#he's so preeeeetty

[whiskyarts]

you are not immune to au hugos

[4o4notf0und]

ELLIOT WARREN as JAMES DOUGLASS ✈︎ Masters of The Air — part 5

[theultimatekamehamehavoc]

[inkykeiji]

even after all these years, i’d still fuck 2017 pennywise (◞_◟)

[theirloveisgross]

.

[nomairuins]

i am the talker. sorry. during movies and tv shows (not in a theater unless its empty in which case SORRY!) BUT I LOVE TO DISCUSS WHATNIM WATCHING I LOVE TO ASK QUESTIONS I KNOW THE MOVIE WILL ANSWRR I LOVE TO whats the word. like spectate but for ... its like prediction but its. like spectate .. but prediction. like when youre like Thinking about something and. theorize i guess? i feel it starts with an s. anyways i love to do whatever that shit is SPECULATE. SPECULATE I LOVE TO SPECULATE WHILE WATCHING!!! SRY!! I LOVETO MAKE JOKES AND LAUGH lock me up nd such.

[regallibellbright]

Honestly I think I'd hate Arthur Cantabella less if they'd simply removed the whole "Yeah no this is a government-condoned psychological experiment" aspect.

TESTING WHAT?! No, genuinely, what? Using the contaminated groundwater/weirdass Silver Fainting Allergy and/or the flower ink as a drug? Because uh, if that's the case, then I'm pretty sure using them both in conjunction contaminates your results.

Is it something about mob mentality? In-groups and out-groups with the elaborate tech crew made of convicted witches and victims maintaining the whole illusion? In that case, I think the fact that you're drugging and gaslighting the entire experiment group is also contaminating the results.

Also the whole fantasy setting is probably a confounding variable for Something.

Okay sure parents could consent to taking part in this experiment for their children, but uh, I'm pretty sure some of these kids were born AFTER the experiment began. Given the aforementioned Large Amounts of Drugging From Multiple Origins going on here, I have some concerns!

No seriously. Please. PL vs PW writers. Give me the grant proposal Arthur Cantabella submitted to get anyone to fund this project. I know it's Bill fucking Hawks, but even he's got limits! I don't see how he benefits from half this shit even if he wants to use the other half (I assume the drugs.) Why is he paying for the rest? There's a reason why Clive is established as being a lone schemer with obscene amounts of money who's keeping all his scientists in the dark and/or coerced to keep building, and it's so that we don't have anyone there questioning why he's building an elaborate fake town populated by actors in addition to his Underground Vengeance Mecha!

The fact that you somehow managed to get this cleared as a psychological experiment establishes that you know the field of psychology exists. Why in the name of all that is holy did you think building an elaborate fake fantasy town with an elaborate magic system which you make real through the power of drugging people, knocking the ENTIRE TOWN out every time a spell is used, changing things around them to simulate "magic" using the most ridiculous Renn Faire stage crew ever, and manipulating the clocks so no one's aware time is passing, with a system that prosecutes witches and burns them so that they can join the Renn Faire Stage Crew along with their victims, and positioning yourself as the all-powerful Storyteller who writes their reality into being would be a better solution than therapy?

Honestly I'd respect "I had a god complex, lol" more. Especially for that last one, but like. In general. Descole's out there living his worst life, he KNOWS he's an asshole supervillain agent of chaos, and I respect this because he has clearly CHOSEN to be Like This. You do you, man. Ditto for Don Paolo but like, less effectively.

This is not how any of this works.

Okay, setting... ALL OF THAT aside, you're doing this because your and your best friend's young daughters are understandably incredibly traumatized because they wanted to ring the bell early and the Weirdass Groundwater-Induced "Allergy" That Makes You Faint When You Hear Silver Ringing caused them and everyone else to pass out, and as everyone in the square below was having a fire festival, this caused a massive tragic conflagration. Okay. Yeah, this is bad. (I have. MANY questions about how this bell was made, excavated, and mounted in the square without anyone ever ringing it and realizing something had happened, but we're going to gloss over those for now, it's Professor Layton and I would otherwise be all over this incredible bullshit. It's great up until it asks us to think THIS was ever a remotely reasonable idea.) One of your daughters is all but catatonic because a story you told her earlier has convinced her she either is or will be taken by The Great Witch Bezella. Sure. (You suck.) Why the FUCK is your solution based on the other one unpersoning herself to her best friend and doing all the work to make the magic real? Yeah, sure, she agreed to it. SHE'S LIKE EIGHT TO TEN. HER BEST FRIEND THINKS SHE'S AN AWFUL MONSTER AND WON'T REACT OTHERWISE. OF COURSE Eve's gonna help, but that doesn't mean you should put the entire burden on her! She is ALSO horribly traumatized to the point of repressing what happened. Get her help too. The fact that the game seems to put their actions on remotely even footing when one of them has been treated like shit since she was TEN and one of them was an adult who PURPOSEFULLY AND INTENTIONALLY set up a system that would put her in this shitty situation means that yeah, no, they fundamentally are not. Of course her decisionmaking is misguided and terrible! She's a twenty-year-old who's been horribly mistreated for more than half her life! HER DAD JUST COMMITTED SUICIDE OUT OF GUILT FOR HIS ACTIONS IN SETTING UP THIS SYSTEM.

