#but more likely it’d be turn his room into a brig or something

[browniefox]

Sorry more Mouthwashing thoughts.

I think everyone is quick to jump on the essentially ‘Curly should’ve killed Jimmy’ but like, I feel like killing someone is just such a complicated issue, deeply deeply deeply rooted in morals and our understanding of what makes someone a good or bad person. Obviously, that doesn’t excuse Curly from doing *nothing*, but I do think that without the crash, no one would’ve killed Jimmy even if they did know. There’s be a middle ground reached somewhere between the nothing and murder, ideally.

[dreams-of-the-arcana]

Took a bit but here it is! @positive-meme-experience

Pairing: Zotikos “Tikos” Orion Katsaros-Yakinthos X Jasmine Faucher ( @xvi-the-tower’s OC)

⚠️ Warnings: Violence, Description of injuries, Blood, mild Possessive Behavior, Fire, Stitches (This is kind of dark so please read with that in mind) ⚠️

Mine Now

The crew of the Charybdis’ Decent were not strangers to conflict. If anything it seemed as though they drew it straight to themselves. Or maybe it was as the First Mate often suggested and the hideous figurehead brought it instead of protecting them. Tikos refused to remove it though, insisting his Siren was much better than some generic deity who would expect things.

So as the ship gripped tightly to another and the crew swarmed on board with weapons at the ready, it could even be considered a normal day. Chaos erupted on the deck of their opponent. Flashes of steel and loud yells of challenge flew from everywhere. In the midst of it was their Captain. Tikos brandished a sabre along with a hungry grin, his eye taking in everything. Alongside him was his faithful companion, Jasmine Faucher. The pair traded jokes as they sparred and boasted as to who would take down more enemies. Nothing got an opponent quite as angry as being disrespected during a battle and it happened to be a specialty of theirs.

“Oh look here, Darlin’. I believe this big sword is compensating for something,” Tikos laughed loudly and pulled the sword straight out of their hand.

“Must be, Cap! Compensating for lack of skill!” She returned and launched her chain and sickle at anyone who tried to approach Tikos’ back.

“Think you’re scary? Think again.”

“What should we have for dinner? I’m getting bored here!”

“Stay down and watch me count out your coin or get up and see what happens. Your choice.”

Back and forth they went happily, seemingly having the time of their life.

Then suddenly Jas spotted a large figure with a hidden dagger out of the corner of her eye.

“Watch out!”

She yelled and launched herself at Tikos who went stumbling away just in time. Jas unfortunately just put herself exactly in line with the dagger. It bit into her shoulder and dragged for a fraction of a second before being pulled back out. When Tikos regained his bearings he quickly jumped at the attacker with his bare hands. They went tumbling to the floor where Tikos pulled them into a tight headlock. Now he was quiet as he strained his muscles to block their airway until they lost consciousness. He dropped them unceremoniously and stood up to look towards Jas. She waved the hand on her uninjured shoulder and silently reassured him. Though she expected he’d want to make sure personally.

But Tikos had missed seeing the knife strike her entirely. So he gave a relieved sigh and put his boot on the knocked out persons back.

“How nice of you to join us, Captain Houghton. Haven’t seen you since... well since you slithered away from our deal like a coward!”

Jas usually loved watching this part. Something about seeing her lover standing proud and victorious sent excitement straight through her. But as she felt her wound start to pulse with her adrenaline waning, she wanted to get to the Doctor. So, stealthily she snuck away back to the Charybdis’ Decent to find them.

Tikos didn’t notice at first, he’d gotten used to Jas being around and watching. Usually it led to the two of them being unable to keep their hands to themselves as soon as things were settled. But as he tossed Houghton into the cell and looked around he couldn’t find her anywhere.

“Heh,” Houghton chuckled as he pulled himself up to sit against the bars.

“Got somethin’ to say?”

“It took me a bit but I figured it out.”

Tikos wouldn’t humor him by prompting any more and instead waited.

“That girl,” Houghton finally said. “Honestly Zo, I didn’t expect to find you shacking up with August’s sloppy seconds.”

But Houghton had made a grave mistake, he hadn’t waited for Tikos to close the locked door before saying anything. Tikos soon showed him the error in this.

A sickening crunch filled the brig and caused Houghton’s imprisoned crew to recoil in fear. Then a scream followed, one of intense pain. Houghton curled into himself defensively while Tikos hovered overhead with his fist still raised and bloody.

“Y-you broke my... my fucking nose!”

“Shut up,” Tikos’ voice was calm and cold. “Say another word or even think about her and I’ll put you on the bottom of this ship myself. That’s my woman. Get it? Mine. Now pick yourself up, you look like a disgrace.”

He stood still as a statue until Houghton stood back up. As soon as he was back on his feet Tikos slammed his knee into his stomach which sent him right back down with another groan of pain.

“This time, stay down.”

With that Tikos swept out of the brig. Frustration still biting at his heels. It’d been some time since he’d heard that name mentioned and the anger never subsided. For the time being, he wanted to find Jas and hopefully work out the pent up tension.

The longer he searched though the more it built. Where could she even be? It wasn’t like her at all. By this time after a fight they’d be locked together where ever they decided was fit and enjoying the afterglow. Something wasn’t right and it just doubled his frustration. She was definitely going to get all of it when he got his hands on her.

Soon he was completely pissed and throwing open doors with much more force than necessary. The usual rush of endorphins after a battle had soured. Until finally he found the right door.

As soon as the Doctor’s door flew open, Jas jumped in her seat and hissed in pain. They’d been mid-stitch and the Doc gave her a stern warning not to move again: ‘No matter who comes in throwing a tantrum.’

Tikos strode inside angrily until he spotted Jas laid out on the little cot. His eye snapped to the needle repairing her shoulder. The room fell silent, dangerously silent. Jasmine squirmed under her Captain’s hard gaze (and maybe because a heat had begun to pool in her belly) while he stood motionless and watched. She knew that look, oh Arcana did she know that look well. The Doctor continued his work, blatantly ignoring the anger from one occupant and the building sexual tension of another.

‘Kids,’ he thought to himself.

“... who did this.”

It wasn’t a question, Jasmine knew that, it was an order. One that sent a shudder down her spine.

“It’s really not that ba-“

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Jasmine shut her mouth immediately. The look on his face was cold and calculating. He was replaying the battle trying to find any instance where she was out of his sight. It dawned upon him and he ground his teeth together.

“Houghton.”

“Yes, but I put myself between you two willingly-“

“Stop talking. I’m going to fucking make him suffer...”

With that command he turned and left the bay. Jas turned an apologetic but questioning look to the Doctor who only rolled his eyes.

“You can chase after him when I’m done and not a moment sooner.”

She huffed and sank back down on the bed with a pout. It was only a little cut. But she knew whatever Tikos was planning would be much worse than anyone could anticipate. Oh how she wanted to be there to watch it unfold.

Only a few long hours later, Tikos stepped back into the med bay. The same hard look on his face as he gave her the briefest gesture to follow him. Jasmine hurried to obey and rushed to his side. He led the way back out and onto Charybdis’ Decent’s deck. The entire crew of the captured ship stood in a line along the port side of the ship all shackled together and waiting. In front of them was Houghton, dried blood down the front of his face and shirt. The Charybdis’ Decent crew seemed to vibrate with energy. They knew what was coming and they couldn’t wait to watch it.

Tikos took his place in front of Houghton.

“You’ve been defeated, Jakob Houghton. As such I now revoke your title as Captain. I claim your ship, The Hades Damned as mine.”

The crew snickered, it was the highest dishonor to a Captain to not only lose their ship but be publicly humiliated like this. They couldn’t wait to get to shore and spread the tale.

Jasmine’s eyes were fixed on Tikos though, she knew there was more to this.

“Now Houghton,” he stepped forward and lifted the other man up by his lapels. “Watch.”

Tikos dropped him facing the port side where The Hades Damned sat. Confusion clear on the parts of his face not too swollen to emote.

“Zo, what are y-,” Houghton started.

“RELEASE!” Tikos cried out.

The other ship began to float away slowly while everyone aboard watched. Confusion ran rampant, why would Tikos set loose a ship? A ship he could sell or claim for his own fleet. It didn’t make sense.

... But it soon did.

Tikos raised a hand towards the ship as it moved away faster. Almost storm force winds pushing it away. Suddenly a loud explosion shook through the air and set The Hades Damned ablaze.

Jasmine gasped aloud, that had been a fine ship and now it would burn into nothing in minutes. All because the Captain had hurt her. The burning of The Hades Damned was nothing compared to the desire coursing through her at that realization. Tikos had set all this up to make the person who hurt her suffer. She looked over at the slack jawed pirate watching his ship burn. A grin tugged at her lips. But Tikos wasn’t done yet.

“Now, two miles in the opposite direction of your useless hull is an island. I suggest you swim fast, Houghton.”

Before anyone could process, Tikos reared back and kicked him firmly off the ship into the water. Many of the crew ran to the edge to watch as Houghton desperately swam for his life. Laughs and jeers rained down on him.

Tikos didn’t stop to watch and instead turned to the crew in shackles with a cold eye.

“Any of you having any strong feelings about what just happened?”

They smartly said nothing.

“Good, take them back to the brig.”

Finally, he turned to look at Jasmine. The intensity in his eye stunned her for a moment and she couldn’t move a single inch.

“You and I have unfinished business.”

“But... but what if Houghton gets away? What if he comes back with a grudge? He definitely hates you now so-“

“That won’t happen.”

“How can you be so sure? What if-“

His hand reached out and covered her mouth. Slowly he leaned in close until she could feel his breath on her ear where he whispered.

“There’s no island.”

A hard shudder ran through her again and she knew she was in for a sleepless night. She couldn’t wait to start.

[beblade-a]

@livingprophecy​​    /   mal’s letters aka zee choose death 🥰

i'm sure by now you know that i was reassigned to a new unit. i would have told you myself that i was leaving, but you didn't look like you wanted to see me. i couldn't blame you. part of me thought i'd be back soon enough, and maybe by then you'd stop looking away when we were in the same room. that's looking less and less likely by the hour. they say this new position might be more permanent than anyone expected. you know how these leader types are, they can never make up their mind about anything. i probably shouldn't tell you that, though. the last thing i need is you reprimanding me in writing.

shit, sorry. getting off topic. the point of this is, i don't know when i'll see you again. maybe i should have talked to you before i left. said something. i know you wouldn't have listened, but it would have been better to get it off my chest then. except you're too stubborn for your own good, and i didn't want you to hate me for pushing you more than i did that night. i couldn't help you the way you wanted me to, and maybe that's on me for being too willing to see what you didn't want anyone else to. i'm never going to regret the choice i made then, you needed someone to tell you to stop. you deserved to be able to grieve. you still do. i'm just sorry it pulled us apart.

there's a lot i didn't say then that i guess i should say now, but the trip was long, and daylight is ending soon. i'll write again. you haven't gotten rid of me yet, nik. looking forward to hearing from you too, if you can find time in your busy schedule to pick up a pen for me. but i'll understand if the masses keep pulling you down with a hundred more complaints about needing softer blankets and more salt for their slop.

best regards, mal.

p.s. sorry, that last part was a joke. i think i'm getting worse at them.

/

it's safe to say most of us underestimated just how long we'd really be here. the most "permanent" has ever meant is a few weeks, at most. just enough time to prove we've got numbers on our side, just enough to spill a little blood on both sides.

that was grim, sorry. i don't want this letter to be about that. here i was, ready to talk about the beauty of the mountains and how the air tastes different here than it did there. sometimes i forget this all leads back to war anyways, but it's easier to let yourself get distracted by the small pleasures in like. the first rays of sunlight and how they cast shadows over giants, the way plants bloom here that are strangers to what other forests have held. i wonder if you'd let yourself see this place the way that i do, if you'd love to lose yourself in it the same way. i remember you once said you wanted to see the ocean, and how your eyes lit up when you described it. i hope it makes you feel the way being on mountain tops has made me feel: at peace and just a little more alive. i think you deserve that, after everything. i know you do.

maybe we can see it together sometime, if that's not asking for too much.

speak to you soon, mal.

/

a few weeks passed since i last wrote. sorry, i guess i got caught up in everything. you know how it is, the work of a tracker is never done, etc. etc. not that i mind the work, of course. i'll take the fresh air and clear skies over being stuck in a stuffy tent with a bunch of soldiers any day. i still don't envy your meetings and boring talks of treaties that never go anywhere, or the way they always seemed to cut our mornings short at the worst possible moments. it's a miracle dominik didn't resort to anything worse than glaring at me for making you late, i always thought he'd get me thrown into the brig just for being annoying in his presence.

i still think about him sometimes. more than sometimes. i heard he had family close to the capital? you'd know more about that, i suppose. it feels stupid, but i feel guilty that i didn't know him better. did he laugh at stupid jokes, did he turn his head up towards the sky when it rained, did he see an end to this war? it doesn't seem fair that you're the one who has to carry him. someone else should remember him. i pray you learn you don't have to shoulder this burden alone.

but that's not what i was writing to you about. or, rather, wanted to write to you about. are you even getting these? i hope you are, but i know how tricky sending mail is. it once took five months for one of alina's letters to get to me, you know, so it wouldn't surprise me if you never saw these.

i met some people. well, if you could even call them people. they're idiots, really, the both of them. added onto my unit just last week, though i don't think they know a thing about tracking. that's fine, though, they're good guys and it's easier not to fall into thought with their incessant babbling going on in the background. it's hard to get close to people in times like these, but they seem too harmless to keep away. hopefully they get to stick around for a while, but we can't be sure of anything, can we?

that's all i had to say, i suppose. i'll end it here before this gets any longer.

take care, mal.

/

i think about how we left things. should i have pushed more, come to see you when i knew time was running out for us? it didn't seem to be within my right. we always knew this would end somewhere, just ships that pass in the night, but the tide seemed to carry us further away than i’d anticipated. it’s hard to wrap my head around how awful it felt when they gave out my orders, the way it seemed time was hacking me to pieces when all i wanted desperately was to help you keep yourself together. but you wouldn’t even look at me in the days that led to that moment. it was like i stopped existing for you, and you couldn’t see me as i floated away.

this isn’t to say i blame you. i don’t. saints, i don’t think i could ever place the blame on you for anything. but we were friends, right? if nothing else, we were friends, and now it feels like we’re nothing. the memory of your hands on me is a ghost that lingers, the proof that it wasn’t all just a dream. it’d be easier if it was. then i wouldn’t have to lie awake at night, wondering if you’re reading these. if you are, i’m sorry. i don’t blame you, i swear i don’t. grief is a monster that claws through all of us, and you lost the most important person that you had. if one day i got word that alina was gone from this world, i would destroy myself in that pain. but you had to watch him go, you have the memory of that now.

i’m sorry. if you get nothing else from this letter, just know that i’m sorry and i’m still here. if you need me, i’m still here, nik. i know it isn’t much, but it’s all i have to offer.

your friend, mal.

/

all of my writing seems to be reserved for you and alina. i don’t have anyone else, i guess, but that’s okay. they sent me out again, caryeva this time.  it’s only for a few weeks, but i don’t mind traveling to this one. alina’s here, said something about the cartographers trying to make sense of the caves. i don’t know how much sense they expect to make of her drawings, but, hey, she’s here. so that means that all of my writing is reserved for you, at least until i have to leave again.

i'm sorry about the last letter. i shouldn't have sent it. that's one i really hope you didn't get, but i guess you wouldn't know that if you aren't getting any of them. there's only so much i can keep bottled up, though, and it's not like i can tell anyone else about you. i've thought about telling alina, a few times, but then i look over at her and forget how to breathe and thinking about you gets a little harder to do. it's always been like that with her, though, but i can't put words to the feeling when she's the one i'm talking to. she's familiar, like you were for those few months. like you'd still be if one day we met back in the middle of this war.

princes go on to do princely things, and our story probably ended already, but i'm just unlucky enough to be stupidly optimistic. i see an end to this war, and i see you becoming a great leader,  and i see it all unfolding in front of my eyes. see? stupidly optimistic. it's alright, though. someone somewhere has to have hope. why not let it be me?

your stupid optimist, mal.

/

we left caryeva this morning. just me and the poor idiots who came here on their way to make the journey back to sikursk. i hugged alina so tight i think i would have broken bones if we'd held on any longer, but she didn't complain. just wiped the tears away and called me stupid, in that same tone she uses when she's not trying to make things sadder than they are. i missed her the moment my back was to her, my feet carrying me hundreds of miles away from her again. the ache never left me when i was with her, but she makes everything easier. now she's gone again, and i can't help but let the loneliness creep back in.

i'm an orphan, did i ever tell you that? it's hard to say, never comes out quite right. like saying "i have nobody who cares about me" or "everyone who should have loved me is dead." that's what people look at me like, at least. pity and sadness and the way the war keeps taking and will keep taking more. but that's not true. i have someone. her. we've always had each other.

i have alina, and i still feel alone.

you haven't responded, or you never got these letters, or you did and haven't even read them. i don't know which one makes this more painful. doubt muddies everything and the lack of answers rips away any security i had in what we had. but what did we have? a few nights of stupid choices, where i could have drowned my troubles away in anything but you chose me and that felt good enough to mean something? i said i wouldn't blame you and that's still true, i can't put this on your shoulders on top of everything else. mostly, i blame this war.

i've thought about not writing these anymore. they don't make me feel closer to you. they just make the distance seem longer. but i don't want to leave you alone. i'm sorry, i don't know what else to do.

i suppose i'll keep on holding hope for a little longer.

running out of things to put here, mal.

/

it's late, and the stars are shining high above, and i can't sleep. dubrov's snores could shake the mountains, but that's not why i'm awake. i stopped believing you're getting these, so i guess it doesn't matter if i say it now. i miss you. being with you was easy, which is why i know it was never real. what we had only ever existed in my head, and you forgot about me the moment i wasn't around anymore.

were we friends, nik? were we at least that?

i have to believe we were. because if we weren't, what does that leave me with?

i never thought i'd get to keep you but a part of me was looking for a happier ending, a more satisfying conclusion. you were the first thing i didn't want to run from, that i didn't even realize you were never there with me to begin with.

all i’ve said in these letters is sorry, but i can't apologize for this one.

mal.

/

it'll be a year tomorrow.

by the time you get this, if you get this, it'll be longer than that.

i can't help but think about you sitting in your tent, alone, shoving that grief down as the time ticks by. or do you drown your sorrows in someone else, the next petty face that catches your eye? is it wrong to say that? i don't know. and you're not reading these anyways.

that's not fair to you. i told myself i wasn't going to be angry writing this one, and saints know i still ache to think about you feeling any of that grief alone. but it's been a year, and it could be two years, and i know that this is it. you're never going to write back, and i suppose that's on me for expecting you to.

i'm sorry. i'm sorry that i'm mad and i'm sorry about dominik and i'm sorry i let you push me away when all i wanted was to be there. i can't go back and change that, i don't even know if i would want to. were you always so stubborn, or is that what you told yourself you had to be?

please let someone in, nik. even if it's not me.

mal.

/

i should stop writing these, but you know how it goes. one more letter turns into two, two turns into a chest full of them. there’s no telling if i'm sending these to the right place anymore, if you've moved on. they said they'd find their way to you anyways, but that's hard to put any amount of faith on. there's too many unanswered letters for me to make up my mind on what's happening to them.

i keep thinking that you might have found someone else and can't help being jealous despite knowing it's probably for the best. maybe we can both find something to keep us feeling a little more human, a little more whole.

if i kiss someone and all it does is remind me of you, does that still count as trying to forget you?

swallowing the idea that one day you might disappear from my memory is hard, though i shudder to think of the alternative. nobody tastes like you. the only person who's ever made me laugh like you did is alina, and even my love for her is different. it doesn’t burn like yours did. like it still does.

what i'm trying to say is: i don't think i can forget you if i tried, but saints i wish i could. and i hope it’s harder for you to forget about me than it is to ignore these letters.

everything i have left, mal.

/

this was supposed to be an apology for something, but the words won’t come out right. here it is, nik. by this point, i’ve spent more time being ignored by you then i ever got to have you. if you never get these letters, i hope you spend the rest of your days thinking i forgot about you. if you did, i hope you never read this one.

you said i could keep you as long as i wanted, and i wanted to believe that was true. so much that i put my heart in your hands. even though we never called it love. there was always a part of me that knew it was a mistake. i understood then that it was a lie, just like i know now that you're never going to write back. i gave you my heart. i gave you everything. i should have asked for it back when i tucked my things away that final night.

i said i wasn’t going to blame you, but then that just means we’re both liars.

you should have looked away that day our eyes first met. you should have told me to leave when all i wanted was to spend every waking moment right next to you. if you knew we didn’t even get a chance, that you were never going to keep me, you should have pushed me away before i felt your teeth sinking into my heart.

maybe we were both naive and stupid, but you always knew, didn’t you? i did too, but you can’t tell a lovestruck boy what he can and can’t do with his feelings. that’s what it is, isn’t it? i cared too much and you cared too little, or you just didn’t care about me more than you cared about letting me go.

war has never been kind but it feels less cruel than what you’ve done to me, and if i were to die tomorrow at least i wouldn’t have to think about you anymore.

saints, let your memory be purged from my body.

