butter pecan and flavour of the day with malt and FLUFF
Story: Timeless { backstory | index }
Title: Hobby
Rating: PG (language)
Challenge: Butter Pecan #13: loud, FOTD: creolise
Toppings/Extras: malt
Wordcount: 1,071
Summary: The crew of the Kraken find a CD player among their plunder.
Notes: Well, this sprung out of nowhere! Kind of silly and fluffy. Trick-or-treat prompt from darkfaerieclaw; I have ZERO idea what you are talking about, but it sounds cool! Creolise: To combine local and foreign elements into a new, distinct whole.
Adele Merritt sensed something ridiculous moments before she heard the thumping bass beat throb through the ceiling. The main deck was above her and as she looked up slowly, she noticed that the boards were bouncing enough to make a sprinkling of dust motes cloud down towards her. Lips tightening, she picked up the lamp she was using to work by and made her way up to the deck.
What could the moron brigade be up to now?
Her question was answered the moment she stepped out into the sunlight, making her squint painfully after so long spent below decks. Stinging sea air barrelled into her lungs and for a moment everything in her vision was bleached pale blue. Then she noticed that the pirates were all thumping around on the deck around a large pile of assorted objects, including an ancient-looking portable music player.
Some sort of noise was coming from it. Music, she realised, turned up so loud that the plastic speakers made a constant grinding noise. There was apparently only one line to the song and unfortunately, Adele could make out the words. The fact that the pirates were all joining in helped.
“I’m gonna fuck, fuck you up good, I’m gonna fuck, fuck you up good, I’m gonna fuck you up!”
Adele was wishing that relentlessly unimpressed glares really could kill when she grasped towards one person who had become the beacon of sanity among the mess. It said a lot that this so-called beacon of sanity was Isaac Prowse.
“What the f-… what’s going on?” she demanded, changing her wording at the last minute.
“Took down another pirate ship today,” Prowse said, nodding his head over the railings. In the ocean she could see the skeleton of a rusty modern pirate sloop disappearing beneath the waves. “And our motley crew did what they do best… pillaging to their black little hearts’ content.”
“And you let them?” she asked, arching one of her fine dark eyebrows. Prowse shrugged.
“Why not? Got me a bit of peace and quiet.”
“Yes, I see that turned out very well,” Adele growled.
“It’s not so bad,” Isaac said idly, heavy guitar-sound screaming through the air. “I sort of like it.”
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” Adele replied.
She then stalked her way over towards the centre of the pirates-who were apparently dancing, though it looked more like a cross between the traditional Russian barynya jig and uncoordinated jumping. Before she could smash the music player to bits she was stopped by Captain Jacob Graham, who grasped her by the wrist and theatrically spun her across the deck, high-heels skittering across the damp wood.
“Music, madame,” he announced with a waggle of his eyebrows. “Pour vous.”
She snatched her hand out of his.
“I wouldn’t really call this music,” she snapped. “Turn it off.”
“Darlin’,” Graham said, eyebrows rising. “If yer try to turn it off, I’ll have no choice but to fuck ‘ee up.”
Oh, God. She had a feeling she would be hearing that phrase a lot from now on.
“Brilliant,” she muttered, turning to look at the player. It used CDs! It was simply ancient, almost antique. Walking forwards, she began picking through a messy stack of CD cases that had been left untouched, with the pirates obviously having no clue that they were linked to the music. The band playing at the moment was called Atomic Napalm Grenade. Classy. Flicking through the pile, she found another CD, this one sung by an Isis Rochambeau. She flung it to the deck in disgust. She spoke as she noticed Isaac Prowse coming to stand by her: “Well, what a goldmine of bad taste we have stumbled across.”
She rose quickly and smoothed down her satiny black pencil skirt.
“Hmm,” he replied, not really interested. “How does the music box work?”
“I’d explain, Prowse, but you wouldn’t get it.” Adele turned to him with a smirk. “It is beyond your comprehension.”
