#I’ll be disinterested in a ship

[notherpuppet]

I never really ask other blogs things so forgive me if this is weird

But as a former radioapple hater (I just hated the ship not like, annoyed at people who liked it, if that makes sense?) It's now one of my favourite ships (a bug reason was your comics) and I nowbhave AUs for it😭

It's definitely a cult, and I can't say I hate that I've been converted.

Thank you for hearing my confession

I feel like a Priest

[hopediamondart]

I know you’ve never been big on Shamgoat but with the COTL account posting it I’d like to hear your thoughts on the ship? Does it just disinterest you? Are you neutral on it? Some people like Shamgoat but I’ve seen some fans disagreeing with the pairing

I absolutely love shamgoat and I love everyone’s interpretations of shamgoat. Especially the headcanon of Goat being Shamura’s vessel instead of a white Narinder. Shamura being the Bishop of War and Goat’s personality depicted through canon really fits well together. Plus, it’s hot.

I don’t think I’ve ever shown disinterest on Shamgoat, I just don’t give much attention to it because of my focus on goatlamb/narilamb. When I saw the video from the COTL account I SCREAMED with happiness and immediately showed it to my moots who also love shamgoat.

People can have their opinions about the ship but I don’t think it should deter you from shipping it at all. Hell, I’ve been seeing discourse on goatlamb but that doesn’t stop me from shipping it. I’m pretty sure there’s a few people who don’t even like Narilamb. Ship whatever you want, just as long as it isn’t problematic.

Now have this Shamgoat drawing of @ccarmody101’s Shamura kissing my Soulmate au Goat from my goat kissing booth

Besides, I’ve been thinking about my Goat Relic AU and Shamura’s influence in it, who knows. Maybe I’ll put Shamgoat in there 👀

[hannahbarberra162]

Opposites of Attraction, Chapter 2

18+ MDNI | on Ao3

The other chapter

Thank you to @nocturnalrorobin and @limitlesstildil for beta-ing this work!!

Your POV

“ - and so this Squirt is comin’ on board. Any problems and I’ll dump her overboard,” Kid yelled out to the assembled crew. He’d finally released you from his arm and demagnetized your lips now that the ship was sailing on the open water.

“No you won’t,” you said with disinterest, looking around at the ship past the assembled crew. You were familiar with some of them from wanted posters - Wire, Heat, Quincy, Emma, as well as some others you thought you recognized but weren’t sure. 

“Heh, don’t tell me what I will or won’t do. I’m the Captain here -”

“You gave yourself the nickname ‘Captain,’ doesn’t make you one,” you said dryly, now walking away from Kid and towards the mast for further inspection. Kid went red up to the tips of his ears.

“It’s not a nickname you fuckin’ bitch! This is my ship-”

“Then why’s it in quotes on your wanted posters and no one else's? Eustass ‘Captain’ Kid?” you smirked at him, making air quotes. You weren’t looking at him anymore though, you were more interested with the metal on the ship. You reached out to touch the steel-plated mast. Shitty quality , you thought to yourself. Now Kid’s chest was red too. You wondered if you could turn him red from the top of his ears down to his feet. Maybe he’d run out of blood before then and die - it was a theory you’d like to test.

“Besides, you can’t throw me overboard. I would fuck your shit up before you got the chance,” you said, now touching the shitty iron. Damn, what did they pry this off of? A kid's sandbox?

“Yeah, and how? I control -” 

“You control magnets but I control the metal,” you said with a grin, flipping him off with one hand. Still touching the metal on the mast, you added significantly more (and better quality) steel to what was already there. You used your power and a little creativity to shape it into a giant sized hand giving Kid the middle finger.

“Good likeness,” Killer said, giving you a thumbs up.

“Thanks Killer! I’m okay with sculptures, but -”

“You like it so much, you can fuckin’ stay there!” Kid yelled, probably annoyed he was already forgotten due to your awesome statue. Without warning you were jerked backward so the entirety of your body was stuck against the mast. You hit the mast hard, the air pushed out of your lungs with the unexpected movement. Kid stormed off to another area of the ship, boots stomping all the way. You rolled your eyes and molded the steel you’d added back around the mast, giving yourself a metal chair to be magnetized to. You couldn’t leave the mast but you could make it nicer for yourself. The crew broke apart to go back to work but a few came up to you as you stayed put. You watched Quincy stand up from the crate she was sitting on and hold onto it for a few moments while bent over before she righted herself. You’d always liked the looks of her from her posters but unfortunately, she left and the Commanders came over.

“You’re Wire, right?” you asked, looking the tall man up and down as he came to introduce himself.

“You know that’s right. You heard about me, Babe?” he said, leaning over you onto his forearm and giving you a wink. Did that actually work on anyone?

“Smallest dick on the seas, that’s what they say,” you deadpanned as the Commander’s face soured. Killer and another Commander laughed heartily as Wire gave you a scowl and stomped away, much like his Captain. You weren’t sure how they’d made it this long with such fragile egos - you’d make it your personal mission to deflate them.

“I’m Heat, nice to meet you,” the blue-haired man said to you, extending his hand.

“Nice to make your acquaintance but your fuckface of a Captain magnetized my hands to the mast so I can’t shake your hand,” you said with an overly saccharine tone. 

“Ah, right. Well, I’ll see you around I guess?” Heat said, a faint blush rising to his cheeks.

“I’ll be here until he gets the stick out of his ass, which seems like it may never happen. Feel free to stop by,” you replied. You hoped Kid remembered to give you water to drink otherwise you’d die on his stupid ass fish ship. 

Kid’s POV

Kid was burning off steam in his workshop, welding tiny pieces of metal together to make a metal hawk. He'd felt the iron you created - it was better than almost all of the stuff on board. Creating was a great way to relieve Kid’s stress - after he’d already used the axe-throwing room and decimated the wooden target board. Kid wasn’t one to doubt his decisions but you were already a huge pain in his ass. You hadn’t been on the ship for 12 hours and he wanted to throttle you. Who the fuck did you think you were, flipping him off with his own ship? Talkin’ to him like he was some street rat in front of his crew? He didn’t like your attitude and the more he thought about your interactions, the angrier he became. He was the Captain, you worked for him, that’s all there was to it. You thought you were some tough, hot shit mercenary but Kid knew better. He’d break you and you’d regret ever fucking with him.