No one's going to hold them responsible for the deaths. This was a sequence of events so thoroughly unforeseeable that literally no one could have predicted it. It won't even reflect poorly on you and Belduke, because you two somehow managed to find the bell, excavate it, and mount it without ever ringing it and realizing it knocked you out and you all had an environmentally-induced silver "allergy" and at that point this goes into "acts of a cruel and malicious Writer-God" territory.

Also it was totally predictable that this elaborate system of misogyny would not actually help Espella in the long term as she instead repressed her memories and further internalized the whole witches = evil thing so that when those memories inevitably came back she would be in EVEN WORSE shape, this is why you should have gotten an actual psychologist who could have told you this whole thing was a terrible plan to write your grant.

No like does he drug all his requests to whoever he reports to (it has to be directly to the person signing checks) in the mind-control ink? This is my only explanation here.

Why. In God's name why. Did you not. Simply. DESTROY THE FUCKING BELL TOWER. You have a crane here! What possessed ANYONE to think just covering it up with Vantablack and gaslighting so people couldn't see it was a reasonable solution to the Trauma Tower? (There may be an explanation for this, it has been ten years, but this man's problem solving has been established to be so poor I award him no points.)

And if you were going to do this, why didn't you tell Newton? Or was it just that the lightning strike burning up the Vantablack was itself a reminder to him that you can't repress the past away and he was suddenly aware of how overwhelmingly POINTLESS all this suffering was? (Edit: I think it was this. No but seriously you could’ve just taken a fucking wrecking ball to that thing while you were rebuilding the town.)

Seriously why the fuck did Newton Belduke go along with letting you use his traumatized daughter like this? What the hell, man. What an asshole.

Also. Your problem was that you had two severely traumatized little girls (even if you only acknowledged one of them was traumatized.) Your solution was... to traumatize a shitload more young girls?

TO THE POINT WHERE AT LEAST ONE OF THEM ATTEMPTED SUICIDE?!

And then your best friend actually committed suicide?!

Like. Seriously. If these are the actions of a single, seriously traumatized person, the fact that you are making Literally The Worst And Most Inexplicable Decisions Ever Which Make The Problem Worse For Literally Everyone Involved is more... well, conceivable. I buy a traumatized eighteen-year-old with an obscene amount of money building an elaborate fake London that is allegedly London ten years in the future, hiring actors to populate it, kidnapping scientists, making them build an Underground Vengeance Mecha to destroy the city, and then kidnapping the Prime Minister who is the source of that trauma and hooking the engine of the mecha up to his heart. And then roping in the one guy who could conceivably solve the whole problem and stop him and Clive would let it. It's a bad idea on EVERY conceivable level, don't get me wrong, on an UNPRECEDENTEDLY terrible scale, but it's a bad idea in which it is very clear no one at any point has asked the person what the fuck they think they're doing here, what they are trying to accomplish, and why they are doing so with this objectively absurd method. Because they have not let anyone in close enough to key them to The Full Absurd Terribleness. It's either this or become Batman.

But Arthur? Apparently his decisions have been vetted by OTHER PEOPLE, and this just boggles my mind. I refuse to believe this. I refuse to believe NO ONE went "have we considered this is like eight hundred terrible ideas bundled up into The Worst Idea Ever?" And I refuse to believe he's anything but a massive asshole when his plan had so many awful consequences for literally everyone BUT himself!

Like, don't get me wrong. There are SO MANY examples of unethical experimentation on human subjects in the real world, psychological and otherwise. But most of them are not this incredibly convoluted, implicitly expensive, and we all generally recognize these days that they were bad.

