#slop crew

[knippy]

multiplayer mod for Bomb Rush Cyberfunk! shout out to Slop Crew!

[nova-prowler]

Gift art for my friend @mssidewinder! I wanted to draw it boarding ever since it got me involved with Bomb Rush Cyberfunk’s modding scene.

Luckily there was a score contest tournament in the slopcrew (actual multiplayer community name) and I got a chance to draw it a placement graphic.

[pensivespacepirate]

it feels like the whole purpose of venom 3 is to kill off venom what the fuck

[mzannthropy]

Much has been said about Titanic, the movie, whether it's the fact that it would not have been possible for a first class passenger and a third class passenger to ever meet or that that they both would have fit on the door. But I have a different theory that explains it. Basically, it never happened. The old lady is making it up.

She really did sail on the Titanic and survived, but the romance with Jack is the product of her imagination. Maybe it helped her cope with the trauma she must have had afterwards, or maybe there was really a poor boy named Jack she knew back in England that she loved but couldn't be with bc he was poor. (A poor artist, perhaps?) Maybe she didn't board the lifeboat with her mother bc she really wanted to die. Later, something in her clung to life and she got saved. She changed her name and started a new life in America.

One of the men who listens to her narrate the story says there was no record of any Jack Dawson. Of course, bc he never existed.

[butchhansolo]

a reminder from your local trans guy to please pirate ahsoka if you watch it i'm so tired of the Yall Can't Even Boycott Chick Fil A phenomenon

[azzydoesstuff]

lethal company dashboard simulator

🛠️ she-fillin-my-quota Follow

man 41-experimentation has the worst abandoned facilities. where is all the scrap guh??

🪲 lootyloot-nestynest Follow

the fuck are you calling an abandoned facility?? experimentation is my fucking home you prick. you scrappers call these facilities abandoned but they're not. you're just wandering into our homes and stealing our things. leave it to the scrapper to regurgitate insectophobic slop. blocked

#like i swear to god. these fucking scrappers are so stupid. i hope they all die #insect pride

3,601 notes

🌰 nuts-be-cracked Follow

i swear to god y'all, ain't NOTHINg moving on my watch

🖇️ boioioioing Follow

heyyyy 😏

🌰 nuts-be-cracked Follow

😬

457 notes

🦅 professionalhawkster2 Follow

bro why do the fucking dogs keep messing with my gang?? they almost killed jerry a couple hours ago

🦖 heywhosaidthat Follow

how about you be fucking quiet you fucking pickle thieves

#seriously who steals pickles lmao #fuck baboon hawks

92 notes

🖳 theindomitablesigurd-deactivated1968

T HEY TOOK M Y PIcKLES!!!!1!!

#naw i'm uptading th ose mf dangjer level to 75% agfter tha t shit

18 notes

🛠️ she-fillin-my-quota Follow

first time visiting 7-dine! wonder what i'm gonna find lol

🖇️ boioioioing Follow

hey i live there! lol

🛠️ she-fillin-my-quota Follow

🫣

🖇️ boioioioing Follow

man what the hell

#cw coilphobia #fucking scrappers #hope i coil this bitch lmao

7,084 notes

🦑 badjokesbyjeb Follow

What do you do after eating a really tasty planet? You give the restaraunt five golden stars.

🪙 living-on-the-blingbling-baby Follow

BEAST LET ME OUT ALREADY I NEED TO GET OUT I CAN'T BE DIGESTED YOU FUCKING BEAST CEASE THIS MOCKERY OF OUR GOLDEN PLANET RELEASE ME SPIT OUT THE RINDS LET ME LEAVE

🖁 across-the-system Follow

Haha, good one Jeb! You should really change your url!

#you fucking idiot don't say shit like that #he's gonna fucking escape at some point if you keep doing this and then you'll really be fucked you fucking moron #goodjokesbyjeb

765,014 notes

🦈 thump-thump-thump Follow

who up eatin' their legs

🛠️ she-fillin-my-quota Follow

what

🦈 thump-thump-thump Follow

us thumpers get called halves because when we're born we have to eat the bottom half of our bodies to get out of our eggs. this is why we have no legs and have to use our arms to walk around. hope this helps ❤️

#cw thumperphobic slur #cw half #don't be ignorant like this and do your research #also don't call us halves please #thumpers #thumperposting #thumper gang

132 notes

☣️ richrichardguy-deactivated0709

man why don't this fucking door open. oh it's my fucking crew behind it fucking great. fucking assholes won't stop saying i smell

🌿 rapaxfoliumsnap Follow

hey i think we haven't met before

☣️ richrichardguy-deactivated0709

😨

🖳 theindomitablesigurd-deactivated1968

RICH NOOOOOOOOOOO

#bro stank like shit but i didn't want him to go like this #not like this! not like thiiiiiiis!

64,089 notes

🪲 lootyloot-nestynest Follow

you guys, i just found the coolest fucking metal sheet. you have no idea

42 notes

🛠️ she-fillin-my-quota Follow

BRO GET OUT OF THE DOORWAY STUPID FUCKING BOX

🎁 lethaljesterjestering Follow

listen to my tune

351 notes

🔦 new-guy-working-here Follow

hey guys it's my first week working for the company! i think i'm gonna make quota this time

🌿 rapaxfoliumsnap Follow

no you're not

🔦 new-guy-working-here Follow

no i'm not

9,278 notes

🎭 she-fillin-my-quota Follow

hey guys i'm resigning from the company rn. im gonna make some changes accordingly on my blog now. can someone tell @lootyloot-nestynest i'm sorry and ask them to unblock me. i'm a changed man now, i'm not a scrapper anymore

🖇️ boioioioing Follow

guys idk something seems off about this guy. he was spewing coilphobic shit a couple days ago

🎭 comedy-tragedy-drama Follow

guess who's been busy, coily? 😏😏😏

🖇️ boioioioing Follow

no fucking way

#the madman did it #bro got fucking masked lmao

[cinnbar-bun]

Together (Benn Beckman x Reader)

Summary: As the "mom" and "dad" of the Red-Hair Pirates, you and Beckman have a lot of work on your plates. (Un)Luckily for you two, your crew decides to meddle with your relationship (again).

A/n: A gift for my friend, @fanaticsnail . Enjoy the first mate, darling <3.

Notes: F!Reader, kinda of a will they-won't they type thing. Everyone is shipping it just Beck and Reader lowkey refuse to admit it. Lots of fluff and teasing. Reader is referred to as 'mom' and Beck as 'dad'.

Word Count: ~3k

You can read on my AO3 here!

“Dad! Mom’s being mean to me again!” Shanks loudly yelled while he was chugging more bottles of rum. The first mate sighed at the nickname but didn’t even bother to turn around and face his captain. 

“(Y/n)?” Beckman called out. 

“Yes?” You replied, the other members of the crew staring at you both with wide smiles and bated breath. 

“Smack him for me,” Beckman chuckled. Shanks let out a faux-offended gasp as the deck erupted with laughter.

“You’re so mean to me! How could my own first mate do this to me?!” Shanks whined as you pat your poor captain’s head. He pouted like a little kid before he took another swig of his alcohol. 

“That’s just what you get, Captain!” Lucky Roux laughed. “You know Beck won’t ever disagree with (Y/n)!” 

“Well some of us need to be the adults around here,” Beckman retorted. He held two mugs in his hand, one filled with his coffee, the other prepared just for you. For the first mate, it was practically routine to make your morning drinks for you. He silently handed off your mug to you, and you took it with a hushed ‘thank you’. “Are you still making the list?” 

You nodded while going over the notepad in your hand. “Tomatoes, potatoes, onions…” 

“Don’t forget to add some carrots, since someone,” Beckman’s eyes narrowed at Limejuice, “burned them all.” 

“Hey! It wasn’t my fault! I thought you eat them if they were black!” Limejuice tries to explain. 

“They’re carrots, you can eat them raw!” Beckman shouted in exasperation. “You guys are going to kill me one day!” 

“Oh, don’t be too harsh on them, Beck,” you try to soothe the first mate. “I can always take care of cooking duties, anyways.” 

The men nodded, eager to have your cooking as a guarantee instead of whatever slop they would make in their often drunken stupor. 

“Thanks, mom!” Yasopp cheered. “You know we love your cooking!” 

“Not happening,” Beckman deadpanned. The men slunk their shoulders and groaned. 

“Why not? (Y/n) makes the best food!” 

Beckman rested a hand on his hips. “Because (Y/n) is already busy taking care of a majority of the duties on this ship. I’m not having her overwork herself because you guys couldn’t figure out that carrots are edible.” 

Shanks put down his drink and nodded. “I have to admit, it’s pretty true. Beck has a point.” 

“Thanks, Capta-” 

“So I guess if you want (Y/n) to cook, you need to start picking up the slack!” Shanks proclaimed. “That’s a good compromise, right?” 

You shrugged. “I-I mean, it’s really not necessary, I can cook, too.” 

Beckman placed a hand on your shoulder and shook his head. “(Y/n), they’re grown men, they can do their own laundry and dishes. You don’t need to do everything.” 

“I could say the same thing to you,” you chuckle. “‘Dad’.”

“Not you, too,” he groaned. “You know I hate that nickname.” 