Killer popped his head in the workshop, the only person who could do so and keep it attached to their body.

“Dinner’s ready,” he said, hiking his thumb backward to indicate the galley. Kid put down his welding equipment, ready to destroy some food. The delicious smell wafting in from the kitchen told him it was spaghetti and meatballs, Killer’s favorite dish. A passing thought came to him as he stood up from his workbench.

“Make a plate for our guest,” he ordered, his painted mouth splitting his face wide. 

A few minutes later, after Killer prepared and gave the Captain what he asked for, Kid sauntered up to the main deck. Of course, you were exactly where he’d left you, though you’d molded yourself some kind of chair to sit on. Clever. Kid felt a raindrop on his skin - looked like a cloudy night.

“Did you finally remember humans need food and water to survive?” you mouthed off to him. Even with your high and mighty attitude, you were exactly where he left you, unable to move. Really you should be thanking him for his mercy in allowing you to open your mouth and eyelids.

“Tch. You'll survive. Humans need water every what? 4 days?”

“Oh my fucking gods. No, humans die before then. Are you - who's the doctor on the ship?” You asked, trying to look around. Kid's eye twitched with your continued sass.

“You want this food or not?” Kid grunted, holding up the plate of spaghetti while ignoring your question. You narrowed your eyes at the food but your stomach gave off a loud grumble.

“I could eat,” you said offhandedly. Kid laughed.

“Then beg me for it,” Kid sneered. Your mouth set in a way that told him your answer before you said it.

“I'd rather eat shit, Eustass,” the venom in your tone was belied by the continued growling of your stomach.

“Ah well, that's too bad,” Kid said with false sincerity. He pulled the plate back and used the fork to twirl a large amount of spaghetti onto it. Your mouth dropped open as Kid shoved it all into his own. He felt a few more raindrops on his skin but paid it no mind.

“If you feel like eating, or yanno, leaving the mast again slurp , you know what to do,” Kid said with an exaggerated shrug, already turned away with the food in his hands. You didn’t say anything but he did smile as he repulsed a wave of iron coming at him back to you. 

Your POV

It was a bitterly cold night at sea, something you were well used to. One of the many perks of being a Logia fruit user was that you didn’t feel differences in temperature as you could always turn into your iron form. Sure, it was less comfortable to stay as a solid piece of iron than laying in a bed but the benefit of being able to sleep literally anywhere outweighed a night spent with a fluffy pillow. You hadn’t lost a wink of sleep since the day you’d eaten your fruit.

Except when you were completely wet.  

And you were right now due to the raging rainstorm outside. You weren’t able to use your powers anymore and you felt like complete shit but lucky for you whatever intrinsic nature your devil fruit had given you left you still magnetized to the mast. So you were freezing to death and couldn’t make yourself immune to the cold, but also couldn’t move from where Fuckstass had left you. Your teeth were chattering together and you had lost sensation in your toes and fingers as the rain pounded you relentlessly.

The clothes you wore weren’t waterproof or meant for the cold - you had long stopped buying clothes and made your own out of finely woven iron mesh. From afar it was indistinguishable from other textiles but had the additional benefit of providing some protection against attacks. It was not, however, meant to get wet and cold and stick to your freezing body like a second skin. You were hungry, tired, wet, losing the will to live, and freezing.

If the Captain was trying to kill you, he was doing a passable job. If the rainstorm kept up and you caught a severe enough cold, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that you could die. It figured, you led a life as an infamous mercenary and what would take you out was being left out in the rain. You closed your eyes, trying to gather up the scraps of your will that remained. You had come to terms with the fact that water took away your power and ability to swim but the loss of will to live always upset you the most. Shivering as the wind whipped your hair into your face, you tried to steel yourself for the rest of the night. Morning would eventually come and hopefully, the rain would abate soon.

Kid POV

Kid was feeling a little better now that he’d tormented you over dinner. He wasn’t planning on starving you to death, he wanted your abilities for his own gain. He had touched the kind of iron you made for yourself and it was higher quality even than the steel he used for his arm. So luckily for you, he’d give you food and water or whatever after you dropped your bratty attitude. He was absorbed in making the feathers for the hawk when he felt Killer’s gaze at his back. 

“What,” Kid said, not breaking eye contact with his project.

“ ‘S raining hard out there. Coupla hours now,” Killer said, leaning against the doorframe.

“Yeah, buckets. Cold as shit too. No big storm though. Need me on deck?” Kid was unsure where Killer was going with this but Killer never interrupted without reason.

“Squirt’s still stuck to the mast,” Killer said with a shrug.

“Fuckin’ dammit, ” Kid yelled, slamming down his blow torch onto the table. He picked up what Killer was saying - you wouldn’t be able to turn into iron and avoid the cold with all the water but also couldn’t leave where he’d put you. Killer moved out of the way as Kid stomped back up to the deck, his coat billowing behind him. 

Of course, you were right where he left you. You were huddled up as much as you could, shaking uncontrollably. You were wet and shivering and your skin looked blue - Kid almost felt bad for you. You deserved it for pissing him off too much but it was probably not good, he ultimately decided. Grunting, he demagnetized you and removed his red coat as he moved onto the deck. Walking into the rain made him feel shitty in seconds, you probably felt worse.

Kid stormed up to you, wrapped you in his coat and picked you up off the deck, carrying you over his shoulder. You didn’t protest or even say anything back to him, just hung off his shoulder like a sack of grain as water fell off you in rivulets. Killer was watching from the doorway as Kid brought you inside the ship.

“Needs a warm bath, she got too cold,” Killer supplied. Kid growled and gnashed his teeth but stomped his way over to his quarters. There was hot water in the shared bathroom but someone was already in there and you needed the bath now. Easier and faster to just get it done in his own room. He set you down on the floor, his coat now just as wet as you were. Another fucking annoyance he’d have to deal with later. After turning on the spigots in his bathroom, Kid faced you. You weren’t magnetized or anything but you weren’t moving either.

