forum the Glittering Sea (closed group rp, 6/6)

Started January 11, 2023 by Deleted user

tune

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(Are y'all still open? If so I'd love to join!!)

(hi there!!)
(yes we're still open! can i see a sample? :])

Toby “Tubbo” Smith was never quite sure about things, whether it be his homework answers or his spelling, he was never really sure if he was doing it right or what he was doing at all… So it came as a surprise when he was sure about this one thing.

He was not sick.

He made mistakes, that’s all, he overreacted, okay? Nothing more, nothing less, just his teenage hormones getting control of him again. It’s what every teenager had to deal with. Plus, his family just fucking moved, it was natural to have hormones and stress and every other thing that could’ve led up to this.

See, he had a perfectly reasonable explanation for why he was in this situation.

(Here's a little something from a fic I'm writing)

(i like it! heres the template so you dont have to go scavenging for it lol)

Name:
Age:
Gender, pronouns:
Sexuality:
Aliases:
Job:
Alignment (not necessary)
Species/race:
Appearance (please include height, build and strength, clothing, etc.):
Personality:
Likes/dislikes:
Strengths/weaknesses:

Name: Azalea "Azal" Blackstone
Age: 29
Gender, pronouns: Gender is whatever they feel like at the moment, and pronouns tend to be the same.
Sexuality: Queer, undefined, they like whoever they like.
Aliases: Nightshade
Job: Surgeon
Alignment: Very much Chaotic Neutral, with emphasis on the Chaotic
Species/race: No one is quite sure, most assume they're some demon, or at least have made a pact with one.
Appearance (please include height, build and strength, clothing, etc.): Azal stands at around six foot three, with a willowy figure and angular features; arms slightly too long, sharp facial figures, pointy elbows, etc. They're a very serious-looking fella, with dark brown hair often tied into a ponytail (half up, half down) and pale blue eyes that are constantly narrowed as if in a constant state of suspicion. They often have dark circles under their eyes from constant sleepless nights and exhaustion. The most constant article of clothing they wear is a stained lab coat, with a plethora of chemical stains and quite a few blood stains mixed in as well, and a pair of black trousers with a loose, but smart, shirt.
Personality: At first glance, Azal is a stuck-up doctor, constantly wary of others and distrusting. If you look a bit deeper than that, you'll see that they have quite a mischievous streak, often joking to relieve the tension before a painful procedure on the crewmates. They're always quick to dark humor and sarcasm, their tone often being deadpan as they say the scariest things.
Likes/dislikes: They enjoy gardening when they have the chance, having a few pots of essential herbs in their quarters, as well as playing pranks, and practicing shooting. They have quite a distaste for harsh leadership, and when faced with such, are more likely to perform a coup than anything else.
Strengths/weaknesses: Azal is wary and distrusting, it takes quite a while for one to gain their trust enough that they even talk to you, let alone invite you into their quarters.

The water was calm the next morning. The ship rocked softly and steadily. Sunlight would ride into the sky in the next few minutes, but for the moment, it was still dark and spattered with the stars used to navigate the waters. Some of Corusci Maris's crew woke before the sun rose up from the horizon, to begin their work or to enjoy the short grace period between the night and day shifts. From time to time the captain would wander around during that time, but it didn't come as much of a shock when she didn't that morning. The amount of people that usually woke early was a little less, unsurprisingly.

If all went as planned (which it usually didn't), the anchor wouldn't lower that day. Unless something caught the captain's eye, what was stolen the day before would hold over for another day or two before Whitlock would have to actually buy something instead of scraping by by taking it. It did give her a rush, though. Maybe one more time.

With a hand over her forehead, the captain relayed the evening in her mind. Some things were a little fuzzy, but what stuck out was whatever the hell happened in the hold. There was also when she shot a bullet through the wood of the deck. And, on top of that, she said she'd tend to the demon-kid… thing. What was his name? She'd ask if she ever pulled herself out of her cabin. Which she told herself she would do soon.