“I know, but it fits you.” 

“‘Mom’ fits you as well.” 

“Okay, you two, get a room!” Shanks laughed. Beckman glared while Shanks waved him off. “Anyways, why don’t you two take care of the shopping today? The men and I will handle things back here.” 

“Are you sure? But Yasopp was saying-” 

“Bah!” Shanks laughs off your concern before rummaging for a bag of coins. “Yasopp wasn’t planning on doing anything. Just take your time and get whatever you guys want. I better see you two relaxed and having fun when you get back!” 

Beckman made a puzzled face as he took the bag of money. “You’re not slick, Shanks.” 

“What’re ya talking about, Beck! I’m just saying, you two should take it easy today. You guys keep this ship and crew running. As captain, it’s only natural I let my best mateys have a day off every once in a while. I’m not some tyrant, you know?” 

You stifle the laughter in your throat and and close your notepad. “Well, we really can’t complain, Beck. Let’s enjoy shopping for a bit.” 

“Sure thing,” Beckman relented. He made sure his pistol was strapped to his belt and put the money into his pocket. “You got the list?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Good. I heard this island is supposedly famous for their bread. If we’re early enough, we might be able to snag some right from the oven,” Beckman comments. Your eyes widen. 

“Really? We gotta hurry then.” 

“Bye mom, bye dad!” Shanks waves with his remaining arm, causing the other members to rush back to the deck to see you off. 

“Bye, you two!” Lucky Roux waves his stick of meat. “Don’t have too much fun!” 

“Don’t stay out too late, lovebirds!” Yasopp jokes. 

“Keep talking like that and I’ll not bring any rum back,” Beckman threatens. 

“Aghhhhh! MOM! Do something about him!” The men whine to you while some of them boo and chide Beckman. 

“Bad, Beckman, bad,” you chuckle as you and Beck begin to walk down the ship. 

“You’re right,” Beckman plays along. “I’m just a horrible, terrible first mate.” 

“The cruelest first mate around.” 

“Mhm. And what does that make you? Just as bad?” 

“Probably.” 

You two go through the streets of the island, taking in the sights. It isn’t long before the sweet smell of bread begins wafting through the air and taking hold of the both of you. 

“Oh man, they weren’t kidding,” Beckman mumbled after inhaling the smell. 

“I think that means we came just in time,” you grin, excitedly walking up to the door of the bakery. You marveled at the selections within the store, as well as some of the bakers making the bread behind the counter. 

“Wow…” you tap your chin. “Maybe we should get some brioche.” 

“They do have flatbreads, too. We could get those for a meal,” Beckman hums thoughtfully. 

“With tuna?” “Now you’re cooking. Add that to the list for our next stop,” he commented, and you nodded before writing ‘tuna’ on your list. 

“I’ll add some rice as well,” you say. 

Soon, it is you and Beckman’s turn to order, and you two greet the old woman working at the counter. 

“And what can I get you two?” You begin to place your order, before turning to Beckman. 

“Do you think we should get anything else?” You ask, glancing back toward the display of pastries. Of course the first mate caught that and nodded. 

“Two pastries,” he added. “You want that one, right?” Beckman pointed at your favorite pastry and you smile bashfully at the fact he knew what you liked without you having to say a thing. 

“Yep, that one,” you confirm. The old woman grins at you two and begins to package your bread. Beck takes the box of it to carry, and promptly thanks the woman. Afterwards, she puts your two pastries in a small, wax paper bag and hands it to you. She sighs contentedly and has a nostalgic look on her face. 

“Oh, you two remind me of the good ol’ days. May your love stay with you forever,” she wishes. The sentiment catches you off-guard for a brief moment. “Sorry, we’re actually-” 

“Thank you, ma’am,” Beckman thanks her. Your eyes widen as he smiles at you, and you can’t help the smile forming on your lips, either. You wave goodbye to the woman and exit the bakery with Beckman. 

“Why’d you say that?” You ask, curious of his intentions. He shrugs, but there’s still a playful grin on his face. 

“Felt natural,” is all he says as you two continue down the street. You rummage through the paper bag and get out the pastry he ordered for himself, one made with figs, and hold it to his lips. He stops his mindless chattering about things to get and leans down to take a bite. 

“Mm, that’s so good. They got good figs,” he mumbles with a mouth full of pastry. You laugh at his silly behavior and wipe some of the crumbs off his chin. 

“Let me try mine.” You take out yours and bite into it, melting at the exquisite taste of the pastry. “Oh, that’s amazing.” 

“Right?” He says enthusiastically. “We have to come back here again and get some more another day.” 

“We should bring some back for the crew next time.” 

“Nah. Let’s keep this one our little secret,” he winks at you. 

“You’re a very cruel first mate, Beck,” you tease. 

“Well, can you blame me? They won’t taste as good without you eating them with me.” 

“I think I have to agree.” 

The day continues on like this, with you two continuing to shop and cart around box after box of supplies for the ship. Beckman and you have practically inspected every item for the freshest produce, meat, and fruits for the crew. Thankfully, you two are the most organized and efficient members of the crew and are practically finished before lunch. 

“Did we grab coffee beans?” You ask, looking at your list again. 

“Right here, dear,” he answers, showing you one of the bags. 

“Okay, good,” you check off another box. “Is that really it?” 

Beckman looks over your shoulder to see the list and the boxes all around you. “Would you look at that… guess we really did get everything.” 

“I mean, this looks like all we need, but we did it so quick,” you say, admittedly wanting to spend more time with the first mate. 

“We did. I guess that’s what happens when you don’t send Roux and Yasopp to do the shopping.” You laugh as you remember the time when those two went to get the supplies, only to come back near midnight with only the most expensive of alcohols and hardly any food. From then on, Beckman had set a rule that if anyone messed up that bad again, they’d have to pay with their own coin. 

“Should we head back, then?” You ask. 

“If you want. I have no problems walking around the town with you,” he replies. 

“Considering you’re pushing that cart, I think we should go back and drop the supplies off.” 

“It’s not a problem, (Y/n). This is pretty easy to pull,” Beckman assures you. 

“Still, I-” you begin, before Beckman places a hand on your shoulder. 

“Hey. It’s okay,” he states. “I’m happy to keep walking with you. After all, even our captain said we should enjoy ourselves. I don’t see any issue with us taking a bit longer to go back.” 

“You really mean it?” Beckman nods. 

“I do mean it. I enjoy our time together, and it’s rare we get the time to just do as we please.” 

You hesitate for a moment then nod at him. It is true, as a pirate, especially in the crew of a notorious Yonko, moments of peace are rather rare and fleeting. Not having to fight for your life or the world is a nice change of pace every once in a while. 

“Okay. Where to next?” You ask as Beckman leads you deeper into the city. The shops are more refined compared to the street markets near the port, leading your eyes to wander. You gasp and stop in front of a display window when you see a gorgeous selection of bracelets. Some are made with gold, others silver, and another with a shiny, black material. Beckman notices you frozen at the display and makes his way to you. 

“Come on, let’s go in.” 

“Huh? Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m just looking.” 

“Don’t be so modest, (Y/n),” Beckman urges. “Go try one on.” 

“I don’t have the-” 

“Nope. No more excuses,” he shakes his head as he opens the door to let you in. You step into the store, amazed at the beautiful jewelry surrounding you. A salesperson greeted you and chatted with you about the bracelets you saw on display. They pulled out the displays for you to try on and you debated which one to pick. 

“Hm…I think I want to try that one on,” you point at the gold bracelet. The salesperson clasps the bracelet gently on your wrist and you marvel how it sparkles under the light. “Beck, what do you think?” 

You show off the bracelet to him and he stares at it with a surprised expression before he composes himself. “It looks great on you.” 

The excited look on your face makes his heart beat faster as you tell the salesperson you want to buy it. 

“Good choice. I do want to let you know we are currently doing a promotion for this particular set. If you buy another one, it’s 50% off.” 

You turn to Beckman expectantly. “Do you want to get one then, Beck? We can match!” 

He examines the bracelets. “I don’t know, I don’t think they’d look that good on me.” 

“Hey, you can’t pull that trick on me after you made me come in here!” 

“Fine, fine,” he chuckles. “I think I’ll try this one.” He picks out the black bracelet and puts it on. He looks impressed with the jewelry and his face softens as he looks into your eyes. 

“Well? Does it look alright on me? Definitely doesn’t look as good as it does on you,” he jokes. 

“It looks great,” you look back into his eyes as you press your wrists next to his. “I think this should be another of our little secrets.” 

“I’m starting to think my bad behavior is rubbing off on you,” he smirks, as he goes to pay for the jewelry. 

“Maybe it is, Beck,” you respond as your eyes are locked on your matching bracelets. 

The afternoon is spent wandering aimlessly in this town. You two visit nearly every shop, walking and chatting about everything under the sun. Things like memories, what the crew was possibly up to, to even the most mundane topics like sweets and how you like your eggs prepared. 

It feels simultaneously too short and like an eternity between the two of you. He continues to lug around the cart of supplies and other things you two bought in your impromptu shopping trip, never looking any worse for wear. He doesn’t care to focus on something like that when he’s with you. 

The sky is beginning to turn a bright orange and pink as the two of you finally manage to get back to the ship. 