“Strip,” Kid commanded, already reaching to remove his coat from your body.

“Hh- nn-no?” you answered, your tone making it seem more like a question. You were really out of it, Kid thought. He didn’t bother asking again, just started ripping off your clothes. Normally clothes shredded without him even trying but these had a little more strength to them. Holding up one of your socks, he realized it was made of steel so fine it looked like gossamer.

“The fuck…is this chainmail?” Kid grumbled as he tore the steel. He set your clothes aside, he wanted to smelt them down later. Maybe you were worth the trouble, this was good shit.

“ ‘S not chainmail, just mesh,” you mumbled, kicking off your pants. Kid was secretly pleased you weren’t protesting him taking off your clothes. He wasn’t shy about being naked and preferred when others weren’t either. His crew had seen each other naked so many times it was almost surprising when all of them were clothed. Between the two of you, you were naked in a matter of seconds. Kid picked you up around the middle with his flesh hand, noting how light you were when you weren’t being a brat and turning yourself to metal. Kid did try to not stare at your naked body but it was challenging. Your tits were just the right size and he wanted to sink his teeth into your thighs. Kid dumped you into the bath and you hissed at the sensation, recoiling from the water. Kid rolled his eyes but didn’t remark on your pain.

“Get warm then come out,” Kid grunted, leaving his towel on top of the counter for you. Your teeth were still chattering and your body was wracked with chills as he turned to leave the bathroom. You started to lean over towards the side of the tub and Kid had to move quickly to right you again. Water overload maybe - you’d been in the rain and now the bath. Too much water wouldn’t kill you but it wouldn’t feel great either. Killer would be mad if Kid left you in the bath alone since it was maybe Kid’s fault you were in this position to begin with.

“Fuckin’ brat,” Kid huffed as he used his hands to pour the tepid water over your back and head. You still weren’t talking and your eyes kept sliding shut. After a few moments, your head dropped down to your chest as you nodded out. 

“Alright, s’enough of that,” Kid said, picking you up. Getting you warm from the bath didn’t seem to be helping, you were ragdolling as he wrapped you in his oversized towel and carried you to the bed.

“You really couldn’t be more fuckin’ irritating,” Kid said while setting you on the bed. He dried you off roughly, ignoring the way the moving towel had your tits jiggling under his hand. Drying you off quickly, he grabbed one of his shirts off the floor. It was clean enough, it wasn’t like you had open wounds or anything and would mind the oil. 

“Put this on Squirt,” Kid ordered, throwing it at you. You blinked but caught it with a hand, starting to dress yourself robotically. Kid frowned, what the fuck was wrong with you? He’d given you a bath and dried you off, weren’t you better now?

“Can make my clothes,” you muttered, lifting up your hand. 

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare. Do that shit tomorrow. Put my shirt on pipsqueak,” Kid yelled at you. You looked up at him like you were surprised he was still there.

“You still cold?” Kid asked, hanging up his soaking jacket on the coat rack.

“Yeah,” you said, hugging your knees with a yawn. “When the rain goes away I’ll go back outside,” you mumbled into your legs. A soft knock at the door told Kid Killer had stopped by. Opening the door, Kid saw Killer with a steaming mug of tea and a warm plate of food left over from dinner. 

“For Squirt,” Killer said pointedly. Kid rolled his eyes. He ate Mosh’s food once like a year ago and Killer never let him forget it. 

“Gave ‘er a bath. She’s being weird,” Kid huffed to Killer.

“Hypothermia, dummy. ‘S makin’ me tired and groggy and can’t kick your ass right now,” Kid heard you grouse from the bed. 

“Looks like she’s doing better,” Killer said, nodding along with your assessment. “She’s gonna crash soon. Needs a warm place and lotsa blankets to sleep under. Want me to take her to the ladies?” Killer offered, handing the food and mug over to Kid. When the ship was first built, the whole crew lived together in the bunks below deck but Emma and Quincy quickly demanded their own space. They said the men were gross, smelly, and snored too loud which wasn’t far from the truth. So Kid repurposed a stock room into the women’s quarters and they’d made the place much nicer than the men’s. Looking over, he saw you’d curled up in his bed and were already asleep under his heavy blanket. 

“Lemme know,” Killer offered before he sauntered away like the instigator he was. Kid huffed and set the food down on his nightstand. 

“Drink the tea, brat,” Kid said, shaking you with his metal arm. You groaned and rolled over, wrapping yourself up further in his blankets. You looked kind of…pathetic. Kid was sure that come the morning your sass would be back and you’d be spewing all kinds of nonsense but even he wasn’t completely heartless. Shoving you over to the side of his bed, Kid kicked off his boots and laid down next to you on the bed.

“Don’t get used to it Squirt. Tomorrow you’re back in the dog house,” Kid groused at your sleeping form. You exhaled sharply through your nose, annoyed with him even in your sleep. The feeling was mutual, Kid thought as he detached his metal arm and set it on the floor by his bed. He could sleep with it on but it wasn’t very comfortable and his stump appreciated the relief. 

He yanked some covers away from you but not that much. Kid ran warm all the time and even though it was freezing outside, tonight was no exception. He leaned back against his pillows, shoving his hand behind his head. He was pondering what the fuck he was going to do with you when he felt you roll into his side. 

“Oi, Squirt. What’re you up to?” Kid said quietly, not wanting to disrupt your sleep. Even though you were annoying as fuck, he didn’t like seeing you so out of it. He wanted you to be back to your bratty, sassy, irritating self so if you needed sleep, he’d let you have it. 

“Warm,” was all you said as you buried your cold nose into his side and frozen feet on his legs.

“Oi! Warn me before you do that again, what’re you made of ice?” 

“Not gonna happen yawn again. Just tonight. You tried to kill me s’os it’s ok,” you said into his side. You were wrapping yourself around him and it didn’t escape Kid’s notice that your unbound tits were pressed against him. He reacted as anyone else would - he got hard. 

“Didn’t try to kill you,” Kid muttered. 