Also, none of them were enacted as an elaborate setup to (incompetently) handle the trauma of the experimenter's daughter after he told her if she was bad a scary evil witch would possess her and then she and her friend accidentally enacted a tragedy whose scale and fundamental absurdity rival the Boston Molasses Flood, but without corporate greed. There were solutions to this that were so much easier, less convoluted, less EXPENSIVE, and less harmful to... well, everyone else involved, except Arthur Cantabella.

[kinardbegins]

in dire need of a scene where tommy briefly mentions picking buck up and buck being like "uhh in case you haven't noticed i'm preeeeetty big and i doubt you'd be able t-" before he's suddenly hoisted up into tommy's arms and in his initial panic he wraps his legs around tommy's back and his arms around his neck and gets all flustered and tommy goes "like that?" and buck is a stuttering cute mess before he manages a lil "god that's so hot" before burying his face into tommy's neck <3

[thepastdied]

Eddie as a friend would be so sweet to you- cause everyone knows of his little crush.

But you, cause you're dumb.

Pure, sweet, sweet fluff.

"Eddiiiiie?" You'd call from the kitchen, the rest of the group in the living room.

"Sweeeeetheart?" He'd respond with his head perking up. Everyone would look over at him due to his high-pitched tone, giving each other giddy smiles.

"Can you help me grab something?" You'd ask while trying to reach a box of cereal that's on the top of a cabinet.

He'd trot into the kitchen and easily grab the box, handing it to you and pulling it away before you grab it.

"What's in it for me?" He'd quirk up an eyebrow and bend down so his face was level with yours.

As always, you'd blush as his chocolate eyes looked into yours.

"For such a hard task..? Hmm." You'd pretend to think, even though you're well aware of what he wants. It was just platonic, right?

You'd give him a quick peck on the cheek, and he'd give you the biggest cheeky grin before winking and returning back to the living room.

And it was reoccurring. Any time you'd call for him, no matter what it was.

"Daaaaarlin'?"

"Preeeeetty girrrl?"

"Hooooneeeey?"

Your heart would skip a beat every time. But you tried not to think too hard. It was just platonic, right?

Sometimes he'd want a hug, or he'd kiss your knuckles and say "It was an honor, my Princess." While giving you a fond smile with hearts in his eyes.

You were just too sweet, he'd think. You were a dear friend- and maybe you just liked the attention. But he never, not once, missed when you would blush, or tuck your hair behind your ear, and put your hand on his arm and rub your thumb there without even realizing. It was just platonic, right?

But that one night where the gang ditched on you for the planned little campfire in the back of your yard. Of course, it was planned.

You'd tell Eddie to come over anyway and laugh at his hushed yes! ( that wasn't meant to be heard by you) while he fist bombed the air. And you'd sit together, thighs touching but hands remaining on your lap. You'd watch the orangey glow of the fire glow on his face, his nose scrunching up when the smoke blew in his direction. You'd giggle, and he'd look at you with that lovesick expression.

His breath got taken away as he, too, looked at the glow on your face, your eyes glistening.

And then he'd turn his body to yours, his knee against your thigh and eyes unmoving at they stayed connected to yours.

"Sweetheart.." He'd whisper.

You'd chew on the inside of your lip, a nervous habit. He noticed, and almost chickened out.

He'd tuck that piece of hair that was in your face behind your ear that's been bothering him for the past hour, and then rub a thumb across your cheek, smiling at the way you looked down and blushed. He felt the warmth. It was just platonic, right?

"Eddiiiie?" You whispered back, mimicking the tone he always gave you.

He'd give you that wide signature smile, teeth and all. And then he couldn't hold back anymore when he saw you peek quickly at his lips.

He would snake his hand to the back of your neck and pull you in, lips firmly pressing against yours for several seconds before he pulled away.

Both of you would let out a breath, and then you'd laugh while he covered his face and chuckled.

"That totally wasn't platonic.. right?" He'd ask, lips puckering out like a 'duck face' and eyes narrowing.

You'd shake your head and lean back in, and he would grab your hands, placing them around his shoulders and really taking your breath away.

It was never platonic.

[hazbinshusk]

blitzø x f!reader. another wonderful request that's been waiting far too long. blitzø walks in you during a private moment and is far too entertained to be convinced to leave. and what he offers you... can you say no in your current state? 1.5k.

or, simply, blitzø walks in on you masturbating.

featuring: masturbation, sex toys, voyuerism, a cocky blitzø, oral sex (f!receiving).