/

this isn't a letter. this is a eulogy. and an apology.

i don’t want to hate you, but hate pours out when i write these. there’s nothing healing about wanting to say my piece to you, and getting nothing back. like arguing with a wall. at least i’d know if a wall was there. so, this is the last one, nikolai. there’s nowhere else for me to put my feelings down for you, so i’ll bury them in this ink and move on.

if i loved you once, i can no longer separate that love from the pain your absence has caused. there is nothing more empty than being faced with your silence, no greater frustration than knowing you’re out there somewhere and we walk the same earth on startlingly different roads. you were never mine, and i was always yours. but you didn’t ask for my love, and i’m sorry i gave it so easily. a lesson for next time.

i hope you get to see the ocean, nik. i hope whatever doubt that lives in your heart can be replaced by something or someone else. if one day i hear that you’ve done great things with your life, i want to hear your name from the mouth of a stranger and think only fondly of our times together. you deserve all of the love a country can give for a great prince, and an even greater man. but more than that, you deserve to be happy.

maybe someday, when we’ve both found a place to put our love, we can meet again. maybe by then we’ll be ready to call each other friend.

i won’t hold my breath, but i choose to believe there’s a silver lining here somewhere.

goodbye, mal.

[the-odd-job]

Up in Flames chapter 17 - Liar on the Wall (Ashes Part 2)

Warnings: Major Character Death, Chose Not to Use Category: Other Fandom: Transformers Relationships: Megatron/Sunstreaker, Megatron/Sideswipe, Sideswipe & Sunstreaker Characters: Sideswipe, Megatron, Onslaught, Soundwave, Starscream, Thundercracker, Skywarp Additional Tags: Dubcon, Mechpreg, Sticky Words: 2608

( Previous )

How did Megatron react to the news that he and Drag Strip commed to the Victory ahead of their arrival?

Predictably, not well. Unless you considered red hot fury a good reaction.

In the circumstances, Sideswipe sort of did. The angrier Megatron was, the more the Autobots would hurt.

They damn well deserved to get hurt after this.

The Autobots didn’t do anything to Wildrider, who crawled back to the Victory some time later. The two Stunticons… Were in trouble. Mildly put. Not only was Megatron angry at them, he was angry at Motormaster too for having such useless underlings, and that made Motormaster angry with them too, and boy but Sideswipe was surprised the two didn’t get the living daylights beat out of them first thing.

But Megatron held off his punishment for now, and ordered Motormaster to do the same. All Drag Strip and Wildrider got—for now—were a few dents. 

No doubt there was something intensely unpleasant waiting for them in the not too distant future, though. Neither looked particularly happy about it.

Honestly, Sideswipe didn’t blame them any more than he blamed himself and Sunstreaker. They’d all let their guard down. If they hadn’t, there was no way none of them would have noticed Mirage sneaking up on them—or the fact that they had likely gotten tailed for a good while even before that. He wasn’t sure how exactly the Autobots had managed to pounce them like that, but considering they hadn’t much tried to hide themselves or their movements… 

Soundwave pointed out Teletraan and some general route prediction as the likely culprits for the whole incident. Provided the Autobots had had more than one agent on the field, they could have covered several potential roads they could have taken, and then it was just chance which of them had actually scored them. Happened to be Mirage.

Sideswipe didn’t disagree with that theory too much. At the end of the day, though, the why was a little irrelevant compared to the fact it had happened and now needed to be fixed. They could worry about not repeating the why later, once both Sunstreaker and the newspark were safely back on the Victory. 

To that end, the more tactically minded had gathered in the Victory’s command center, namely Megatron, Starscream, Soundwave, and Onslaught, who were busy arguing about their options. There was a lot of raised voices anda angry gestures from Megatron and Starscream. Soundwave was as passive as ever, and Onslaught remained fairly put together too. Thundercracker interjected with his opinions every now and then too, standing next to his trine leader.

About what Sideswipe had already come to expect, then.

Soundwave had already dispatched Ravage, Lazerbeak and Buzzsaw to have eyes on the Ark, as much as they expected the Autobots were well prepared for retaliation and on high alert. It’d be a miracle if any of the symbiotes actually got in, but at least they could observe the ongoings from the outside.

Skywarp was next to useless as far as planning anything went, but he was sitting next to Sideswipe against the furthest wall of the command center where Sideswipe had sequestered himself to provide updates on what the Autobots were doing to Sunstreaker. There hadn’t been anything for him to tell at first because Sunstreaker wasn’t even conscious in the beginning, and Megatron had merely given him the order to alert them as soon as something changed.

Then Sunstreaker onlined and Sideswipe jerked from his stupor as well, his alarmed sound drawing everyone’s attention. 

Sunstreaker was angry and unhappy even from the beginning, but after he got to converse with the top three of the Autobot army, he went pretty quickly from just angry to borderline enraged. Sideswipe was halfway surprised his brother managed to avoid glitching—it was definitely a close call a few times—because Sideswipe wasn’t nearly as much the type to get angry at things, but frag, the way the Autobots kept dismissing Sunstreaker was sure getting on his nerves something fierce.

Megatron wasn’t doing any better. Sideswipe could hardly pass on the conversation word to word, their spark just didn’t work like that, but it was easy enough to catch the gist: Sunstreaker saying what he wanted and what he thought, and the Autobots repeatedly circling back to how that couldn’t possibly be the truth—and what really got on Megatron’s nerves, the talk of keeping the sparkling from him.

It didn’t matter what Sunstreaker said, that much became obvious in the first few minutes. The Autobots had already made up their minds. 

All optics were on him as he recounted the by and large of the conversation going on at the Ark. And maybe, just maybe Sideswipe still thought some good of his old side, that they wouldn’t do anything really bad to either Sunstreaker or the sparkling. They were supposed to be the good guys, right? At least that was how they wanted to come across as. Protectors of the universe, opposers of the evil Megatron, bastions of freedom. 

Fuck, he was so wrong about them.

Almost everyone looked at him as if he’d partway lost his mind when he started laughing all of a sudden in the middle of telling them about the Autobots’ considerations of the ethics of letting Megatron have his goddamn sparkling. Skywarp drew back to stare at him and everyone waited impatiently for the punchline.

It wasn’t a very good one.

“They’re talking about snuffing the sparkling.”

Everything was still and quiet for a few seconds before Megatron roared and turned to punch the nearest wall with full force. The bulkhead beyond dented under his strength. 

Thundercracker, Onslaught, even Starscream looked surprised, but Skywarp was the first to speak up. “What?! Why? Why would they do that?”

Sideswipe shook his helm, his mirthless laughter dying down. He looked back at Megatron who was already staring intently at him, waiting as much as anyone else for the answer to that question.

Why?

“They think you raped him,” Sideswipe said, his voice calm and at complete odds with the turmoil in his head, spark, and field. Much of it was from Sunstreaker, who was still fighting against snapping entirely, just because he wanted to hear what further manner of madness the Autobots were spewing.

But he was so ready to glitch if it meant protecting both of the sparks in his frame. It wasn’t just his frame protective of the sparkling. Their spark reacted just as strongly, completely rejecting the idea of allowing anything to happen to the little one. “Think you raped, got him sparked with that, forced him to leave the Autobots just to continue abusing him—that… Slag, what do they think? That you force him into fucking on the regular and beat him for funsies or something?”

Fraggit… Sideswipe shook his helm before dropping it into his servos, digging his digits into his helmet—trying and yet unable to deny the insanity that had befallen the Autobots.

If they hadn’t always been like this and he just hadn’t seen it. “They think the only reason he’s staying with you is the carrier coding. They want to bring it offline to free him.” And apparently killing the sparkling was the only way to do that.

Although, “Besides, then you couldn’t have the sparkling. Win-win, huh? Better dead than in your hands.” Sideswipe huffed. So much for protecting innocent life. This wasn’t about protecting anyone from anything, it was just about denying Megatron for the sake of denying him, because he was the worst enemy of the fragging reality or something. 

Sideswipe shook his helm harder, dug his digits in some more as much as that didn’t leave anything other than minor scuffs—tried and failed to stifle his sob. “They hate you so much.” Would they really take life that had done nothing to deserve it just because it would undermine Megatron?

Pits, he was starting to think of course they would. This was the Autobots. Their whole reason for existing was to oppose Megatron in any and all ways, wasn’t it?

Megatron, whose field filled the room to the brim with his fury. Sideswipe wasn’t sure how much of it was personal offense and how much came from the Autobots daring to threaten something Megatron wanted and already considered his.  

Everyone was tense, waiting for the tyrant to violently erupt at someone in particular and most likely beating the shit out of them—although it turned out the two he wanted to maim in that moment weren’t present. “Soundwave!” Megatron growled, turning to his third. “Let Vortex know he will have two visitors soon. Drag Strip and Wildrider will not come out of the brig for anything without my explicit authorization.”

“They’re lucky they’re parts of Menasor,” Onslaught commented, quickly making the assumption that as much as the two might wish they were dead, Megatron likely wouldn’t get rid of them entirely so as to not cripple an entire Combiner team.

Megatron confirmed that with a simple, guttural, “They are.”

And Sideswipe should probably count himself lucky Megatron wasn’t laying blame at his pedes. Too much, anyway. Or maybe that was just because he was useful for the moment. Who knew what would await him in his future.

Something else to be anxious about, but first he was going to worry about Sunstreaker and the life his twin was nurturing, and now, was desperate to protect.

“You shouldn’t get so attached to one worthless Autobot,” Starscream scoffed, and Sideswipe grimaced in time with Skywarp and Thundercracker. Megatron’s attention turned to his second at once, his optics sparking with violence that was threatening to unleash itself on the Seeker.

To his credit, Starscream looked vaguely like he wanted to take the words back. He tried to dodge, but Megatron’s servo still wrapped around his throat and slammed him against the already dented wall.

“That former Autobot is carrying my sparkling,” the tyrant snarled, getting right into Starscream’s face until the flier’s wings were making disquieted little jerks against the wall he was pressed against. The wings of his trinemates had hiked up in alarm, but both knew better than to intervene. “I will not let the Prime have his way with it,” Megatron continued, slamming the Seeker against the wall again before taking a step back and releasing him. 

Starscream got off easy, Sideswipe was pretty sure. The second was rubbing his throat and glaring at Megatron’s back when the warlord turned away, but Megatron seemed more interested in being productive with getting his sparkling back than he was in wasting time slagging the flier. “Have your symbiotes made any progress?” Megatron snapped at Soundwave.

“Ark: increased guard and patrols around the entrance. Autobots: stay close to the ship,” Soundwave reported. “Ravage: has found no entry.”

Sideswipe became the target of Megatron’s focus next. “Sunstreaker is still in the brig?”

“Yeah,” he responded. “Deep in the mountain, part buried. He can get out of the cell and the brig–”

“Then what does he even need rescue for?” Starscream interrupted. Sideswipe glared at him in time with Megatron, but continued before Megatron had the time to do whatever to his second.

“But he can’t make it through the entire Ark if everyone’s interested in stopping him,“ Sideswipe said firmly. Sunstreaker was good, but he couldn’t fight the entire elite of the Autobot army. Jazz alone could bring him right down, if he happened in his way. 

“If he can make it towards the exit even partway…” Onslaught rumbled. “Get someone in to help him the rest of the way. Draw the Autobot forces elsewhere for less resistance on their way.”

“Can’t ‘Warp just teleport in and out?” Sideswipe asked. That seemed like the most obvious solution to him.

Skywarp shook his helm, though. “I can’t warp somewhere I haven’t been to before, unless it’s mid-air. I might embed myself into a wall or something.”

That… Made sense. Sideswipe still frowned in disappointment.

Onslaught wasn’t done, though. “But you can warp back out if you get in on foot,” he pointed out. Skywarp nodded after a moment’s hesitation, and Sideswipe could tell the Seeker next to him wasn’t following even though everyone else seemed to catch on quickly. 

“Small force in,” Soundwave intoned. “Skywarp: can teleport them all out once Sunstreaker is reached.”

“I can’t warp far if I need to teleport multiple bodies,” Skywarp said hesitantly, still not catching on by the looks of it. Sideswipe stifled his laughter. 

“Outside of the Ark is enough, even if it’s just barely,” Onslaught rumbled.

Megatron growled a pretty bloodthirsty sound where he had let his commanders do most of the talking for the time being.

Starscream was straight up sulking and apparently refusing to even contribute anymore.

“The rest of the Decepticons can function as a… Distraction,” the warlord said, although it sounded a hell of a lot like he meant to say something else there first.

“Bring out a lot of force and they won’t have a choice but to respond or have their base invaded,” Onslaught agreed. “That’ll draw a lot of attention from Sunstreaker and the team that needs to slip inside.”

“Suggestion,” Soundwave spoke up again, “Team composition: Skywarp, Sideswipe, Vortex, Barricade. Sideswipe: knows the layout of the Ark.”

“Four too many for you to warp?” was the question directed at Skywarp.

“But that’s only three others…” the Seeker pointed out, trailing off like he was a little unsure about his math skills.

“You’ll need to add Sunny to it,” Sideswipe pointed out helpfully, watching as the lightbulb lit up in Skywarp’s mostly empty helm. 

“Oh! No, yeah, I can teleport four others. A short distance.”

So… That seemed to be the plan.

Although, “Are you ready to fight your former comrades?” Megatron asked, and Sideswipe looked back at him to find the warlord’s red optics intent on him. 

Before, they had hesitated and opted to not fight for the Decepticons.

He was starting to question the why behind that a hell of a lot, now. 

Sideswipe snarled himself. “If they’re willing to do this to Sunstreaker, and the sparkling? Pit yeah.”

Skywarp whooped and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him to his side. Sideswipe beeped, but Skywarp didn’t let that bother him. “Finally!” the Seeker grinned instead. “I thought you’d be holding back forever!”

Sideswipe snickered after a small delay. “Yeah, well, needs must. Plus they fragging well deserve everything I can ditch out, at this point.”

No one disagreed with him. “Then it’s settled,” Megatron said. “Leave only a skeleton guard on the Victory,” he instructed Soundwave. “Everyone else will join in on the attack on the Autobots. They will pay.”

That was probably what he’d meant to say earlier too. It wasn’t so much about the distraction for him, as it was just about punishing the Autobots.

Sideswipe was just fine with that. Did he have friends among the Autobots? Sure. Or, he had had. He wasn’t so sure anymore. Not because he thought all of them had anything to do with this, but… It was becoming more and more official that they were on the opposing sides now, and just that fact was enough to drive a big ass wedge between them. 

They would fight for the Prime just because the Prime told them to—and Sideswipe would fight anything the Prime tossed at him, past friends included, because this had gotten mighty personal all of a sudden.

If they dared to so much as scratch Sunstreaker…

“...What if we don’t make it in time?” Sideswipe had to ask, looking at the tyrant.

Megatron growled back at him. “We will.”

( Next )

[soda-drabbles]

New Years Kiss // Dan Avidan x Reader

Synopsis : There has been a bit of space between you and Dan since you realized you had feelings for him, that space being divided by you as you try to make the persistent feelings dissolve. The feelings only fester and worsen as the New Years party comes up. There, you and Dan come face to face after all that time. Could this party break the ice once and for all?

Pairing : Dan Avidan x Reader

Type : Fluff

If you had to be honest, you were dreading the upcoming New Years party. You wouldn't have went if it weren't for Suzy, who you just couldn't say no to. Plus, this was a office party so it would be weird if you didnt come. You instead kept trying to reassure yourself that maybe it wouldnt be that bad. That things would be fine. Yet the same thought kept ringing in your mind; Dan.

Dan was a close friend of yours and someone who you kept growing feelings for. The first initial reaction to realizing this was rejection. You hated having feelings like this, especially for someone so close to you. It made things worse since you two worked together. Recently, you kept the distance between you two in hopes that the new feelings would dissolve. There were times where you could see Dan's face appear glum and it honestly made your heart sink more into your stomach but it'd be okay, right? This was for the best for the two of you. Things would go back to normal soon.

Hopefully.

Hours before the party began, you volunteered in helping Suzy and Arin with decorations. The three of you decorated the office in streamers of gold and black, assuring that the place captivated the New Year's spirit. During this, Suzy sparked up some conversation.

“So, (Y/N).” She approached you, handing you some things to sit on the neat tables where the snacks would be. “Are you excited for the New Year? Got any resolutions?”

You simply shrugged, “I guess? Its like any other year, isnt it?”

Suzy shrugged and went to place something else up, “What about you and Dan? ”

You froze a little. “..What about Dan?”

Suzy could easily tell she struck a soft spot, which was why she spoke a little nervously. “Well, you two have been acting a little weird around each other. I didn't know if you planned to..yknow. Fix that situation?”

Your fingers tapped at the table a little. “I..I dont know.”

Arin's voice called from the living room, almost intentionally. “Suzy! Can you help me with the sticker things? They won't stick.” He must've felt the tension growing and decided to keep it from escalating.

Suzy, still a bit worried, hesitantly nodded and joined her husband in the man room which left you back to your mind which was fogged with Dan.

The party came faster than you initially hoped and before you knew it, you were in your car driving to the office. Your fingers tapped the wheel. The car was silent, except the riddling white noise of your anxiety tugging at you. What were you going to do about Dan? It was inevitable that hed be there and you two would be facing each other eventually.

Your heart raced in your ribcage as you pulled into the driveway, eyes stuck on the house and fingers stuck; not moving. Dan would either be behind that door or on the way. Either way, it made things worse.

Still, you unstuck your fingers and got out of the car.

Immediately, you were greeted by Ross and Suzy, who eagerly greeted you and let you in.

“Welcome, (Y/N)!” Ross exclaimed, placing a cheap New Years party hat on your head sloppily. You laughed, fixing it. “Thanks, man. ”

So far, it wasnt that bad as you thought. Your first destination was the snack table where the punch was. Your hand reached for the ladel and found yourself brushing against someone. “Shit, I'm so-” Your eyes widened when you peered up, face to face with the giant lanky man himself. Dan.

He appeared both relieved and a little shocked to see you, but happy nevertheless. “Oh, hey.” Dan's thin lips tugged into a soft smile. “Its..good to see you.”

Still shocked yourself, you gulped a little. “..Its..good to see you too.” Quickly, you filled up your plastic cup with fruit punch and took your leave.

The night went on with you mostly hanging with Ross and Barry as a way to distract yourself from the whole Dan situation. It was fun watching the goofy guys play with the helium in the ballooms but Dan kept invading your mind. You didn't know why either. Why did this have to be such a big deal? This feeling was unbearable.

The time would come when the countdown commenced. Everyone gathered together for the intense moment. You simply took your spot at a corner of the room, where you leaned against the decorated wall with the plastic cup pressed against your lips.

You weren't alone for long, as you saw a tall shadow approach you out of the corner of your eye. Your heartbeat started up again as you had a suspicion of who the identity of the shadow was. When it spoke is when your suspicions were confirmed.

“..Why have you been avoiding me?” Dan's soft voice came through the background chattering and music of the party.

Refusing to look at him, you shrugged. “I have no idea what youre talking about.”

Rightfully, he was frustrated. “Im not stupid, (Y/N). You've been avoiding me for the past month and you didn't even tell me what I done wrong.”

His last comment caused you to finally look at him, your own frustrated look clouding your features. “You didnt do anything wrong, Dan.”

“Then what is it?” He asked, obviously confused.

With a moment of hesitation, you whispered. “Its me.”

“..What?”

“Its me!” You spoke a little louder, using your arm to cover your face. “Fuck, I'm stupid..”

Dan frowned and removed his free hand from his pocket to place it on your shoulder. “What's wrong? What are you talking about?”

While you kept silent, the countdown from five began.

Five.

“..Its.” How could you possibly say something like this? Do it and risk everything? He'd avoid you for sure wouldn't he? Your negative thoughts fought you from telling him. “You wouldn't like it.”

Four.

“Come on,” Dan said, moving in front of you. His voice was closer now. “I still want to know, regardless.”

Three.

You could feel his towering presence in front of you. Your cheeks were red and you were thankful colorful lights danced around the party, otherwise what you wanted to say would be obvious. The feeling was building up again.

Two.

Dan grew a little desperate. “Please.” In a moment like this, it was getting harder and harder to dismiss him anymore. Your heart longed to jump out and let your feelings speak themselves. Eventually, you gave in.

“Dan, I..” Taking another deep inhale, you bury your face in his chest and the muffled confession came out. “I love you.”

Words that would leave Dan speechless.

One.

Among the cheering and kissing couples, you felt like crying. Dan wasn't doing anything and it only made you worry. After a moment, you pulled away a little with the intent to run off, only for the tall man to brig his arms around you.

“Dont go.” His arms held you back against his chest, fingers pressed against your back. His sudden grip surprised you. What surprised you even more is when the warm touch of his hands moved from your hand to each sides of your face, which he gently cradled and raised to face you.

Against the dancing lights, your blush and wide eyes spoke out to him and made him smile. The smile that only made you grow redder each time. “Why didnt you just say so?” His soft voice expressed in a sweet whisper before pulling you into an embrace.

You imagined plenty of times what kissing Danny would feel like. It was so much softer and warmer than you once imagined. Once you both pulled away, Dan hugged you once again and this time, you hugged back.