“Wahhh! Mom and dad are back!” Roux yells as the men cheer. Shanks leans over the edge and smiles at you two. 

“Well, well, I didn’t think either of you had it in you to take a break!” Shanks admits. “We all started placing bets on if you would be back by noon.” 

“I was saying midnight, for the record,” Yasopp shouted. 

“You guys are so immature,” Beck chuckles while shaking his head. “We just explored some of the shops. Got a few things.” 

“Anything fun~?” Limejuice says. 

“Bowls?” You lift a few of the new bowls you bought at a store. 

The men throw their hands up and groan. “Really? Nothing else?” 

“Nope,” Beck lies, making them all quiet. He scans the deck and notices it’s rather clean compared to the smelly and alcohol-ridden floor. “So, you guys actually did clean up, hm?” 

“Yeah! Course we did!” Shanks proudly exclaims. “I told you we’d handle it. Now where’s the rum-” 

“When we have dinner.” 

“Ugh… why are you the worst?” 

“Don’t be like that, Shanks,” Beck crosses his arms. “(Y/n) and I won’t be around all the time to handle everything. It’s good for you guys to learn to take care of the ship.” 

Yasopp sighs. “Always so mature and level-headed, I tell you.” 

“You’re so lame, Beck! How does (Y/n) put up with you?” Limejuice whines. 

“Mom, tell Beck he’s boring and needs to be cooler!” Hongo cries. 

“Enough complaining, help put these supplies away,” Beckman points to the boxes. The crew begins to do as told while you and Beck start unloading some of the supplies. As you do so, Shanks calls your name. 

“Hey, gorgeous bracelet. Where’d you get it?” He asks, loving the gold on it. You jump when he mentions it and look at Beckman, who gives a simple nod. 

“Just got it from the shops. It was on sale.” 

Shanks nods and lifts your wrist closer to inspect the bracelet. “Wow, it really looks great on you.” 

“She would hardly step into the shop until I made her. She was eyeing that the whole time,” Beck teases you. 

“Not the whole time, exactly,” you try to explain. “It just was pretty, is all.” 

Beckman lifts a box up to a shelf and Roux loudly gasps, surprising everyone. 

“Beck!” 

“What? What’s wrong?” You and Beck say at the same time. Roux has a knowing smirk on his face as he points to Beckman. 

“You got a matching bracelet, too!” Roux shouts. Shanks and the other men gasp and move in closer to look at it. As Roux said, the black bracelet on Beck’s wrist matches yours perfectly, and the men howl in laughter. Some even begin to exchange money as you and Beck are mortified at their behavior. 

“You guys seriously made bets?!” You cried. 

“It was just a simple one!” Hongo admitted. 

“And who was the one who said they were doing more than just shopping for food?” Yasopp rhetorically asks. 

“You were also the guy who said they’d return at midnight. You lose half,” Roux retorts as he takes the money in Yasopp’s hand. Shanks huffs as he also gives some money to Roux. 

“So like, did you two confess?” Shanks asks hopefully. 

“For the last time- we’re not dating!” You and Beck shout in unison. 

“Could’ve fooled me. You guys act like you’re married.” 

“You guys are in so much trouble,” Beck sternly tells the men as he steps closer to them. 

Some of the men begin to scream in horror. “Whaaaaa! Mom! Save us!”

[alexa-fika]

hey I love your writing so much I had an idea but I’m not good at making stories so the other day I remember that when I was little I used to run a lot so I fell from a boat and you know I was swimming away while my parents almost got a heart attack how about a child reader with red haired pirates it would be funny , only if you want you don’t need to do it have a nice day or night

Take off (Red haired pirates x m!child!reader)

A/N Here we go, guys can you believe this is the last of the requests from APRIL like that’s so crazy to me, I want to take you for all of the requests and for trusting me to bring them to life

Reader here is replaced by Dokucha which stands for Readerin Japanese

Dividers by @/saradika

The Red forced was the same as always, with lively chatter among the crewmates as they partied over their newest conquests, not taking their eyes off the child running along the Deck

“What has got you this happy, Dokucha?” Lucky piped in, taking a bite from his chicken and laughing merrily at the young boy

“Uncle Shanks found a plane in the loot!” He cheered, waiving around said toy around

“Why did they even have toys? The crew didn’t have any children on them,” Limejuice questioned, downing down a mug of beer

“The crew was big on woodwork; they had a couple of pieces here and there littered on the loot,” Shanks answered, joining the group with his own mug in his hand, his first mate not far behind

Dokucha grinned, ignoring their chatter as they launched the toy, beaming as it glided around and rode on the same wind that pulled the Red Force along

“Dokucha, watch where you are going!” Yassop called as the child ran behind the plane, trying to take hold of it

“Don’t w-

His words die out as the floor disappears behind him, and they quite literally run themselves out of the ship. The last thing he heard was the scream of his name as he made an impact with the water, another splash following after his

He gripped onto Beckman’s similarly soaking clothes as he pulled himself over the side of the deck

“Im sorry, Daddy,” he cried, hugging him tighter and sobbing into Beckman’s already drenched shirt as they both sat on the Deck, Hongo crouching in front of the two, checking over the boy, the rest of the crew crowding around the two much to the displeasure of the first mate, a glance to his captain was all the latter needed to quickly dismiss them, leaving only the officers littering the deck

“Everything seems in order; no water seems to have entered the lungs, and no damage from the impact; next time, make sure you pay attention to where you’re running, okay?” He asked, giving Dokucha a small smile as he ruffled his hair and took his leave

Teary eyes glance up at his father, trying to gauge his emotions

He sighed, turning them around on his lap so that they were facing him, as he wiped the tears from the boy, his own dripping hand not making much difference

“I saw the dive you did before you hit the water,” he comments, giving up in the action as he recalls the safety position he had seen them take before colliding with the water

“You told me to do it if I ever fell in the water.”

“You did well; you had good reflexes as well; now we just need to practice keeping our eyes on the path,” he said softly, rubbing his knuckles against his cheeks

“You’re not mad?”

“We’re pirates; we’re going to have our slops from time to time; everyone here has fallen to the water at least once, though not everyone was as gentle as you, ain’t that right, Punch?”

The latter lets cackles as he happily takes over the small boy as he recalls the less-than-proud moments from the crew

“You know, Monster here once fell overboard; you should have seen the little rascal. It was like watching a b….

Beck watches his son regain his previous demeanor at Punch’a stories go on, and he heads to his quarters to replace the now flimsy box of cigarettes lost to the sea

“Shanks,” he called

“Hm?”

“You are banned from giving any Toys to Dokucha.”

“W-What, come on, Beck! We can talk about it,” the captain whined, following after his vice-captain

Uncle privileges revocked 😂

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

[dykedvonte]

I think it’s so ironic that the Pony Express escapes a lot if not all blame in discussion. I can’t even say I am excused from it but it’s just how hard people circle back to the characters alone without considering the environment they were made to be in.

Why would they design a ship where only two of the rooms lock? Not the bathroom? Not the sleeping quarters? We assume that all the companies in the universe are this shallow and careless to their workers but we explicitly know the Pony Express in extra vile. They are fed processed slop pack they can’t even really cook and the ration of those pack is meager at best. They hired and made people with a plethora of conflicting demeanors and beliefs work together on a mission where cohesion is important if not an outright necessity and punish them for not being happy about it. There’s no social protocols, not chain of command other than Captain’s word/choice and the only way to enforce that is with a literal firearm. They don’t allow them to celebrate freely and even took away leisure activities that would make them less stir crazy. They are only allowed a few hours of sleep despite their being no other real responsibilities or work on the ship, no matter the position or its importance. With any crew, with any level of synergy, this was a powder keg waiting for a spark.

I’m not saying characters that made mistakes didn’t make huge ones, but I think part of the horror is that at least for some (this is targeting Jimathan) those mistakes are partly made by a force of the hand. There’s a running theme of lack of choice and being forced into something and the very nature of how The Pony Express expected them to function plays a big part.

[tapwater118]

i haven’t been drawing as much as i would like to as of recent so take some headcanon stuff

the branches crew feat. quadrant slop

timeline stuff is subject to change at my whimsy

[funnyjokespunperson]

the riptide pirates doing oddly domestic things.

they make breakfast all together. none of them are all that good at it and earl screams at them for burning food but they do it with smiles, grinning and laughing while they make inedible slop.

once chip woke up to the smell of burning and yelling only to find out gillion and jay burnt pancakes meant for him, a little surprise. he ate them anyway (and regretted it immensely) and drey bullied him for weeks.

they do each other's hair.

gillion particularly loves braiding, once jay taught him how to do it and every second he can find, he weaves little braids into chip's hair alongside the beads he has, and braids all of jay's hair into one of two braids, because she'll complain about the how frizzy it gets otherwise. chip's head in gillion's lap while the two talk on and on about whatever they can think of, gillion weaving his hands through his hair with love and care. the occassional butt in from jay as she does gillion's hair, because she's content listening unless her co-captains are being idiots. queen demands chip specifically do her hair, so they can match, something he's happy to do. gryffon never lets them close to his fur, but on one specific night they manage to convince him and give him bows and everything, just because they can.

they sleep together.

literally.

on nights where things are hard for jay, when she wakes in the middle of the night screaming, she'll find gillion and chip are already at her side ready to help her fall back asleep. they make her feel safe, and it goes for the rest of the co-captains.

when ollie was on the ship, he taught them games they've never heard of or games they were all too busy growing up too fast to ever get to play.

they're a family.

a weird, unconventional family, not built by blood but by the bonds and love and trust their crew has gained over time. the riptide pirates are a family. and they love the little moments with one another more than anything.