Shedding her coat, Whitlock sat up, cross-legged on her bed and facing the window, silently thanking the gods she didn't get seasick. She didn't bother changing the clothes she wore from the night before. It didn't feel worth the trouble. Instead, Thalia glared at the door handle across the room as if that might help in convincing herself to stand. Her head pounded as she stood and dragged herself from one side of the room to the next, stepping over an ink jar that'd been knocked over, playing cards scattered across the floor, and a shot glass.

(Tell me if I should add more! If I don't respond tonight I will tomorrow.)

Azalea stepped out of his office/quarters/medbay with absolutely no clue what had transpired over the past day or two. In her defense, she was looking over a new medicine book she had stolen the last time they were on land. It was very interesting, okay? Definitely more interesting than whatever was going on above deck, not that he could hear much that was going on. They soundproofed their office as much as possible, to muffle the screams, of course.

She took a long sniff of the air, raising an eyebrow. A new person? What kind of stray did our new captain pick up? They thought as they took another step out of their quarters. They had a few options of what they could do now, but they supposed they should probably do their job. They cleared their throat for a second before yelling at the top of their lungs, which was quite loud.

"ANYONE INJURED? I DON'T CARE HOW, BUT IF YOU ARE, FIND ME."

And with that, they dusted off their pants and headed above decks.

Tao sat on his perch in the crow's nest. Last night Myriil has taken him to his room, but Tao had only stayed there until he had fallen asleep. One the man was safely snoozing, He had gotten up and went to wander the deck, eventually climbing up the crow's nest and watching the black waters until the early hours of the morning. He didn't like to sleep, it wasn't safe to be completely vulnerable and oblivious at the same time.

Tao liked it up in the crow's nest. It was peaceful and high in the sky. He shifted to a kneeling position and rested his head in his arms, lazaly swaying with the wayves as if in a trance. After some time, he stood and stretched, his wings unfolding past the tips of his fingers. Tao noticed this and started to comb through them with his fingers, pleased at their growth.

Humming slightly to himself, he raked through the feathers. Moving and straightening each one slightly so that they all lined up beautifully. And with the sun barely poking up her head, his entire body seemed to glow in the light. He finished his grooming and stretched his tiny frame once more.

To anyone looking at him from the deck, he probably looked like an angel. Imagine that, a bastard son of a demon looking like an angel. He shook his head and reached a hand up to touch one of the horns that were hiding under his white curly hair. They were getting too big to keep hiding them under his hair alone. Soon he would have to start wearing a hat to conceal them. Tao grimaced, he hated hats. And even though it would hide his horns, it would also hide his hair. He didn't think of himself as proud, but he loved his fluffy curls.

He sighed and jumped off the crow's nest, his wings slowing and controlling his descent. Just because they weren't big enough to lift him off the ground, he could still glide down safely with them. His feet hit the deck a little hard which caused him to stumble to his knees, scraping them slightly. It stung, but he got up, dusted himself off and went to look over the side at the waters below. The early morning sun making them glow all sorts of different colors.

(tw: v*mit)

Blaze had experienced an exciting night, drinking probably more than his fair share of booze. That was his sort of payoff–he was great at eliminating threats and coming up with innovative ways to make things go boom, but he also drank like no other. It took a lot to get him drunk, and get drunk he had. He groaned as he peeled himself off of the deck, glancing around blearily. It was earlier than he usually liked to get up, but he had spent the night laying on the deck instead of his quarters. Gods, he really had drunk a lot last night, hadn't he? It had been a while since he'd gone that overboard. He didn't even know about the stowaway aboard the ship due to his enthusiastic partying above deck throughout the night. And now here he was, laying vulnerable to the elements with a roaring hangover that made him feel like shit. The piercing yell of the crew's medic didn't help at all with the hangover, causing Blaze to wince.