Suzy, unbeknownst to the both of you, was watching with a satisfied smile. She leaned against her husbands side and turned back to the TV.

Happy New Years.

[blukoffee]

Out of Place, Out of Time (AU Oneshot)

Okay, so. I rarely (read: never) post original stuff on here, so this is a learning curve for me, pleasebenice, but I swore/promised/crossed my heart that I would contribute to @intricatecaprice 30 Days Dead Men’s Tales. And here we are! This’ll probably be messy and not nearly as pretty as the rest of those gorgeous posts, but hey, it’s the thought that counts, right?

So, I of course had the idea of Isabeau being plonked into the lap of one Cursed Capitán. I mean, who wouldn’t? But as it is currently being wonderfully done by so many talented authors, I decided to stick with my human Salazar. But this is just a small scratch of satisfaction to that itch. I hope you enjoy!  (Also, just wanna note that this isn’t the Monarch and these are different prisoners than those in the beginning of the film. I tried to make that distinct, but just want to clarify. Also, this is purely self-indulging, so please excuse any errors.)

Prisoners Should Know Their Place

It was the screams that told Isabeau her luck was about to change for the worst. And that was a feat, since she was pretty sure her luck had already hit rock bottom.

The guy in the cell next to her, barely a few years older than her, if even that, began to whimper in terror, his fingers tugging at dirty red hair. The wrinkled old man with him started muttering prayers under his breath, the gaps of missing teeth flashing every now and then.

Pretty sure that's not gonna help anyone, dude. Isabeau sighed, then grimaced when her ribs protested the movement. The nasty bruise from the officer's boot would take a while to heal, especially since he hadn't bothered holding back when he'd literally kicked her into the cell.

Asshole. I hope he was one of the ones that screamed like a little girl.

Despite the tone of her thoughts, Isabeau was worried. Whoever had boarded the Victorious were going through the crew with lightning speed, and nothing outside gave away any hints of who the attackers were. For all she knew, they'd be worse than the British she found herself prisoner of.

Great. This day really can get worse. I honestly didn't think it could.

There was a couple of loud crashes up above, and a distinct sound of crackling that sent tendrils of alarm snaking down her limbs. 

Fire. I smell fire. 

Cinders began to float down through the cracks in the boards and she struggled to keep the primal part of her brain from sending her into a panic. 

The younger guy apparently had less control and suddenly threw himself at the bars with a loud crash, screaming at the top of his lungs. The old man tried to calm him, to keep him quiet, but he was thrown off.

Mere seconds later, slow footsteps began to thump heavily down the stairs to the brig. 

The screaming man instantly quieted, staring up at the deck above in horror.

Isabeau looked up from where she sat curled in the corner, surprised by the prickle of unease that skittered with spider legs across her nape.

Whatever was coming their way wasn't anything good.

All three of them froze as boots suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs, slowly descending to show a large man leaning heavily on a cane as he made his way down the steps.

It wasn't his sheer, intimidating size that made Isabeau's breath freeze in her lungs. 

It was the way his hair wafted around his head in a halo of black strands, like he was underwater. 

It was how flakes of ash floated in his wake whenever he moved.

It was his burnt and decrepit uniform, shifting and following his movements in a way that wasn't natural.

It was the grey skin, covered in ashen cracks and the splintered skull with sharp, jagged edges of bone.

It was the burning amber eyes, almost glowing with their brilliance in the dark.

They all stood staring at each other for a brief second, then the man was joined by more men, men that had similar appearances of unnaturalness.

Isabeau was grateful she was already sitting down, else she would have collapsed on the floor.

They had walked through the walls. They had simply walked the walls, as if it'd been empty space.

What...the fuck…

The old man next to her began to moan his prayers, a note of bleakness in his tone that said he knew he was about to die. 

Isabeau wasn’t feeling much more optimistic, but she had bigger things to worry about. Such as why the apparent leader of the ghostly horde was now staring directly at her, and he hadn’t blinked since he’d spotted her.

In her short experience in an 18th century world, she’d come to the quick realization that women were simple commodities to be acquired, to be seen and not heard. To actually have intelligence as a woman was considered unnatural, a short step from being pronounced a witch or insane.

So the fact that any man, not merely a ghostly one, was staring at her with such unnerving focus was not a good thing.

She bit her lip, blood seeping on her tongue in an effort not to snap at the man to ask what he was looking at.

The older man’s moaning grew louder, the other man trying to figure out if he was going to fight while there was a distinct stain on the front of his pants, his blue eyes wide with terror.

Apparently, the imposing figure staring at her had had enough. A slight jerk of his head towards the other two prisoners and one of the ghostly apparitions behind him stepped forward, through the cell bars, and thrust a corroded sword straight through the moaning inmate.

Silence instantly echoed through the brig following the thud of his body.

And still the man continued to stare at her, making her skin itch under his perusal, making her want to curl into herself to hide from his burning gaze.

Finally, he stepped forwards, and no, she hadn’t been imagining things.

His entire body passed through the iron bars, sliding through them only a faint resistance and leaving them sizzling and smoking in his wake.

Definitely not human, definitely not human!

Isabeau pressed backwards into the corner, curling tighter as the man or whatever he was continued to move towards her with slow, steady steps. She kept her eyes lowered, so as not to seem as a challenge, and was surprised to find him crouching in front of her.

She squeezed further into the corner, bracing herself for another boot, or possibly a hand, when she heard a deep voice rumble, “Look at me.”

It should have sounded like rocks grinding together, as deep as his baritone was, but instead it sounded like liquid honey, like the purr of a lover, his accent making it roll through the air like music. She could hear a gravelly rasp to it that only added a smoky flavor, making her skin shiver and tingle in the wake of the sound.

Carefully, she slid her eyes up, taking in the once elegant uniform that still flattered his powerful body with its faded stripes, the tattered cravat that floated and swayed in a nonexistent breeze, until her gaze landed on a face that would haunt her dreams.

She sucked in a quick breath, surprised by how utterly handsome the ghostly man was, even in death. Her eyes skimmed over strong, mature features of a male in his prime, who would have been beyond devastating had he been alive.

Nor had he missed her interest, something flaring visibly in those burning amber eyes that made her swallow convulsively.

The man straightened, towering over her, and turned to gesture at another of the men that accompanied him, one with an eyepatch over one side of his face.

Unfortunately, the other inmate still alive had apparently found his courage, if not his brains.

He slammed his hands into the bars, one of his fingers crooked as if he’d broken it, and sneered at the man standing in front of her, “What use do you have of some whore, Spanish dog? You can’t-”

He never got to finish before the man whirled and his hand flashed out, instantly wrapping around the inmate’s throat. He was lifted off his feet in a frightening display of strength, while the man in the striped coat hissed, “She’s mine, and you would do well to remember that.”

Isabeau honestly thought he was going to kill him, but instead he only held him for a few seconds more, just long enough to make sure his point got across, then dropped him, leaving the man in a crumpled heap on the filthy floor.

Wait. What does he mean, “she’s mine”? 

“Moss, bring him.” The man before her whirled around with blazing speed, reaching down to grab her arm and hauled her to her feet.

Isabeau gasped at the feel of his icy fingers on her arm, as unbreakable as any manacle, before she was dragged after him.

One of his men broke the cell lock and he continued to yank her along, making her ribs scream in protest.

“...wait,” she gasped as he headed towards the stairs. “Wait!”

She threw herself backwards, no mean feat when her weight was being continuously dragged forwards, and the man holding her whipped around to glare at her, his eyes a burning crimson.

“I will not wait, chica. You are my prisoner now, and I do not wait for prisoners!”

Prisoner. That hated word burned in her gut. She’d heard it more over the past few days than she ever cared to again, along with a good many more slurs against her simply for her gender.

Fury made her hiss up at his face, “I’m not your fucking prisoner, now let - go of me!”

With a burst of frantic strength, she managed to wrench free of his grip, which had slackened a hair in his surprise at her outburst.

She turned and bared her teeth in a snarl at the one-eyed ghost that stepped in front of her. His eye flickered over her shoulder and he moved out of her way, staring at her with such hostility that her anger faltered.

Two others paused in the act of dragging the unconscious man out of his cell, his dirty red hair hanging lank about his face.

Isabeau shuddered, glad she hadn’t been put in the cell with him, and limped towards the room where her bags had been carelessly tossed. Sighing at the sight of her clothes thrown haphazardly on the bench, she closed her eyes wearily, just wishing this day had never begun.

She heard wheezing breaths behind her and knew that the man had followed her. The one who had claimed her as his prisoner. The one who stared at her with uncomfortable intensity.

Squeezing her eyes harder before opening them, she stepped forwards and began picking up her things, the smell of smoke gradually growing stronger.

“You are not English. What are you doing in an English cell?” the man asked suspiciously, stepping around to peer curiously at her belongings before swinging his gaze back to her.

“You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you,” she muttered, then finally couldn’t take it anymore and pulled her shirt over her head, not caring if she was being watched or not.

She heard a wheezed curse and felt her face burn in embarrassment, then quickly  grabbed another of her shirts and slipped it on.

Grabbing the rest of her things and tossing the strap on her big bag over her shoulder, she turned to see the man had given her his back out of some form of courtesy.

Claiming her as his prisoner or not, she appreciated the gesture.

“I don’t even know your name.”

He turned to face her, his stance proud even with his slightly hunched back. “Capitán Armando Antón Salazar de Estrada. And yours, chica?”

A spark drifted down from the ceiling and she sidestepped it warily, suddenly realizing just where they were. And what was happening to the Victorious. “Isabeau Revanne. Okay, fine, I’m your prisoner, take me to your brig.”

She’d been trying to expedite matters to get off the burning hulk, but apparently the only thing she’d managed to expedite was Capitán Salazar’s temper.

He stepped forwards, towering over her even without a straightened spine, and glared down at her. “Sí, you are my prisoner, and prisoners should know their place.”

Isabeau swallowed as she struggled not to stare at his face. “My place is in your brig, isn’t it?”

Salazar stared at her for a good long minute, making her grow more and more nervous as heat began to filter down to the room, before he suddenly smiled.

It was a smile that made her extremely uneasy.

“Perhaps I have another purpose for you. Your companion in the brig had a good idea, no?”

Her companion? Wait, the one who had called her a-

“I’m not a whore!” Isabeau spat indignantly, gritting her teeth in outrage at the suggestion. She’d been called worse since she’d been tossed into that cell, but honestly, she’d somehow been under the impression that Capitán Salazar was different.

His burning gaze flickered over her, taking in her clothes that must seem incredibly strange to him. “That remains to be seen.”

Both their attentions jerked upwards at a loud crash, but Salazar was quicker to recover.

Isabeau yelped as she was suddenly lifted into the air, wheezing as a broad shoulder was wedged into her stomach.

Salazar turned and snapped an order, one of his men slinking forwards to pick up her belongings.

Clinging to the back of his coat, Isabeau struggled to breathe as she was carried along. 

Salazar paused at the top of the stairs before moving over to the railing.

What is he-

Her thought vanished as he leapt over the railing, the sudden shock of it sucking the scream right out of her throat as she saw pitch-black water rushing towards her.

She squeezed her eyes shut, only to feel herself suddenly jolt to a stop.

Confused, she cracked open one eye, then both went wide in shock as she still saw water beneath her, yet it wasn’t getting any closer.

Salazar was walking on water. He was walking on water.

An explosion of fire and noise drew her attention away from this new knowledge and she hissed in pain when one chunk of burning debris grazed her arm.

Salazar instantly jerked to the side, swinging her out of the way of another piece of debris before breaking into a run.

Another explosion and she looked up to see a cannon sailing straight towards them. “Look out!”

The massive metal construct whistled by them as Salazar swerved at her warning, his pace increasing to a lithe run as he put distance between them and the exploding wreck of the Victorious.

Finally, he began to slow down to a rolling jog, then coiled his big body into a crouch before springing upwards.

They landed lightly on the deck of a rotting hulk of a ship, a vessel twice the size of the one she’d been on, if not bigger, but all she caught was a quick glimpse, catching sight of the red-haired man sprawled on the deck where he’d been dropped before Salazar turned and carried her down a corridor, 

Indignation began to fuel a burning strength. She’d spent the last several days locked in a cell, she’d woken up in this hell hole of a time period with no warning, she had no idea how to get back, and for the icing on the fucking cake, she had been kidnapped by a stupidly handsome ghost whose intentions she didn’t have the slightest clue about.

And she was tired of feeling his shoulder digging into her stomach!

“Put. Me. Down!” Isabeau thrashed and threw herself back against his restraining arm, ignoring the screaming in her ribs at the sudden movement.

Salazar grunted at her unexpected struggling, then shoved his way through a door, slamming it closed behind him.

Isabeau found herself flung into the air with a squeal and she flailed wildly before landing on something plush and slightly lumpy. She laid there for a second, sucking air into her lungs as her bruised stomach ached, then carefully sat upright, staring at the ghostly captain warily.

But to her confusion, he wasn’t looking at her face. Instead, his gaze was somewhere lower, and she glanced down in alarm, only to see that her shirt had ridden up when she’d been tossed onto the settee. And the bootprint bruised into her ribs was clearly visible.

“Which one?”

Isabeau’s attention flashed back to Salazar, his deep voice ominously quiet, rage turning his irises a bloody crimson. Black blood ran down his chin as he bared his teeth in a snarl. “Which one?!”

Slowly, she inched her shirt down to cover the bruises. “One of the officers. I’m pretty sure he’s dead now.”

Sanguine eyes flicked to her face. “Did he touch you - anywhere else?”

She quickly shook her head, even as she wondered why the mere thought of it enraged him. Surely such a thing was commonplace in this time period.

Salazar made a noise in his throat, almost a growl, his face still stern and unyielding in his anger. His fist tightened around the hilt of his rapier, which she just now noticed was still gripped in his hand. 

Isabeau edged backwards along the settee warily, then yelped in alarm when he lifted it up and plunged the tip into the floor with a loud thud, the blade quivering from the force of the blow.

They were both frozen for a second, then Salazar straightened and sent her a harsh glare. “Do not move.”

And with the ominous implications of what would happen if she didn’t obey his orders hanging in the air, he whirled and walked through the door without opening it, leaving wisps of ash trailing behind him.

Isabeau didn’t feel like moving from her spot on the settee. She had seen how deep the blade had plunged into the floorboards and felt it was wise not to incite the captain’s temper. Though that didn’t stop her curiosity from lifting its head and creating questions about the man.

She didn’t realize that she’d dozed off until she felt weight depress the cushions next to her.

Something cool was spreading soothing bliss over the aching bruise on her side, making the pain fade to a background hum.

She cracked open bleary eyes to see a man sitting next to her, huge and imposing, yet his touch was gentle as he feathered calloused fingers over her skin.

“Thank you.”

Salazar paused at her words, then resumed rubbing whatever it was into her bruise. “You are welcome.”

Isabeau was quiet for a second, watching him groggily before blurting, “Why are you helping me?”

This time he didn’t pause, merely pulled away for a second to wipe his fingers off on a rag. “You are my prisoner, therefore my responsibility.”

She couldn’t help but be fascinated by his smooth, efficient movements, the complete unnaturalness to him. He shouldn’t exist, but here he was. Still, questions continued to bounce around in her mind.

“Why did you bring that other man too?”

He chuckled ominously as he suddenly leaned over her, those eerie eyes fixed on her face. “Because I always leave one man alive to tell of me. And since I’m not letting you go, I needed someone else.”

She swallowed nervously as she felt his fingers stroke her hair back behind her ear, felt his weight depress the cushions around her. “What do you mean, you’re not letting me go?”

His hand slid under the back of her skull, huge and powerful against the bone, and he held her still as he leaned closer. His hair flowed downwards to tickle her cheeks when he stopped, his nose almost touching hers. A black grin spread across his lips. “You’re mine, now. And I don’t let go of what is mine.”

[thewildwaffle]

Abduction - Chapter 27

Would you look at that? Got it posted on time! Thanks for the motivation everyone! especially @cyberstrikebeast​ - you don’t need to hunt me down, we good! :D I’m not sure if I’ll get another chapter out before the new year, I will for sure be writing in it since I’m taking time off work, but we’ll see how it goes!

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“For the sake of sanity, ”Simmo hissed, “would you hurry it up!”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Mike whispered back, “am I taking too long? Would you like to do this instead?”

Simmo sighed and clicked her mandibles faintly.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Mike grumbled under his breath as he turned back to the task at hand.

The task was, to be honest, one that 7-year-old Mike would have absolutely loved. They needed to find where Jeb was being held. To do that, they needed a computer that could grant them access to confidential information. To get to a computer that had the right authorization, they needed to break into an information control room. The ship was currently in what Mike referred to as “night mode,” so the control room would be empty. However, that didn’t mean it was easy to get to. Hence the high security in the corridor.

And what a fun security system it was too! Obviously, it must seem impossibly daunting to most- otherwise, the Burnti would never have installed it, but to Mike, it was straight out of his childhood games where he’d imagine he was a secret agent and had to infiltrate the bad guys’ lair. There were lasers to avoid and everything. He could see them, dimly, but they were definitely there. When they’d arrived, he’d had to stop Simmo from walking right into them. She stayed behind as he carefully wove under, over, and around the beams of light, quietly humming the Mission Impossible theme song, much to Simmo’s annoyance.

Currently, he was standing in front of the gate that blocked the hall. He’d climbed up to where it looked like there was a locking mechanism. No luck there. He was stumped for a moment until he noticed the small colored pins inset along the wall. He picked at them, poked at them, twisted, pulled. It was clear they were mechanized. If he tried hard enough, they probably could be moved by hand.

“Do you know if there’s some sort of pattern or whatever for these pins? Like, do I need to match up the blues, or…” He trailed off. He forgot she wouldn’t be much help with this. Simmo, and apparently all Montauk are colorblind. Seeing in color was something only a handful of species could do, or at least, only a handful of species in the Galactic Confederation. Maybe more could see color in the Burnti Empire. That might explain why there’s some sort of color-coding something on this stupid gate.

It took a bit, but eventually, he was able to figure out how the pins were supposed to move when the locks were engaged or disengaged. Moving the first pin out was hard - they were so small! Thankfully, due to the fact that he hadn’t had access to any clippers or files, his nails had grown long enough to pick out the pins so he could work them along their grooves and out of the way. Once he moved a few, it became easier to move the rest.

He grabbed one of the horizontal bars and pulled. It budged, but just barely. He tried again. It rose maybe two inches. Dang, this was heavier than it looked. It didn’t help either that he didn’t have much room to lift - there were two lasers he had to avoid right behind him. Mike turned around and leaned against the gate, trying to figure out the best move.

“Don’t look at me,” Simmo grumbled. “Even if there weren’t all these light sensors, I wouldn’t be much help lifting that thing. Why do you think I brought you along?”

Mike turned back to the gate. “And here I thought it was for my winning personality,” he sighed. He widened his stance and carefully squatted down to the level of the bar he needed. He’d taken a weight-lifting class once in school. He’d been pretty good at it then, and he did his best to keep good form- not that he had much choice. One wrong move and he’d set off the sensors. He grabbed the bar, locked his elbows and lifted with his legs.

Oh boy. If they got out of this, he was going to hit the gym, get back in shape!

The gate lifted enough that he could shuffle his knee under it and give his arms a break. He lifted again and repeated with his shoulders. He carefully stepped over a beam of light on the other side to try to give himself a better stance as he lowered the gate back down. The angle was a bit awkward and it slipped halfway down and slammed loudly against the floor.

Both Mike and Simmo winced involuntarily. Simmo glanced down the hall they had come before turning back to glare at Mike.

He sighed and pretended to brush it off by continuing the rest of the way over the lasers. He was glad Simmo couldn’t see his hands or legs shake, or hear how fast his heart was beating. 

He was able to maneuver the rest of the way without incident. A little stumbling, and a lot of shaking, sure, but he made it.

He let himself take a bit of a breather at the other end, shaking his legs so they’d stop feeling like jelly. “Wow,” he muttered to himself. “Always wanted to do that. Always thought it’d be more fun. Life and death situations seem to suck the fun out of everything.”

He entered the code on the panel like Simmo showed him. The laser light show sensors turned off. Mike’s mind was starting to wander as he thought of what the differences there must be between his and Simmo’s - and whoever designed these things, eyes. Why could he see the beams that were supposed to be invisible? Was it with the cones or rods in the eyes? Was it because of how the brain processed the light? He didn’t get very far in thinking though. A loud clang nearly made him jump out of his skin. The gate was raising. That was the loudest gate he’d ever heard. Why did everything always so loud when you were trying to be quiet? After getting over his initial scare, he cringed as it continued its way up loudly. He really hoped no one else was nearby. They would get caught all because of a stupid gate that desperately needed some WD40. Or whatever the Burnti used.

Simmo quickly made her way over and entered the command to restart the security protocols. Mike wasn’t keen on the idea of having the dang gate move around again, but Simmo assured him it was necessary to maintain their cover while they were in the control room. Thankfully, the mechanism that moved the gate was a lot quieter going down than it was going up.

