#deathisachoice

[whosxafraid]

OKAY

so i finally got the list of 15 participants made and used google’s random gen to select the winners....

-drum roll-

3rd Place: @deathisachoice

1 promo graphic!

(pls let me know if there’s any one particular shot or scene u’d prefer i use! i’ve the entirity of the show at my disposal for capping!)

2nd Place:  @tabbyrp

1 promo graphic and 25 [200x100] icons, psd and watermarked with your chosen letter(s). 

(pls let me know from which source you would like me to pull caps!)

1st Place:  @brooklynislandgirl

1 promo graphic, 1 set of Online/Offline/Lurking/Drafts banners, 25 [200x100] icons, psd and watermarked with your chosen letter(s).

(pls let me know from which source you would like me to pull caps!)

[jackrxckham]

Five times ( you can go however you want with this or not go at all tbh :eyes: )

send me five times kissed for a drabble about five times our muses kissed  |  @deathisachoice

1.  The first kiss was one to the temple, one of joy and celebration, as drinks were shared amongst the crew, the wealth of their latest prize raising the spirits of all. It was a barely there gesture, lips brushing skin only briefly before words were spewing from Jack’s lips again letting it pass into the raucous nature of their victory, just a fleeting moment of exuberance to never be discussed again. As it was Jack did not even recall the moment to speak of it, the intoxication more than clearing the moment from his mind by the time he dragged himself from his slumber the next morning. 

2.  The second kiss was one of desperate hope pressed to knuckles as Jack clutched at Charles’ hand, worried about the amount of opium pulsing through his captain, his friend’s system. It had been a rough time, Eleanor and Charles more turbulent than ever, and as always with the downward spiral came the false high to shove away whatever emotions were left after Eleanor’s claws had torn through Charles in their usual fashion. With breath held, Jack strained his hearing, waiting for the sign that Charles was returning to himself, only releasing the hand he’d been holding so tightly when he heard the senseless groan as the other began to shift. Later, he’d speak to Anne of his growing physical affection for their captain, and could already hear her retorts for him, before it was dismissed as a quirk that had become a fixture of his personality. 

3. The third kiss was not something that could be dismissed as a quirk, or forgotten by a great deal of drink for it was not something given as a passing gesture or in silent hope that everything would be okay. Instead it was an action undertaken in spontaneity, without thought, an accident in a sense perhaps but no mistake. Drink had been well in use that evening, from Guthrie’s until Eleanor had made it clear they were not welcome, to various men from the crew in passing, till eventually they made it to Charles’ tent on the beach. There they had lingered, passing a bottle back and forth, Jack wildly gesturing as he recounted a story or another, sliding closer to the other with each rambled tale. At some point they had ended up barely a breath away from each other, the bottle between them until it wasn’t and lips were pressed together instead in a drunken haze. There was nothing gentle about the gesture as it resembled an almost battle of wills, a seeking of something that neither of them had even considered caught as they were with the women in their lives. Dazed as they pulled away from one another, it took Jack a moment to realise he’d lost the bottle to Charles, and only a second longer to find a hand pushed into his chest, dislodging him from his seat enough for Charles to crash into his bed in an intoxicated slumber. 

4. The fourth kiss came after the third was nothing more than a distant memory both men had never spoken of, a silent assumption made that the other would bring it up if it needed discussion. Of all doors, Jack found himself at the one to the fort after reconciliation had occurred needing a familiar face, a familiar ear to talk about the changing lay of the land. Once let in he took the full opportunity to wax lyrical, words tumbling from his lips in a hurried expulsion of words and sounds, gestures animated as he proclaimed his concerns and observations. In the midst of his rant, as a “the alteration of the landscape is far more rapid than I might have guessed initially and while I fully appreciate the need to explore a change I cannot help but wonder-” fell from his lips he was interrupted by fingers curling around his scarf and hauling him in as a kiss was stolen, rough and demanding. It cut any further words he had short, and left him strangely silence once the gesture met its end much to the amusement of his once captain. “Stop thinking so hard, Jack,” was all Charles had to say, before changing the topic to one that Jack could not help but comment upon and the kiss became something of an afterthought he considered later when wandering back to the brothel. 

