

It's a waltz they're accustomed to, the highlight of myriad parties and gigs Elesa and Skyla attended. Skyla's never been too good, but Elesa makes it work, guiding her through every motion with gentle shifts of her arms. Dancing with her now, hearing the crowd marvel at them, is surprisingly exhilarating.

Elesa's motions are precise, keeping Skyla close at sharp turns and then letting her twirl afar to show off her elegance. Skyla's confidence grows as she follows Elesa's rhythm, stepping more fluidly with her, moving her body more exuberantly. There's music thrumming across the stage now, a fanciful tune that has Elesa picking up their pace. Skyla can't help but laugh as her girlfriend spins her, arms outstretched and ribbons waving. The crowd cheers, and Skyla feels like she's shining.

Elesa tugs her in close, lifting Skyla up, and the light shines around them as Skyla looks down upon Elesa's sublime face. That smile of hers, the twinkle in her eyes, oh, it has Skyla's heart thundering. Their feather boas fall away, twirling around them with the waves of their movements. Skyla gasps as Elesa twirls her round and leans her over, one arm under her back and the other holding out a leg. Skyla looks up, panting, and Elesa is radiant smiling down on her.

The music hits a pitch, resonant, and it's the easiest thing in the world to curl her arms around Elesa's shoulders and draw her in for a kiss. The feel and taste of glitter is briefly bemusing, followed by the sensational warmth of Elesa's softness pressed on hers. Faintly, she can hear the crowd hollering, someone- Iris? - whistling. Engulfed by light, Skyla truly appreciates how Elesa dazzles the world.

Their lips part, smudged, and Elesa leans her back up with a satisfied smile. They turn to the crowd, bow, and Skyla is amazed at how they cheer for them. She looks up at her girlfriend, snuggling in close beside her as the music subsides and the panel gives their approval, and Elesa nuzzles her with a whisper.

"You really are a shining beauty."

[alastyr-not-alastair]

Breaks hands

Alright, let’s get into each of them!

Below is:

Each of the drawings for each character

Their names

And some facts about them

First things first here’s all the individual pics of the characters

In order of colour, the names of each of the scientists are

Blaze

Amber

Storm

Clover

Coral

Aether

Berry

If you look closely, you can see that Rainbow Steve actually has at least one of each of their features!

(Totally like that wasn’t the point of the whole edit hahahaha what are you talking about?

Let’s go in order of each of the characters, shall we?

First of all we have Blaze

- You’ve seen him before because I drew him one other time for lighting practice

- Rainbow has his nose

- Blaze is a pure fire type red steve, he does not have any sort of ability to control lava, no matter how hard he tries.

- The markings on Blaze’s face are just that, markings that he’s had since he was a child

- He was one of the few reds in his village that actually knew common, but he only ever learned it because he wanted to be able to work on large scale experiments

- He also used to eat redstone as a kid sometimes and only stopped because his parents found out, grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and held him in place while washing his mouth out in a panic

Secondly we have Amber

- Rainbow has his eye shape

- Amber is a healer type orange steve, he has no abilities to manipulate matter

- The colouration on Amber’s face is some freckles

- He was actually considered pretty strange compared to other oranges since he spent much more time on actual science stuff rather than the creatives

- He once accidentally got powdered colour everywhere as a kid while trying to make a recipe that was better than the traditional dye making ones. It succeeded but he was coughing pigment for days

Next up we have Storm

- Rainbow has his ears

- Storm is a combo type yellow steve, born with both the abilities of speed and lightning

- The lightning mark on his face is actually a scar, he was accidentally electrocuted by a younger sibling when he was in his teens, the scar spans from his face to his arm, down to his fingers

- Storm is actually a middle child in his family, not the oldest but far from the youngest

- He ran face first into a tree once because the moment that he was about to sprint over the sapling, it grew right then and there. No one ever believed him

Fourth up is Clover

- Rainbow has his lips

- Clover is a plant manipulator type green steve, he is unable to speak to plants

- Clover does not have a second eye, it was taken out in an experiment he and his crew were doing while trying to create a seed launcher for offensive purposes. It shot a seed directly into his eye, which instantly grew and gouged it out.

- He’s known for being a genius when it comes to plant growth, to the point where his works can be used for offensive purposes (as seen above)

- as a kid, he would run into the woods and just hang around there for a while messing with his powers, until one of the elders found him in a mini city made of plants and realized this kid might have a gift

Moving along to Coral

- coral blue #5…

- Rainbow has his eye colour

- Rainbow has the least similarities to him, but Light on the other hand… he looks pretty similar, don’t you think?

- Coral is a water type blue steve, being unable to control ice or handle the cold too much

- The marks on Coral’s face are just facial markings, they started as smaller diamonds but grew as he got older. It’s a side effect of living in an area with a high population density

- when he was younger, Coral would go and hide himself from everyone, usually a hidy hole in the library to read a few books like a NERRRDDD

Comin up on Aether

- You can’t really see it but Rainbow got his eyebrows

- Aether is a teleported type purple steve, no access to any sort of pocket dimension like some other purple steves

- There’s a large scar on one side his face due to an end crystal explosion, the explosion was harsh enough that it messed up his eye as well. Between him and Clover they have a total of 1 pair of working eyes

- Aether used to work in a different lab, which is where the end crystal explosion happened. He didn’t stick around for long after that due to a bunch of other osha violations

- As a kid, Aether was a massive sleep teleporter, it was more often for him to wake up in some random unknown place than to actually be in his bed

Last but not least we have Berry

- Rainbow has his jawline

- Berry is a mild mind control type violet steve, unlike the common empathetic types

- The marks on his face aren’t natural marks, they’re gently cut into skin and taken care of until they scar for every large achievement made

- Despite the whole mind control type, it’s not something that’s super strong, and compared to other powers it may even be seen as weak

- As a kid, Berry would go around trying his best to do good deeds in hopes that they would be good enough for him to earn some marks, he didn’t earn them until he later on made a few scientific discoveries, which is why he got the majority of his marks

I feel obligated to also add in the height chart made for them

Rainbow Steve is just all their heights averaged out

Legally required to add my stats on the drawings as well

Do I look like him?