The control room itself was not exactly what Mike had been expecting. As soon as they opened the door, he anticipated seeing a few cramped desks or tables covered with computers and monitors, star maps, electrical displays, the works. Instead, it was a rather spacious room with large decorative tapestries with several inlets and nooks along the walls. In the middle of the room was an impressively large, round computer console. A few steps away was a set of shelves storing everything from datapads, books, what looked like scrolls, and cylinder can things of various sizes and colors.

“So,” Mike drew out the word as he walked in and looked around and up. This place had a vaulted ceiling? On a spaceship? Classy. “Is this like some sort of library, or…?”

“A what?” Simmo marched immediately towards the computer console. She opened up the holographic display and began entering information.

“You know, a library,” Mike circled the room, checking out the inlets and tapestries. “A place where people keep lots of books and movies and old magazines or whatever. You can read there, or study, or research things?”

Simmo didn’t answer. She was now moving through the readouts on the display and scrolling through what didn’t seem important. Mike ran a hand over one of the tapestries. It swayed with his touch. Behind it, there was a small nook tucked away. Nice. He grabbed the tapestry again to steady it. It was huge - it hung all the way from the ceiling to the floor, and it was beautiful. He wasn’t sure the shapes on it meant anything, they were a little abstract and there were symbols he couldn’t read, but it was beautiful nonetheless. He stared at it a while longer, admiring the handiwork and skill that had gone into its creation before walked back to where Simmo was still looking up where Jeb was being held.

“Any luck?”

“He was put in the brig two levels up from us and in the rear of the ship.”

“Okay. Great! That was fast,” Mike nodded and headed toward the door. “Let’s go get him, let’s… Simmo?”

Simmo didn’t move from her spot. Her antenna flicked slightly, but she kept searching the hologram.

“Uh, Simmo, we’re on a bit of a time crunch here, let’s get a move on.”

“And how do you plan on getting out of here without a ship?”

Mike stopped. “I thought we’re taking yours.” He paused for a moment, waiting for a response. Simmo just continued swiping and searching the computer. “Do you… not know where yours is?”

“It’s been missing for about a partec now. It was supposed to be moved to bay 9 after it was done with some repairs, but it never showed up. Rozar told me to not worry about it, that the repairs were probably just taking longer than expected. Thing is, he never checked into it further. Every time I try to do so myself, I never have clearance.”

Mike’s stomach dropped. That didn’t sound good. They had to find the Junk Lego, it had to be somewhere.

He stepped over to Simmo to help her look. He couldn’t really read many of the symbols on the display but moving felt like something he could do. He needed something to do, needed some way to help. Before he could get far, however, he heard the loud gate outside the corridor being raised again.

“Simmo, someone’s coming! We know where they’re keeping Jeb, let’s get out of here! We’ll figure out where your ship is later.”

But Simmo didn’t move from her spot. Files and reports continued coming up and she kept sifting through each one at incredible speed. Mike stepped closer to her, sizing up how best to grab her and pull her along in a way that wouldn’t end up with him getting cut up by her sharp hands. Suddenly, the screen froze. Mike glanced at the topmost file on display. He still couldn’t read it, and for several tense moments, Simmo couldn’t stop reading it.

“Simmo,” Mike ground out. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears and all this standing around business was beginning to feel torturous. They had to hide!

“My ship,” Simmo whispered without taking her eyes off the display. “It’s gone.”

The loud clanging noises of the gate stopped. Shoot. Mike looked back at Simmo. She must have heard it, even with the control room door being closed. She was still fixated on the screen.

“Simmo!” Mike hissed through his teeth. The voices were right outside the door now, muffled and talking quietly, but getting closer.

Mike slapped at the screen’s controls, shutting it down and all but tackled Simmo and dragged her behind the tapestry. Just in time too - the tapestry was still moving and swaying a bit when the door slid open. Thankfully, the new arrivals were too deep in their conversation to notice. Mike didn’t dare look around to see who it was, but he could swear he recognized the voice of one of the speakers.

“This is not what my people were told,” a silvery voice entered the room. “We’ve waited long enough. The Burnti aren’t the only ones with whom we can make deals.”

“We’ll have the truminium soon now that the Galactic Confederation out of our way.”

Mike shrunk back farther. He knew that second voice. Commander Rozar had one of those very distinct voices.

“That’s been partecs now. You’ve sure been taking your time since,” the silvery voice countered. “Having too much time with your galactic streamings about your little prizes, perhaps?”

Mike tentatively inched to the edge to get a look, being careful to not be seen. Sure enough, there was that grand, feathered sloth jerk himself, talking to an alien Mike had never seen before. She looked very catlike. Larger than a booka, but larger and with a much longer torso with thick spotted gray fur and long antenna-like whiskers all over her body. She was standing on her hind legs, or maybe standing was too generous a term. It was more like she was balancing on her back legs. It’s long, thick tail helped to keep her balanced.

Mike ducked back behind the tapestry. ”What ith that?” he lisped to try to avoid being overheard.

Simmo leaned over to peer around the corner. “Priso. They’re not with the Burnti. They’re from some coalition near the Green Mallak nebula.” “Ok. That doesthn’t help. I have no idea what any of that ith.” 

Simmo made some sort of gesture that Mike had to assume was Montauk sign language for ‘shut up.’ 

Rozar and the priso hadn’t yet noticed they weren’t alone. The priso had said something which caused Rozar to flatten the feathers at the back of his head cooly. “If you’re going to be keeping up with your delightful attitude, you can always spend another cycle or two in a cell.”

The priso shot him an icy glare. “Your diplomacy leaves much to be desired.”

“And what, do tell, are you going to do about it? Complain about me to your superiors? I’m sure they’d applaud the lengths I’ve gone to not outright strangle you.” The priso’s fur ruffled. “Is that a threat?”

“No,” Rozar said calmly, “a statement. Though I’m sure many of your superiors wouldn’t mind if it were. I’m surprised you don’t hear more of them.”

The priso’s ears went flat against her skull, the same with its whisker-like antenna. She bared her teeth and let out a low growl.

“Oh do calm down, Sitran my dear,” Rozar sighed. “That’s what got you in trouble before.” He turned to the computer console and pulled up the display. Mike tensed. He hoped that whatever Simmo had been looking at before wasn’t still there, or if it was, it wouldn’t tip Rozar off that something was wrong. Thankfully, the display had reset itself when they closed it down in their rush.

“Ah, here we are,” Rozar looks closely at the display before turning toward a set of shelves. Picking up a datapad, he activated the display and handed it to the angry priso. “Perhaps this will help allay some ill will. This datapad should include the pertinent communications we’ve had with Earth. Or at least with the governments that have been expressing an interest.”

Sitran took it and began scrolling through with a paw. Her ears came forward and the offended expression on her face melted away into a mix of curiosity and wonder. “These are just the ones that...” she continued to scroll. “How many governments does Earth have?!”

Rozar stepped back toward the main computer console chuckling lightly. “My understanding is that humans just wandered around their planet. When they got too far from each other, they started doing their own things, made their own cultures, formed new languages, and even their widespread appearances changed in some cases to adapt to new environments. In short, there are enough for everyone to share.”

Mike felt a mix of confusion, alarm, and anger. He wished he could just step out there and wipe that smug look right off Rozar’s face. Like he knew anything important about humans! What was that jerk planning?

Rozar,still very much unaware of Mike and Simmo’s presence, was very much enjoying showing off his human-related knowledge.

“There’s a file with everything you need near the top. Several files actually. I’d recommend reviewing the health and safety files thoroughly. There are things you wouldn’t think would pose a health hazard. You wouldn’t want to get something in your paw broken during a customary human hand greeting.”

Simmo leaned into Mike’s ear, “Please tell me that’s not a real thing.”

Mike turned back to her and thought for a moment. “Uh, handshake? I think he’s talking about handshake-th. That’th tho dumb. They don’t hurt”

Simmo didn’t look comforted in the slightest. 

The priso was still looking through the files, fascinated. Her wide eyes were darting across the screen. “I thought most of this was just rumor. Humans sure don’t mess around, do they?”

“Oh no. They certainly do,” Rozar corrected. “That’s part of the problem with working with them. But I imagine that if the Galactic Confederation has been successful at integrating them, then it’s obviously manageable. The rewards vastly outweigh the risks, as you can see in the next file.”

Simmo leaned into Mike’s ear again. “I want a copy of that datapad.”

Mike pushed her face away from his and peeked back out.

“You’ll want to read through the behavioral files as well,” Rozar had now moved over near Sitran and was pointing out the folder in question. “We’ve tried to log as much information as extensively as we can, but it’s very much an ongoing endeavor. Our own humans have been exceptionally-”

The door slid open again. Mike jumped back a bit out of habit to avoid detection. He didn’t really need to, the new arrivals, a pair of yellow guards immediately rushed in and saluted Rozar.

“Commander,” the shorter of the pair rushed, she sounded like she was out of breath, “We have apprehended a ship, sir.”

“The escaped prisoners?”

“No sir, a Galactic Confederation ship.” That got Rozar’s full attention. 

Rozar ignored a quirked look from Sitran. “Come again? A Galactic Confederation ship?”

“Yes sir, we were in pursuit of the escaped prisoners and they came out of nowhere sir. By the time we had them, the prisoners had gone to hyperspeed.” “A diversion perhaps?” Sitran mused.

“Quite possible. Two of the three missing prisoners were Confederation officers, I believe.” Rozar’s tail swayed dramatically from side to side, red and purple feathers brushed lightly on the floor. “They helped them get away and let themselves be captured. We’ll know for sure after we’ve interrogated them. And then we’ll make an example of them for the rest of the meddlesome Confederation fools.”

The guards suddenly looked rather sheepish. “Ah, yes, about that,” the second, taller guard started. Rozar snapped his head towards him, which only disconcerted the guard more. “Their ship is still in docking bay 4, but they themselves… aren’t.”

Rozar stared at the pair of them silently for what seemed like forever. Mike leaned out a bit more from behind the tapestry.

“They aren’t… what?” Rozar nearly spat.

The guards shifted uncomfortably. “They… aren’t on their ship anymore. Ah, a few moments after the air seal locks disengaged, three of them rushed the doors and were able to break through the ranks. They, ah, well they are now loose aboard the Arum Bloom, sir.”

Silence.

“They... broke the ranks?”

“Ah, yes… sir. The guards were not prepared for them to leave their ship like that, or leave willingly at all. Several have had to be taken to the infirmary. Two granims have serious concussions and are in critical condi-.”

“How many?”

“Uh, sir?”

“How many Galactic Confederation soldiers are now running amok on my ship?”

The first guard paused nervously. The second piped up, “From the reports we’ve received, there are three, sir.”

Rozar stepped away from the computer console and began pacing slowly, sharp claws clacking against his jaw. Mike slipped a bit back behind his hiding spot as Rozar walked by. The Burnti Fleet Commander had his eyes closed, sure, but he still felt dangerous. Mike could feel the anger and tension building up. He was pretty sure everyone in the room could. Even Simmo, who had barely moved from her hiding spot at all, scooted almost imperceptibly closer to Mike’s side.

“Three.” Rozar sighed deeply. “Three soldiers were able to ‘break your ranks,’ injure several guards, and avoid capture?” Rozar stopped in front of the guards, his feathers puffed out a bit as he arched his neck to look down at the guards. “Please illuminate to me how, by all that is bright and shining, three soldiers were able to, thus far, elude you all.”

Mike did not envy the guards’ position. He knew it was silly, they were Burnti- his captors- but part of him even felt a little bad for them.

One of them, the second one, managed to gather a bit more courage and straighten up. “Two of them were human sir.” 

Mike gasped. Simmo glowered at him.

No one must have heard, thankfully, because the guard continued, “We had scanned their ship as we brought them aboard, but something was interfering with the scan. Before we could completely set up for boarding protocols, two humans and a booka attacked and got away.”

“Well, Commander,” Sitran drawled out dramatically, “It seems you certainly are busy. I can make sure my superiors take this,” he closed the display of the datapad, “as a gift of good faith for the truminium trade, shall I?”

Rozar made a sound that was a mix between a grunt and a growl.

Sitran walked toward the door. The two guards hesitated, unsure if they should try to stop her or not.

“I’ll just see myself out then,” Sitran stepped around them and toward the door, calling back smugly, “Don’t worry, I remember where my ship is, unless of course it’s been moved or stolen in all the commotion lately.”

Mike ducked back to hiding as Rozar stormed by. He was definitely growling now. After a moment, he heard the blips and hums of the computer console as he pulled up the report readouts the guards had brought him. More reports were sent in as the search for the intruders went on.

Simmo quietly thunked her head against the wall. “They are never going to leave. We need to get out of here,” she hissed under her breath.

“There are humans,” Mike whispered back. “They’ve probably come to rescue us!”

“Two humans. Two humans came. Oh, and a booka. Great.” Simmo started to roll her eyes but stopped herself once she realized what she was doing. “Against everyone else aboard the Arum Bloom? They’re idiots for coming at all.”

Mike sighed and leaned to spy on what the other occupants in the room were doing, but before he could, Simmo grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back.

“Now look here you little monster,” her face was right in Mike’s again, “don’t you go getting any stupid ideas. We’re getting out of here as soon as we can. I agreed to take you, Wenona, and for some reason, Jebannuck, but I draw the line there. We are not risking our plans to save more humans on a doomed mission.”

Mike smiled. “Aw, Simmo, you said our plan. Like we’re a team,” he teased. Simmo hissed quietly and pushed him back. It’d been a soft push, sure, but as Mike stepped back from it, he tripped over his other foot and stumbled back, landing on his butt past the tapestry.

He froze. He felt like he could feel every. Single. Heartbeat.

Frewan.

He turned his head to the middle of the room. Maybe Rozar hadn’t seen. Maybe he’d had his back turned and didn’t notice.

Yeah, no such luck.

Rozar stared back at him, surprise coloring his wide golden eyes.

After a few tense heartbeats, the two guards finally snapped out of their shock and pulled their blasters, leveling them right at Mike. 

Before any of them could react further, the control room door opened again. A huge hairy mass raced towards Mike. Booming barks felt like they were shaking the entire room.

“No one shoot!” a familiar voice commanded. “Put your weapons down!”

Mike had his hands full of massive, hairy, very excited dog. By the time he was able to sit back up and wipe the slobber off his face, Wenona had disarmed the guards and was handing their weapons to Jebannuck. She kept her blaster pointed directly at Rozar, but carefully, her eyes wandered to where Mike was trying to settle down Carson.

“Oh, Mike,” her voice bounced cheerily, “I’m glad you’re still alive. Because I’m about ready to kill you.” She dropped the smile. “Where have you been?!”

“Uh,” Mike stood back up, “with Simmo.” He motioned for her to step out from behind the tapestry. She was hesitant, but as soon as Mike had acknowledged her, Carson started sniffing. Then growling. Mike stroked the dog’s head. “It’s ok boy, she’s a friend.” Which earned a simultaneous scoff from Simmo and a quiet “Well…” from Jebannuck.

Simmo cautiously took a step out from behind the tapestry. Carson sniffed eagerly at her while Mike held his collar.

“What is that thing?!”

“That’s Carson,” Mike scratched the dog’s ears. “He’s our unofficial pet until we can get him home to his real owners back on Earth.”

Simmo’s antenna were flat against her head and her mandibles clicked quietly, but she didn’t stop the canine and instead stood stiffly, waiting for it to be over. When Carson was done, he huffed loudly and stood resolutely between Simmo and Mike.

“Simmo,” Rozar’s voice broke the tense silence, “I assume I’m to hold you responsible for at least most of this mess.”

“Quite likely.”

Rozar looked like he was trying to kill Simmo just by glaring at her. He looked like he might say more, but Jebannuck spoke first. “Simmo, are you the one who opened the cells?”

Simmo tilted her head stiffly. “Yeah, whatever. You’re welcome.”

Jebannuck stared at her. “You opened the entire cell block. There were more than just prisoners in there. You almost got me killed.”

“If I’d known it was your cell block, believe me, I would have found another distraction.”

Mike waved them both down. “Okay, fine, it’s fine. I mean, now we don’t need to break Jebannuck out.” Simmo made a long grunting noise and looked away. Mike looked at her, but shook his head and chose to ignore whatever she meant by that. They were together now, and they had to act quickly. “Simmo, you said something earlier about your ship?”

Simmo looked to Rozar who gave the smallest hint of a grin.

“It’s gone.” Simmo clenched her sharp claws. Mike, Jeb, and Wenona glanced at each other. Simmo only had eyes for Rozar Silence. Finally, Wenona, still aiming a blaster at his chest, took a warning step closer.

Rozar sighed. “The parts were useful. Plus,” he sneered, “we didn’t want you getting any bright ideas. Apparently, I was right to be concerned.”

“So we steal another ship. We get out of here,” Wenona said matter-of-factly.

Jebannuck shook his head. “That may be impossible. They’ll have increased guard duty since the last prisoners did that.” “We can take them, we have the blasters.”

“We don’t need to.” Mike jumped in. “There’s a ship, a Galactic Confederation ship.” He nodded at Rozar. “I overheard them earlier.”

“Yeah,” Simmo scoffed, “with its crew now wandering somewhere on the ship.”

Rozar chuckled. Wenona readjusted her aim on him that had been slipping during the conversation. “So what will you do now? Will you steal their ship and save yourselves, or will you get yourselves captured by trying to find them?”

“Shut up, Rozar, no one asked you.” Wenona gave him her iconic glare.

“Shoot him,” Simmo growled. “We don’t need him overhearing our plans so he can stop us once we leave.”

“And give the Burnti a reason to go to war against the Galactic Confederation?” Jebannuck countered. “He’s not just some guard, he’s a fleet commander, and we wouldn’t be doing it in self-defense!”

Wenona sighed and looked back at Jeb. “We can’t just leave him either.”

Rozar used the momentary distraction and dove behind the computer console. Wenona shot a blast which barely missed him as he went, brushing over the feather tips of his tail. Carson barked wildly, pulling Mike who was still holding his collar with him a few steps before Mike could regain footing.

The entire control room erupted with noise and no small amount of panic. The guards, even without weapons, rushed them in order to protect their commander. Wenona swore and tried to move to get another shot at Rozar, but her limp slowed her down. Jeb was able to shoot one of the guards, but the other crashed into Wenona and both of them fell to the floor.

Carson was still barking wildly but was now trying to pull Mike along to defend Wenona. He let go of the dog’s collar and yelled to Jeb to throw him one of the spare blasters. The guard that had attacked Wenona screamed as Carson bit its arm.

A loud tonal beep blared from speakers that must have been installed in the walls or ceiling. Rozar’s voice echoed in the room, outside in the hall, and Mike assumed, everywhere in the ship, “This is Fleet Commander Rozar. Humans have escaped. Armed and dangerous. Kill on sight.”

Mike felt like a bucket of ice water had just been dumped on him. We need to go. We need to go! WE NEED TO GO! He wasn’t sure if he had yelled any of that as he rushed forward and pulled Carson off the alien guard who quickly scrambled away holding its arm tightly to try to stop the purple blood from where they’d been bitten.

Simmo picked up one of the dropped blasters and tried a few more shots towards the computer console at Rozar as Jeb helped Wenona to her feet. She stumbled and gasped in pain.

“For my ship!” Simmo roared as she blasted away at the console. “For my crew!” She rushed the side to get a better angle. Mike couldn’t see if she got him or not as he struggled to pull Carson towards the door. He wished he had some sort of leash to help guide the dog away from the now-cowering guard and toward the door. 

“Carson, come!” The dog grudgingly let Mike pull him along.

Jebannuck was trying to pick up Wenona who was almost bent over with pain.

“What’s wrong?” Mike yelled. “What happened?”

“No time, hold this,” Jeb handed him an extra blaster so he could lift Wenona over his shoulder, using his now free hand to hold her in place as he ran to the door. “Simmo,” he shouted back, “We’re leaving! NOW!”

The montauk was already at his side. She frowned as they headed for the door, “What’s wrong with her?”

Jebannuck didn’t answer immediately. He led the way down the corridor and paused at the next turn. “Did either of you happen to overhear where the Confederation ship is being held?”

Mike thought back for a moment, trying to remember. “Docking bay 4,” He turned to Simmo. “Do you know where that is?”

Simmo paused then nodded and took the lead down the corridor.

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[the-faultofdaedalus]

stevetony pirate au with the feared vigilante robber of the high seas, captain rogers, and duke-turned-captain-rogers’-gun-wielding-concubine anthony stark.

The nice thing about running a small ship, Steve thought, surveying his crew from the bridge as they scurried over the larger merchant’s ship, moving cargo and captives to-and-fro, was that no one, absolutely no one, ever expected the most feared pirate on these seas to be sailing something more suited for a civilian on a day-trip.

And no one expected their armed and armoured and much, much bigger ship to be taken by a clipper with only two canons to its name.

Hell, no one ever expected the crew of a ship as small as the Banshee to even think about trying to take a ship at all, much less the Crown-sanctioned merchant frigates that were always bristling with weapons and paranoid, pomped-up ego.

Steve surveyed the other ship, holes blown in the hull and long gashes along the sides, slowly, slowly sinking.

“—You bastards,” Steve heard, the voice carrying over even the general din, and couldn’t help but smile, just a little. “Let GO OF ME, don’t you know who I am, you can’t—“

The man’s voice was abruptly cut off when Steve’s gunner, Clint Barton, stuffed a rag into his mouth, to the jeers of the rest of Steve’s crew, and to the growing alarm of the captured shiphands.