“Did,” you replied, your arms wrapping around him. Kid was about to retort again but you sighed in contentment as you heated your body with his own. Whatever. Having a sexy (but pesky) woman cuddling up to him wasn’t the worst way he’d gone to bed, he thought as he fell asleep, willing his cock to do the same.

Taglist: @mfreedomstuff

[prying-pandora666]

Being Pro Mai but Anti-Maiko Is So Frustrating

Seriously, I can’t stand Maiko. I’ve never liked it as a ship at all. I think Zuko is too controlling and that’s not good for Mai who has a traumatic past of being controlled by her parents for their political benefit. I think Mai is too emotionally repressed and disinterested in politics and Zuko needs someone who can emotionally support him as he dedicates his life to the reconstruction of his nation.

AND YET!

I don’t know why people can’t just be normal and say “I don’t like this ship”. Why does it always have to turn into “Mai is abusive, evil, manipulative, sociopathic, etc”???

I find myself defending a ship I don’t even like, at all, because the sexist accusations against a fictional teen girl are just that insane.

I’ll take a Maiko shipper who can respect my dislike of the ship over a Mai basher any day!

[magiccath]

Home Alone

tenth doctor x GN!reader (ambiguous relationship, could be friends or more!)

Summary: In which you show the Doctor a Christmas classic

A/N: this is really just self-indulgent cause I feel like he could love Home Alone

“Doctor!” you cheered happily, running through the front doors of the TARDIS. He pulled his attention from the screen before him to look at you. 

“Look what I found!” You smiled brightly as you held out a battered, old VHS tape. The Doctor frowned at it, unsure why you were so excited over something he considered ancient technology. 

“It’s Home Alone,” you grinned, bouncing on your feet. 

“What?” The Doctor asked, confused. He pulled his glasses from his pocket and perched them on the tip of his nose. Gently, he took the old tape from you. 

“My favorite Christmas movie from when I was a kid,” you explained, handing over the VHS so he could examine it.

“Can we watch it?” you asked, looking up at him expectantly. He slid his glasses back off and handed the tape back to you. 

“Sure,” he shrugged, pushing off the console, “I think I have a VHS player somewhere around here…” he mumbled, rummaging about the ship.

“I’ll get some snacks?’ you suggested, trailing behind him. The Doctor made a series of murmurs and grunts you interpreted as a ‘yes.’

While he searched for something to play the tape on you gathered popcorn and two steaming cups of hot cocoa for you and the Doctor. You set the snacks up in the library, gathering some blankets and pillows to put on the couch. 

“Found it!” The Doctor smiled, dragging in an ancient-looking TV. “This will play it for us,” he explained as he lined it up with the couch. You plopped down, patiently watching him set everything up. 

“Tape?” He requested, holding his hand out. You passed the movie over to him before settling back against the pillows. After he had cued the movie, he joined you on the couch. 

“You’re going to love this,” you smiled up at him, cradling your hot coca against your chest. 

The Doctor quirked up an eyebrow. He wasn’t much of a movie fan - he would rather experience an adventure than watch one. Still, he was willing to humor you.

The first bit of the movie was impossibly boring for him, and he was just about ready to abandon it when things started getting good. You watched the Doctor’s posture shift from disinterest to sudden engagement with a slight giggle. You had known he would love this movie. Shenanigans and traps involving household items were right up his alley.

For possibly the first time ever, the Doctor sat through an entire movie with a bright smile on his face. By the time the credits started rolling, he was almost sad it was over. 

“Was it alright?” you asked, moving to take the tape out of the TV. 

“Alright?” He gasped, “It was fantastic! That kid is a genius!” He grinned brightly, gesturing wildly with his hands. 

“I figured you’d think so.”

“The ornaments under the window? The feathers? It was all ingenious!” he continued rambling on, a bright smile taking over his face. You watched him lovingly as he recapped the traps of the movie you had just finished. If it was anyone else than the Doctor you might have found it annoying. 

Eventually, your tiredness took over and you let out a wide yawn. The Doctor noticed almost immediately, halting his rambling. 

“It’s late, you should go to bed,” he urged, grabbing your hand gently. You stifled another yawn and nodded, getting up and making your way to your bedroom. 

“I’ll see you in the morning,” you smiled, waving goodbye to the Doctor. 

If you had known the trouble he was going to get up to, you probably wouldn’t have gone to sleep.

The next morning, you stumbled out of your bedroom tiredly. Padding down the hallway, you made your way into the control room. It was early, but you wanted to check on the Doctor.

As you walked through the doorway your feet slid across a pile of marbles on the floor, almost sending you crashing down to the ground. The Doctor caught you at the last second, holding you in his arms. 

“What the bloody hell?!” You gasped, trying to regain your breath. 

“Sorry,” the Doctor winced, setting you back on your feet but not removing his hands from your waist. “I wanted to set a trap of my own.” 

“I’m not a home invader!” you argued, “I live here!” 

The Doctor blushed, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. You looked past him to see the rest of the control room. There were little green army men lined up around the console, a bucket of paint resting on a slightly ajar door, some kind of pulley system by the front doors, and a very conspicuous pile of tacks on the other side of the floor. You decided instantly that you got the least threatening of the traps, especially considering that the Doctor caught you. 

“Is this what you did after I went to bed?” you scolded, eyebrows furrowed. He really couldn’t be trusted by himself for two minutes, could he?

“I needed a project,” he admitted with a sly smile. 

“No one is trying to rob the TARDIS!” 

“You don’t know that,” the Doctor exclaimed, wide-eyed. 

“Who is going to try and rob a police box?” 

The Doctor didn’t have a comeback for that one, so he just looked down at the floor silently. 

“I caught you before you fell,” he tried. 

“You did,” you said matter of factly, still not sure if you should forgive him yet. He looked at you with pleading puppy dog eyes and you found it hard not to cave. 

“Thank you,” you groaned, giving in. The Doctor smiled brightly and hugged you against his body firmly. You smiled against his shoulder, hugging him back. Even if he was a pain in the arse, he was your pain in the arse.

“You’re cleaning this up though,” you sighed, gesturing to the mess of the control room. 

“But what if we get home invaders?” He whined.