“Charming,” Prowse muttered as Captain Graham gallivanted up to them, boots thundering across the wood. He finished his run with a huge leap and landed him directly between them with a flourish. It was clear from the pink tint to his cheeks that he had been drinking. This was not unusual.
“It’s magic!” he announced.
“Yes, that’s right,” Adele replied, condescending nods sending the few stray strands of her glossy hair that had escaped from its bun wagging. “Magic.”
In the background, the song changed to one that was apparently called ‘Mindfuck Point Blank’.
“Don’t ‘ee use that tone of voice on me,” Graham said with all of the theatricals they had come to expect of him. He stroked his goatee. “I know yer can’t resist me, Merritt. I do have the body of a god, after all.”
“Buddha isn’t a god, he’s the founder of a philosophy,” Prowse smirked. This resulted in a minor scuffle that began with girly flailing on Graham’s side but ended with quite a few heavy punches being landed by both parties-Adele noticed a few that would definitely leave bruises. The two of them never stopped grinning though.
“What is wrong with men?” Adele asked the sky pleadingly.
“Better than being stabbed,” Graham said, leering towards Prowse, who looked a little nervous all of a sudden.
“Let’s put that behind us, shall we?” he said mildly.
“Aye, I’ll drink to that!”
“You’ll drink to anything,” Adele muttered.
“I’ll drink to that too!”
He galloped off.
“What is it with him?” Adele asked, not looking impressed. Prowse was fiddling with the inside pocket of his archaic coat but quickly let go when she turned to face him, looking innocent.
“He’s a little touched. Always been that way, God bless,” he said. He turned to face her, the shrieking music still assaulting their ears but now that they had been exposed to it for a while, it seemed less abrasive. “Care for a dance?”
“I don’t dance,” Adele snapped, even as she realised he was joking. She couldn’t help but notice, however, as he mockingly held out his hand, that he looked different when he smiled. His usually slicked-back chestnut hair was falling forwards into his eyes from his miniature battle with Graham and his serious, stony face looked just that little bit brighter when he let it express emotion.
Adele decided she had just found herself a new hobby. Isaac Prowse.
Title: Hobby
Rating: PG (language)
Challenge: Butter Pecan #13: loud, FOTD: creolise
Toppings/Extras: malt
Wordcount: 1,071
Summary: The crew of the Kraken find a CD player among their plunder.
Notes: Well, this sprung out of nowhere! Kind of silly and fluffy. Trick-or-treat prompt from darkfaerieclaw; I have ZERO idea what you are talking about, but it sounds cool! Creolise: To combine local and foreign elements into a new, distinct whole.
Adele Merritt sensed something ridiculous moments before she heard the thumping bass beat throb through the ceiling. The main deck was above her and as she looked up slowly, she noticed that the boards were bouncing enough to make a sprinkling of dust motes cloud down towards her. Lips tightening, she picked up the lamp she was using to work by and made her way up to the deck.
What could the moron brigade be up to now?
Her question was answered the moment she stepped out into the sunlight, making her squint painfully after so long spent below decks. Stinging sea air barrelled into her lungs and for a moment everything in her vision was bleached pale blue. Then she noticed that the pirates were all thumping around on the deck around a large pile of assorted objects, including an ancient-looking portable music player.
Some sort of noise was coming from it. Music, she realised, turned up so loud that the plastic speakers made a constant grinding noise. There was apparently only one line to the song and unfortunately, Adele could make out the words. The fact that the pirates were all joining in helped.
“I’m gonna fuck, fuck you up good, I’m gonna fuck, fuck you up good, I’m gonna fuck you up!”
Adele was wishing that relentlessly unimpressed glares really could kill when she grasped towards one person who had become the beacon of sanity among the mess. It said a lot that this so-called beacon of sanity was Isaac Prowse.
“What the f-… what’s going on?” she demanded, changing her wording at the last minute.
“Took down another pirate ship today,” Prowse said, nodding his head over the railings. In the ocean she could see the skeleton of a rusty modern pirate sloop disappearing beneath the waves. “And our motley crew did what they do best… pillaging to their black little hearts’ content.”