Anthony Stark, heir to the crown and the kingdom’s most valuable asset, was unceremoniously tossed across the gap between the two ships, twisting and struggling against his bound hands and feet, caught by Bucky on the deck of the Banshee, muffled, angry shouts still audible through the makeshift gag.

“Where do you want him, Cap?” Bucky called up, easily holding the other man despite his struggles and attempts to kick him, and Steve tipped his head in consideration, mostly for the effect it’d have on the remaining crew.

“Throw him in my quarters,” Steve finally shouted back, making sure to give the prince a slow once-over, “I want to talk to him myself before we treat him to the brig.”

Stark started yelling again at the same time that Steve’s small crew cheered, and without preamble, Bucky shrugged, kicked open the door to the small room that Steve got to claim as his own, and tossed Stark in like a sack of potatoes.

It didn’t take long from there for the Banshee to be detached from the larger ship, holes punched in the hull to scuttle it.

Steve wasn’t worried about the crew they’d left on the boat — it was resting on a sandbank and the deck wouldn’t flood, and their people should find them soon enough — and soon enough, the Banshee was hauling around, heading for new waters, and Steve couldn’t resist one last parting shot. “Tell your king,” He shouted, voice carrying easily over the water, “That we’ve got your golden goose! Again!”

With that, and the Banshee’s sails pushing her across the water, Steve left the tiller to Natasha and took the steps down from the bridge two at a time, couldn’t stop his lips from curling into a smile.

It was time to pay his guest a visit.

By the time Steve closed the door behind himself, Tony had slipped his bonds, had stripped down to the more practical underclothes as opposed to the stuffy coats and pants he usually wore and was stretched out on Steve’s bed, a wide smile spreading across his face when he caught sight of Steve.

The gag that had been in his mouth flew at Steve, and he caught it with a grin before it could hit him in the face. “Would it kill Barton to use something clean?” He asked, though his eyes were bright, and Steve laughed before he tossed it aside and took the half-stride he needed to get to the bed, let Tony pull him down.

“Yes, your highness,” Steve rolled his eyes, looked down at Tony, “Next time we’ll make sure to use the finest silk we can find.” He poked Tony’s nose, felt fond beyond belief when Tony’s eyes went slightly cross-eyed to track it, “The theatrics were your idea, Tony.”

“It tasted like pickled eggs, and the theatrics are necessary,” Tony groused, and the air whooshed out of Steve’s lungs when he wrapped his arms around Steve and pulled him down on top of him, clearly wanting more contact than Steve being propped up on him gave, pressed his face into the crook of Steve’s neck and exhaled. “Do you people eat anything but pickled eggs?”

Steve wiggled, got comfortable, making sure he wasn’t jabbing Tony anywhere, and brought an arm around to hold Tony back, felt how Tony relaxed. “Now that we’ve raided your ship’s food stores, we will,” He said, “I know the theatrics are necessary, you’re good at it, but one of these days you’re going to fall into the drink and then where will we be, huh?”

“Your people are good at what they do,” Tony muttered, “Barnes isn’t going to drop me.”

“If you kick him he might,” Steve shot back, rolled to the side so he could rest his head on Tony’s chest, wrap his arm over Tony’s stomach. “I don’t want you to get hurt, alright? And I know the knots are slips, but—” Steve cut himself off, didn’t want to continue that sentence, didn’t want to paint the possibility of Tony falling into the sea, the knots waterlogged and impossible to slip, didn’t want to think about Tony drowning because of him.

Tony rolled his eyes, but pressed a kiss to the top of Steve’s head. “You’re not going to let me get hurt.” He told Steve, “Even though you are, technically, kidnapping me on a semi-regular basis.”

“Oh, poor you,” Steve said, “The innocent prince—”

Tony snorted.

“-Kidnapped by the scary, mean, pirates. Whatever will you do?”

Tony’s eyes went half-lidded, and he licked his lips. “Oh,” He said, pressed the back of his hand to his forehead in a fake swoon, “Whatever will I do, Captain? I’m so helpless, you could do anything you wanted,” Tony continued, as if he hadn’t managed to get the hinges off the cell he’d been put in the first time Steve and his crew had grabbed him, snuck up to the deck and was halfway into a rowboat until Sam had actually caught him, at which Tony had threatened him with a sword until Natasha had disarmed him. “Woe is me—”

Steve cut him off by kissing him, soft and sweet and slow, a kiss that Tony returned eagerly even as he melted into it. When Steve broke away, Tony was smiling softly up at Steve. “Hey,” He said.

“Hey yourself,” Steve replied, knew that his answering smile was sappy and soft and not caring in the least. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too, honey.” Tony answered, “And speaking of mist—”

“-It worked great,” Steve cut him off, wasn’t lying in the slightest. The bags of powder Tony and Bruce had concocted, when thrown against the sea, made a wall of mist 10 feet high, thick as anything natural, and all in all was better than waiting for the right conditions to catch a ship, “We’ve got a week until we make port, you’ll have plenty of time to talk shop with the others, for now—”

Tony’s eyes softened. “I’ll stay. Of course.” He said, pulled Steve back down on top of him. “Picked one hell of a week to grab me, though. I was sailing to meet Pepper.”

Steve blanched. “Oh gods.” He said, and Tony started cackling.

[damnit-samnit]

You probably have so many AUs now and I deeply appologiese for being a curious little cat but what would a Smite pirate AU look like and how would Art be a part of it?

You’re goddamn right I already have so many AU’s and I want more 😂

Art would be a dumbass daughter of someone of mild society who lived a proper life but probably kissed somebody once by the stables so she thinks she’s secretly sO nAuGhTy.

And Smite’s just a Captain with questionable hygiene who ends up kidnapping her for ransom or decides to take her along with him because she was there at the ship he boarded/fort he raided and she’s pretty enough, so why not? Stealing ‘proper’ women away is always a good boast to his infamy, you know? He figures, at worst, he could drop her off at a random island for the hell of it.

She’s all in a titter because she thinks the worst is going to happen to her. And the crew, although they’re gross and handsy, only end up sticking her in their shitty little brig for a few days. And she sits and cries softly to herself because she basically thinks this is the end of her and someone eventually reminds the captain that he has a prisoner and after talking with her and teasing her for a bit, he decides he is going to ransom her when he finds out her family deals with furs and furs are big money makers.

So, she unceremoniously gets stuck in what used to be an officer’s room the next day (from when the ship was under the possession of its original owners). And that’s where she kinda lives until Smite gets bored enough to go visit her one day since his crew is annoying to be around and he’s bored.

He figures she’s some fancy pants who will sob at him and beg him to spare her.

And she totally is a little good girl, wide-eyed and uncomfortable and jumpy, which only makes him want to tease and torture her more, especially when he realizes she’s not as annoying as he feared. She’s the right kind of annoying. But doing all that is only fun for like five seconds, so eventually he gets bored of her too and his visits become less frequent until he stumbles upon perfume or something during another raid and because he is such a generous man, he gives it to her. And it’s been a couple of weeks by then so she’s calmer and more accepting of the fact she’s been stolen away to die. The conversation they have is still super uncomfortable but it’s still a conversation and he tells her the next major port they land at he’s going to send notice of her kidnapping to her family so he can get that money, which is relieving because it’s the first time she’s been told, concretely, that killing her isn’t choice number one.

And they talk about stupid things like her background and he deflects her questions about him because he only cares about his reputation so he wants to hear about him from her. He also finds out she’s actually not a true dumbass — she’s surprisingly well-educated. I keep the same headcanon that I do for the outlaw AU — pirate Smite it mildly illiterate. He can read enough but doesn’t read books or anything because he doesn’t understand like 75% of the words.

Art had found a stack of books that had been stolen off another ship that were used to hold up a broken shelf and takes to reading them during her captivity because what the fuck else is she supposed to do? And Smite, who gradually starts to bother her more and more when he finds he enjoys her/wants to bang, gets her to read to him one night for entertainment. And then it becomes an almost nightly ritual: he’ll lounge about her room, making her super uncomfortable because he’s him, and she’ll read to him and explain what some words mean if he asks about them.

Sometimes he’ll even take meals there.

And for some crazy reason she can’t understand she treats him nicely enough after that initial awkwardness dies away. She’ll stop reading to like, tell him he looks nice that day. Or she’ll keep looking at the gouge on his hand and finally won’t be able to ignore it anymore and will clean it for him so it doesn’t get disgusting.

Which, of course, he loves.

And soon enough, her room unintentionally becomes his sanctuary. He’ll eat there. He’ll nap there (why she does something else, of course). He’ll demand more attention from her. He’ll go sit and fume in there when he’s pissed off, which is not fun for her because all he does is sit in a chair and bitch at her and be a terror.

Then one day, for whatever reason, he’s pissed and is pacing and in a fury and she’s quietly like ‘what the fuck is happening?’

And then he turns on her and basically makes out with her because of course he would.

Which is when he officially makes the jump to ‘I wanna bone this girl who is nice to me/I want more of her affection’ and will like, get her things and steal her things to make her like him.

And she comes to the slow realization that damn, those twisty feelings she’s been feeling in her gut from the get-go isn’t all fear — she wants to bang him too because she’s a horny little good girl but like hell she’s gonna bang smite.

But her pleasant behavior to him ramps up big time which only makes him wild 😂😂😂

I’d like to think it’d be like when Elizabeth gets brought on to the Black Pearl the first time and Smite is basically Barbossa. I dunno about you guys, but there’s some weird sexual chemistry between Elizabeth and barbossa in that first movie. So it’s like that with Art and Smite except they do fuck.

[notwhelmedyet]

Dratchtember Day 3

Prompt: Bloodshed Angst & hurt/comfort - Drift isn’t exiled after Overlord’s attack. Instead he’s stripped of his Autobrand and imprisoned in the brig. This is what happens next. (also on ao3 here)

"You mind if I come in?" Ratchet asked.

Drift stared sullenly at him, unmoved like he hadn't heard the question. Damn, maybe he hadn't - internally, Ratchet was vibrating with urgency, the need to get hooked into Drift's medical readouts. But he forced his body to stillness, redirected his fury down to dispassionate diagnoses. He wasn't going inside without Drift's okay.

Drift seemed to realize that, inclining his head to welcome Ratchet into the cell.

Ratchet lowered the forceshield and unlocked the door, coming to kneel beside the bench at the back of the cell. "You going to tell me who did this?" Ratchet asked, hooking in and letting the numbers replace his guesses.

Drift shook his head.

"You protecting them or punishing yourself?" Ratchet asked. "We both know you weren't behind Overlord - certainly not alone."

Drift's lips curled, revealing fangs still bright with fuel. "You sound like them."

Ratchet put him back together in silence, what he could repair outside the medibay. He lingered on cleaning the cut on Drift's helm - superficial, unimportant except for the part where it'd nearly given Ratchet spark failure when he'd first gotten to the brig, seen half of Drift's face streaked with fuel.

"If this happens again, I'm going to go to - " Ratchet's words died on his lips. He couldn't go to Rodimus, not after how the sentencing had gone. Ultra Magnus was gone. Red Alert was in a drawer in the morgue. "If I have to lock myself in here with you, I'm going to stop you from throwing yourself on a blade out of guilt," Ratchet declared.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to die," Drift rasped. "Dying's too easy."

Ratchet wondered if he meant for them or for himself. He suspected Drift meant both. And damn, he was going to get Rung down to speak to Drift, he was going to do something -

But in the short term there was a wormhole and an urgent comm and the best Ratchet could do was to promise he'd be back as soon as he could.

---

The ship was full of bodies; mostly legislators, some crew. Tailgate was dying and there was a limited window of time that any of Tyrest's miracles could save him. Ratchet didn't have the luxury of going down to the brig to check on one self-sacrificing scapegoat.

He went anyway.

The security system indicated that none of the doors had been improperly opened or damaged and so the Decepticon prisoners should have been safe in their cells. Sure enough, when the elevator opened, all the carnage was contained to the walkways between the cells.

There was a silence to the cell-block that that Ratchet hadn't heard since they picked up the Decepticon prisoners on Temptoria. The remains of eight, maybe nine legislators crowding the walkway between the cells; there were the bodies of three Autobots. Drift's cell door was open.

Ratchet checked the bodies first - all miraculously alive. Ratchet recognized them - Pyrene, Dirac and Toxin. Someone had used the emergency kit on the wall to stabilize Kirac, whose left leg had been torn free and who's chest had been crushed by the impact of a legislator's gun. The other two weren't nearly as bad off. Ratchet could deal with them later.

He went to the doorway of the cell and looked inside. "You mind if I come in?" he asked.

Drift stared at him, stretched out on the bench with his one leg twisted to wrongness and ruptured optic leaking down his face. His hands were pressed up against his side, Ratchet would have bet shanix there was a hole neatly matching a legislator's blade under his fingers. Drift stared at Ratchet and smiled.

"You're okay," Drift said. "Frag, Ratch, I was really worried about you."

"Worried about me?" Ratchet said dismissively, hustling into the cell to stop Drift from hauling himself up to a sitting position like a maniac. "I feel like you have more important things to worry about."

Drift snorted. "I'm not dead. What's happening up there? The rest of the crew? Rodimus?"

"We're still doing our headcount. There were some casualties but Rodimus is fine." Ratchet plugged in to Drift's medical readouts and sighed. "So, how did your cell door get open?"

"Someone must have left the door open," Drift said. "Forgetful of them."

"Yeah, I bet." Ratchet growled. "How much of this was the legislators, Drift?"

Drift turned away, and Ratchet knew he wasn't going to drag a confession out of him - not if Dirac and the other two hadn't.

"I'm taking you up to the medibay," Ratchet said, sliding one arm under Drift's shoulders and one beneath his knees to lift him as gently as he could. "Rodimus confessed, you know. He didn't even make it a full week before he cracked."

Ratchet had expected Drift to take the news as stoically as he'd taken everything else since his sentencing. Otherwise he would have waited until they were safely past the Decepticon prisoners watching from their cells to break the news. Instead, Drift crumbled and Ratchet had to walk him to the elevator like that, shielding him with his body as best he could.

---

Ratchet woke up at the sound of the door creaking open, and he was already sitting up and ready to go back on call before he realized it wasn't First Aid at the door of the relief room. And it wasn't Ambulon - wouldn't be Ambulon ever again.

"You mind if I come in?" Drift asked.

Ratchet held out his arms to catch Drift as he staggered across the space between the door and Ratchet's berth. Drift climbed into Ratchet's arms, squeezing Ratchet tighter than he would have dared touch Drift's battered frame. Ratchet felt like his spark was as raw as the patches on Drift's plating, gone soft at someone's arms holding him tight even if it was out of their need for comfort and not a desire to comfort him. "You're going to be okay," Ratchet whispered, voice breaking.

"So are you," Drift promised. "That was unbearable. Knowing you were in danger, knowing that you were hurt and not being able to save you...Primus. Ambulon. I am so sorry, Ratchet."

"There's nothing you could have done," Ratchet said. He wanted to say that there was nothing anyone could have done but he preferred not to lie to himself.

"The same goes for you," Drift said. "Ratchet, I don't - I don't believe I should be forgiven for what I did. I was complicit. If it weren't for me Overlord would never have been on this ship - "

"That's also true for Rodimus," Ratchet said.

"I don't have to reckon with his guilt, Ratch. Mine is more than enough." Drift pulled back, brushing noses with Ratchet as he did. "I don't think I should be forgiven but I don't think I can bear to leave you like that again."

"Think about yourself for once in your life," Ratchet grumbled.

"I am. Ratchet, I love you." Drift said. "I love you every and any way you'll love me back."

"Well, damn." Ratchet reached up to brush his fingers over Drift's cheek, beneath the eyepatch he'd be wearing for another three days, at least, while they waited for his new optic's connections to his brain module to stabilize. Drift shivered at his touch and Ratchet decided he'd held himself in enough for one week. He'd lost more than he could bear and he'd fucked up more than he could fix and there was nothing he could do about any of that now. But he could kiss Drift.

When he broke the kiss, spark thrumming in his chest, he leaned back to take in Drift's face; tired and drawn but with optics brimming with life and tears. There was a smile on Drift's face that he'd never seen before - real and hopeful.

"What do you know," Ratchet said. "I love you right back. And I'm never going to let you do anything that stupid and self-sacrificing again, even if I have to take on the whole damn universe to stop you."

"I'm really not worth taking on the universe for."

"Deny you'd do the same thing," Ratchet said. "I dare you."

"Kiss me again and I'll believe you."

[askauradonprep]

Hook and harry, for the sad agnst thing you wanna do

Oof. 

I think we all knew this was coming. I got this request this morning and did it last on purpose because jesus god this will be a freaking novel.

Harry loves his dad. He idolizes his dad (he refers to Hook as ‘Captain’ though - Hook doesn’t like being called ‘Dad’. Makes him feel old). His dad is everything he’s ever wanted to be. He used to follow his dad around and listen to his stories about sailing and Neverland and tried to emulate him. It helps that Hook professes to love his kids, has a killer ‘protect my kid’ instinct (whether because he’s having a good day or because by messing with his kids, you’re messing with him) as he once demonstrated by nearly blowing the Coachman’s face off for talking to Harry when he was like three, and he’s got good days. 

The problem is he is 99% bad and apathetic days. 

Hook could not give a rat’s ass about Harry. He didn’t even have the originality to give Harry a name that was at all that different from Harriet. He regularly forgets he even has a son and he certainly does not remember Harry’s name with any regularity. Harriet or Smee has to remind him of his name (at which point he’ll carry on as if he’d used it all along) and he regularly says ‘I have one of those?’ when people bring up his son. Names he actually calls Harry are ‘the boy’, ‘the middle one’ and ‘the other one’.

Harriet is the oldest and the one Hook professes to be his favourite (yes, he plays favourites out loud). CJ is his actual favourite. When he feels like parenting, it’s usually those two who get his attention. Which bites because Hook keeps setting himself up as a role model they should try to measure up to and he regularly plays the kids against each other as part of him controlling them. Those kids are HIS, and they aren’t going anywhere and stopping work on his ship unless he tells them to. Since Harriet and CJ are both working at being captains, he regularly throws in Harry’s face that he’s ‘just’ First Mate (and he uses Uma to do it to twist the knife in further. “She’s a damn good captain - it’s too bad you can’t measure up to that.”) This hurts Harry more than anything else - not just because he wants to be like his dad but turns out you can’t set your kids up to want to be you and then tell them they’re not good enough. WHO KNEW? (Hook’s clearly read Maleficent’s parenting book, thanks, I hate it). Harry HATES disappointing his dad.

This apathy comes in handy sometimes - he genuinely does not care if Harry dates or whom he dates. Go on, have fun, he doesn’t care unless if affects Harry’s work (at which point - jesus god there will be HELL TO PAY). 

This apathy also means he doesn’t give a rat’s ass how Harry will be affected by things he does. He once stuck a gun in Uma’s face to demand she feed his crew when they were like 10, and Harry just started spluttering in shock. He didn’t even have time to protest before Harriet dragged him off (she didn’t want him to have to watch if things got uglier). Harry went out that night and didn’t come home for three days - he was too busy with Uma and trying not to utterly lose it because dad what. Hook didn’t even notice he was gone.

Hook is very much apathetic to Harry’s issues he caused. He induced Harry’s alcoholism (not as severe as Harriet’s, but Harry can hit a bottle pretty hard too) by giving him liquor when he was like 8 and he’s ignoring the fact Harry’s got his dad’s temper. When Harry does it, it is inconvenient, so Harry clearly needs to shape the hell up.

This is not particularly helpful with dealing with Harry’s clusterfuck of issues either, no. When Harry’s having a rage episode or mood drop or whatever, Hook will throw him in a brig and be done with it (thanks for the claustrophobia, dad, he really needed that. Ditto with the fear of loud noises). 

Then there’s the bad days.

Hook is a drunk with a bad temper whose crew specializes in torture. Bad days can be very messy very fast. Hook is absolutely a beater. Harry himself doesn’t often get hit, but it’s more because Harriet usually messes up at that exact moment and gets dad mad at her instead (psst, she’s trying to protect you, Harry, read the room). He’s definitely caught it before when his sister isn’t around though, and he’s spent time on the Lost Revenge or at Uma or Gil’s rather than deal with that quagmire, especially if he knows he’d get his ass kicked if he went home because he messed something up. That’s normal right? Harry definitely has a few nasty scars on his back from his dad (hook or whip he’s not sure).

So why does Harry stay? Because his dad’s good days keep giving him just that bit of extra hope he needs. And, admittedly, Harriet protecting him does mean he has more decent memories of his dad than she does.

When Hook needs someone from his kids to go fishing for the store, 9/10 times he’ll bring Harry. His dad protected him from the Coachman (not that Harry remembers the details - again, he was like 3). He learned about piracy from his dad. His dad gave him his red jacket and let him keep the hook he stole. His dad is actually willing to say, out loud, in public, he loves his son. His dad taught him to read and tried to teach him to count (he also threw Harry aside and told Harriet he was an idiot when he couldn’t, but shhhh, details). All of that counts for something right?