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot pt 18

Pairing: Onesided!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader

Words: 5041

The two of you are irresponsible. Things end up fine, anyways.

Tags: Time Travel, Reader into Movieverse, Dragons: Defenders of Berk, Race To Fireworm Island, unedited, part one

<Previous - Next>

“Yak dung, if ye brew’t ri’gh, yae can-”

You stared out at sea, legs stood apart, fur boots planted firmly against the wooden deck, fists on your hips and smelt the sea, which was a lot less fishy and foul than it had been by the docks, where stall owners tended to drop their fish guts.

Listening to the other two sailors talk was kind of boring. Apparently Yaks weren’t native to this part of the world. They were a far off import from a long time ago, which explained why Gobber and the other Vikings treated them like they were the ultimate cure-all.

“Aye, how abou’ we talk about something besides yak dung, you old frigate? I ‘prom I can’ ‘nit bear one more momen’ of- of-” The younger man spoke, voice tinged with a bit of roboticism and a definite note of disinterest. 

The last you checked, he was quite gruffly doing his best to untangle the knotted fronts of an old, frayed net, probably rife with holes.

Everyone was a warrior, few got to be nothing besides that.

Berk’s close knit community kept anyone from really falling into poverty unless they sucked or were new, but the few fishermen here on Berk that were unlucky enough to end up poor tended to have heavier accents than everyone else, spending most of their pay on their dying ships, in contrast to some of the other boats, with hardy shiphands and large decorated, painted sides.

This one, the one you were on, was old and small but incredibly hardy, though it felt like it might sink down in still waters. As you heard, it did surprisingly well during a storm.

Family boats died hard, it seemed. And he was very insistent that that boat ran in his family.

It took a while for you to ascertain the knowledge that here, you were actually supposed to poop on a poop deck, not that you wanted to. It was more like you’d been shown how they did it which was very similar to just leaning their butt over the side railing and roughing it in front of everyone.

You did not enjoy that show.

You didn’t think anyone here was there for that boat trip. You found that very good.

You were at sea with two other sailors, an old man, large but frail as his boat, and a younger middle aged man who had very little interest in anything but the nets.

The sea was oddly still though still windy as you felt through your very casual tunic and trousers. You figured it would be a waste to wear more.

A thick pouch attached to your hip bounced against your waist as the ship rocked. 

Today, you were a fisherman’s hired helping hand. It was a while since you’d helped on a ship. It was usually the poorer ones who couldn’t afford anyone hardier who pulled you up.

You were slightly pleased with it, though, as you raked across the sky with your eyes. Lunch was cheaper when you were part of the team catching it.

In the sky, you spotted the few birds brave enough to squeak and squeal and flip with dragons lurking around the clouds.

With a burst of enthusiasm, you waved up at them as they dotted the sky.

There were a few groups, not all clear enough for you to make out any more than a dot. And a little further back… There were what looked like the Riders.

You could make out the bright blur form of Stormfly and Astrid’s blonde head of hair on top. Behind her is who you thought were the twins.

You wondered where they were off to.

You eep-ed as a dot separated from the flock.

As the dot grew larger on the horizon, as you recognized the dark, swooping wings of the Night Fury and as it came closer, you realized, of course, that it was Hiccup and Toothless.

“Alr’gh, lass, You grab one end of the net and I’ll-” The old fisherman grumbled from behind, before cutting himself off, “By jove, what’s he want from ‘ere?”

His long, gray beard and ponytail shifted with the wind, and bald spot, which you presumed was caused prematurely a long time ago, half marred by a barely noticeable burn scar, slightly reflected the glare of the sun.

“Speak not of the Romans here, ol’ man,” The younger fisherman grumbled as you glanced back, his unevenly chopped, short brown hair blowing wildly as he limped and dragging his feet up behind him.

The old fishermen’s thin, threadbare brown fur tunic bollywood in the wind. It was patchy, something most Vikings on Berk could relate to but none would be bothered by besides the poorer, without the coin or resources to procure a new bit of fabric to replace.

Your own clothes were thin and not enough during the best of times.

You turned back up to the sky, nearly startled to see how far both Hiccup and Toothless had traveled in such little time, then backed up as they got nearer and nearer, quickly moving to compensate as they pul;led right up to the side.

The ship rocked dangerously as Toothless landed against the side, this fishing boat being a bit smaller than was typical, also positioned dangerously close to a set of rocks just barely peeking out of the water.

“Oi!” The old fisherman shouted angrily, as a spray of water rained down on them from above, just barely missing you, “Watch it, you-!”

“You watch i’, yae old man,” The brown haired fisherman said abruptly, scowling and fixing his accent and twisting his torso, sort of lanky but not nearly enough to be ousted from viking hood, dropping his net and coming over to cover the old man’s mouth, “Tha’s the Chief’s son.”

You winced, imagining his fishy breath over your own fingers, holding some pity for him though he didn’t look like he wanted or needed it.

Hiccup laughed awkwardly and winced, peering back at the rocks as Toothless sniffed around disinterestedly. 

“We go’ no fish for ye, beast!” The old man yowled raspily, throwing off the younger man’s hand and shaking his fist.

Hiccup looked at the fisherman with a slight grimace though he didn’t say anything.

You blew a puff of air out into the ether, looking to the side and inhaling a new, fresh breath and feeling the lungs in your chest expand as you did.

These kinds of spats were not something you had a particular interest in.

Hiccup neither, it seemed.

“Hi?” He asked awkwardly, turning his attention away from them and looking down at you from where he was seated on Toothless, whose claws were digging into the railing, which you were sure was going to give the old fisherman an ulcer later.

“Hello,” You responded. You supposed that by now you should be feeling at least a little bit of Deja Vu but you really did not at all, “Where are you off to?”

“So, ah, how’s…?” Hiccup asked awkwardly, “Is now a bad time?”

You both stared back at the older fisherman who was now squabbling with the brown haired guy, who was busy holding him back, his arms hooked under the back of the old fisherman’s.

“It’s been… fine,” You said, “He’s kind of crazy, I think. Don’t mind it much.”

“Right…”

You heard a loud sniff as what must’ve been Toothless knocked over a small barrel on the other end of the ship, causing some weird-smelling liquid to spill over onto the deck.