5. The fifth kiss was an acknowledgement of something that existed and could not be realised given the circumstances. Before the crew - Jack’s crew - they had parted with a familiar phrase that had quirked smiles upon lips at its following of a tradition almost. A godspeed and a fuck you that amounted to the same sentiment had passed and they had split to make the necessary preparations to blow the hole in the fort. But before the chance could pass, before Jack could relinquish the man to a fate unknown he knew he had to convey a thought, a feeling that would not pass. With Charles lurking in the shadows of the wall in wait, it was easy to catch him alone, and it was a gentle push that had Jack guiding the other to the wall and sealing their mouths together in something telling and filled with a depth of emotion that went greater any voice could give credit to. He drew backwards sharply, aware time was of the essence, but his expression said all he needed, and he hoped Charles understood. “Run fast, Chas...” he breathed, nodding to the other man, before stepping back into view of his men and giving the signal to blow the wall. 

[neomaed]

@deathisachoice liked for a starter! 

   “You wouldn’t happen to be Captain Charles Vane, would you?” 

[furyrisen-archived]

@deathisachoice liked for a starter !

The light of the flickering torch shimmered through the soft translucence of Myrtha’s essence, the shadows of the rusting metal bars crossing her face. Even she, in ghastly state of physical apathy, could sense the cold, balmy air of the tunnels brushing past her.

She watched from the grimey corner of the tunnel bend, ethereal white a cold, stark juxtaposition. Myrtha could hardly be seen by mortal eyes. Her skin was naught but a simple outline against the dark, flickering in and out of existence. The spirit’s presence was only heralded by a prickling sense of growing anger and a harsh toll of a bell signifying a heart breaking with finality.

Myrtha’s eyes narrowed as she watched the woman walk away without so much as a glance back. She shivered as she granted herself visibility; it felt as if a pail of water was upturned over her head, covering her body.

The queen stepped softly from her perch in the corner, coming to rest just behind the man’s broad shoulder. “Do you think she understands the price of her betrayal?”

[loyxltyloyxlty]

the THING with @deathisachoice

[normally, mia is good at sneaking in and out of the house. slipping out the window. taking off into the treeline for hours after her aunt has gone to bed. she knows how long to take. how much she can do. it’s her few hours of freedom. no uncomfortable dresses. shoes pinching her toes. her hair isn’t pulled back too tight. she’s free. but tonight....something is wrong.]

[there’s a candle lit in the window and she’s unsure of why. her aunt should be fast asleep. carefully, she tiptoes on bare feet towards the backdoor unwilling to risk the small noise caused by going in the window. hoping that she can slip in and up unaware. though, perhaps, her aunt already knows she isn’t there.]

[she’s barely closed the door when she hears the shrill voice call her name and she knows she’s been caught. knows what comes next. a part of her considers darting out the door but she doesn’t. she’d rather take her punishment in defiance. as she always has. stiff upper lip. no fear.]

[her back straightens as she walks into the living room, a nine year old girl, stubborn and determined not to show any submission to her aunt. though, she must be a sight, mud covered feet, cuts and scrapes on her legs and hands, only in her night clothes with leaves in her hair.]

[she enters the room but stops short when she sees that her aunt is not alone. she recognizes one face. her grandfather. the father of the mother who died when she was born. but the other. she doesn’t know. a frown makes its way onto her face as her head tilts, eyes on the unfamiliar man.]

               ❝ Who are you?❞

[trucidavit]

@deathisachoice sc

[msg: charlie brown]

[msg: charlie brown] I lost my wallet :/

[myricds]

@deathisachoice  ( x )  ———  charles vane.

“ Didn’t realize you kept my balls in the same bag you keep Jack’s. Where I was doesn’t fuckin’ matter. Where we’re going is more important. ”

         ❛  been waitin’ over an hour ------ don’t gotta be such a prick about it.  ❜    anne pushes the bottle she’s been nursing toward her captain, glaring at him all the while. for all the rage that lives inside her, it’s rarely truly directed at him or jack, despite the venom on her tongue.   ❛  fine, the fuck we goin’ then ?  ❜ 

[harknesstm]

@deathisachoice uwu

If there was anything he loved, it was micro-environments that represented something bigger. Nassau could pretend it was a small rebel island but it was a spark towards a much bigger flame that none of them would live to see, and it reminded Jack of the rebel pirate outports on the edges of systems in the far-flung future. No law except those unspoken, you were judged off the merit of your actions rather than any bullshit name or title that you didn't earn.

Times changed, but people didn't. You could throw a beach and no electricity on the type and they'd be just the same as they would be skirting the edges of systems in thousands of years. The core remained.

"Don't suppose this place has a harpsichord." Comment delivered easily as he silently ordered another drink from the brothel bar girl, grinning as she turned to oblige before his attention returned. "Captain Jack Harkness." He greeted, grin turned back on for the mans benefit. "Captain Vane, right?"