“And you let them?” she asked, arching one of her fine dark eyebrows. Prowse shrugged.
“Why not? Got me a bit of peace and quiet.”
“Yes, I see that turned out very well,” Adele growled.
“It’s not so bad,” Isaac said idly, heavy guitar-sound screaming through the air. “I sort of like it.”
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” Adele replied.
She then stalked her way over towards the centre of the pirates-who were apparently dancing, though it looked more like a cross between the traditional Russian barynya jig and uncoordinated jumping. Before she could smash the music player to bits she was stopped by Captain Jacob Graham, who grasped her by the wrist and theatrically spun her across the deck, high-heels skittering across the damp wood.
“Music, madame,” he announced with a waggle of his eyebrows. “Pour vous.”
She snatched her hand out of his.
“I wouldn’t really call this music,” she snapped. “Turn it off.”
“Darlin’,” Graham said, eyebrows rising. “If yer try to turn it off, I’ll have no choice but to fuck ‘ee up.”
Oh, God. She had a feeling she would be hearing that phrase a lot from now on.
“Brilliant,” she muttered, turning to look at the player. It used CDs! It was simply ancient, almost antique. Walking forwards, she began picking through a messy stack of CD cases that had been left untouched, with the pirates obviously having no clue that they were linked to the music. The band playing at the moment was called Atomic Napalm Grenade. Classy. Flicking through the pile, she found another CD, this one sung by an Isis Rochambeau. She flung it to the deck in disgust. She spoke as she noticed Isaac Prowse coming to stand by her: “Well, what a goldmine of bad taste we have stumbled across.”
She rose quickly and smoothed down her satiny black pencil skirt.
“Hmm,” he replied, not really interested. “How does the music box work?”
“I’d explain, Prowse, but you wouldn’t get it.” Adele turned to him with a smirk. “It is beyond your comprehension.”
“Charming,” Prowse muttered as Captain Graham gallivanted up to them, boots thundering across the wood. He finished his run with a huge leap and landed him directly between them with a flourish. It was clear from the pink tint to his cheeks that he had been drinking. This was not unusual.
“It’s magic!” he announced.
“Yes, that’s right,” Adele replied, condescending nods sending the few stray strands of her glossy hair that had escaped from its bun wagging. “Magic.”
In the background, the song changed to one that was apparently called ‘Mindfuck Point Blank’.
“Don’t ‘ee use that tone of voice on me,” Graham said with all of the theatricals they had come to expect of him. He stroked his goatee. “I know yer can’t resist me, Merritt. I do have the body of a god, after all.”
“Buddha isn’t a god, he’s the founder of a philosophy,” Prowse smirked. This resulted in a minor scuffle that began with girly flailing on Graham’s side but ended with quite a few heavy punches being landed by both parties-Adele noticed a few that would definitely leave bruises. The two of them never stopped grinning though.
“What is wrong with men?” Adele asked the sky pleadingly.
“Better than being stabbed,” Graham said, leering towards Prowse, who looked a little nervous all of a sudden.
“Let’s put that behind us, shall we?” he said mildly.
“Aye, I’ll drink to that!”
“You’ll drink to anything,” Adele muttered.
“I’ll drink to that too!”
He galloped off.
“What is it with him?” Adele asked, not looking impressed. Prowse was fiddling with the inside pocket of his archaic coat but quickly let go when she turned to face him, looking innocent.
“He’s a little touched. Always been that way, God bless,” he said. He turned to face her, the shrieking music still assaulting their ears but now that they had been exposed to it for a while, it seemed less abrasive. “Care for a dance?”
“I don’t dance,” Adele snapped, even as she realised he was joking. She couldn’t help but notice, however, as he mockingly held out his hand, that he looked different when he smiled. His usually slicked-back chestnut hair was falling forwards into his eyes from his miniature battle with Graham and his serious, stony face looked just that little bit brighter when he let it express emotion.
Adele decided she had just found herself a new hobby. Isaac Prowse.