[the-kr8tor]

Sink or Swim

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Total Word Count: 16k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), Hobie is mentioned taller than R, CW food mentions, CW suggestive, TW blood, CW injury, CW miscarriage mention, TW violence.

A/N: I've divided this chapter into two because of how long it is and tumblr wouldn't let me draft the post without the app crashing. So sorry for the inconvenience. I'll put the link at the end and on top.

Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

Navigation

CHAPTER 13 >>> CHAPTER 13 II

Hobie's throat feels like he swallowed glass. Yet, he screams until his lungs give out, until his body gives out. Fist pounding into steel, skin splitting, blood staining the metal, he continues to call for you. His ears could only hear your frantic yells, his name falling out of your lips, vomited out desperately, asking for him, calling for him to get you out.

He kicks and thrashes at the metal bars, his mind imagines the worst— nails ripped from your fingers, bones breaking, skin scraped and slashed. He doesn't need to imagine how it could feel for he had lived through it all, survived through sheer will alone. But he promised, he promised to you and in that hollow grave that it will never be filled with your body; that your own blood wouldn't spill in between his fingers.

Yet, like the knife that he is, like the one who breaks skin and bleeds everything he touches— he hurt you, shot you where you stood, when he should've protected you, shielded you from the bullet. But how could he do it when the bullet is from him? When he used the same weapon that has ended dozens of lives to protect his crew, to harm you; the only person he deems worthy of telling all his secrets, you, who is worth more than every single treasure in the world.

Maybe he should've listened to you and stayed on the island.

Hobie calls for you once again, in hopes that you hear him too, in hopes that his voice is enough to bring you hope. The lighthouse that guides you home. But he knows, he knows all you could hear are muffled sounds and the creaking from the rocking ship.

Your voice wavers, like you've been forcefully silenced. So he does the screaming for you. It's loud, tone furious, ready to scratch at anyone who gets closer.

“Hobie—” Gwen tries to get his attention as the door opens, revealing the two guards staying in the doorway, keeping their distance.

Guns are strapped to them, knives glinting in the lamp light, armed to the teeth. Hobie knows it's all for him.

“Shut the fuck up.” One frustratingly said, teeth clenched, hands kneading at his temples.

“Keep screaming and you won't get supper.” The bigger one utters, the large scar on his cheek tightens as Hobie taunts them with a grim smile. The smile he reserves to strike fear.

They stiffen in the doorway, shoulders straight, hands reaching for their weapons.

“Do it then.” Hobie says, voice guttural, hands gripping the bars. “End the screaming.” His sheer tone alone sends everyone's hair to stand upright.

No one in the crew dares to stop Hobie. He doesn't know if they're afraid just like the men in front of him or if they're biding their time to scratch and bite too.

“Come closer and end it.” He doesn't yell, and that terrifies the men in the doorway. “And you'll find out exactly what I did to Admiral Kinney all those years ago.” He can still taste the admiral's ichor on his tongue.

The hulking men share a look, sweat dripping off their brows. And with that, they shut the door behind them, returning to their post with their tails tucked between their legs.

“Cowards.”

If it wasn't a grim situation, James would've laughed.

Hobie hears Gwen sigh behind him, the liquid in her hand sloshes as she practically shoves it in his face.

“At least drink some water. For your throat.”

“No, ‘m not drinking that slop.”

Gwen has had enough, she takes him by the collar, eyes bravely glaring at her captain. “If you want to leave this ship and save her, then drink the slop, eat the fucking bread and keep your goddamn energy for when we get the window to escape. Screaming won't help, captain. It's not helping anyone.” Her jaw is set, eyebrows knitted together.

The rest of the crew stand on the side, ready to get between them if it gets physical. He'll never hurt Gwen, never even thought of it. But he can't stand the thought of his family standing against him rather than next to him. So he fixes it, you'd like it that way.

Hobie gingerly takes the cup, chugging it down in one gulp.

“Good, now eat some bread and sit down.”

“Y/N—” he starts.

“She'll be alright, she's a fighter ain't she?” He nods, “you know her better than us, so tell us, cap'n, that she will survive this.”

He roams his red eyes at his sparse crew. For a brief second he sees the ones he lost behind them. For the first time, he's glad he doesn't see you with them.

Returning his attention towards Gwen, he utters the words with the confidence of a captain.

“She'll survive this.”

—

Sitting down in the corner, he rests his poor throat, the dry bread didn't help much. It was shitty to say the least, times like this, he misses Finn. He'd beat him if he ever knew that he let the famous bloodsail pirates into the hands of a former admiral and you into the hands of someone you fear the most.

Hobie shuts his eyes for a second, he swears it's only for a second but when he wakes up with a start and the door opening with a creak, the moon is already shining outside the large boat.

When he sees you appear by the doorway, he thinks he's still dreaming.

“Ten,” He hears you say between gritted teeth. All he could focus on is you, checking for signs of an injury, he starts from your head—nothing, arms, also nothing, save for a few scratches. Then he settles on your bandaged leg, and he remembers what he did, what he did to you. Guilt and grief overtakes his body, he tries his best to hide into the background, into the wooden walls, to become part of the ship, to hide his shame. Because he hurt you, and he'll never forgive himself for what he did.

Hobie watches from his corner, defeated when you tell him subtly that you're alright. And when you called for him, called his name softly like summer wind breezing by, warm and reminding him of home— he couldn't help but oblige.

Who is he to deny the sky?

When you held him in your hands, he felt anew. Apologies spill from his mouth, eyes forlorn at the red spot on your bandages.

What is the tides without his moon?

He feels lighter when you forgive him. But his past action still haunts him, he knows it'll join the long line of nightmares that plague him at night.

“That's my girl.” He says truthfully and proudly, he feels your heartbeat hasten through your pulse.

You tell him your choice, your decision to give up your freedom for him and the crew. He feels like he was back on the revenge, facing Mathias, refusing to let you go as you offer yourself for their freedom.

His heart beats harder as you ask him to read your mother's letter. He's unsure why you would let someone like him read something as heavy as the letter. It's reserved for someone whose hands wouldn't stain the paper with crimson.

“Because I trust you.” You say, and everything aligns in his mind. Like Poseidon shaking him inside out, like the tides itself is splitting him open.

Hobie reads it with trembling hands and broken skin. Like he thought, it turns the paper pink like ink blots dirtying the pristine paper.

He dictates it, heart shattering at every tear you let out. Wiping your cheeks dry, he's careful not to let his split skin touch your softer ones.

“It's real, innit?” He asks like the earth isn't eating him whole.

“It's real.” You answer and the world caves in around him.

Hobie teases to feel the resemblance of normalcy, “little tomato?” He asks.

And you answer with a “I don't want them, just you.” Like you didn't just mend his shattering heart with one sentence. And you break it right after with a “We'll meet again, in this life or the next.”

He's terrified once again. He shakes his head as the door creaks open. “No, Y/N—”

As you kiss his wounded knuckles gently, you ask him something he can't possibly do.

“Don't follow me, please.”

Reaching for you, he should've read the last line in the letter to you. ‘Don't trust anyone’ it said, whatever it was, it's not your burden to carry, so he'll do it for you.

Hobie apologizes in his head for keeping it away from you and for what he's about to do.

—

With the dinner bell ringing, and heavy footsteps retreating, the crew takes their chance. The key opens the door smoothly. They sneak around the ship, only leaving shadows and footfalls that's barely audible.

Climbing up the steps towards freedom, Hobie spots a door at the end of a hallway. Like two hearts beating as one, he knows it's you behind it.

Miles takes his arm before he could come to you. “Don't.” He whispers to his captain. “Don't waste her sacrifice.”

“She didn't sacrifice herself.” Hobie shakes his head, scoffing quietly. “I can't leave her behind, Miles. I can't.”

“I know,” he pulls him away from the hallway. “she asked you to not follow, so don't follow.”

“If this was Gwen—”

“If this was Gwen we'd be doing the exact same thing. She wouldn't ask us to follow and we'll leave because she asked us to.” Miles spares a heavy glance towards your locked door. “I know it hurts, but we'd be in the gallows by morning if we don't leave now. We'll have another chance at saving her.”

“You don't know that.”

“I don't, but it's better to not know instead of being dead. At least we'd have a chance.” Miles tugs him further away. “Do you think it's better for her to think that she caused our deaths just because you took the chance?” His voice is determined.

“Don't hurt her like that, Hobie. It'll ruin her.”

With one last look towards your door, Hobie nods, following the others to the deck then to safety. As the dinghy drops down into the sea, and into the dark night, he hears Miguel curse his name.

He asks for your forgiveness silently.

—

Hobie and the crew finally make it to the docks without being seen by anyone. It was pure luck that no one saw or even heard them, he thanked the early morning and the still dark sky for lending them a hand.