“Oh, fuck…” you groan, eyes rolling back behind their half-closed lids as you press the vibrator more firmly against your clit. It pulses in a way that makes your jaw clench, your hips rising off the mattress. “Fuuuck…”

You moan as you press the toy inside yourself, pumping it slowly so with each push it sinks another inch into your soaking cunt. You ache with the feeling of it, tilting it each time you pull it out to bump it against your clit again before fucking it into you again.

Your other hand ghosts your fingertips up over your hip, your stomach, coming up to squeeze your breast. You whimper as your palm grazes your nipple, biting your lip against another moan as you pinch it and tug, feeling it tighten and harden under your touch.

“Satan’s… fuck, Blitz…”

“Heh.” An obnoxious voice sounded from the other side of the room, and your eyes flash open. “I knew you wanted me.”

You shoot up, grabbing a pillow and shielding your body with it. Your whole body shudders despite your mortification as the vibrator still pulses inside you and it slips out onto the sheets between your thighs, the vibrations obvious and loud against the sheets. “Blitz! What the—the fuck are you doing in here?”

The imp smirks from where he stands leaning cockily against the doorframe, his arms folded across his chest. His tail curls and unfurls, whipping behind him almost predatorily. “You called me in here.”

“Not in my— my house, Blitz,” you snap, your face stained dark with your embarrassment. You hug the pillow tighter against yourself, one arm banded around it to hide your chest, the other pressing the corner of it down between your thighs. Even feeling the dull sensations of the vibrations on the mattress beneath you is enough to make you quiver. Or maybe that’s… fuck, he’s still staring at you. “What are you doing in my house?”

He shrugs a shoulder, glowing eyes still set on you with a tingling intensity. “Got bored. Thought we’d watch a movie. Didn’t know I was gonna get a live show.”

“How’d you even—” you break off, pointing a hand towards the door over his shoulder imperiously. “I don’t care, just… for the love of Satan, please. Get. Out.”

Blitzø’s smile widens, his eyes falling to where the pillow had wilted, to where your nipple peeks out from behind the plush cushion. You don’t notice immediately, and Blitzø has the audacity to move further into the room. “Is that what you want?”

The tone of his voice drops into something huskier, teasing… and it’s enough to make your breath hitch. You can feel your thighs are slick with your own cum, and even without the vibrator against your clit, your excitement hasn’t waned. If anything, the tingling that runs down your back and lingers in your breasts makes you bite your lip.

Your words come shakily, and you curse yourself for it. “Wh-what are you… talking about?”

“Sure you don’t want me to stay?” he asks you tauntingly, still approaching the bed. His tail switches back and forth behind him slowly. “Preeeeetty sure you were just beggin’ for my help…”

“Blitz…” you mean it warningly, you do, but your voice is too breathless to be convincing. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he continues, planting his hands on the edge of the bed and leaning towards you. “Don’t ya want me to show ya just how good the fantasy is as a real fuckin’ technicolour fuck?”

You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry.

Blitzø jumps up onto the bed, crawls towards you. If possible, your face flushes further as he pauses to pick up the toy still dancing against the sheets. He holds it up beside his face, tongue darting out teasingly as though to lick it. “Ugh, Blitz—!”

He snickers, turning it off and tossing it aside. It lands with a dull thump on the other side of the bed. “Stop panickin’, tits. I prefer it right from the source.”

Blitzø runs his hands up your bare calves, takes hold of your knees and pushes them wider apart from where they’re still clenched around the pillow. You catch his smirk in the moment he leans forward, and without thinking, you reach up and wrap your hand around the back of his head and pull him into a kiss.

He grins against your lips, tongue sliding eagerly into your mouth to meet yours. You whine into his kiss, feel his teeth graze your bottom lip for a second before he sucks it gently, pressing his forehead against yours long enough for you both to catch your breath. Then his mouth is on yours again, swallowing the sound of surprise you make when he tugs the pillow out from between the two of you.

He urges you onto your back, laying you out completely bare beneath him. You feel his hand take hold of your hip, his claws digging into the flesh there firmly enough for them to prick your skin. He lets the kiss linger until you whimper into it, your body arching up off the sheets damp with your cum.

He pulls back with a cocksure grin curving his lips. “Just how often do ya think about me when you play with yourself?”