As he glanced up to get a better view of what the weather looked like, he saw the figure of a young boy above him on the crow's nest. He looked like an angel, soft curls backlit by the morning light. No, scratch that, Blaze thought as he saw the boy mess with something under the curls that looked suspiciously like a horn. Maybe he was a particularly angelic demon. Since when was there a kid on the ship? Maybe he really was an angel. Did Blaze die and not realize it?!

He sat up frantically, the world spinning around as he did so. He was going to puke. Dead people didn't throw up, did they? Maybe this was hell. But why would hell be the pirate ship?

Just as Blaze was starting to question his reality, he saw the angel/demon/whatever child glide to the ground and stumble. Angels didn't stumble. Perhaps this kid was just a regular child? Blaze sure felt alive, because of the churning of his stomach and the pounding in his head and ohgodshewasgoingtospewanymomentnow.

Blaze hurried to the edge of the deck and threw up off the side of it, emptying the contents of his stomach before his body let him rest. He slid down the side of the deck and sat there, trying to keep himself together. Did hung over count as injured? He wasn't sure. But a trip to the med bay probably wouldn't be the worst thing. Still, despite how terrible he felt, he wanted to know what the kid was doing on board the ship. Since when had that been a thing? Though at the moment, he just wanted to rest a bit before trying to get up again, as that had not felt pleasant. Damn his bad habits and failure to think ahead.

Myriil hadn't really known what to do with the kid after the Captain stumbled off, followed by the navigators steadier walk. He'd panicked a little, debated simply throwing him overboard now, throwing himself overboard, disappearing and never returning, get some blankets in here, or..? Eventually he'd done what he always did in stressful situations, threw his hands up in the air, shrugged, and did what was the least stressful. Which had been just dragging Tao to his own room, throwing a hoard of blankets at him, and promptly falling asleep in his hammock.

It took a lot of energy making a command twice in the day, especially when he was so out of practice. He'd fallen asleep the moment his head hit the fabric, only waking up three or four times, which was remarkable really. Nearly a new personal record. Myriil had noticed the child was gone the second time he'd awoken, narrowed his eyes at the empty pile of blankets, then made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, thrown his arm out of the side of the hammock, and fell back asleep.

When morning arrived, heralded really only by a shift in the air.. Maybe a scurry of sound by the early risers or later sleepers. Or maybe the ear piercing scream of the doctor on board, shattering Myriil's hopes of closing his eyes for a solid eight hours. He needed his beauty sleep dammit! The wood elf cracked open an eye, picturing himself bashing in the surgeons head for a moment, then snorting as he then pictured the demon still trying to patch itself up, gaping hole in its head saying something like "Lots of internal bleeding, that can't be good."

With that cheerful start to his day, Myriil stood up, brushing off his clothes and pulling his hair back into its thin ponytail, which layed down the center of his back. The only real change to his outfit was that he tied up the strings of his shirt, closing off the deep V that was normally there (It unraveled after 30 seconds), and he traded his fish hook feather earring for a gold spike.

He shot another look at the empty pile of blankets, nudging it with his foot to make sure Tao was really gone and not just invisible or something. Satisfied, he yawned, taking long-legged strides to make sure he got breakfast before everyone else. It meant he could avoid conversation and the hangover horde still waking up, along with not having to get the burnt scrapes from the bottom of the bowl.

Briefly he wondered if the Captain would just forget about him. He could probably use the best of his stealth skills to abandon the kid, leave him entirely on his own, then reappear in three to five business weeks and act like nothing had happened. He bit the inside of his cheek, chewing on the well worried spot, before heaving out a sigh, earning an odd look from the cook currently handing him a bowl of tasteless…. something. He glanced up, realizing his opportunity, and giving another melodramatic sigh and doing his best imitation of a sad puppy
It earned him a whole extra half ladle of the something. Lucky me.. Myriil thought wryly, giving a massive grin to the cook. Better than the gruel they gave us in the military I suppose.

His final thought as he walked updeck, bowl of breakfast in his hands, before he had to deal with anything the universe threw at him today was: Oh, the sunrise is pretty!