“We need to wait for her.” He says, stretching his stiff hands from rowing the boat.

The sparse pirate crew hides in the shadows, hidden behind the dark alleyway. They lean on the grimy walls, hands cradling their fatigued heads, huffing and groaning at the aches and pains they had from their daring escape. They can still hear Miguel cursing Hobie's name, his voice ringing in their ears.

“Hobie,” Gwen calls for him. “Leave her be.”

“What the fuck?” Hobie turns sharply. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means we leave her alone.” Pavitr says forlornly, eyes downcast at the dirty pavement.

“We promised her—”

“That was when we didn't know it was her actual family. Back when we all thought Miguel was a threat to her.” Yuri pipes up, hands braced on her knees. Fatigued and clearly needing rest. “I love her, Hobie, I really do. We all love her, but she's with family now. Let her be.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Miles scoffs, “We're talking about the same person right?” He stands next to Hobie, arms crossed on his chest.

“C’mon, Miles,” Gwen says tiredly. “We all heard their conversation, it's real, she's noble—”

“And what of it?” Hobie snaps back. “You were too.”

“I was.” She scowls. “But she has a home to go to, a family that's waiting for her. We need to let her be until for whatever reason she decides to stay or leave with us.” Inhaling sharply, she rubs harshly at her eyes. “Let's make a compromise then. We're all clearly feeling conflicted. I don't want to fully let her go, we all agree right?”

Everyone nods, tension running high, glares thrown about the small group. Gwen continues, “Then we stay close to her, we watch her like when we used to observe potential crew members. But this time we make sure she is actually safe and not thrown to the wolves.” Her idea reminds Hobie why he chose her as his first mate.

“I'll keep first watch,” Hobie quickly says, "we switch after I say so.”

“And when will that be, Hobie?” Yuri clasps her hand on Hobie's shoulder, comforting the man. “You haven't slept a wink, add the fact that you were stranded on a bloody island for a month, you're not in the right state for this.”

“I'll be once I see that she's safe.” His voice cracks, “I didn't keep an eye on MJ and look what happened. I-I don't want that to happen again. Please let me do it. You can follow me all you want just let me keep watch—”

“It's Y/N,” James whisper yells, he peeks around the alley, watching you slowly walk down the ship.

They all clammer to see you ignore Miguel's helping hand. Pride swells in their chest, they remember now why they can't exactly leave you behind— you're family.

As if fate is pulling the strings, you crane your neck to look in their direction. The crew ducks away, but Hobie stays, staring at you, waiting for your signal, anything to indicate that you want to run away with them.

He sees your subtle shake of your head, and with that, he hides with his crew.

“Did she say something?” Pav asks, concerned for you.

“No, nothin’” He holds his heart in his hand. “She said nothin'”

—

Hobie follows you quietly throughout the day. Hiding from Miguel's watchful eyes and your sad eyes. The crew left to rest in an inn, Miles offered to come with him, Hobie's glad he did for he found an unhitched horse in a street corner. But it could only seat one so Miles, the angel that he is, let Hobie go on without him.

“I'll take care of them.” He promises before he lets his captain go.

They all know your house, they've raided their ships before. Crates upon crates full of luxury, with the same design on your necklace stamped on the wooden sides. Hobie knows them quite well, the favourite of the king, always giving them special treatment. Yet the queen holds them at an arm's length away, but she never left her eyes away from their business. He guessed sacking random ships has its perks, gossip is one of them.

Hobie silently trots his horse, eyes never leaving the carriage you just left. The cemetery sends his nerves alight, with the crows cawing in the background, he strains his ear to listen in. He's hiding behind the chapel, the irony doesn't escape him.

The truth is revealed to you, and unbeknownst to you, he has learned about it too. His head is in his hands as he listens to how broken your voice is, tone splitting at the seams. Then his heart stops when you tell your mother that you want to stay, that you want to find the person responsible for their deaths, that the same flames burning inside him now have spread to you.

Hobie doesn't want you to go down the same path he walked on, to let the embers singe your skin, to let the fire burn you from the inside out like it had with him. You helped him through his, helped him control it. Now it's his turn to do so for you.

He cares for you, loves you for all your soft touches and gentle tone. But he's prepared to love you through your jagged edges, through all the anger that's inside you. He'd love both sides of you, because it's you, and no one else.

His foot accidentally steps on a twig as he sees you leave. Hobie almost ran towards you when you looked at the source of the sound. This time he ducks away, knowing that there's eyes on you, eyes that are prepared to take you away the moment they see him. So he waits, until there's no more eyes on you.

The next time he saw you again was when you stepped out of the carriage and into the golden doors of the palace. He's terrified for what's to come, whether or not Miguel has brought you on a silver platter for the wolves to devour.

With his guns accompanying him, he readies outside the walls of the palace until you leave, until he sees you again climbing inside the carriage.

He can finally breathe again, he doesn't have to kill this time. Not yet anyway.

Hobie tries his best to stay hidden, he bribes and lies to get inside Hazelside. Then he waits, and bides his time just to talk to you.

—

“Hazelside estate,” Miguel says when the large manor looms over the horizon. “Your family has owned it for two hundred years. Passed down to every first born child of the family.”

Acres and acres of land stretch across the vast space. Primed apple trees and oaks line the road, men and women in work clothes walk near the carriage, not even craning their necks to take a peek inside. It seems this was a daily occurrence for them.

“Two hundred years.” You repeat, contemplating how many generations owned it. “So it's mine once the papers are signed? Where would my…uncle and aunt go then?” Your mind goes through a hundred scenarios where you stay and where you decide to leave it all again.

“They have their own house. Granted it's not as big as Hazelside but it's enough for them. Knowing his majesty, he'd take his sweet time from releasing the papers.”

“How well do you know the king and queen?” You ask, eyes scanning your family's land.

Stone houses are standing miles away from the main estate, employees of the house you think. Chimneys billow out smoke whilst the sun is just about to rise. You imagine them having breakfast with their families, sleep still clinging in their lashes, hot tea wrapped in their cool hands. Opening the window, the smell of fresh apples wafts over you. Home, you think. It smells like home. Or it just reminds you of the apple tarts Jessica made for you when you were younger.

“You alright?” Miguel asks, watching you frown.

“I'm fine, just tired.” You lied, in truth, you miss them all.

“You had a hectic day, I don't blame you. You'll get to rest soon, I promise.”

How could you even think of sleeping alone? After being near him? After saying goodbye?

“You didn't answer my question.” You shift your attention from the trees to the man before you. “How well do you know them?”

“I barely know the queen, but the king? Yes, short answer? He's a moron, a buffoon wearing a crown.”

Lyla snickers next to you, head plopped on the carriage wall, seemingly asleep.

You smile, “You have a monkey for a king.”

“Once you're the Hazelside duchess, he'll be your king too.”

“Christ.” You chuckle nervously.

“Don't worry, I'll help you get accustomed to polite society.” Miguel reassures you and you still have no idea if you'll stay long enough to bear the title.

“Polite society.” You say with a scoff, “What I just saw wasn't very polite.”

“Just remember, everything here is political. Everyone here is climbing the ladder, kissing the royal asses. Some are doing it for their families, some are doing it for their personal gain.”

“Which one do you think I am?”

“Neither.” The carriage stops, horses neighing, hooves stomping on the gravel. “You're not like them, Y/N, that's why you'll end up walking all over them.”

The footman opens the door, Miguel gives you a look before coming down the small steps. He reaches towards you, helping you down. You hesitate. You still don't take his hand even with your bad leg.

The wind blows cold, goosebumps appearing on your skin, face worried at the sheer size of the manor. The glinting silvered birds catch the early morning's sun's rays. Beady eyes seemingly blinking when a cloud passes by.

Vines cling to the ancient walls, small purple flowers run along the plant and along the large windows. Strong columns line the façade, laurels carved on the marble, oak doors displaying the house sigil— your necklace bearing a similarity to it. Flower beds cradling violets lay by the foot of the building, blooming and fragrant. The smell hiding your trepidation from the dozen or so people watching you with unreadable eyes.

The staff greets you with a stiff nod, they stand on the stairs leading towards the manor. Their uniforms are perfect, perfectly ironed and clean; perfect white gloves on their hands.

A couple of them help your drunk uncle off their own carriage. He groans, head swirling, eyes rolling to the back of his head. Fancy clothes sweaty and moist, neckerchief lopsided and dirtied by ale. In contrast to his wife, who looks tired with the heavy eye bags under her eyes, she still looks like a proper noble compared to Frederick.

“Freddy—” She groans, kicking her husband's leg, “get up!”

“Darling…” he slurs, “there's two of you—oh wait…now there's three!” His guffaw fills the quiet morning.

Victoria gives up, leaving the man to the care of her staff. She walks off, huffing and puffing. She gives you a glance, “what are you waiting for? Get inside.”

Her eyes flick to Miguel who stands behind you, she immediately clamps down her bitterness. “Welcome to Hazelside, niece.” With a stomp of her heeled foot, she heads inside, no doubt seething.