Hook’s got no idea Harry’s tried to get a crocodile to bite his hand off because he can’t stand not having a real hook attached and it bothers him so much to have his hand. Maybe if he did, it’d be the kick in the ass Hook needed to really look at his parenting choices. Alternatively, he could do what he did when confronted with Harriet’s alcoholism - start swimming in a river in Egypt.

Harry’s not going to have that realization his dad is shit any time soon. He loves his dad and between positive interactions, his mind is more than up to making excuses and rationalizing. I don’t know what would break things off for good. Uma and Harriet definitely know, but again, Harry can explain a lot away when he has those positive interactions to keep him going. I think he has his moments though. He has never taken confrontation lying down and if Hook comes at him, he’ll swing right back and regret it later. And like, he certainly resents being beaten or screamed at, but like, what’s he going to do about it?

Hook having tensions with Uma’s crew might do it though. Harry’s never been able to figure out what to do with himself in times when Hook and Ursula were ‘renegotiating’. He certainly doesn’t want another situation where Uma is in danger because of his dad. Just what he’ll do in that situation is hard to say, but I can’t imagine him letting his captain or his friends be hurt. All I can imagine in that situation is ‘do first, think later’ and like...angry protective growling. I think Harry would act to protect his crew first.

And then he’ll spend the rest of the week freaking out because jesus god I just betrayed my dad, what the hell did I do I am dead, I am actually going to die. They don’t have sedatives on the Isle, so Uma would finally order some of the crew to take him out and get him loaded until he’s too drunk to freak out anymore, and then watch him to make sure he doesn’t choke or anything because she’s not in the market for a dead first mate/best friend, no matter how shit his dad is.

[writings-of-dumpy]

The Princess and the Pirate - Chapter 6

A/N: There’s some violence and swearing in this one. Mostly just a shitload of angst. What can I say, I like the slow burn.

Tags: @itsgreatestlie

~Rayla~

Evie and I managed to climb the castle walls after I made a makeshift splint so I could at least stand and peek above the meeting. When Ben and Harry were apprehended, Evie let out a gasp and almost shouted, but I quickly covered her mouth with my hand.

“Sh! It’s going to be okay..” I calmed her.

I noticed that they dragged Harry onto the ship and I thought of a plan.

“Evie, listen to me. If I know Ben, he’s probably alerted the defenses and the rest of his knights, so it’s just a matter of waiting for help to arrive, okay? For now, we just need to stay alive,” I told her and she nodded. While I was trying to think of a way to get to safety, the pirates took Ben into the castle while Jukes went onto the ship with the book and pixie dust. As soon as the pirates took Ben into the castle, I heard gasps and knew that the time we had was limited.

“Go,” I told Evie and gestured towards the stairs opposite of us. We made our way towards them and started going down the stairs.

“Where the hell are they?!” I heard a pirate roar from inside of the castle. Evie and I ducked down behind the wall, but I felt my self being pulled up by my hair.

“Thought you were clever, huh? Well, the captain wants too see you,” I heard the voice of the pirate holding me say.

“I thought Jukes was just a crewmember, and you guys were trying to bring the captain back,” I smirked.

“Oh, the captain is back, it’s just not who ye think, princess,” he snarled in my ear. As Evie was taken back to the rock and reunited with Ben, I was dragged to the ship. Instead of being tossed in the brig as I expected, I was shoved into the captain’s quarters. The room was musty and smelled of salt and lacquer, and I looked around and my eyes fell on a figure in the corner in the shadows that I recognized.

“Harry! You’re safe, thank god. They’ve got Ben and Evie, we have to help them,” I said to him and started to walk towards him. When I got closer to him, he grabbed my wrist and pushed me away.

“No, you need to shut your mouth and do as you’re told,” Harry spoke coldly to me. He stepped out of the shadows and I saw that he was wearing his hook on his left hand and had on a red leather jacket that I had never seen before.

I was dumbfounded and said nothing to him, but gave him a quizzical look.

“Don’t you get it? I’m the captain, princess. It’s my right, and it was my plan to bring my father back. All I needed was a bit of royal blood to trust me, and then here you come all wide-eyed and desperate,” he said to me in a tone I didn’t recognize as his voice. His words were cold and ruthless.

“What do you mean, you were just lying to me this whole time?” I said. “I don’t believe you. Harry, whatever it is, we can work it out. What’s going on?”

“Oh, but tha’s where you’re wrong. The only thing goin’ on here is that ye’ve been played for my gain, as it should be,” he said and began to circle me.

Again, his words were like daggers to my soul. “I don’t… I..”

“You what? Thought I be yer friend, did ye? Aw, poor lass… I give meself credit, though. I had ye around my finger,” he taunted as my chest felt like it was burning and my eyes welled up.

“You said you cared about me. You said we were best friends,” I reminded him.

“Well, wouldn’t be the first time I’ve lied,” Harry chuckled darkly. “Pirates pride themselves on manipulatin’ through truth… but damn, I’ve got to say it’s fun te watch you Auradon princesses squirm thinkin’ I’d be all for ye…” I looked up at him and our eyes connected. Instead of the usual bright blue, his eyes were dark and had an almost red tint to them. I barely recognized the Harry that stood before me. The man that I had fallen for was gone, and this man was something else.

“Why keep up the facade for so long?” I asked him almost as a challenge and fought back tears.

Harry shrugged and lifted his hook to point at me. “Because I thought it’d be fun to have you fall in love with me. You do, don’t ye? Ye love me?”

Harry’s tone changed to a mocking one as he spoke and he walked towards me, backing me into a wall.

“You’re pathetic. Fallin’ so easily for a man who’s never thought once about ye. It went on so long that maybe I thought I might get a goo’ fuck out of ye… Nobody could ever love you, you’re just a small and insignificant pawn,” he scoffed and placed a hand on the wall above my head menacingly. Before this conversation, that gesture would have made my heart do flips, but now, my heart was broken and frozen. I turned my face away and saw on the floor Maleficent’s spellbook poking out from under the table in the room. I felt cold silver touch my chin and realized that he had used his hook to turn my face to meet his, which was mere centimeters away from mine.

“If you thought for even a second that I had feelings for ye, yer more delusional than I thought. But I can see it in yer eyes…” he began and laughed darkly. “You’re completely gone for me. This is much more fun than I thought! Say, why don’t ye do me a favor and maybe I’ll let you get a good shag out of it, hm?”

I looked him in his cold and unfeeling eyes. “I would never.”

I moved quickly to grab the spellbook and Harry managed to get me pinned against the opposite wall after a brief chase. “Sneaky li’le mouse, aren’t ye?”

I felt a soft breeze fall on my face and threw the book out of the window before Harry could stop me. I looked at his face and saw a slight flicker of the blue in his eyes that I came to adore, but his eyes returned to their previous dark color and he smiled at me with an evil intent.

“Shame… The crew would have loved to see this,” Harry said and I felt a sharp and burning pain in my ribs, then warm blood began to flow out of me from my right side. “But, I suppose, they’ll have to deal with just Ben and Evie’s deaths.”

Harry grabbed my arm and pulled me all the way to Skull Rock, apparently not caring about the blood he was trailing behind of mine. When we got to where the rest of the pirates were, a large cauldron and what appeared to be the remains of Captain Hook laid on the rock that I was previously tied to. I saw Evie and Ben tied up to a beam (it appeared to be a mast from a ship) that was next to the cauldron and assumed that I’d be headed there next.

“Harry?! Harry, what are you doing?!” Ben screamed and Harry smirked at him.

“He’s been spelled… He’s been spelled!!” Evie yelled. “Rayla, we’ve got to break the spell!”

“Quiet, you,” a nearby pirate told her and placed his sword on her. As expected, Harry handed me off to be tied up with Ben and Evie. Harry addressed his crew and stood over the cauldron.

“We have waited twenty years for this! And now, the blood of three royals and the sacrifice of the son with bring back our beloved captain so that we may again rule the seas!” he spoke.

“Rayla, you’ve got to kiss him,” Evie said. “It’s stupid, but true love’s kiss works every time.”

“He doesn’t love me, Evie,” I told her. She looked at me and knitted her brows.

“Of course he does, are you that blind?” Evie responded to me.

I shook my head. “I was, but now after that conversation and subsequent hooking, I’m less inclined to believe he has any feeling at all towards me.”

Ben and Evie shared a glance and I spoke again, “Okay, as soon as they untie you, make a break for it, okay? I’ll do what I can to hold them off so you guys can escape.”

“We aren’t leaving you,” Ben echoed Evie. “Harry has to be under some sort of spell, he’d never do this.”

“Guys, I’ve got a broken leg and spell or not, I’m pretty sure Harry hooked my lung. I haven’t got much time left, okay?” I told them.

Evie’s eyes welled up and she shook her head. “There must be a way…”

“There isn’t. It’s okay, I’m already dead, Evie. But you aren’t,” I told her. Ever since Harry had spoken so coldly to me, I couldn’t get the image out of my mind and his words of rejection and disdain for me haunted my hearing no matter how loud the pirate’s cheers were. I felt like an empty shell and I couldn’t let Evie and Ben go down with me. Even if Harry had been spelled, there is always truth to what pirates say and the flash of blue in Harry’s eyes that I saw was enough to confirm that.

Without warning and just as Harry had commanded a couple pirates to fetch us, a giant ship crashed into the side of the Black Castle and shattered its walls through. The debris had knocked several pirates unconscious, including Harry. Evie, Ben and I were knocked over and I was the one to land on the rock.

“Oh of course. Because why wouldn’t I be the one to break my whole body? Adding injury to insult is a real thing,” I said to myself as I felt several spots where I had bruised and the wound on my side had torn farther, but I wasn’t drowning in my own blood, so that told me that I might have a chance at survival… physically at least.

“Ben! We’re here! We brought the whole ship!” Jay’s voice rang out and I saw Uma and Lannie come down into the castle and fight off pirates who had begun to attack the invaders with several soldiers from Auradon to get to us. I felt myself starting to lose consciousness due to pain and blood loss, so when the ropes were cut free and the mast was moved from me, I couldn’t find it in myself to get up.

“Ben, grab her and get on the ship!” Uma ordered and I felt Ben pick me up and carry me away from the ruckus.

“Get Harry! Let’s get the hell out of here, reinforcements will apprehend the pirates,” I heard Uma’s voice in the distance as I felt my vision tunnel. Ben handed me off to Jay, who then held my face in his hands and tapped it to keep me awake.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, you’re all good, Ray. Come on stay with us,” he said. His words were calming to me in that moment.

“Thanks, Jay,” I said and felt my head get lighter. “Guess I have to live, huh?”

Jay laughed and nodded. “Yes, yes you do.”

“Then you should probably hand me a suture kit and gauze,” I told him. He looked at me completely clueless.

“Oh my God, move, Jay. Hey Rayla, Harry’s being brought over. I need you to kiss him to break the spell, okay?” Evie said to me. I rolled my eyes.

“It’s not going to work, Eve. He doesn’t feel the same,” I told her.

“Just do it to humor me, please?” she said and grabbed the first aid kit as Ben set Harry’s unconscious frame down next to me. Evie instructed Jay to support my body as she cleaned my hemorrhaging side.

“Better hurry before he wakes up,” Ben said to me and Evie as he dragged Harry closer to me. I rolled my eyes and sat up with some help from Jay and leaned over Harry’s face.

“This is stupid,” I told everyone and then pecked Harry’s unmoving lips. I felt a spark and a puff of smoke left his nostrils that was exactly the same color as his eyes were in the captain’s quarters.

I laid back down against Jay’s legs and he smiled down at me. “I knew you could do it.”

I smiled sarcastically. “Yay me.”

“Alright, the troops are here, let’s head out!” Lannie said and Uma took to the helm and started us home.

Next to me, I heard Harry cough and gasp, then I felt my wound being sewn up by Evie. As I slipped out of consciousness, I could only hear Harry’s soft and gentle voice asking what had happened, which broke my heart even further.

~*~

I woke up to blinding lights in my eyes and the sound of chatter and I felt a small and soft hand in mine.

“How long has it been?” I asked whoever it was.

“About an hour,” I heard Evie respond. “The doctors took xrays and pumped you full of pain meds. They redid my suture job as well, so now you have professional work on you.”

I smiled slightly. “Screw them, you’re just as professional as they are. Flesh and fabric get sewn the same..” I joked and decided to sit up and saw that Evie, Jay and Ben were in the small room with me.

“You guys okay?” I asked them.

“You’re the one in the hospital wing,” Jay said.

I smiled half-heartedly and felt Evie’s hand move from mine and she wrapped her arms around me. “Don’t scare me like that. We need to have a serious conversation about your self-worth, okay?”

I shrugged. “Hey, it’s not like I planned to break my leg.”

“So are we all just going to ignore the fact that Rayla is a princess?” Jay said and stood up straight and walked over to sit on the opposite side of Evie on my bed.

I chuckled. “Yeah, I guess that’s kind of a bombshell.”

I heard a knock on the door and the doctor entered with a folder.

“Well, your highness, it appears that you took quite a fall…” he began.

“Yeah, I broke my tibia and dislocated my knee from the looks of those xrays. When can I leave?” I asked the doctor, not wanting to deal with his bedside manner and feeling generally upset about everything after remembering that the man I loved felt nothing for me.

“In order to fix your leg, you’re going to need surgery, which I have scheduled for an hour from now. Once you recover, you’ll need to take a week’s bedrest,” he explained.

I nodded. “Thank you. I’m not mad at you, I’m sorry, I’ve just had a bad day…”

He chuckled and adjusted his glasses. “We all have those days, no worries.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Evie said as the doctor left.

“I’m pretty sure they hate that nickname,” I told her.

“No, that’s Doc. One of the seven dwarves Snow White befriended,” Evie explained.

“Well now I feel like an ass,” I said.

~Harry~

Harry had just heard that Rayla was being taken out of surgery, so he rushed to her room. He hadn’t seen her since the ship ride back to Auradon and she looked close to death. He entered her room in the hospital and saw her sleeping and hooked up to wires with her leg elevated and cast. He sat beside her and gazed at her face, then took her hand in his and gently kissed it. Harry could barely comprehend the events of the last twelve hours and a piece of time was lost for him. The last thing he remembered was Bill Jukes coming into the cabin of the ship and then he woke up on deck of a different ship with Ben and Uma surrounding him and the taste of coconut and vanilla on his lips. Nobody really had time to explain what had happened, so he was still in the dark for most of the events that transpired, but what mattered to him was Rayla. He felt responsible for her kidnapping and therefore responsible for her injuries and trauma.

He held her hand in his and it felt so small in comparison. His palm alone practically engulfed her small fist and he smiled at the size difference. Lost in thoughts of her and now much he wanted to hold her, he barely heard the door open behind him.

“Oh, Rayla, darling…” Harry heard an English accent say from behind him. He let go of Rayla’s hand and let her mother and father sit with her. He left the room with a nod to her father and almost knocked into Evie, who was standing outside the door.

“Just the person I wanted to see. I wouldn’t recommend going in there just yet, I don’t think she’s ready to see you,” she said to him in a hushed tone. Harry’s brows furrowed.

“Em.. what?” was all he could say.

Evie sighed and took his arm and began pulling him away from the room he felt a need to be close to.

“Wha’s this about, Ev?” he asked her and she sat him down in the waiting area.

“Listen, while you were playing hero, you got spelled… I’m not sure what happened, and what exactly was said, but… She came back from a meeting with you on the ship looking like someone died… and she has a wound that matches your hook,” Evie explained calmly to him.

Harry’s anger rose and he knew who he needed to talk to. Without a word, he left to go to Auradon’s prison. The walk was long, but Harry’s pace was quicken by the sheer amount of rage he felt. He knew that Bill Jukes was behind this and he knew that he had done something that would have repercussions for Harry, but he wasn’t exactly sure what.

Harry reached the prison and walked right past the guards, who began to chase after him, but Harry heard Ben’s voice call them off. Harry assumed his face was one that led Ben—who was filling out paperwork or something in the front—to believe that there was no stopping Harry. And Ben was right.

Harry marched right to the cell with a slouched over Jukes and opened the door. Harry rushed over and gripped Bill’s shirt and hoisted him up, then slammed him against the wall of his cell.

“Wha’ the fuck did ye do t’me ye slimy bastard?” Harry seethed.

Bill laughed. “Nothing that wasn’t bound to happen anyway. You can’t be with her, she’s a princess.” Bill craned his neck towards Harry. “And you’re nothing.”

Harry slammed the man against the wall again. “I won’t ask again. What did you do?”

Bill’s smile twisted. “She’ll never trust you again after what you said to her. And hooking her like your father did? Hoo, if only the spell would have lasted, you might be our captain… You were cruel, Harry. Your father would be proud.”

Harry’s eyes widened and he punched the pirate in the face hard enough to bloody his nose and dropped him to the floor. Harry left the cell and only heard laughter from Bill. Harry’s anger turned to guilt and he found himself wandering the grounds aimlessly, his head filled with thoughts of how he was to speak to Rayla again.

[sea-dragon-pride]

☕☕☕☕☕ (KIDDING, 🌟🌼🌗❓!)

 ☕☕☕☕☕ WELL IF YOU MUST KNOW,,, my deepest darkest secret… my BIGGEST shame… is that I can’t get Calico’s cats to like me. I KNOW! I’m a fake druid, but I try talkin to them and I chase them around and they’re not havin’ ANY of it. The cats on this boat are anti-Tiller ghskgh;skgsgds

(ALSO THIS GOT LOOOONNNGGGGG, so I’m putting it under the cut, I’m So Sorry For Getting Carried Away)

🌟When your OC loses all hope, who do they turn to first? What helps make them feel better? What calms them down and reassures them? Why?

I think when all hope is lost, I would always turn to Roy! I know I should probably say something like my real dads but I haven’t seen them in so long and I never want to worry them with things they don’t need to know about…. Roy always knew how to keep up a brave face, and somehow had a plan for everything, even when failure seemed inevitable. All the Sea Dragons for that matter, made me feel that way! I could never stay in a sour mood after an evening meal with Bingo or Codec, or hell, even Skiff! They’re practically my family and I know they accepted all parts of me into their ranks, so I can’t help but feel better if we’re all together. Though nowadays, that’s not an option, so… to calm down I usually like to hang out in the crow’s nest and chart stars. You can see the sky and the ocean for MILES, when everything is so grand and beautiful, things can’t seem so bad. Something about being up there reminds me that life is always moving, like the ocean! So if things are bad now… then they can’t stay that way forever, because that time will have to move somewhere else, somewhere in the past. On a simpler level, I really appreciate hugs and snacks. I’m the perfect form for cuddling! It’s not bragging, it’s a fact!!! So if I’m ever sad, just squeeze the life out of me and I’ll feel better. 

🌼 Write a short drabble from your OCs POV meeting their LI 

I see the red sails being raised at the end of the dock. Black skulls with a sun burst pattern decorates a number of them. The whole ship is made from stained black wood with red trim. The wood even smells burned.

Jeez, these guys are the ostentatious types, huh? 

Everyone looks like they’re bustling about, doing the prep work for an extended time out at sea. They’ll be expecting me anytime now, but when have pirates been punctual?

Okay, okay, new boat, new story, don’t sweat the small stuff. No one can ask you too many questions if you just keep up your overly-friendly small talk. These guys are supposed to be more dangerous than the last crews, which means a bigger haul. Roy’s counting on you.

I look around the main deck and spot an older woman with an intricate braid and a wide-brimmed hat. That’s gotta be her. I run up and say:

“OH! Ahoy there!!! I’ve never been on a ship this big before wOOWW! Love the color scheming, it really brings out the whole ‘murder-y’ vibes you guys seem to be going for haha! You must be Captain Rhea!”

The older woman looks perplexed (like they usually do), and responds: “That would be me, aye. Though I don’t remember ordering for an interior decorator aboard my vessel.”

“Hehehe no! But you DID send for a navigator and that’s me! Tiller Jakobie, at your service! I’ll tell ya where ya are, where ya goin, where ya wanna be, and how to get there! I also brought my own maps!” I lift them out of my bag proudly. These babies took ages to chart, but no one appreciates map craftsmanship nowadays.

Rhea sighs: “Ah, I did put Beremy in charge of recruiting didn’t I? Remind me not to do that again…. But yes, unfortunately, our last navigator has seemed to desert us for his own misadventures. If you’re the best we can do for such a short time, then so be it. Boys, get her set up in a room, I have business to attend too.”

Yeah… the misadventures of their old navigator mostly involve spending the next few weeks in the brig of The Quick Silver. If Franz is on guard duty, the poor guy will have to listen to him while he practices new songs. Hehehe that’ll make him WISH we threw him overboard!

I turn to my new alleged crew members: “SO! Miss Captain said something about accommodations? Do you guys have room service?? OH! What about those complimentary little soaps??!! Where am I stayin!! You’ve got a five star suite for me, right?”

Most of the reactions are as expected; a couple a furrowed brows, eye rolls, a few smirks and chuckles. I’ll have em head over heels for me soon enough, I mean, come ON! I’m adorable!!! They look around at each other, and one pipes up:

“Well I know someone who don’t have a bunk mate right now…”

The group kind of snickers and mumbles to each other. I hear some whispers - “That’s a lil mean for her first day, ain’t it?” “With HER, are you serious?” “Well, I ain’t gonna be the next one with a fresh scar for waking her up by accident!” They talk back and forth some more and come to an agreement of some kind? “Alright, we got a room for you, follow us!”