And then he saw his new two least favorite people in the world. Snitch One. And Demon Child.
Maybe it wasn't too late to make a running jump into the water.

When Reia first became a human, she loved the idea of one day getting to sail the ocean. It was a way for her to be with the ocean again even after being cursed to become human. In fact, she loved the idea of sailing so much that, when she was asked to join a pirate crew, she agreed with almost no hesitation. A small part of her regretted her decision.

Of course, she loved being on this ship. She wouldn’t change it for the world. But there was one part that she dreaded about being on a pirate ship: the morning. Especially the mornings that followed after a banquet with plenty of alcohol.

After Reia managed to roll out of her hammock, she pulled her hair back in a half-up ponytail and threw on one of her only clean outfits. Cleanliness definitely wasn’t a priority on the ship, but she still tried to keep up her good hygiene in whatever way she could.

Once Reia smoothed down her curls and straighten up her clothes, she headed to the upper deck, where a mess from the night before had been waiting for her. She noticed that many of her other crew mates were lounging around the deck, many of them hungover from last night. Reia even felt slightly bad for the one throwing up off the side of the ship.

“Hey, there.” She walked up to his side and, once he finished puking up his innards, placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “Blaze, maybe you should head back down to your hammock. You aren’t looking great. I’ll bring you a bucket to puke into, maybe a cup of water if I’m feeling nice.”

Reia gave him a smile before releasing his shoulder. Showing sympathy to others was somewhat hard for her, but she was learning. After all, she was used to drowning humans. Not being kind to them.

Thalia opened her door. The area from which she stood was elevated above the main deck, with stairs that led down to it. Ambers's cabin was next to her's, and technically Whitlock's would belong to a quartermaster, but she didn't know if Corusci Maris even had one anymore. She didn't bother moving into where Damien once was. She hadn't opened it for monhs, and she'd locked the door. The room was exactly as he'd left it, but probably a little tossed up by now. If someone were to run their finger across Ambers's wooden desk, their fingertip would be covered in dust.

Immediately after she opened the door, Thalia saw something fly down from the crow's nest. A bird of some kind? No, it was the child. The child. Thalia groaned as the memories from that night flowed back in. At least she was somehow sober enough to remember. I'm going to kill Myriil, she swore to herself insincerely.

Her sulking was briefly interrupted by the surgeon's calling, which did not help the pain in the captain's head. Bringing a hand to her slightly pointed ear, she frowned. This would be great once the sun was up.

Closing the door with the back of her heel, Whitlock crossed her arms and leaned her back against it, watching. She was still consciously fighting the urge to vomit, and realized she probably would be for the day. If anything was stronger than the nausea, it was her pride. It didn't help much to watch her gunner puke over the side of the ship, though. Turning her head and walking to the banister to watch the ocean, she shifted her attention. While this might make some people's vertigo worse, the captain was glad for its stabilizing effect on her.

As soon as breakfast was over with (she didn't want to risk anything by eating just yet) and Thalia felt she'd somewhat collected herself, she promised herself she'd take care of the whole demon-child-thing issue, as hesitant as she was. Why the hell was a kid on a pirate ship, anyway..? Thalia rested her forehead on her palm. There was a lot to work through, but thankfully she couldn't recall having anything specific planned for the day. That she knew of. She made a mental note to ask Reia, and another to stop drinking as much.

Blaze barely noticed Myriil amid the chaos within his own brain as well as the chaos actually happening on the deck. It seemed there were quite a few people up and about, whether they were recovering from last night like he was, or simply just early risers. He was starting to feel a bit better, as emptying the contents of his stomach did some helping effect, though it was far from enough to actually make him feel normal again. His head was still aching and his mouth tasted like puke. Just lovely. He was so focused on trying not to throw up a second time that he failed to take stock of those around him. This surely wouldn't help his partying reputation, but he was a pirate, so that was sort of normal, was it not? At any rate, his reputation was far from the forefront of his mind currently.