“Catty.” Lyla says next to you, elbowing your side. “C’mon, your grace, before the sun gets in their eyes and sends them into a murderous frenzy.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. Something flickers in your peripheral vision, when you move your head to look, whatever it was, it's already gone behind the thick bushes.

“Y/N?” Miguel beckons you over. “It's cold out, come inside before you get sick.”

“Coming,” you call back, eyes darting around the thicket.

—

Miguel shows you around to your room in the west wing. Various historical paintings decorate the walls, wooden simple frames around them, showing the true beauty of the art without all the extravagant gold laurels around it.

Sculpted busts of your ancestors wait at every corner, marble eyes staring blankly at what's in front of them. Large windows line the walls, just outside the glass lies an expansive field of apple trees, bulbs of reds and greens adorning the branches of the mighty orchard. You stand in awe at the sight, workers start flocking the trees, picking and plucking at the ripest of fruits. The sun shines directly at the field, apples aglow with its light like red and green stars.

You lag behind Miguel as you gawp at the scenery, hand tucked inside the pocket of your gown, mindlessly rolling the pearl. Wishing the crew could see it too, wishing that he could see it and harvest the fruits with you.

Miguel calls for you, hand reaching but he retracts it back to his side. “Apples are new around here.” You genuinely smile at him, so he continues. “It used to just be hazelnuts, which still grow plenty in the estate.”

“Why the change then?”

“They didn't change, your family merely adapted. Your grandmother was the one who started planting the apple trees. Whenever she had a—” Miguel falters, you can practically see his brain turning.

“Had a what? I'm a big girl, Miguel, I can handle whatever it is.” You encourage him with a nod.

“A miscarriage,” he says lowly, “At the end of her life she planted seven trees. There was only one seed she didn't plant and that was when your mother was born.”

Your heart aches at the story even though the people in it are practically strangers to you. “Apple of her eye.” You murmur.

Miguel chuckles, turning to watch the vast orchard that spans acres upon acres of land. “It’s an understatement. She was spoiled, your mother. But she had a heart, most of her gifts almost always ‘gets lost’ somewhere.” He smiles fondly. “Strangely enough, it always ends up with someone who would benefit from it more.”

“Which one ended up getting lost in your backyard?” You smile at his rare grin.

“A lot, pocket watches, jeweled eggs, there was a kitten once. Only because her mother didn't like it.” He sighs, hazel eyes shining under the sunlight.

“You loved her.”

“I did,” he stares at you with kinder eyes. “She was my best friend, and so was your father. They both were.”

“What did you mean back at the carriage when you told me that they did the same to you?”

He swallows thickly, staring back at the outside of the opulent manor. “My daughter, Gabriella.” he says after a moment, “She was only a few years older than you. Your parents were her godparents, this was before they eloped and had you.” You can feel the strain in his voice. “She got sick…they poured everything into giving her the best doctors the country has to offer. They were at her side while I was drowning my sorrows in the navy. When they weren't by her side, they were with me. But in the end everything was all in vain.”

“I'm sorry,” you say genuinely, “I'm sorry, Miguel.”

He gives you a tight smile and a pat on your shoulder. “Even after all that they were still by my side, even when I pushed them away.” Sniffing, he subtly wipes his eye. “I didn't cross the sea and traveled thousands of miles to find you because I want us to be even. Or to pay the debt, I just wanted to find the last thing they left in hopes that I also find them in you.” His chest heaves. “I couldn't even say goodbye to them.”

There's tears in your eyes as he chokes on his own words. “I lost my friends but you lost your family before you could even meet them. And for that, I'm sorry, Y/N.” His hand shakes. “They didn't deserve what happened to them.”

“Tell me what happened to them.” You stand toe to toe with him, determined to get answers.

“Pirates, I told you they were pirates.”

You shake your head. “Do you really believe that, O’Hara? Or are you still trying to convince yourself otherwise?”

His jaw clenches, “It was pirates, Y/N.”

“Tell that to the former navy medic I call mother.”

He whispers, “the last time I looked further into their deaths I lost my Job, stripped of all my titles. I almost lost my house because of it.”

“Then tell me what you found.” You challenge him back. “Tell me who ordered it so I can live in this house in peace.”

“I don't have definitive proof—”

“Who?”

“Edward.” He says through gritted teeth. “He wanted to marry your mother, even going as far to ask for her hand. But when she refused him for your father—” he heaves. “I think he has probable cause to order the attack.”

“You were answering the man who might've killed my parents and wanted me dead?”

“How do you think that makes me feel, hm? I had my full trust in the navy, trusting the report they gave, trusted them with my whole life, even dedicating my life to them. And the moment I get a whiff of a planned murder on the only family I've ever had they bar me from the only life I've ever known. How do you think that made me feel?”

“I'm sorry you went through that but you could've done something.”

“He is king!” Miguel's voice booms around the hallway. He shifts his voice, pinching his knitted brows. “His word is law, I couldn't have done anything, even if I had proof.”

“You should've started with that instead of telling me lies, then I would've come to you without a fight.”

“There would've still been a fight.” He states matter of factly. “Hobie was ready to fight the moment I stepped below deck.”

“Could you blame him though? We both know not every single pirate crew is as nice as them, he didn't attack because you claimed it was pirates. Or that he was offended, he knows that he has done unsavoury things too. So what did you say that made him lunge at you?”

Miguel shakes his head, refusing to say anything. “It's best that you don't remember it.”

“Fine, be like that, just know that there will always be a wall between us.” Your heels clack loudly against the oak floors as you leave him behind.

—

The room they gave you was surprisingly comfortable, unlike the apartments in the palace that you explored. It's ten times bigger than the inn you were in, complete with your own bathroom and sitting room. It's all wooden walls covered in beautiful tapestries of various scenes from history— the thick cloth helps keep the heat inside. All the windows are wide open to let the cool air in and the moonlight. So you could hear the rustling of the trees outside, so you could smell the crisp apples. It helps, you think as you sit in front of the large stone fireplace with birds engraved in every corner of the stone.

You're already sick of the bloody birds.

You wrap the fur blanket closer to your body, still in your gown, refusing to wear anything else they've provided for you. You've heard of poisoned dresses before, it's far-fetched but you can't risk it now that you're in a more unfamiliar territory where your own family holds a grudge against you just for existing.

Especially now that you're alone in a large room filled with strange things. And with only his dagger to keep you safe.

Anyone would kill to be in your shoes right now, to be pampered and placed in a household that can provide for all your needs. If it weren't for the hunger in you, you would've left all of the gold in this house just to get back to them. Instead, the fire has you in its hold too.

Miguel's information only fueled the glowing embers in you, you're determined to find who killed them. But you're still restrained in this large manor, and until you can get your answers, you say their names to satiate the hunger.

“Edward and Mathias.” You say through shuddered breath, feeling if you could just say it louder, the sky would strike them down where they stood.

The pearl in your hands is warm, the shiny surface reflecting your scowl.

The flames mesmerize you as it dances in the kindling. Orange and reds illuminate your face, it's the only light in the whole room. You exhale and a puff of clouds escape your cool lips.

It's getting colder, and you're missing him.

Just when you're about to stand up to close the windows, a pebble lands near you. It thuds on the wooden floors, the sound gets your attention.

“What the hell?” You say confused. Standing back up, another flies through the open windows and into your room. “Who the fuck?” Speed walking towards the window, you almost get hit by a pebble if you didn't dodge it in time. “Hey!”

Fifteen feet below your window, you see two people dressed in their night clothes, bundled up in fur coats. They look up at you with wide eyes, like they got caught with their hands inside the cookie jar.

“Cousin!” One exclaims, a wide apologetic smile on his lips, showing you his perfect teeth. “Sorry about that! Can you come down?”

“Who in the world are you?” You ask, confused, you lean down to take a better look, hands gripping the sill for support.

“We're your cousins! I guess?” The girl next to him says, eyes shining in the moonlight, hand holding another pebble. “We waited to see you during supper and around the house but you were apparently hiding!”

“Alright, why do I need to come down then?”

“Because we want to properly introduce ourselves! Without screaming at you from below that is.” The girl shrugs, smiling prettily at you. “Please, cousin?”

“...fine.” you grumble, the dagger is still hidden underneath your skirt in case they're planning something nefarious.

They beam up at you, the girl daintily claps her hands. “Brilliant! We'll be waiting at the entrance.”

As you trudge down the unfamiliar sprawling halls, trying your hardest to not get lost in the maze-like structure. You accidentally encounter another painting of your mother.

Her name is etched on a golden plaque just below the portrait. This one was different from the one in the palace, she was stiff there, lips tightly closed into a line, eyes cold and empty. The one in front of you is warm, a soft smile on her lips, eyes shining and alive. Her dress is in lilac, golden stars adorning the bodice. She still wore the same necklace you're currently wearing, it rests perfectly on her neck. In her hand is a closed locket, you wonder whose portrait lies inside.

“Hi, mum.” You whisper into the cold hallway. “Where's dad's portrait?” You ask like she would open her mouth and answer back. With a sigh, you head downstairs.

Walking the ancient floors, the moon shines down at you, the light peeking in from the gaps of the heavy curtains. Silently, you meet with your cousins in the foyer. Carefully coming down the curved staircase, hand gripping the bannister, the boy who is about the same age as Miles meets you halfway. He reaches towards you, giving you a hand.