“Shouldn’t they be doing better, with all the dragons nearby? You know…” Hiccup gentured down towards the head of his dragon, sniffing at a few closed baskets by the side of the boat, “...Fish?”

“No, ah,” You hummed, nodding to the dingy floorboards and the frayed everything; this vessel wasn’t even painted, a great deal smaller than the other ships, “There’s more fish now because of the dragons doing less hunting, which means an easier catch, food has to cost less in order to feed more and to sell and because most people can probably catch their own fish, and also this boat is kind of…” 

You cleared your throat, shaking off the remnants of the fisherman’s accent, lingering along the edges of your voice.

You didn’t pick up on the whole thing until very, very recently but on the regular, you spoke in a way that was more formal than the rest of Berk.Of course, you knew you had an accent, but often you found that as you spent more time with the villagers, in an effort to be more polite, you tried to adapt the accents of the people you were speaking to in order to mask your own foreign one.

  It helped, some.

“Right,” Hiccup said again, “We’re- we’re looking for Fireworms. The others and I. I should probably…”

“For Snotlout?” You asked.

You looked back and then up towards Hiccup again. They usually managed just fine without you, and it was an awfully calm day.

Would you leave them behind? 

To be fair, if you stayed, you were sure to get an earful. So you didn’t feel bad about it at all.

“How did you know?” Hiccup asked. 

You squinted. 

Hiccup was positioned just so that the sun glared down from around him, which was a bit painful to your eyes.

“Well…” You started.

There wasn’t much the Riders did that had anything to do with the Jorgensons when Snotlout wasn’t involved and the ‘Louts had been particularly grabby recently. What wasn’t for them?

They took the island very seriously and themselves even more so as the ‘protectors of the island.’

From your interactions with the rest of the Jorgenson house and, more importantly, the head, you knew Spitelout was very rough on Snotlout.  

Depending on the Jorgenson, they were either sort of wasteful or wasteless to an unreasonable degree, throwing things out before they could be fixed and using old, broken tools even after it became incredibly dangerous to do so, but they were also very rich compared to some of the other families on Berk so it didn’t really matter. 

They had to have the best of everything in people and things, or something like that. Which usually left only crumbs for the rest of everybody.

You’d heard some of the women by the square complaining as you scoured over their crumbs and dry pickings.

You didn’t mind it. Berk was pretty first-come first-serve, anyways.

Until it came to dragons.

Everyone on Berk stuck to the typical types of dragons whenever they were forced to find a mount, not because they preferred it that way, though it wasn’t something you found to cause any dissent in particular. 

“Gut feeling,” You shrugged, going with the easy explanation, “Do you need any help?”

It was difficult to find any type outside of a Dragon Training course, of course, those being a roster of the most common native dragons. The other kinds were a bit harder to stumble across. Any of the ‘exotic’ types of dragon mounts were something to be proud of, and proud of them they were, the few Vikings who had the time and resources to expend. 

There were a few squabbles about it but nothing too major. Most Vikings were still a little dragon shy anyhow. The whole argument was kind of silly.

Having a dragon was about more than the type of dragon, anyways.

 It didn’t matter much to you, a person without a dragon. 

There was a fisherman who was quite proud of his exotic dragon- a Scauldron. He’d picked it up a little bit after the incident with the purple flowers.

It helped a lot with fishing.

“Well… Are you busy?” Hiccup asked, albeit a tad unsurely.

“Not particularly,” You said, staring back at the old fisherman, also a bit unsure. 

Adventuring with Hiccup would make it easier to avoid the old fisherman, who, now that you thought about it, was a bit off and who you imagined was very close to blowing his top.

“Really?” Hiccup asked, looking a little guilty, eyes darting back towards the fishermen behind you.

He pointed a shaking hand towards you, spluttering messily as the brown haired Viking guy scrambled for some of the ropes along one of the poles along the back end of the ship, still not letting go of his arm.

“Yeah,” You said, beaming as Hiccup scooted forward, urging Toothless to turn around with his foot, causing the boat to rock a bit and you to back up, adjusting to the dragon as he swung wide.

Hiccup made a sheepish smile and offered you the space behind him on his saddle, though he kept his eyes on the fisherman behind.

You pretended you saw nothing. You thought the scene they were making resembled something out of the world’s blandest comedy show, or an old cartoon. 

He paid pennies, anyway.

“Someone should be by with a Scauldron in case you need help,” You called back, “I heard the rainbow big ship was out today.”

“Not tha’ barrel! The other! Can’t you see the difference?” The old fisherman made a rude gesture and shouted as Toothless took the initiative to do a bit more exploring.

He shook free enough to grab something thick, dark and viscous from a wooden tankard to the side and throw it towards Toothless.

Hiccup shifted awkwardly as he responded, “I don't see the difference…?” 

You yelped and jumped back and scrambled up on Toothless behind him as the glob landed right by your feet. 

Looked like your refreshing day out at sea was over. You could always go fishing another day.

You tossed the fisherman back his coin, holding it between your fingers and flipping it to him with your thumb before he could say anything, shooting off a quick, “I’m sorry!”

He jumped down and grabbed for it, though the brown haired fisherman caught it with some minor exhaustion.

You turned away and lightly nudged Hiccup’s arm, hurting before the old fisherman could do something more crass. Like his bare bottom over the railing. Sure, you may have had to know the sight once, but it was still irritating. And gross.

Hiccup kicked Toothless quickly off and up into the sky. You could feel the wind bursting past your face, much more biting now that you were once again without your coat.

You rotated your shoulder slightly after you slipped into the saddle behind Hiccup, arms sore from all the rowing you did earlier, which was difficult considered your arms were clenched around his waist.

“Fireworm island?” You asked, “Which ones are Fireworms, again?”

“They’re the small orange glowy ones,” Hiccup spoke past the rushing wind, though it didn’t seem like he was particularly rushed, bumping your shoulder with his as he glanced back.

“I don’t think I’ve seen those yet,” You said as you locked your arms around his waist, Toothless moving at rocketing speeds.

“We’re heading back towards Berk?” You asked. 