What he did notice was Reia approach him, showing him some kindness that honestly surprised the shifter. He hadn't interacted with her much, but the friendliness was appreciated. At least she wasn't yelling, like the medic was, because as much as Blaze respected them, loud noises made him want to tear his ears out at the moment. He barely registered her words, still half-asleep and mightily hung over, but nodded. A glass of water would probably do him some good. He was not the sort of person to have healthy drinking habits, the sort where he would drink some water between mugs of ale or beer or whatever was available. He also realized suddenly that he was indeed getting quite thirsty, and maybe a little hungry. Though the more he thought about food, the more he wanted to puke back over the side of the ship. Okay, maybe breakfast could wait.

Blaze gave Reia a weak smile, hoping his face wasn't as pale as he figured it might be. Though considering he "didn't look great," he guessed that it was. Plus, he was assuming she had just seen him empty his stomach over the side of the ship. But the idea of her helping him kept the weak smile intact. The sunlight that was beaming over the horizon was starting to hurt his eyes. Going back to his hammock sounded amazing.

"Thanks," he croaked, his voice raspy with sleep. "I'll do that. Water would be just wonderful, if you're willing." He gave a feeble wink, knowing that he was not at his best right now but still unable to resist trying to joke around a little. He slowly managed to get himself back into a standing position and began to head below decks.

Reia watched him hobble away, frowning slightly. She never quite understood alcohol; people always seemed wild when they drank it, but afterwards, they were out of it for a long while. If the humans drank it, that was up to them, but Reia was convinced that she wouldn’t try alcohol any time soon.

After watching him for a few moments to make sure he didn’t fall over, Reia got busy getting the supplies that she needed. It would take a while, and she other work she needed to be doing, but she knew that Blaze needed some help right now. Well, maybe she really was learning more about sympathy by the day.

Once she found a spare bucket and filled a wooden cup up with water, Reia headed below deck, where she was met with the sounds of groaning coming from all about the sleeping quarters. This is how these kinds of mornings were. Many of the pirates were too hungover to even get out of bed, leaving the rest of the crew to do all of the work.

She found Blaze’s hammock and crouched down next to him. After handing him a puke bucket and the cup of water, she pushed back his hair and placed a cold, damp rag on his forehead.

“Pirates and their drinking habits,” she said, laughing softly. “Any more alcohol, and you would probably drop down dead.”

She glanced over at him, searching his face for a moment. It was strange to think that she sitting here, helping a human man, when she had been taught to seduce and kill them. But, after all, she had changed a lot since she’d become human herself, and she wasn’t sure if she liked the change or not.

Blaze was relieved that he had managed to get back his hammock alright, with no real problems or surprises on the way there. God, he felt like shit. Let this be a warning to his future self not to repeat this action again, though he knew that he never learned from these things. Ah well, at least it only lasted a day at most, sometimes less. He would be fine tomorrow. At least this would get him out of cleaning or whatever for the day. He didn't typically do these sorts of menial chores unless he'd lost a bet or something, since he had his own area of expertise, though he would chip in every now and then when he was feeling particularly helpful. He liked to think he was a pretty good member of the crew.

He nearly jumped when Reia appeared near him, handing him the bucket and cup. He set the bucket next to his hammock carefully, trying to give himself the least amount of discomfort with the action. He sipped at the water, nervous that if he drank too much of it too quickly, he would throw up again. He was pleasantly surprised at the cooling feeling of the rag on his forehead–he hadn't been expecting that. Maybe Reia was in a particularly good mood today.

"Eh, it takes a lot to get to me," he responded to her comment, half-hearted giving a little shrug to accentuate his point. "I doubt my drinking is going to kill me. I'd rather go out in a battle like a true warrior." He laughed lightly. The shifter glanced over at her, wondering what exactly she was thinking. "Oh, and thanks, by the way. This is a one-time thing, I promise. I can usually take care of myself, but I guess I went a little overboard this time."