I trail behind them, trying to note down the layout of this ship. It IS bigger than The Quick Silver, more in width than in length. The mizzenmast is fortified and I can see spots for snipers to sit up by the topsails. That’ll be a problem to deal with later… We continue below deck and I’m practically pushed towards a room at the end of the hall. My welcome party already starts backing up toward the hold and they shout: 

“Alright, get cozy in there!” More repressed laughing. “Dinner’s served around dusk, see you then!”

Okayyyyy… whatever these guys think they got against me, I’m sure it can’t be that bad. What’s a little hazing between new crew members, right? I’ve faced worse.

“Uh hello?” I knock and open the door.

Oh Fuck. It is that bad.

In the room, there’s a girl, sitting on the lower bunk, sharpening a pair of swords. She doesn’t even flinch when I enter. Her hair is covering a lot of her face, since she’s looking down. It’s so long… Golden hoops dance under her ears. She has bandages around her hands and scars up her arms. Who IS she???

“Are you lost?”

I jolt back. SHIT, I’ve been staring!!! “Wh- huh?”

The girl looks up at me and her hair falls back. Oh NO, she’s PRETTY,,,,!!!!! My face feels hot, WAIT, is this room hot? DON’T tell me you’re blushing right now, Jakobie,,,

She asks again: “Are you lost? This is my room. What are you doing in here?”

Your mission. Remember your mission, dumbass.

“AHAHA OH RIGHT! N-NO WAY! In fact, it’s my job to be Not Lost! I’m Tiller, the new navigator aboard the ship, it’s SUPER nice to me you!!!”

She puts away her whetstone but doesn’t say anything.

I close the door, as I default to rambling over silence. “Well... ANYWAY, your friends said you needed a roomie so here I am! They seem like a fun bunch huh? They mentioned something about you stabbing someone, not that that’s important to me haha! D-Don’t answer that! Those are cool swords you have there!! Where’d you get them? Can you fight with them at the same time!!?? That’s CRAZY! But in a good way! Not that you’re crazy!! Also, I didn’t seem to get your name??” I take a seat on the chest across from her.

She starts to polish her swords. “I didn’t give it.”

Ohhhh one of THOSE types.

She glances up briefly and squints at me. “Why are you wearing a sleeve on only one arm?”

To hide my tattoo.

“OH haha! THIS??? It’s uhhh… to cover a… birthmark! It’s- It’s really gross and ugly and I, uh- hate it so I don’t like looking at it.”

She furrows her brow and kind of scoots further away on her bed after hearing that.

Smooth.

I start putting my stuff away. “Sooooo, I heard someone on the boat is named Beremy?? What’s up with that? That doesn’t sound like a real name.”

“Tiller doesn’t sound like a real name.” She mumbles.

“OHHHH SO SHE HAS JOKES!!! Miss Mystery over here has jests and japes for the the new girl, okay, I’ll take that one. I’m glad comedy is allowed in this room.”

She seems to eye me more closely now as I empty my backpack. She responds: “Just don’t touch my things and you won’t be sleeping in the galley with your namesake.”

“The other crew members seem to be kind of scared of you. Should I be worried, or are you all bark and no bite?”

I feel a whoosh of cool air whip past my ear. One of her swords is suddenly embedded in the wall behind me, inches from the side of my head. 

Whoa…. she’s Perfect.

She sounds a little irritated when she says, “I like for people to make their own judgements about me and not listen to rumors from people they’ve just met.”

My heart is racing. (Probably from the sword, right??) I yank it out of the wall. “That… was SO COOL!!! I didn’t even see you throw it. You’ve gotta teach me that!!!””

She looks a little taken aback.

I continue, “Also have you ever thought about pulling your hair out of your face with something??? Then maybe you can aim better!! Plus… I think your eyes are really pretty...”

“I-” 

Suddenly, there’s a bell ringing down the hall.

The girl looks away to the side. Was her face always that pink? She stands up and makes for the door. “That’s the dinner bell. You can… come with me if you want. It’d be weird to just stay in here.”

I hop up. “Alright Miss Mystery, if you INSIST!”

“It’s Mayday.”

“What?”

“Mayday. That’s my name. If I am stuck with you, then you at least ought to know what to call me.”

Mayday.

Aw man… how am I gonna figure out this one…?

🌗 Early mornings or late nights? What do they spend their time doing during these hours?

Early mornings all the way! As much as I LOVE sleepovers and gossiping over pillow talk, there’s something AMAZING about seeing the sunrise and getting to run around before the rest of the crew has woken up! Usually, I like to sneak food from Mr. Biscuit while he’s still making breakfast and I try to hide stickers in Selim’s armory. I chat with all the animals around the boat too! You know, catch up with the seagulls and dolphins following along side. I usually find a rat or two, and they always have the best jokes!!! Miss Shih says I should get rid of any rats I find, but what she doesn’t know, won’t hurt my loyal subjects. And then my favorite, I GET TO WAKE EVERYONE UP!!! Miss Shih’s always awake, so she’s the exception! You really bond and get to know a person once you’ve seen them at their most annoyed and delirious state, A HA I LOVE IT!!!

❓ A random fact or short drabble! Or make up your own question to ask the OC!

My question of choice: If you had a personalized Captain Hat, what power would it grant you?

THAT’S A REALLY HARD ONE!!! Part of me almost wants to inherit Roy’s hat because his power is really cool and he’s never let me USE IT!!!! >:///

But part of me also feels like it would be fun to just enhance the druid powers I already have! Like basically just become a water-bender and control the weather when you’re out at sea!! OH! Or maybe it could be a shape-shifting animal hat!!! (But how would that work in animal form?? Would they all get little hats?? That’s not intimidating!!!) Maybe it could be navigator related, and I would always know where I am and never be lost! OR MAYBE! It could track the thing you desire most!!! That seems kind of heavy for me though haha! Regardless, I can’t make up my mind! I want them all! The solution is that all captain’s should give me their hats and that’ll be the end of it!!! It’s only fair, and I deserve it of course!!!

[the-little-prophet]

Every Night In My Dreams || Little Fishes [BDT]

Summary: Alana, Reed, and Charlie meet their fates. 

@color-me-unique @alana-the-badbitch @among-the-lostboys

[tw death, electric shock] 

JOHN: The lights in John and Alana’s cabin had gotten low as the candles burned down. In the softness, Alana looked like a girl from a much earlier time-- a lady lifted from the yellowed pages of Victorian poetry. Her eyes had turned a much darker blue here, rich as sapphire instead of light as sky. But they were also still the same: deep oceans all, John cradled in their depths. He touched her cheek and stroked the locks of her dark hair, feeling sleepy all the way through. Sleepy, lovedrunk, and still somehow a little shy, even though-- why?

He was married now. The two of them with rings on their fingers and that was all. They were tucked in bed with the covers drawn up but still close enough that John felt Alana’s foot slip up against his own bare leg, and it made him shiver.

He moved down to kiss her lips one more time, a lingering thing. His hand moved from her cheek down to her shoulder and then the soft skin of her back. She moved closer to him and he smiled. The kiss broke mostly because John started chuckling.

And he started chuckling because-- he couldn’t believe it. Him, married. Married to a mermaid. (But he’d have to figure out what that meant in the morning.)

“I have a feeling we won’t be getting much sleep tonight, Mrs. Darling,” teased John. Their noses brushed.

And that was when the ship gave a massive jolt.

ALANA

The ceremony had gone beautifully and when the evening came, John and Alana had retired to their newly-shared cabin and given themselves to the other completely. Alana’s heartbeat still raced and she felt full of warmth and desire and most of all love.

She remembered at age 13 swearing she’d never get married, for she saw how silly it made all her sisters and she didn’t want to be a housewife. She wanted to study engines and she wanted to fix things with her hands. Yet here she was -- married, but to a man who encouraged her love of learning, who challenged her in the best of ways, who knew her.

She gazed at him fondly.

John kissed her again and she eagerly pulled him closer, the taste of him on her lips intoxicating. She wanted more, already, and at his words gave a little laugh before she leaned in for another kiss --

The ship rattled.

“Oh!” she gasped. “Goodness -- whatever could that be?”

JOHN: Perhaps if John were not John, he could have let that strange jolt go and instead kiss his wife-- and kiss and kiss and kiss her, until he was drunk with it.

But he was John. John Darling-- dutiful intern and promising engineer. And though Alana’s lips shone still, her body still close to his own, that sound meant something was definitely wrong.

“I don’t know,” he said as he pulled away. He rolled onto his back, then sat up. For a moment he simply sat there-- waiting. Waiting for another jolt or some sort of sound. For the bell to ring. For something to happen.

Instead it was quiet.

And quiet was bad too.

“The engines have stopped,” he murmured. He looked back at Alana. “We’ve stopped. We’re not moving anymore. Something’s wrong.”

And trailing off, he threw back the covers, reaching for his trousers and slipping them on quickly.

ALANA

If Alana were not Alana, perhaps she would have issue with this and pout and coax her husband back into their warm bed. But Alana knew how ships worked and the thrum of the engine had gone dull. Something was, indeed, wrong.

The encounter with the madman days earlier echoed in her mind.

The Titanic is going to sink.

She sat up, edging over to the side of the bed, knowing that no matter how much she wanted to help, to figure out the problem at the bottom of this all, she’d be shut out of the engine room and the captain’s meetings. It didn’t matter that she was Triton’s daughter or that she could run circles around all these engineers and officers.

John had told her the ship would be safe. Even if there were not enough lifeboats. It would be safe. She trusted him.

Still, that crazed fellow’s ramblings --

“If it’s something that needs taking care of,” she said, standing up and putting a hand on John’s shoulder, “do not worry about rushing back here. I understand -- this is important.”

JOHN: John had snatched a shirt from the floor too and was buttoning it up as Alana’s hand touched his shoulder. He looked back at her, his fingers pausing. He knew what she’d say before she said it because he knew Alana. And one look confirmed it-- and he saw, beyond the concern, a little spark that he had too. It was fuel to a fire. They both wanted to know what happened, and of course, they wanted the Titanic to be safe but--

They wanted answers to questions. Why would John not return before he had them?

“I’m sure it won’t take too long, my love.” He said. He leaned in to kiss her again, a quick, chaste thing. It was the sort of kiss he remembered between his parents in the mornings and at night.

It fluttered through him as he imagined doing that every day.

“I’ll be back before you know it. And I’ll bring the full report, eh?” He stood from the bed and slipped his shoes on, casting a glance at his coat before deciding to leave it behind-- if he was going to make a trek to the engine room it’d be much too hot anyway.

But he rummaged in the drawers for-- yes. His plans, his journal, all that he’d worked on for these years. Maybe there’d be an answer in one of them.

And then John Darling whisked out the door, off to find his answers.

ALANA One last kiss -- brief, but enough -- and John was out the door and Alana was left with dozens of unanswered questions. She sat back down on the bed, wondering when John would return -- what would he report? Was it just a little hiccup with the engine? Or was there something more?

The Titanic is going to sink.

What if that madman had been right? The thought crept into her mind, like the cold drip of water. That couldn’t be true, could it? He’d known about the Tritons and he’d known about her favourite colour -- what else did he know?

What if she had told her father? What if she’d listened to his ramblings?

She felt a bit sick, and pressed a hand to her mouth. So many questions. She always had so many questions. That’s why her governess found her annoying, that’s why John found her charming. She had so many questions, but now -- she could get some answers. The engineers and officers would shut her out, but she had something they didn’t -- this Magick fellow who spoke of things to come, who knew things he shouldn’t --

Bloody hell, was she going to do this?

Still in her nightgown, she stood up, reaching for her dressing robe and then for her coat. There was no time to properly dress in her daywear, so the wool coat over her night things would have to do.

If she had to track down that rambling madman across this grand ship wearing just her nightgown, she would.

Alana Triton -- no, Alana Darling was going to get some answers.

MEANWHILE...

CHARLIE: To recap--

Actually, no recap. Charlie did not have the mental energy to replay his many mistakes. Rethinking them turned his stomach, so Charlie was holding himself, arms strapped around his tiny person, as comfortably as one could when you were handcuffed to a pipe in a makeshift prison. Course it wasn’t really a cell, there wasn’t exactly a traditional brig on a passenger ship like this. But the door was locked and there was no getting out, not for Reed and not for Charlie.

So he’d doomed them. The both of them. Charlie might not care about himself, he deserved each death he suffered through.

But Reed? He’d killed Reed.

The ship, of course, crashed. He and Reed jolted in place at the impact, a giant shudder moving through the hull of the ship. Charlie looked up and saw the fear as it passed over Reed’s face.

There was nothing more he could do.

Charlie’s eyes filled with tears at once. “Reed,” he croaked. “Reed, I am so-- so so sorry. This is my fault. I shouldn’t have asked for your help. Y-you could be-- you might’ve had a chance if it wasn’t for me. I’m so sorry. I, I’m so-- I’m so--”

I killed you.

Then his breath caught. And caught again. He gasped, dragging at the oxygen in the room. Panic attack, Charlie thought but just because he knew what it was didn’t mean he could stop it.

Charlie buried his head against his knees, gasping his way into sobs.

REED: Charlie had been right. All of it--everything he said--was true and no one had listened to him. Except Reed. And now Reed was going to pay the price for trying to be a hero. Reed was going to die.   The boat jolted and Reed was tossed across the cell, his shoulder slamming into the bars, and he looked at Charlie, his eyes wide.  Even though Charlie was the reason Reed was here, he didn’t hate him. In fact, if he had it to do over again, he would make the same choice. He would still listen, because no one should have to go through this alone. All of that didn’t mean he wasn’t terrified. Reed had never been this scared in his entire life. He was definitely going to die, and it was like all of the air was sucked out of the room. He was also absurdly hot and he started pulling at his clothes, trying to get them further away from his skin. They were too rough. Too tight. Too much. He pulled really hard at his shirt, stretching it until he heard a pop, but that didn’t make it any better. The cell was still too small. There still wasn’t enough air. He was still hot. He looked around the cell in a frantic rush, trying to find something to pick the lock on the cell. There was nothing. Reed went up to the door and shook it violently, then looked back over at Charlie, pleading. Because Reed couldn’t scream for help. He tried, but no sound came out--nothing at all.

CHARLIE:   Charlie was not here right now.

He was rocking, head down, his breathing still too panicked. He couldn’t remember any of his exercises. He couldn’t remember-- anything. His whole brain had gone white static and all he could think about was what was going to happen in the next two hours-and-forty-minutes. He had already lived through it in all its various stages. He’d died on the third class decks and he’d died in the boiler room and he’d gotten trampled on the stairs and he’d gotten shot in the chest and he’d fallen overboard and he’d made it to the very end, once, just once, before the suction of the ship took him down and he drowned in the frozen water, unable to escape.

Charlie knew exactly what was going to happen for the next two hours and forty minutes and there was nothing he could do to unknow it.

He just wanted to go home. To wake up.

He gasped and sobbed and that’s what he cried to himself. “Wake up-- wake up-- wake up---”

Charlie did not wake up.

REED:

Charlie wasn’t paying attention and Reed couldn’t handle that. He wasn’t going to be stuck in here alone. He couldn’t be stuck in here alone.

He pulled himself away from the bars and went up to Charlie, shaking him by the shoulders. He wanted to scream at the boy, tell him to snap out of it and help them get out of this cage, but he couldn’t do that so he took his hand and pulled him to the front of the cell and pointed at the lock with a question in his eyes.

CHARLIE:   Reed literally shook him out of it.

Actually-- it was Reed’s wide, terrified eyes. They stared right into Charlie’s puffy ones and it was then Charlie remembered outside of two hours and forty minutes. He remembered this boy, only much much tinier, and how when Reed borrowed Charlie’s crayons, he always put the crayon back in the right spot and didn’t make fun of Charlie for being so meticulous about it.

He needed Charlie. Charlie might have died on this ship a hundred times, but Reed hadn’t.

“I--I--” he stuttered, blinked, tears still dribbling from his eyes. “I--r-r-right. Right. I--okay. We-- maybe we can-- get out of here. Right. Right.”

Slowly, Charlie stood up and he gripped the piping behind him. Now was a good time for him to come up with a plan.

REED:

Reed hadn’t dared hope until Charlie said there might be a way. Sure, he had been searching for some sort of escape, but his mind had been thinking the worst from the first moment. Now, that small spark of light inside of him flared bright and Reed hugged Charlie.

It was a stupid thing to do, really--they needed every second they could get--but Reed needed this hug. He needed it to tell Charlie how much he appreciated him just being there. He needed it to tell Charlie that he forgave him for everything. He needed it to let Charlie know that he was his friend and no matter what happened, at least they weren’t alone.

And, most of all, hugging Charlie felt like the right thing to do. It felt like he’d hugged Charlie a million times before now and that was a comfort. Because even if it was just his brain playing tricks on him, he could maybe start to hope that perhaps this was all a big mistake like Charlie had said. Perhaps he didn’t really belong here and he was from somewhere else and he could wake up any second into his real life.

It was funny really, the kinds of things a brain can cling to in a moment of crisis. But Reed clung to those things just like he was clinging to Charlie.

When Reed pulled back, his face was a little bit calmer. He was going to do everything he could to get out of this cell, and if he failed? Well, at least now he had something to hold on to.

CHARLIE:  

“Oof--” Reed hugged him again, squeezing him so tight that for a moment Charlie was bewildered with the pressure. He lifted a hand on instinct to try to pat Reed on the back. He didn’t know why he did that. It felt a little silly, didn’ t it? Like it was the literal least that Charlie could do for Reed considering all that he’d fucked up.

But Charlie couldn’t focus on that. And so once the hug ended, he began to pace and rubbed at his temples. “C’mon-- c’mon…” he hissed at himself, trying to come up with some sort of plan. He went through all of his lists. He knew what to do in case of fire, or earthquake, or tornado. If there were a solar flare that knocked out all technology, Charlie had his bug-out bag ready and an evac plan to get to his bunker and avoid the social fallout.

But he’d never prepared a: escape from a locked room as the Titanic filled with water.

“There has to be something in here-- something!” Charlie stressed. He glanced around but the room had been more or less emptied. Charlie had his glasses, Reed had a pencil.

And that was when the water began to seep under the door.

“Oh-- oh shit,” Charlie hissed. “Oh SHIT!”

REED:

If it felt like a dream before, it didn’t anymore.

The water made it real.

Reed turned around and stared at the door in horror. The ocean was coming to swallow them whole. Even if they got out now, they were going to have to outrun the ocean. What if they opened the door and it came rushing in?

Charlie had really hit the nail on the head. Shit was right.

Or fuck. Fuck would’ve worked too.

Either way, Reed saw light. A frantic, glowing light circling his vision and making everything sharper and more defined. He needed out of here.

Reed rushed to the bars and started to shake them again.

Out out out! He couldn’t talk or yell or scream, so he started kicking at the bars as tears streamed down his face.

ALANA

Finding the crazy man had taken a little asking and a little being directed from one staff member to the next, but finally, finally, Alana had been told that after some concerning incident, the rambling madman had gotten himself locked up in the brig -- er, spare room --  with another staff member. Which, you know, was probably for the best if he had indeed been a rambling madman, and which, you know, was probably what she had wanted to happen when she told John --

It was just a bit annoying now.

She hiked down to the lower decks, walking with a sense of purpose, a trick she learned when she’d sneak into her father’s workshops and offices. Down she went, reaching the corridor where the one steward said she would find Charlie and his companion Reed. Alana looked through each door, finding empty rooms, darkened ones --

The hallway was wet. There was water. It lapped at the hem of her nightgown. Her heart beat a bit faster.

The Titanic is going to sink.

No -- John said it would not. John would help fix this and Alana would learn what she could from crazy Charlie and she would help.

She picked up her skirts so that they would not cling to her legs and she walked a bit faster. The lights flickered. The cold water made her itch for her tail. She ignored it, pushing through.

Finally, she peered into a window, and spotted the two men. She let out a relieved huff of air, then reached for the door. It did not budge. She wiggled the handle, pounding on the window with her other hand.

“Can you hear me?” she shouted.

CHARLIE:  

There was someone at the door.

Charlie was about to give up-- or well, just start screaming actually because he didn’t think there was anything he could do besides that at this stage and who knows, maybe someone would come along and unlock that door for them. But he didn’t have to start screaming. Before he could scream for help, help arrived.

He whirled around and his eyes widened behind his cracked glasses. “Alana,” he said. He said it the way you said the name of a friend you hadn’t seen for a very long time. He said it and realized he wasn’t surprised. Of course it had to be Alana. Something about that made sense.

Then again: “Alana!” he exclaimed and raced to the window. “Alana, you came! You believe me! Unlock the door, please!”

ALANA The door would not budge. She rattled the handle, pounding on the door as if that would help. For whatever reason, Alana felt struck with a wave of panic. She had to get this door open. Charlie’s frenzied face stared at her, eyes pleading. She had turned him away before, but the water was at her shins and the boat was sinking and --

She felt like she knew him --

That was silly, she knew that was silly, she had never seen this man before in her life --

“It’s not opening!” She pressed herself fully against the door, heaving her full body weight. “I don’t have the keys. I don’t -- you have to tell me what you know. We can fix this. I can find John and my daddy and tell them what to do.” Her voice grew faster, a little hoarse, and even as she said that she thought of her wet skirts sticking to her legs and the rising water and she thought of the engine rooms and she tried to calculate how much water --

She swallowed. She could leave these two here. She could go back to John.