“Yeah. We were just- Well-” Hiccup struggled, “Recouping. Navigating. Splitting ground.”

“Splitting? What’s your-? You know.”

“I’m not- I left too early,” Hiccup said, embarrassedly at nearly a shout, “I was hoping you might know- Ah– But the- I know some of the fishermen used to use Fireworms as bait.”

He cut off then, but you got the gist of it.

“Why don’t we try a different island?” You asked, fighting against the wind as Hiccup and Toothless reoriented them all, nearly flipping over.

You imagined what Fishlegs would say; ‘There’s an island for that!’

It seemed like there was an island for everything. Was there one for Fireworms?

You wondered what Berk was the island for.

You didn’t need to be close friends to know for sure. 

It was bare. 

You pushed through another set of ferns, following quickly behind Hiccup as the two of you trudged through a thick set of trees.

You really hoped you hadn’t messed up and someone ended up dead, or something.

People would riot. Chase you off for sure.

You heard people talking about moving more into the forests where there were more resources and privacy, the only thing having kept them in the village being the dragons.

You’d have to take refuge.

Another dock would be nice, you thought.

You wondered if the volcano on Dragon island was still active. That would make for a good second island, if the dragons didn’t mind a few human visitors. Roommates. Exile-ees.

You figured they’d probably rather they be left alone, though.

“Would using Gel from another Nightmare work? Or is it like blood transfusions?” You asked as you ducked under another low-hanging branch. 

You stepped over the gnarled roots of this tree quickly afterwards, the soles of your boots making an odd wet noise as it hit the damp undergrowth. 

The two of you had just hit a pretty soggy spot in the undergrowth and you knew Hiccup was worried it might turn into peat. 

You were close to suggesting that you head back and try another direction in the forest.

Said Hiccup looked at you oddly, brows cinched and raised as he tried to repeat your foreign modern words, “Blood transfusions?”

You puzzled over it for a moment, “Blood… exchange? Blood giving?”

“That…” Hiccup cringed, but he had the shadows of his idea face ghosting the corners of his expression. He was, also, probably wondering if it was just as unsanitary as it seemed, as a normally adjusted person should.

“It’s not as gross as it sounds, I promise.”

“Really?”

“I mean, everyone has different blood types, and you- Shouldn’t try it. Please don’t try it,” You said a bit quickly.

He didn’t have the medical equipment, at least not for blood.

It probably wasn’t safe anyways.

You hadn’t talked since before his Dad started asking you questions you didn’t want to think about. You refused to let it get awkward. Still, you hoped to find some Fireworms soon.

Toothless had run off earlier, chasing the likeness of a work into the trees. Hope was nearly lost.

Catching the worms was sort of difficult and the Fireworms had been sparse. You’d been out for what, thirty minutes? An hour?

You winced.

It was like trying to catch frogs with tweezers. How you imagined it, anyways.

You wondered if there were frogs here and if that was something Vikings did. You thought you saw a kid with a frog once. You wondered if Hiccup wanted to go catch frogs, and if he was the type of kid to have tried to do that. 

Maybe with friends? You weren’t sure.

He seemed a little solitary before the Red Death, though not by choice or any sort of personality quirk, at least nothing you would clock from the modern day.

You were afraid, though, that his only friend was Gobber which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, in and of itself.

“Toothless!” Hiccup tried then, calling again, cupping his hands around his mouth. 

You glanced down at his leg, which you noticed just then had sunk a bit deep into the mud. It was going to get caked later.

“No dice?” You asked, pulling yourself up a step.

“No dice,” Hiccup shook his head. He tried to hide it, but he was looking kind of glum. Which was understandable.

You squinted ahead as the way forward got lighter, blinking placidly into the treeline. 

Maybe you wouldn't have to turn back after all. 

You kept moving forwards. 

Hiccup had a sort of stormy, contemplative expression on his face a for a while, and so you’d given him the space to think.

You weren’t particularly pressed to speak yourself, in a mood that made you just as happy with silence as exercising your vocal cords.

“Spitelout… Snotlout hadn’t said anything but I’m sure he wants him to- …” Hiccup spoke, after a while.

“Kill Hookfang?” You asked.

You likened it -the idea- to euthanasia for older animals or animals that were too sick to function anymore. But you had the inkling that that’s not exactly the type of person Spitelout was. 

It was still unreasonable, though. You hadn’t exhausted half your resources yet, you thought. If there was still a chance you’d be able to save Snotlout’s dragon…

You felt sort of bad for Hiccup.

Dragons were his thing, after all. “I should have told the others where I was going,” Hiccup sighed, gesturing with his hands as he stopped suddenly, then letting them fall until they slapped soundlessly against his legs, “I can’t believe I messed up this bad.”

You moved up beside him to see his face, lips pursed into a thin line as he looked exhaustively up into the thin pin-ey canopy above, “It’s not that bad.”

He looked at you guiltily then, though you had the feeling he wasn’t looking at you with guilt any more than you being the cause of it. Did he regret stopping by to pick you up? Coming to another island?

“It’s fine,” You tried, before adding hopefully, comforting yourself a little bit, “We don’t know if it’s a mistake, yet. These things happen, and you never know.”

“My Dad is going to kick me out and I’m going to have to spend every night from now on until I die eating alone.” Hiccup spoke dryly.

“I’ll be here,” You suggested helpfully, “And if you get kicked off I promise I’ll visit with things. So you don’t drop. Like fresh water and probably beads, maybe.”

“Well, thanks, I bet they’ll taste great mixed up with a plate of loneliness and self-loathing,” Hiccup said sarcastically, waving his hands at his sides, before pausing, as if remembering who he was talking to. 

You snorted, a little bit surprised.

He’d not spent so much time being any more sarcastic than awkward whenever you were together. 

You thought it was a little bit funny and a little bit worrying. If things went wrong it was probably your fault, anyways. For messing with the plot. 

Had you really, though? The thought came unbidden. What had you done besides just existing? That was a guiltless action. 

Had that been all you had been doing?

You internally shook, brushing thoughts of those things away.

You didn’t want to do any pondering.

“You’d be fine, minus the indigestion, probably. You have a lot of things going for you,” You nodded.