[kendolphin]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Classic Cable Sweater Long Sleeve Crew Neck Women's Powder Blue Medium.

[veetyuh]

Ranting and raving about my Pirate Au, for which I have a fanfic meticulously planned for, but writer's block is kicking me in the ass over. The thing I keep making art of, too. obvious cw for problematic shit haha >:)

Fun fact: some pirate ships had iron reinforcement! That's 100% what Peter would be in a pirate au; iron bones instead of steel bones, still with his super strength, and still made to serve in Arthur's navy, so he still has that instinctual loyalty to him. He spawned in Harwich (bonus history points, for irl Sealand protecting that port and it being a huge shipyard during that time?) and was an anomaly, sure; in what world does a fort/ship get its own personification? And just like in mainverse, he's sent to war anyway, and it's assumed he'll probably die during it.

Child Peter is a powder monkey! He's bloodthirsty and a menace, eager to wreak havoc for the glory of his absent older brother. He wants to be close to the action, and he can heal very quickly, even from mortal wounds -- so he's perfect for the job, and is taking the place of a human child. Traumatizing, but it's a net good, right??

After the war, there's no use for him, and it's decided that he'll be broken up and the timber used for other endeavors. which was what usually happened to ships that outlived their usefulness. . . Which Arthur just can't abide by. He's not really keen on getting close to Peter, because this is very shortly after Alfred gained independence, but he also cannot bring himself to let his other blond-haired, blue-eyed, enthusiastic, super-strong little brother be killed in the most painful way imaginable.

So he took advantage of the Elizabethan law which protected Sealand irl and pirates in the first place: ordered him to throw anchor outside of England's territorial waters, where his jurisdiction ends, and wait until he can convince his bosses to not decommission him. But, uh. . . a royal navy warship, relatively empty, just sitting out there with notoriously incompetent naval guard looking over it? It's free real estate.

Being basically fucking dumped out at sea like an unwanted puppy, Peter is in bad shape, both physically and emotionally, when he's commandeered by pirates. They fix him up, induct him into their crew, and give him a self-discovery arc where he emotionally tries to separate himself from the brother who abandoned him.

Meanwhile, Arthur very much notices his absence, and begins The Chase. He will hunt down that crew and have them personally hanged for daring to steal from him. Captain Kirkland takes sail, always one step behind the pirate crew -- and all British vessels are on the lookout for Peter.

This continues for decades. Peter is coming into himself, physically aging into his teens and growing bolder. More skilled. More confident. But full of righteous fury and still extremely fucked up, leaning on substance abuse and whatever distractions he can conjure up to deal with his demons. Arthur is more and more obsessed, even going as far as to attempt to sink Peter a few times; he'd rather have his brother drowned at the bottom of the ocean by his own hand than to let his property be taken by pirates. The rift between them grows ever-larger, even as they have increasingly close encounters.

Arthur is closing in. But Peter's inherent loyalty won't allow him to fight back -- only flee. This causes a ton of friction with his crew, up until Arthur is breathing down their necks. There's a mutiny of sorts, and Peter is put into the brig, made to wait while his crew tries to fight for their lives. Only, Peter enters the protective haze which always happens when Arthur is in danger, and he's reduced to his basic instincts. No longer lucid, just a hollow shell of himself, made to submit, serve, and slaughter.

The cannon fire stops, and Arthur is bewildered, until he takes out a spy glass and watches as Peter tears his own crew apart limb from limb. His property returns to him, just as obedient and doting as the day Arthur ordered him to throw anchor, until the haze lifts and he's utterly distraught.

Slow burn of Peter degenerating back into Arthur's lapdog. All the spicy ship elements -- physical age gap between teen peter and adult arthur (which is bigger in terms of real years), incest, stockholm syndrome, even some mind control-type shit. Peter eventually giving in and falling head over heels, but struggling because at this time, Arthur is a bastard who mostly sees him as a weapon he can fuck. Tons of angst, obviously, with wholesome moments sprinkled in, like Arthur saving Peter from getting hanged for piracy, teaching Peter how to read, etc.

Plus side conflicts of friction with Arthur's crew (mostly thanks to the rampant classism in the Royal Navy, Peter is both condescended upon as A Poor and an object of jealousy for having high rank anyway), Peter's continuing struggle with his own sense of free will and fighting to be seen as a person, and those demons he tried to drown in rum still haven't quieted down. Plus more miscellaneous conflict that I'm keeping a secret for now. >:)

I'm obsessed, because I've made it mirror Sealandic history, but it gets so much more unhinged than mainverse ever can. There's so much more potential when Arthur is at the height of his empire, and the low of his morals -- giving that Arthur his own obedient superweapon of a little brother is inherently more interesting than giving him to the crumbling-empire, post-WW2, badly-injured Arthur of mainverse. And I'm deranged about it, but also cannot get myself to fucking write.