You snake a hand between the two of you to squeeze the bulge between his legs. Blitzø groans, eyes rolling back, and he ruts himself against your palm. “Same question, B.”

He snickers, kissing you again before lowering himself down your naked form, pressing open-mouthed kisses against your heated skin. You moan as his lips and tongue find your breasts, first one, then the other, lingering long enough to suck bruises into the soft, supple flesh. He grazes the point of a fang over the tender point of your nipple and your body jolts, a breathless, surprised little “haaah” escaping you.

He grins at your reaction, hand smoothing down the outside of your thigh as he smacks a loud, childish kiss against your sternum. Blitzø continues his path down your body, inhaling deeply when he reaches the apex of your thighs.

“Fuck…” he mutters, his breath tickling against your wet flesh. He doesn’t give you a chance to formulate a response; burying his face between your thighs and sliding his tongue against your cunt. The groan he lets out at the taste of you echoes your moan, your head falling back against the pillows. Blitzø hooks his hand under your thigh and hooks it over his shoulder, rolling his tongue against your clit hungrily. “Fuck, you taste like pure fucking… sex…”

You clutch at his horns with both hands, pushing your hips up to meet his mouth. Blitzø grins into your cunt as he lets you fuck his face, flicking his tongue over your clit again before sliding his it deep into your quivering pussy.

“Oh, shit, Blitz!” your voice is torn and broken with need, and he rewards the sound by touching two fingers to your clit. He teases it in tandem with the way he fucks you with his tongue, and your eyes roll back, your body tensing against the feeling of it. “Fuck, that’s— ohhh…”

Blitzø quickens his pace and you keen, fingers digging into the keratin of his horns as you cum against his mouth. He withdraws his tongue from your cunt only to return it to your clit, both hands grasping a firm hold of your hips, forcing them down against the mattress. He holds you in place and your upper body lifts, curling forward at the never-ending assault he gives your clit.

Blitzø doesn’t let up until there are tears burning in your eyes and you’re begging him to stop, tugging hard at his horns in the hope of easing the tension that keeps winding up and snapping inside you. Blitzø laughs into your cunt and even that is too much, and you squeeze your thighs so tight around his face he has to force your legs apart again.

The imp licks his lips, wipes his mouth with his sleeve as he crawls back up your body. The cocky grin is back, and he braces himself up over you. He presses his hips teasingly forward, and even the brush of his clothed erection against your over-sensitised cunt makes you twitch.

“And that,” Blitzø says, watching with a smirk as you try to steady your breath. “Is why I don’t knock.”

You manage to scoff, rolling your eyes. You shove at his chest, and he laughs again. “That is not the lesson here.”

“No?” he arches a brow, and you hear him fumble one-handed with the front of his pants. “Pretty sure it is.”

“Pretty sure it’s not, Bli—” you break off with another moan as he suddenly slides his cock up between your thighs. “Damn it, Blitz… fuck…”

“You wanna try and convince me otherwise?” he asks teasingly, rocking his hips until the head of his cock just presses into your cunt. Your hips rise reflexively, and you whine as the movement draws him a few inches deeper. Blitzø moans, face falling against your shoulder for a moment. He pulls back again, corkscrewing his hips slowly, slowly into yours. “You might wanna do it without moaning, tits.”

[heimeldat]

I had to paint him again. He's just so preeeeetty! So many gorgeous colors in his skin!

[skrewtiny]

Still bummed about no Freys in the Season Finale, so to console myself, i bring..

Frey Suit drawings :0

The colored one is meant to be Fischer, as i’m preeeeetty sure he’s the one with the Blue Tie. The rest of these idk who’s who.

Do i really like the face? No. Am i going to try and fix it? Also no. ಠvಠ

also i couldn’t find a good ref for the snake design on the sweater, so i skipped it, i’m sorry :v

[anonymous-dentist]

A very quiet evening from the Merpepito AU

Read here on Ao3

-

Ever since leaving the Reef, Pepito has tried to stop thinking about Pepito's parents. Pirates don't have parents. Bad Pepitos don't deserve parents. So Pepito doesn't have parents, mostly because Pepito knows that all of Pepito's parents have a new Pepito now, so Pepito really doesn't have any parents.

But now Apa Roier is on the ship, and Pepito can't stop thinking about him. He's Apa Roier, he's Pepito's hero! But he hates Pepito, Pepito just knows it!