“I heard about your leg, I thought you'd appreciate some help.”

“You're Frederick's children?” You say, questioning whether or not you should take his hand.

“We are,” he says with a sigh. “Come on, cousin, or you might miss it.”

“Miss what?”

“The birds.” The girl waiting in the foyer excitedly says. “They're migrating.”

“Oh, I don't see why that would be so interesting.” You say as the boy flexes his fingers, beckoning you down.

“You’ll see why. Take my hand please, you look like our grandmother going down the steps.”

“Fine,” with an exhale, you take his hand. You hold his hand, a feather light touch that he barely feels, giving yourself enough time to react if he decides to do something.

“I'm Jonathan, or just John.” He says as he gently leads you down the steps. His stride is slow, waiting for your own feet to keep up. “And this is my sister—”

“Collette!” She suddenly clasps your hands when you reach the last step. “Sorry–” her tone is sweet and genuine, quickly removing her hands from yours. “I got too excited! I'm Collette, my brother and I are twins.”

“Unfortunately…” John says under his breath.

Collette jabs her elbow by his side, earning a groan from him. You see the similarities on their faces now that you're closer to them. From the slope of their noses to the curls of their hair, they look very much alike. Except for their eyes, Collette has emerald eyes that shimmer from the oil lamp she carries. While her brother has brilliant blue eyes that remind you of the sea when the sun shines above it.

You get reminded of him again.

“Who's older?” You ask teasingly, pushing the previous thought away.

“I am!” They both speak at the same time. John looks at her sister with disappointment, while Collette scrunches her nose.

“I'm five minutes older than you, Jojo.” She says with a tone you could only describe as annoyed.

“Father told me I'm the one who's five minutes older. Not you!”

“Sure,” she nods sarcastically, the lamp in her hand sways. “Because father was in the room when we were born.” Her head swivels to look at you, and you almost jump at how fast she moved. “He wasn't in the room.”

“Ah, I think I got it—”

“Like you could bloody remember.” John says with a scoff.

Before the argument could go on, you stop them with your hands on each of their shoulders.

“I need to sleep, so whatever you want to show me, just fucking show me.”

Collette stares at you with a gasp, eyes wide like you just said the darndest thing. Meanwhile, John has the biggest grin you've ever seen.

“Wow, cousin.” He says, amused. “I heard you used to run with pirates but I didn't know you got their vocabulary too. Hazelside would be more interesting now that you're here.”

“Gosh,” Collette exhales, clutching her pearls (literally) “I didn't know that word could be uttered by a woman.”

“You should try it sometimes. It's very freeing.” You chuckle at their reaction whilst you make your way outside. “Before we freeze to death, cousins?”

“The oldest should lead the way.” John takes the opportunity to rag on his still bewildered sister.

She groans audibly. “You're not the one with the lamp.”

You smile, there's a warm familiar feeling in your chest.

—

Leaves crunch under your bare foot, you've got blisters from the uncomfortable heels Miguel gave you. You'd take walking on bare feet rather than wear that torture device ever again. The only plus side of the fancy shoe is that it makes you feel powerful with every click of the heels. Walking along a path, tall apple trees carve a way for you and the twins.

“I like your dress.” Collette says right next to you, you sense her wariness by how she keeps her distance. “The color is beautiful, it's our house color.”

“Thank you, but I've been told that red suits me better.”

“Oh, I think they're right actually.” She smiles, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Yeah, I'm slowly getting used to this one though.” You lift up your skirt a bit for emphasis.

“Is it true that you were shot?” John asks in front of you, looking over his shoulder. “We heard from the footmen that you were shot by a pirate when O’Hara rescued you.”

“I was, but that's not the whole story. Miguel didn't rescue me.”

“Really?” Collette's brows are raised in question and surprise. You nod at her question. “Huh, I told you we shouldn't listen to gossip.” She slaps her brother on his bicep, he winces, glaring at her. “It's bad to begin with.”

“That's the thing about gossip, Co, it's not always the truth.” He spits out.

“I knew that, pssh.” She crosses her arms on her chest, annoyed and embarrassed.

“Why are we out here again? If you're planning to ambush me—” Colette gasps loudly, like you've shot her.

“Ambush you? Do we look like we know how to fight?” She stops you from going further down the path just as you see a dark river at the end of it.

John knits his brows with a pout. “We're here to give you a warm welcome, cousin. We heard mother and father didn't even give you a tour, so I guess it falls on us to show you around.”

“At night though?” You gesture around the silence of the grounds, save for a few crickets chirping and the flowing of the lake, you're practically alone in the dark.

“Guess we're just living to our house motto, ‘carpe noctem—’”

“‘Seize the night’” Collette finishes her brother's sentence. “The ancestor who established our house was a gambler.” She shrugs.

“That's our house motto?”

“Nope!” Collette answers you. “It was our house motto.” She gestures to herself and her brother. “Before the crown granted us Hazelside, after—” John elbows her. “I'm sorry.”

“It's alright, what's the actual motto?”

“‘alis volat propriis—’”

“‘She flies with her own wings.’” You translate, the siblings look at you with awe. “There's latin in medicine.”

“You know medicine?!” Collette shrieks, the sound echoing through the dark.

“Brilliant.” John murmurs.

“Oh you must tell us more!” Collette loops her arm around yours, walking side by side. “How and where did you learn it?”

“I—”

“Don't pester her, Co.” John clicks his tongue, “have you cut anyone's arm off?”

“How grim!” She exclaims.

As they lead you towards the sparkling lake, you three chat through the night by the banks of the hazelside lake. They ask about the world outside the capital, they ask about the sea and the pirates you were with. You don't tell them about all the blood and violence, deciding that you shouldn't mar their innocent hearts with stories of death. It's not yours to tell, and you don't want to traumatize the only people who don't look at you with contempt.

“So you're not mad at me or even at least a bit annoyed for showing up and taking the estate from your parents?” You ask whilst the sun slowly rises, bathing the lake in bright blue. The hazelnuts in your mouth is a welcome one since you haven't eaten a single bite since you got to the capital.

“Not really.” John munches on his own pile of hazelnuts. He lounges near the water, hand cradling his head, chewing quietly. “We were surprised at first because there have been a handful of girls who claimed to be you. Who were obviously not you.” You raise an eyebrow at his statement. “But when they told us it was Miguel who found you, we were sure it was really you.”

“Wait— there were people who claimed to be me?”

“Mm-hmm.” Collette hums, sitting close to you, hanging on to every word you utter. “They weren't very convincing.”

“The story of Miguel trying to find you was pretty famous around here. I mean, the guy abandoned his post to find a missing duchess who may or may not be alive. That was a big story back then, so a lot of women threw their daughters and young relatives at the manor's gates to get a chance.” John informs you.

“We were quite young back then, but the fakes dwindled away through the years.” Collette finishes his statement.

“‘Quite young’ she says,” he scoffs, “we were barely out of the womb, Collette.” His sister sticks out her tongue at John.

“Huh, that's probably why I haven't heard of it either, I was still young.” You wonder.

“The sun's almost out!” Collette points at the clear sky. “Get ready, cousin, because you're about to see the most gorgeous thing.”

“The birds here migrate at this time of year,” John helps you both up to your feet. You surprisingly take his hand. “like clockwork. Collette and I used to watch it with our parents before they got all…well, too much. Now it's some sort of tradition for us.”

“Look look! The trees are rustling!” She points, jumping up and down.

“Any minute now.” John smiles at his sister as she half hugs him.

The three of you wait for a sign of the birds, a minute passes, then two, then five. Yet, not even a feather flies overhead. The early morning sun shines brighter with every minute that passes. And with every minute, the twins grew agitated.

“Why aren't they coming out?” Collette asks sadly.

“I'm sure they're just getting ready for the journey.” John reassures his sister with a pat on her shoulder. “My calculations are correct, why aren't they here yet?” He questions no one.

Their slumped shoulders and frowns get to you. An idea pops in your head, and you think it's all Hobie's fault.

“Maybe they're still sleeping.” They look at you simultaneously, “I mean it's really cold out, they probably wanted to stay in bed— or nest to sleep more. I know I would want to.”

“Oh,” Collette gives you a small smile at your attempt to make them feel better. “That's probably it. Thank you, cousin.”

You grin mischievously at them, “what if we wake them all up?”

John makes a face. “How?”

You inhale, putting your hands around your mouth, you scream, “wake the fuck up!” The sound echoed throughout the field and across the lake.

Your cousins let out a loud guffaw, you giggle at their reaction. John joins in, copying your actions.

“Wake up you wankers!” He yells, exhilaration filling his chest. “I've always wanted to say that.” Chuckling, he laughs louder at the face his sister is making.

“Johnathan!” His sister gasps next to him.

“What? Try it out! Come on then! No one's out here to tell us off.” John shakes her shoulder, giving you a wide grin.

“Join us in the dark side, Collette.” You sing song, “the birds need a wake up call.”

“You won't tell mother and father?” She asks the both of you. Wiggling, she’s excited.

Crossing your heart, you promise. “I won't, I'm not a tattletale.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die, Co.”