But she met Charlie’s gaze.

“You – what happens, Charlie?” she said, voice suddenly small.

CHARLIE:  

No keys. Well, that was okay, right? Maybe she could get the key. Alana had come for them-- for him. It must mean something. It must mean there was another path through the woods for the both of them: Alana, this time, steering the ship (bad pun, Charlie), in charge of both of their fates. She could find the key, and then she would be back, and then she’d save them. Just like Charlie saved her.

Only, of course, he didn’t.

What happens, Charlie? Alana said through the door and they were back in the woods again. He saw it all like a scene set in slow-motion. There was the light of the campfire, Alana’s drunken eyes, Charlie’s confession, headlights cutting through the dark. Three bodies, that night, three bodies, and Alana, Alana had not been saved, but she had lived.

What happens, Charlie?

Charlie’s stomach churned with all his answers. How he loved answers. How he hated them. Here’s what he wanted to say: We save each other, Alana.

But Charlie couldn’t lie.

“The ship sinks. It goes down by the head, and splits in two. It takes two hours and forty minutes and a ship’s going to come, and it’s going to save the people who get in the boats, but they’re not gonna load the boats enough, Alana, and a thousand people might die. There’s no changing any of that now.” Saying it seared something inside of Charlie-- so often he had thought it, and fought against it, but never said it.

Now he said it and it was true. And Charlie… he breathed in deep and his hands pressed against the door and felt at peace.

“I’m going to die, Alana. It’s okay-- I promise. It happens to me all the time. But you got to get the keys for Reed, you got to get-- you need to get upstairs, right now! You have to load as many people on the boats as you can. Make them listen to you. You’re not just someone’s daughter, alright, you’re Alana fucking Triton and where I come from, that means something! Promise me.”

REED:

Someone else was here! Someone who was going to save them! Reed’s heart leapt up into his throat and he wanted to jump, he was so happy. They were going to get out it was going to be okay. It didn’t matter that there was water rushing under the door.

The girl looked through the window and she shouted at Charlie. Yes. Yes go and get keys, Reed wanted to yell at her, tell her thank you for coming to save their lives, but he couldn’t so he let Charlie do the talking. Until he heard Charlie saying he was going to die.

No.

No, they were both going to be okay. Charlie wasn’t going to die here. Reed wasn’t going to die here. They were going to be fine.

Reed went back up to Charlie and took his hand as he asked the girl to promise him. He took his hand and squeezed it, trying to tell him it was going to be okay. Trying to help him not be so afraid. They had hope.

ALANA

She was going to fix things. She didn’t know anything about this madman -- was he mad? Perhaps he was the only sane one on this entire ship -- but he had a plan and she knew she had to listen to him. She could go to the engine room. She could tell her daddy and John -- hell, she could tell the officers on her own. She would do it.

“Okay,” said Alana and then for split second, she lingered.

Would it have changed, then, the fate of the doomed Titanic if Alana had not lingered that one second longer? If she had turned around right there and then and hiked her skirts up and marched right up the stairs? Fate, very often, is set in stone, so perhaps her words would’ve fallen on mute ears, perhaps her father, her John would not be able to do anything -- perhaps they would not listen. Perhaps, though, just a few more lifeboats would be filled.

But in that split second, the lights flickered once, twice, then a shattering sound as the overhead lights exploded and crashed to the ground.

An electric shock lashed out through the water. Fate, it seemed, did not like Alana cheating death twice.

Before she knew what happened, a wave of heat and pain hit Alana. Her body buckled, twitching and jerking, knocked to the floor --and in the split second before she lost consciousness, her lips parted, because she knew ---

Charlie Little. Charlie. She was Alana Cordelia Triton, PrideU chemical engineering, and she’d gotten hit by a car and --

CHARLIE:   Alana--! Reed--!

He saw everything happen a split second before it happened. His eyes dilated and through their tunnels, he saw the light spark, break, the wires slice like a knife through the air--

Charlie saw them die a second before they died, but it was too many seconds too late. It always was.

He tried to warn her anyway. His mouth opened.

Then the wires hit the water. The electricity blossomed through the water, the salt, down the hall and up again. Charlie’s body lashed with the sudden pain, jerking away from the door. He hit the ground with a thud and the water splashed into the air, each one a shining droplet.

Charlie watched them fly in slow motion. He saw Swynlake through them--

His body spasmed. His brain short-circuited. His heart stopped.

He died.

...

And then Charlie sat up in bed with a wild shout. “ALANA--”

“Mrrr,” grumbled Emily down at the end of his bed. His cat blinked her slitted green eyes and kneaded at the bed covers. “Mrr.”

“Emily,” gasped Charlie. “Oh my god, Emily. Oh my god--”

“Mrr,” said Emily again. Then she turned away from him, plopped back down, and went to sleep. 

Charlie flopped back too, his breath still coming in pants. And that was when he realized that one of his hands had folded itself into a very tight fist. His brows furrowed. He lifted his hand in front of his face and slowly, finger by finger, opened it. 

In his hand was a wrinkled, damp scrap of paper with Reed’s handwriting on it, and one word: Friends.

“Holy shit,” said Charlie.

[silentwaters4]

For @michaelathewordsmith...this is based on Taylor Swift’s “You Are in Love” and “Wildest Dream”. Enjoy!

He said, "Let's get out of this town Drive out of the city Away from the crowds" (Wildest Dream)

You and General Hux exited the transport. It was smoking considering it had landed on an unfamiliar planet. The ship had landed in a meadow, but not too far away was an icy mountain range. In the opposite direction was the beginning of a desert. You turned back toward the general.

“Are you alright?” you queried. The shock in his eyes went over your head. “Y-Yes of course. Are you?”

You nodded. You walked over to the non-functional machine. A deep sigh left your chest. Armitage watched. It pained him to see you in any sort of stress. Usually, he chalked it up to his feelings and would push past it. But something about this situation kept him from doing so. He approached you and placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Are you sure?” he pressed. Your heart skipped. “Yes. Shocked, but alright.” He nodded. “Rest a minute while I could check the radio’s functionality.”

You agreed and waited outside. You closed your eyes as overwhelmingly romantic thoughts entered your psyche. Since you were alone, you allowed yourself the dream of you and Armitage.

You can hear it in the silence, silence, you You can feel it on the way home, way home, you You can see it with the lights out, lights out You are in love, true love (You are in Love)

Hours ticked by after the general had sent the transmission for help. All you both could do was wait. So far, it was mostly silent. There were a few miniature questions in between, but nothing substantial.

Both of you desperately wanted to at least talk to each other. However, neither one of you wanted to accidentally spill out your feelings. After all, you two work together. It’d be incredibly unprofessional. Besides, you were both in the same unit...you have time.

“Such an odd planet,” you muttered finally. Armitage smirked. “I don’t think I’ve seen one so...close together.” You chuckled. “It’s like all of bio domes scrunched themselves together.”

Armitage smiled as you continued to chuckle. Your laughter died down as you continued to take in the scenery. An idea popped into his head.

“We could...take a brief walk if you’d like.” You smirked. “Why not? I’m sure the Order won’t be here for awhile yet.”

The two of you stood. Despite the advancement, Armitage kept his arms to himself. He didn’t want to encroach on you, and he definitely didn’t want to lose you do to his silly feelings. He had no idea you were thinking the same thing.

Say you'll remember me Standing in a nice dress, staring at the sunset babe Red lips and rosy cheeks (Wildest Dream)

You sighed as Armitage went to meet the new vessel’s captain. Knitting your brows, you noticed his expression become more and more contorted. This worried you. He had been angry before, but something surely upset him past that point. You hurried over with millions of questions.

“-was my fault!” was the tail end of his sentence. “The Supreme Leader has made up his mind,” the Captain reported. “What’s happening?” “Captain Y/N?” “Yes, that’s me.” “I have orders for you to assimilate with this vessel once we’ve dropped the general off.” “What?” “They came direct from the Supreme Leader.”

Your mouth went dry. He must’ve known your thoughts. At the very least, Kylo Ren must’ve know them and decided to send you away. Your bewildered gaze shifted from the captain to Armitage. You desperately wanted to stay with him on Starkiller. Was it completely selfish? Yes, but that didn’t make a difference anymore.

“Is there any room for negotiation?” you finally asked. “I’m afraid not.”

You let out a long, deep sigh. Sadness started to creep in, and you knew exactly why. There was no way you could look at your general again. So, you kept your gaze on the captain.

“I understand.”

So it goes You two are dancing in a snow globe, go round and round And he keeps the picture of you in his office downtown (you are in love)

A long time later, General Hux was walking his brig. A lieutenant brought him a list of transfers per usual. His eyes scanned the document as he continued his rounds. He stopped cold when he read a familiar vessel name: The Siege.

Quickly, he made note of the transfer that had come onto the ship. Without hesitation, he walked through the halls until he made it to the young lieutenant.

“Lieutenant!” The woman clicked her heels together. “Sir.” “At ease,” he paused, “You’re a transfer yes?” “Yes sir. My ship was The Siege.” “I’m quite familiar with it,” Hux mumbled. “Who did you work under?” “Captain Hollo, sir.” He quirked a brow. “What happened to Captain Y/N?”

The lieutenant frowned before looking at the ground. She let out a brief sigh.

“Unfortunately, Captain Y/N is MIA. Has been for about 6 months now. We haven’t received a single transmission since.” “She’s...She’s gone?” Hux whispered, voice shaking.

Though confused, the lieutenant had sense to keep quiet. Armitage’s whole body sagged with depression. How had he been so foolish? Not only did he miss the opportunity on that planet, but he never even hinted at his own feelings.

His anger rose.

“Dismissed,” he barked.

The lieutenant ran, seeing the increase in rage. He wanted to cry, scream, tear the ship in half. But he couldn’t. All he could do was chastise himself for loving a coworker. He should’ve know she’d disappear; that was the nature of the job. How stupid was he?

He let his body shake with both anger and sadness. Why couldn’t he just have her back?

I bet these memories follow you around (Wildest Dream)

Perma-tags: @beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep @ttelesilla @jumperswellies @caitsymichelle13 @bestillmystuckyheart @frostbyte-horan @littlestfangirl @anali-022506 @krylo-rxn @ilovetvshowsblog @yllwtaxi @mimikyu-of-death 

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[tinybibmpreg]

Day 79 // ft. Amla, Kreax, Christi, Skip, and Neena

#82 / Reconsideration

“I want you. Right here. Right now.” Hands grabbed his hips and pulled him backwards. Sharp teeth bit at his neck, and Kreax hoped no one was spying on him, because he didn’t push the other man away. He leaned his head back, and Amla huffed through his gills, his species’ version of laughter.

Kreax liked when his lover reacted in ways typical of the unknown species he came from. Amla acted oddly human at times, and Kreax despised the annoying mammalians. They shoved themselves into everyone’s business, and acted like some kind of self-appointed guardian of the universe.

Amla had adopted their mannerisms, perhaps because they were familiar to most species, as many knew a fair amount about humans.

“I’m seeing a doctor later… Will you stay till then?”

That made the other perk up. He turned Kreax around and looked him up and down. “Have you been experiencing any symptoms?”

“I’ve been feeling fatigued, and my appetite has been…”

“Hungry all the time, are you, my darling Praetorian?”

Kreax nodded. “My people crave nutritious foods when we are gravid. Since you’re a predator of some kind, I suspect your people are similar.”

“Oh, those people just turned ravenous. Insatiable. Those with my shape descended from the great predators of their oceans. Then they took those beasts’ place at the top of the food chain.”

“And now?”

“We’re forbidden from returning to where we came. No attachments, after all.”

-

What’s wrong with you? the rest of the Detached asked Amla as he returned to their gathering place beyond where Kreax and the other primitive beings existed or could truly exist.

“I don’t feel well,” he answered.

But we healed you. Heal yourself.

He tried. “I can’t. It still hurts.”

Why?

“The child’s mother says it’s guilt.”

That’s attachment. We feel nothing.

“I feel guilty.”

A b e r r a t i o n .

-

Kreax was keeping a sharp eye on the nervous doctor as the smaller man waited for the results of his blood test. Amla stood nearby, looking at the different medical instruments in the room. He picked up a pair of surgical tongs and clacked the ends together, gills flaring out in excitement. “Look, Kreax!” The doctor startled, and Kreax glanced over, hand on his blaster. “It’s like a crab.”

“What’s a crab?”

“An Earth creature. They have claws that snap together like this. Click, click, click-” He continued to click them together, until noticing a pair of tweezers he could entertain himself with. He picked up those, and began to pluck at various things.

“H-have you been to Earth?”

“Oh, I’m a real traveler. I’ve been just about everywhere you can think of, and more.”

“How long ago did you last visit Earth, Amla?” Kreax asked.

“Some years. An intriguing planet. The diversity is astounding. So many things to enjoy.”

The doctor’s blood test beeped, finally finished scanning. He brought up the results. “Well, uh… Praetorian, it looks like you’re pregnant. The readings are a bit strange, though…”

“We’re going to be parents, my dear!” Amla grinned down at him, and Kreax wasn’t very sure how he felt about it. They had succeeded very quickly, and he’d been hoping it would be a useless endeavor, even though he hated to fail in anything.

“A hybrid. That explains the odd readings… What would you classify your species as, sir?”

“Hm, once upon a time I would have called myself aquatic. We’re fairly close to the Earth shark, as a matter of fact.”

“If you’d like, Praetorian, I can do a full prenatal exam and an ultrasound, to make sure you and the egg are healthy.” He gave his approval, and let the doctor examine him and ask questions about his health. Though he was loathe to reveal any information about himself, he knew it was important to ensure that he was fit enough to carry the child. Though a long pregnancy would disrupt his work, a miscarriage or complication could put him completely out of commission, or just kill him.

The examination had the doctor concluding he was in excellent shape, though somewhat stressed. He laid down for the ultrasound, removing his shirt and then his under armor. Being without the blaster-proof protection made him tense, but he ignored the instinct that screamed at him that he was being foolish to let down his guard like this.

“Ah, it’s… not an egg.”

“See, my darling Praetorian? I told you our child would be live young.”

He stared at the screen, at the small form of his child, and a sinking feeling inside of him told him that by the time the baby was born, he’d be attached to it, just like he said he never would. He already wanted to protect and care for it, the little life developing inside of him.

The embryo looked healthy, and the medical visit was concluded. The doctor downloaded all the information from his exam to his personal device, and then Kreax drew his blaster and shot the man. Amla laughed like a human, cackling.

“Three blocks down, twenty seven more to go, my dear, my darling.”

“This will be an interesting season… Now, I’m famished. Shall we eat in my quarters or in my office?”

-

Christi was freed from her invisible restraints as soon as Amla disappeared back to his people. She rounded the table and knelt down in front of Kreax. He was staring down at his lap, at the only thing that remained of his child. The pink headband Andre had given them.

“Praetorian?”

“Captain.” His voice was quiet, empty.

“I… I’m sorry. I wasn’t able to convince him to change his mind, this time.”

“His mind was made up the first day. There was nothing we could have done.”

It was true, but Christi didn’t want to believe it. “But-”

“There is nothing I will be able to do to stop him and the other Detached from killing our next child, either.”

“I’ll help you. We’ll think of something.” He shook his head, putting the headband on his wrist, twisting it like a hair tie until it was secure. The pink looked odd against the rest of him, all muted and dark colors. She refused to give up. “I’ve changed their minds before! Praetorian, I know Amla. I know the Detached. I can-”

“Captain, please.” He looked up at her, eyes brimming with tears. “I don’t really care about what you think you can do. I just- I just want to go home.”

She stopped, and then nodded, a quick, singular nod. Quietly, she said, “Okay. I’ll have the ship head for the Ophidrian border. We’ll transfer you to one of the ships there.”

Her superiors would want to kill her later for not dragging a war criminal like him into custody, and she knew she should have him locked in the brig while she directed the ship towards the nearest maximum security penal colony or ship. But she wasn’t going to force him into punishment, not when he was grieving because of the Detached. Amla and the rest had caused so much harm, that Christi believed this was punishment enough, though she wanted Sweetling back as well.

Skip argued with her when she told him they were changing course, until she told him that she was the Captain, and her orders would be followed. The Ophidrians were very territorial and patrolled their border with warships, firing on almost every ship that came too close. Most steered clear of the border, but Christi knew they would be safe as long as Kreax gave his identification codes and got them permission to rendezvous with an Ophidrian ship.

-

It was easy for everyone on the bridge to tell that the Ophidrian Centurion they were speaking to didn’t really believe that they had Praetorian Kreax on board, though he’d stopped charging his weapons out of curiosity and answered their signal. “He’s been out of public view for almost four years now, what would he be doing on a human Eco Ship?”

“Heading home. Would you like to speak with him?”

“I rather would.”

“Skip, would you go get the Praetorians from his quarters? Tell him a Centurion doesn’t believe his identification codes are valid.”

“Sure, Captain.” After a few minutes, Skip returned, Kreax in tow. He didn’t look well, scales a pale purple, hands on his heavy belly. He leaned against Christi’s counsel as he came to stand next to her. His expression was hard as he glared down the Centurion on the screen. Out of the camera’s range, Skip mouthed to her ‘he needs medical attention.’

“Praetorian! It’s really you.” His eyes dropped down to Kreax’s belly, but he said nothing of it.

“Of course it’s me, you imbecile. I sent my identification and security codes to the Head of Patrol, sent a DNA sample as well, and you have the audacity to tell this Captain, who is doing our people a service by betraying her own, that she’s lying.”

“Forgive me, sir. I thought it was a trick.”

“I need transportation to the Jeiruai system as soon as possible. It is a matter of utmost importance, and I refuse to be delayed.”

“Your transport shuttle is already prepared, as the Head of Patrol ordered.”

“Good. Captain Ferraday, you may now cross the border and properly rendezvous. Commander, accompany me to the shuttle bay.”

“Ah, sure, Praetorian.” The video shut off. Kreax leaned forward, wincing. Skip stepped forward to steady him. “You need to see a doctor.”

“I just need rest, but there will be one on the shuttle. I will have them examine me.”

Christi stopped them before they could go. “Kreax. Where are you going to go?”

“To my family, on Jeiruai’s seventh planet and a coastal colony.”

-

It’d been years since he’d last seen his family, and though Kreax knew they would welcome him back and let him grieve in peace and comfort, he had no idea if the welcome would be genuine. For all he knew, they had heard of what he had done and not seen it as heroic accomplishments for the betterment of their people’s republic, but as horrific and unforgivable. They’d always been fairly spiritual people, and he’d been the first to embrace violence and power when he joined the military as little more than a child.

Just before he’d reached the rank of Praetorian, he’d forced them to relocate to Jeiruai, so no one could try to use them against him. They hadn’t been happy about it, and the last time he had spoken to them, he’d gotten into a big argument with his grandmother, uncle, and some of his cousins. It hadn’t ended well, and they’d never contacted each other again, though he checked on them occasionally via discreet means.

The doctor on the shuttle had told him the pain he was feeling was just strong false contractions caused by his grief. She had him lie down, and told him to stay off of his feet as much as possible. He planned to do that as soon as he got to his family’s home.

It took a day to get to the Jeiruai system, and his dread built up inside of him to the point where he felt sick just thinking about trying to face his family again.

Still, he got off the shuttle and declined an escort when the ship landed in the main port of Jeiruain 7. He found a speeder driver that would take him to the small town his family lived in, and spent the night-long drive drifting in and out of sleep while watching the scenery go by.

Early in the morning, he stopped the driver, and then asked someone where he could find his family. They directed him to a larger house at the edge of town, and the driver took him there. He paid the driver, and watched as the speeder drove off. There was no going back now.

No one was outside, so he took a minute to try and calm his nerves. It didn’t really work, so he forced himself to go to the door and knock. There was silence, and just as he began to wonder if no one was home, he heard footsteps. A lock unlocked, and the door opened slightly. His grandmother peered through the crack. “Neena?” he said. “It’s me, Kreax.”

“Kreax?” she echoed, opening the door all the way. “Is that really you?”

“Yes. I’m back.” He hated how empty his voice sounded, but he’d been forcing himself to bottle up all his grief while he was on the human ship, and it resulted in that. “How are you?”

“Oh, same as always. Just a bit more tired than I used to be. How about you?”

“I…” He dug his fingers into his wrists to try and keep from breaking down, but he looked down and saw Sweetling’s headband, and recalled how he always wanted his next visit with his family to be him introducing them to his relatives. His eyes burned as they filled with tears. “I lost my child. Their father killed them.”

-

Feeling is attachment. We are Detached.

“I can’t stop feeling. Please, help me.”

We cannot.

“It hurts.”

Our decision… was it wrong? It wasn’t worthy. We cannot possibly have been wrong.

“Please…”

But it made one of us feel. Now one of us is separate. Different. Attached.

“I don’t want to be.”

There are stars in your eyes.