So Pepito does what Pepito does best: Pepito eats candy.

After deciding that Apa Roier isn't a Bad Guy, Captain Celbi made Misters Pacandmike go back and get the groceries they left behind, and he told them to get extra candy as a punishment for leaving the groceries behind to begin with.

It's been a couple of hours since then, and the candy jar is now hidden in a cupboard in the galley behind a big bag of lemons and oranges. Nobody knows it's there except for Captain Celbi and Pepito, and he'd winked at Pepito when he'd hidden it, so it's probably fine that Pepito is sneaking it before dinner.

Pepito crawls into the cupboard and closes it behind him. He's small enough to be able to fit between the bag of fruit and the back of the cupboard, so that's where he sits.

He pulls the candy jar into his lap, and he tries to open it, fails, smacks the jar with the palm of his hand, still can't open it, fights the urge to cry, sticks his nails under the lid of the jar and pushes until the lid pops off. He yelps as the lid smacks his nose. Ouch!!

Pepito's glasses are still broken. Miss Mouse said she'd fix them using Demon Magic, whatever that is, so she has them now, leaving Pepito blinder than ever. But that's fine, Pepito doesn't need glasses to eat candy!

Sadly, and definitely not while thinking about how much Apa Roier hates him, Pepito pops a candy into his mouth. He rolls it around with his tongue; it tastes like Yellow. Yum!!

Pepito loves candy. Pepito especially loves the hard candy that Sky Pepitos make. It lasts longer and it has more flavor and it makes Pepito's mouth tingly after too long and that's so cool. It's like eating bubbles!

Dinner isn't gonna be for another hour, so Pepito is preeeeetty sure that nobody will catch him with the candy. But, really, it'll be fine because pirates are evil, and nothing is more evil than eating candy before dinner.

But then the galley's door slams open and two pairs of heavy footsteps stomp into the room.

"I'm not talking about it," Captain Celbi says, sounding very frustrated. Uh-oh... "Don't you have a child to be looking for?"

"Eh, he's fine, he's a big boy," Apa Roier says, sounding not at all concerned about how angry the big scary pirate captain in front of him is. "But- come on, it's been years! What happened?"

"Nothing."

A cupboard opens. Something is moved around, scratch-scratching against the floor. Captain Celbi sighs, and the cupboard is closed.

There's a creak and another scratch, this one more drawn-out. It sounds like one of the benches at the galley's long table has been moved.

Apa Roier groans, "Whatever. Your chairs suck, by the way. What, did Bad steal all your good ones?"

Oh, so he's at the table. Why? Dinner isn't for a while, and Mister Pac doesn't like there being anybody in his kitchen when he's cooking. He gets distracted, and then the food gets ruined, and then everybody's sad, especially Mister Pac.

Honestly, Pepito hasn't seen Apa Roier since he and Captain Celbi were wrestling on the deck. As soon as Pepito realized that Apa Roier was actually staying, Pepito ran off to give his glasses to Miss Mouse, and Pepito has been hiding since.

Another cupboard opens.

"Maybe," Captain Celbi says. "We aren't exactly a Navy ship, you know. We don't have the money for fancy stuff like furniture."

"Wait, you're broke?" Apa Roier gasps. "No mames, man, aren't you a pirate?"

Something metallic slams against wood.

"No," Captain Celbi tensely says. A pause, and then: "Sorry, sorry, I-"

"No, I get it," Apa Roier says. He sounds like he's smiling- he always sounds like he's smiling. "It's fine."

"Yeah," Captain Celbi breathes. "It's... it's fine."

(What does Captain Celbi mean he isn't a pirate? Is he trying to trick Apa Roier? Because that won't work, Apa Roier is a genius!!)

"So you aren't a pirate, no big deal. But even regular guys have decent furniture. What the fuck is this, wood?"

Three knocks against wood. Probably Apa Roier.

Captain Celbi laughs. "I'm sorry? I don't know what mermaids do, but-"

"Mer-people, Cellbit. Don't be sexist."

"Oops."

"What the fuck do you mean, 'whoops'?"

More scuffing of wood, and then Captain Celbi is shouting and laughing and audibly stumbling into a cabinet as Apa Roier swears at him.

"Get off of me, what the fuck?" Captain Celbi shouts. Now he sounds like he's smiling, wow. Pepito keeps forgeting he can do that, he does it so rarely when there are people around. "Don't you know who I am?"