“Alright.” She exhales deeply before letting loud the loudest scream you've ever heard. “Wake up, cocksuckers!” It's so loud that you swear your eardrums are blown out. Smiling, she turns towards your surprised forms.

Now it's you and John's turn to gasp.

“Cocksucker?!” You exclaim, bewildered.

“Where'd you learn that, Co?!” John pokes his sister.

“I heard it when Mrs. Williams stubbed her toe during lessons.” She said shyly.

“Good on you, sis.” He pats her back. “Good on you.”

Collette looks at you expectantly. “Good show, Co.” You wink at her and she giggles happily.

Facing towards the thick trees across the lake, the birds still don't fly overhead. There's nothing but the wind rustling the branches.

“They didn't wake up though.” She says forlornly.

“What if we do it at the same time?” Your words have them smiling again.

“Yes!” They say simultaneously.

“Ready?” They both nod, taking in air before screaming their hearts out.

“Cocksuckers!” The three of you let out simultaneously. The canopy rustles and out comes a hundred or so birds from the thicket.

You all jump up and down, arms up in greeting the birds. Their feathers shine in the sun, light filtering through their wings. Iridescent blues and whites glowing, reflecting in your eyes. Wings flapping loudly, beaks held up high as they greet the sky with open wings.

Amidst the beauty of it all, you wish that he was there to witness it.

A tear slides down your cheek. You wipe it quickly before the twins notice. Head staring up at the sky, amidst all the beauty and light, there's a darkness swirling inside you. Amidst all the life around you, you feel the opposite. And you miss him. The worst part is, you see this place becoming your home.

>>> CHAPTER 13 II

[what-is-love-babey-dont-hurt-me]

I’m the #1 “Meta Knight can cook” truther btw. Before I even knew that the English dub of the anime changed the scene completely from a serious moment about war making Sword and Blade envious of domestic lives to a scene making fun of Meta Knight’s cooking, I still denied the idea that he is helpless with food.

I like to think that Meta Knight is a alien and (because of implications in the anime) he has visited many, many planets in the past. He has learned the cooking methods and techniques and recipes of ten different alien civilizations. Possibly even more.

When traveling in deep space on the Halberd for months, he does not always got to choose the food he resupplies with. They do not have the luxury of going “oh I want a apple” when visiting a market ten galaxies away from the Gamble Galaxy. ESPECIALLY since many fruit and veg from the Gamble Galaxy is prohibited from trade in fear that blights like Dark Matter will spread through trade. It is VITAL to the survival of himself and his crew to have a expansive knowledge about alien foods.

He is a renowned culinary genius on Bleepy Star because he figured out how to make the Blorpy Blink Fruit edible and it solved world hunger on that planet. This guy has eaten many alien meats and fruits and slimes and he has also figured out how to make the best desserts from those ingredients too.

However. Meta Knight’s VERY alien taste in food and his very, very out of this world method of cooking makes Popstar residents who have never had off-planet food question what Meta Knight is doing. They genuinely think he can not cook. Everyone on Popstar is genuinely convinced he is a shit cook. When they learned that Meta Knight has never seen a humble wooden spoon (wood is a commodity rarer than diamonds in the universe) but he still insists he can cook, they just think it is denial born out of pride.

Dedede genuinely thought Meta Knight had the worst taste in food until he had dinner with an alien monarch who made the king consider that food outside of Popstar exists.

Meta Knight honestly thinks that Popstar residents have a just okay taste in food, and he often misses the taste of food from beyond this star. However, he will admit that the fruit and dessert on Popstar might be the finest he has tried yet.

This isn’t to say that you can’t have hcs about MK being a complete cooking failure, those are great!! I just love to think beyond “haha funny” sometimes, and think about it in relation to my personal world building! Also it’s funny to imagine that Meta takes everyone on a off-planet trip and they are shocked when his signature inedible slop turns out to be a famous dish across several galaxies.

[freakyfected]

I love p.Aai.ter and it was nice surprise to see him in crossover like that. I don't want to be repetitive but what if instead of p.AI.nter you are different AI. Like HAL 9000, you help operate the ship and realise that Jimmy is threat to the crew and do something about it. Even if it means going rogue.

idk if i understood ur request right but there u go i think

AI slop reader trying to sabotage Jimmy

• As soon as you realise how dangerous Jimmy is, you REALLY try to warn at least anyone. Daisuke and Anya are the only one who fully believe you. Since Anya was a victim of his actions, she truly knows how much of a threat Jimmy is.

• And daisuke... he's just excited to work with a real AI like in those sci-fi movies and he believes in, like, everything you say.

• Swansea just laughs your warnings off with something like "Heh, even our machine doesnt like him. Must be a sign!" and never comes back to this thought again.

• Curly WOULD be concerned, but Jimmy will probably gaslight him into thinking you're just broken. "This thing is probably going crazy. I'll tell Swansea or Daisuke to fix it". And once he'll find a moment to have a one-on-one talk with you he'll just tell you to shut the fuck up or he'll turn you off.

• Nobody from the crew can help you. You're supposed to deal with that on your own. You try to kill Jimmy with everything you can. Jimmy, of course, is not stupid, he understands what you're trying to do. He tries to make you malfunction, so Curly will see how useless you are for the ship. But Daisuke somehow always manages to fix you.

• Jimmy begins to avoid you. He doesn't want for his plans to be ruined. Curly gets concerned about it, but Jimmy just laughs it off with "I'm an old-schooled man, do we really need a machine to help us?"

• 0 days before the crash. The day you died. Jimmy knows how much of a threat you are for his plans. He doesn't simply turn you off. He breaks you. Completely. You aren't functional anymore. No matter how hard you tried, he still won. In some way.

[grandlinedreams]

[heads up!: mentions of alcohol/being drunk, suggestive at the end]

The bar is too noisy. Around you there are voices overlapping one another, bursts of raucous laughter and overinflated retelling of tales made of varying levels of truth.

You nurse your own drink, keeping an eye on the tablefull of your own crew and rolling your eyes as you spot a head of dark hair bobbing in the mess of it, the burst of familiar laughter that accompanies it. Of course he'd be in that maelstrom of activity, feeding off of it and stoking the inebriated fire with rounds of drinks you know they won't remember in the morning.

This is his kind of scene ㅡ he always looks prettiest when he's glowing like a supernova, cheeks flush with the praise that tumbles from crewmates' lips.

Somewhere in your reverie, you've lost track of him ㅡ and then there's an arm being slung over your shoulder, pulling you to someone who smells of woodsmoke and ocean. "Having fun?"

"Oh yes," you say, "watching our beloved crewmates get absolutely trashed is the highlight of this evening."

Ace laughs outright at that, and you're certain you're never going to get sick of that sound or the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles. "And here I thought I was the highlight of your day."

"You always are," you answer, catching the answering flush of his cheeks, though it may be the alcohol he's also drank tonight.

"Let's get out of here," Ace says, halfway to pulling you out of your chair before you can even respond and you offer a choked yelp, trying to finish your drink without slopping it over yourself and your boyfriend.

"Ace, my drink!"

"Oh, here." He pivots towards you, nimble fingers easing the glass from your fingers ㅡ and promptly downs the rest of it before tugging you along with him.

"Ace," you half-pant from the way he's tugged you out of the bar, "when I said 'my drink', I didn't mean for you to drink it!"

There's a whine to your tone, one that makes Ace blink. "I'm sorry babe," he says, and you expect him to offer to replace it, or tease you about how slow you drink ㅡ he does neither.

Ace's lips are warm against yours, a little wind-chapped but familiar, and your lips part when he nips at your bottom one to deepen the kiss. He tastes like the alcohol he's been drinking tonight, warm and heady, making your head spin as you pull him closer.

Ace lets you, his own hands at your hips, squeezing as he backs you against the wall, slotting a leg between yours. There's a low, thrumming heat building in your veins, and you gasp when Ace pulls from your lips in favor of refocusing on your neck, sucking at your pulse point.

"Not here," you manage, reaching up to tug at his hair and shivering when he groans against your skin. "Ace, no. Not here."

He reluctantly pulls away, and you're not sure if the blown-wide quality of his pupils is from alcohol anymore. "Let's go back," he says, "while everyone's still busy here."

You stumble a little as he tugs you along, clinging to his hand. "If we're caught, I swear--"

He turns, offering you that dazzling smile that edges into a dangerous smirk. "We won't be, if you can stay quiet."

[swanseamechanic1962]

swansea how would you rate the dental hygiene of your crew mates. 1 being best 5 being worst

Captain Curly = 1. Don’t know how he manages it. The slop the company gives us is at least 70% more cement mix than toothpaste and yet somehow he’s managed to keep those pearly whites totally unblemished his entire career. They’ve actually blinded some of us on prior occasion.

Daisuke = 3.

Gotta admit, whatever rich-people babysitters this kid’s parents hooked him up with, they at least knew how to keep his health in check. Although for whatever reason, his breath ALWAYS smells like some kind of energy drink even after he’s brushed. Think it qualifies as a medical concern, but nobody ever seems to acknowledge it.

Nurse Anya = 3.

Not much to say. She takes care of herself about as well as a woman can on this scrap heap of a ship.

Jimmy = 4.

At least he brushes at all. Doesn’t help much for his general stink, though.