"Mm, yes, you're Captain Cellbit, a super scary not-pirate. And you're sexist."

"I'm not sexist!"

"Then say it right!"

Pepito covers Pepito's mouth with the palm of Pepito's hand to keep himself from laughing at the shocked little noises Captain Celbi makes. Apa Roier is super good at arguing. He's good at everything!

Pepito's smile falls. Right. Apa Roier is good at everything. He deserves a better Pepito, a Pepito that didn't do the Very Bad Thing.

"Fine," Captain Celbi dramatically sighs. "I don't know what merpeople do-"

"Much better."

"You're welcome. But we make our furniture out of wood. You guys probably use, like, coral and stuff, right?"

"Wow, and you're racist, too?"

"Shut up!" Captain Celbi groans.

Apa Roier laughs, and Pepito fights the urge to laugh with him. But he can't know that Pepito is here. Pepito is doing a crime. Apa Roier doesn't need to be more disappointed than he already is.

There's a long pause. The familiar rustling of Captain Celbi's coat, the swishing of Apa Roier's sleeves against his shirt as he moves his arms.

Quietly, Pepito pulls another candy from the jar. He puts it in his mouth, and he is silent.

"Still got muscles, I see," Apa Roier comments.

"Not as many as I did then," Captain Celbi replies. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Years, yeah. Crazy, right?"

Apa Roier laughs. Captain Celbi doesn't.

Instead, Captain Celbi says, "I'm still not going to talk about it. Not yet. But... I missed you."

"Aww! You didn't even know me!"

"I knew your face."

"I do have a very good face."

"You do. I'm very happy to be seeing it again."

"Just my face?"

"No- of course not! I'm happy to be seeing all of you. For the first time. Because you were... different."

Quiet for a moment.

Pepito listens intently. He doesn't know what this conversation is, but he thinks he likes it. It's a lot nicer than half of the conversations Apa Roier had back at the Reef. Less shouting. More smiling, even through Apa Roier's words.

Then, Apa Roier says, "You were different, too. But it's fine, you know? Just means we get to be different with each other now."

There's a wet noise, and Pepito has known Apa Roier long enough to know how he gives face kisses. Every time he gives one of Pepito's other parents a kiss on the cheek or the forehead, it's always loud and exaggerated and real funny, especially when Apa Mariana starts fake crying and runs out of the room because it wasn't Tía Melissa or Tío Slime.

This sounds no different, but it is followed up by something that sounds a lot like Apa Roier moaning, and that makes Captain Celbi laugh... and it makes Pepito fumble and drop the jar of candy off his lap and onto the floor of the cupboard out of shock.

Both Apa Roier and Captain Celbi go quiet.

Pepito sucks in a breath and covers his mouth with both hands. He is quiet.

But then there are footsteps, and then the cupboard is being opened, and then the bag is being moved, and then there's Apa Roier looking at Pepito with wide eyes and a red face.

"Is it him?" Captain Celbi asks.

Pepito's mind races. He doesn't wanna get in trouble! Apa Roier already hates him, and- and-

"Pinche Pepito," Apa Roier sighs in the Language of the Sea. "Come here..."

He reaches into the cupboard, and he scoops Pepito up and pulls him out into the galley.

Instinctively, Pepito's arms latch around Apa Roier's shoulders. It's almost like it was back when Pepito was a Good Pepito, but it isn't, is it?

Captain Celbi steps closer. His face is blurry, because Pepito isn't wearing his glasses, but Pepito does notice that Captain Celbi's coat is gone and his shirt sleeves are rolled up past his elbows.

"Are your glasses still broken, Pepito?" he asks.

Pepito nods. He can't look at Apa Roier, but Apa Roier is probably disappointed...

"Ay, that's fine," Apa Roier says. He bounces Pepito in his arms. "You and I can both be blind now."

It takes a moment for Pepito's brain to catch up with Apa Roier's statement, but, when it does, Pepito immediately panics, because where are Apa Roier's bottom two eyes? Apa Roier is half spider crab and half fish and half Ocean Pepito, where are his bottom two eyes?

No wonder Apa Roier ran into that post on the dock, he's missing two eyes!

Pepito sniffs and hides his face in Apa Roier's neck so he doesn't have to see the Sea Witch's curse.

For whatever reason, Captain Celbi quietly awwws; Apa Roier just sighs and raises a hand to gently rake through Pepito's hair.

"I"m sorry," Pepito silently says, but he wishes the Sea Witch gave him a different curse so he could actually apologize to Apa Roier because Apa Roier has to hate him now, Pepito knows it! Apa Roier loves his four eyes! He thinks they're cool! He always shows them off! And now he's missing two!

Pepito's body starts to shake from fear and frustration. Stupid Sea Witch! Pepito's gonna beat him up like a pirate would! Because Pepito is a pirate, and the Sea Witch hurt Pepito's Dad (even if Pepito's Dad isn't Pepito's Dad anymore.)

"Pepito?" Captain Celbi asks.

"Oh, Pepito, it's fine," Apa Roier sighs. "I'm not actually blind. What, is all this pirate stink killing your Pepito Brain?"

"Hey!" Captain Celbi protests. "We don't stink!"

"He's lying, Pepito, I could smell him from underwater. That's how I found you guys. Yuck!"

Apa Roier makes a horn-like sound, and a small laugh escapes from Pepito. It's hoarse and quiet and all he can manage without his voice, but it's enough to make him stop almost-crying.

Pepito misses his parents. They're funny and they always know how to keep him from crying.

"Your father is a bully," Captain Celbi tells Pepito. "He hurt my feelings, so I deserve a candy."

Pepito's head perks up at the mention of candy. He looks at Captain Celbi with a splotchy red face and with pink, tear-filled eyes, and Captain Celbi just smiles back with sharp teeth.

"And I think you deserve a candy, too," Captain Celbi continues. "After all, it must be very scary to not be able to see as well as you usually can."

"And what about me?" Apa Roier demands.

Captain Celbi rolls his eyes. "You, too. Don't worry, guapito, I didn't forget about you."

He freezes, halfway turned towards the cupboard with the candy.

"Well, gatinho," Apa Roier says, a slight teasing hint to his voice even with the red tint to the tips of his ears, "just get me the biggest candy you have, okay? To make it up to me?"

Captain Celbi's smile only grows wider.

"Of course," he says. "Whatever you say."

Pepito doesn't really understand what a "gatinho" means, but it's enough to make Captain Celbi happy, so it has to be a good thing.

-

It's apparently a good enough thing that Apa Roier gets to spend the night with Captain Celbi in his cabin. They're having a sleepover, lucky.

Pepito misses having friends to have sleepovers with. He misses Sunny and Empi and Leo.

Maybe Pomme would want to do a sleepover.

That would be nice.

-

A/N:

If you read this, please leave a comment or a reblog or an ask either here on on the Ao3 page just to let me know that you read it! I love hearing from you, and interactions keep me writing!!

[unoriginal-and-dumb]

im new here and kinda stupid so are trev and adam basically just the headcanon infected/lampert but as more original concepts? like the headcanons became so divergent you went "may as well be OCs" and now they are? if so thats really swag... i wish more people did that

Preeeeetty much

Trevor literally started existing because i was like what if he was red (i love dead space) and then i stared at my shitty drawing and and realized my version is so vastly different from the canon version of infected i may as well just go full on “this is something else”

Which also has been super freeing because now his story/lore whatever is changed and new and imo pretty cool because i like the things i do 👍

[will80sbyers]

the way the letters aren’t making real words (‘loverp’ is not correct lmao) makes me think they’re hinting something. i can imagine robin and will talking abt mike and robin saying something like ‘he just needs a thump’ (idk if that would make sense in the context) for him to realise his feelings idk. and the lover thing is preeeeetty obvious lol

Omg you're so right about the thump thing! Also "lover tune" makes me think about Heroes lmao

[nickorite]

Out of my many OCs do you have a favorite? I'm working on drawing other OCs more but currently my Toppats are well known. Also check out askthedoubleagent it's an Askblog that's run mmby me and the homies ☺️

*sighhhhh* Me when pretty womennnnnn

Inma be honest I’m not COMPLETELY caught up on your OC lore but I DO know your lil Toppat Crew!! (And Cameron Calvin but he belongs to someone elseee), love your lil guys AND their designs, they’re SO fun to draw. Morgana is soooooo preeeeetty and I love her role as the Toppat artist (hits close to home hehe). I haven’t seen much content for Jinjer, but I saw her design and GASPEDDDD, love yee haw girl :DDD (she also has the coolest name ever, I would name myself Jinjer Quickdraw) but yee, love the women, women are amazing

ALSO I’ll def check out that ask blog!! You and your homies are actually so nice and supportive, love to see what y’all make