“My sharp intellect and dashing charm,” Hiccup said, keeping his elbows close to his sides and gesturing to himself emphatically in a way that was incredibly sarcastic and slightly gawky.

“Yes,” You said firmly as you nodded besides, your side brushing fully past another fern as you went, “I mean, you’re a good inventor. I can’t name another one on the island- really, I’m sure I heard your Dad talking about it the other day-  ‘I could leave that boy alone for a week and he’d have me a city built on a whole other island by the time I got back.’”

You didn’t talk to many people so you mostly kept that bit to yourself.

“Wow, that’s…”

“A bit crazy?” You hummed, lifting your boot and jumping back slightly as you stepped into a particularly wet, boggy patch of grass.

“A lot of pressure,” Hiccup gestured aimlessly with his hands again, the glass beads threaded into the twine around his wrists twinkling slightly as he rotated them.

He seemed kind of crushed, suddenly. 

“I’m really not that good at… Prioritizing, I guess. Anything. All of this.” 

They were yellow today. Yellow and light green. You hadn’t noticed, too focused on staying atop Toothless in the sky earlier and on the fauna after you’d landed.

You looked down as you stepped up onto a short dry patch, kicking aside a few pebbles with your muddied boot toes and grabbing a hold of a thin branch, sticking up out of a log as you pulled yourself over.

“I hope he didn’t mean it literally,” You said, shrugging. But then you immediately felt guilty for it, glancing up from your feet back to Hiccup, “It’s- I mean, things happen-And- You don’t have to be good at it. I mean, you’re doing it. Who else is going to?”

You stopped for a moment and took that time to let out a large exhale.

You felt like you fumbled the conversation before you even moved your mouth again. 

“Right,” Hiccup looked at you unsurely before peering around the underbrush, “I guess. But everyone expects me to. I shouldn’t be saying this, but I don’t- …know how.”

Hiccup grimaced, looking like he had a heavy set of weights on his shoulders. Which, he might’ve.

You hadn’t had any in a while besides the need for food and board.

It made you wonder. Did you expect anything from Hiccup?

“Can you…? Gods, do you even know what I’m talking about?” Hiccup continued, burying his face in his hands, throwing his head up exaggeratedly as he rubbed his face, one hand lingering longer than the other.

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye as he did, “I didn’t mean-...”

He sighed heavily, defeated.

You looked at him for a moment, halted.

You ignored how your feet were sore and your back was starting to hurt from spending the whole day on your feet. This was no place to sit and rest, however, not even for a minute. You wouldn’t stop for more than a minute. 

Unless you wanted to be wet, that was. And froggy.

Way back on Berk, you were expected to take on responsibility a lot earlier than you were expected to in modern times so you guessed, in a way, you got it. And you wanted to tell him so.

You felt kind of odd about it all. 

Any direction you had you’d surely misplaced. Any path you knew was probably derailed- even this conversation you were sure wasn’t supposed to have happened. 

“I kind of know?” You said, “I get it, I mean. I haven’t been here for everything, but, you know, I’ve seen a lot. I don’t really have any good advice for you, though.”

You watched Hiccup slump slightly, grimacing as you spoke, feeling as if you’d failed some sort of test.

Who were you to ask for anything, really?

There was one thing you could give him, though. But similar to your own sleeves and patchy boots, which you liked a lot, you weren’t sure if it would count for much. 

“-And I’m sorry,” You said, before shrugging, not giving Hiccup a moment to think before you spoke again, “But I don’t expect anything you don’t want to give. Maybe, it would be hypocritical of me to ask for anything more than you are- I mean, I’m a delivery girl. I guess you know all that already, though, right? That you’re nice all on your own?”

You ended in a question, watching Hiccup as he watched you, searching for any more reaction. His reaction. Had you missed the mark? Was there even a mark to miss?

You hoped not. 

“Am I?” Hiccup asked, looking at you incredulously.

He gave you a wide-eyed look, some emotion you couldn’t name plastered all across his face.

You weren’t exactly an authority on the subject. You had been here, in the Archipelago, for a long while, but there were still many, many things you weren’t privy to.

“I think you are?” You took the lead by a few feet, urging Hiccup to subconsciously follow you forwards, hurrying the both of you up, “I don’t know what-I mean… Are you? I can’t really say. I’m not- the judge of- I think, honestly, the only one who can say what you are is- well. You? And you’d know better than me what you can handle. I don’t mind it, whatever it is you can or can’t do, I guess.”

You gestured back towards him as you glanced and turned away without actually looking, face heating up with an extra amount of embarrassment. 

You didn’t want to consider the idea that maybe you’d messed up, so you opted to ignore all of it. The idea that the whole conversation had happened in the first place.

Really, he was the main character. Why wouldn’t he know?

“I- ah, ph-what? I mean… Yeah?” Hiccup sputtered, following you as you through the forest around you, trying not to flinch as the water seeped through the bottom of your boots.

You shrug-nodded awkwardly, still staring ahead.

Thankfully, the damp earth began to grow firmer and the ferns grew thicker as you spoke until just by what you assumed to be the end of the treeline, where the sun shone brightest.

You pointed ahead, “I think there’s an opening up there.”

As you got closer, hurriedly trudging along though not too fast for Hiccup to keep up, you felt the beginnings and wisps of sea in the air.

You felt the beginnings of a rumble in your stomach as your anticipation grew.

So you had a little bit of an ulterior motive too, for rushing the two of you along. You were a little bit hungry, and you also had had no breakfast at all. A break would do Hiccup well too, you were sure.

You kept moving, the two of you in silence, until, finally, stepping past a particularly large front, framed by light that was almost glaring, considerably brighter than the kind you’d been subjected to in the smoggy underbrush-

The two of you had just broken out of the forest into a clear cliffside.

It was probably not too far away from where you’d initially landed. Geometric rock columns lined the cliffs’ edge, making the ground look almost like tiles, though some bits were slightly elevated over others. 

You opened your mouth to speak, but he beat you to it.

“Look, how about we take a break? I have to… I have to figure out how we’re going to get back,” Hiccup looked back, in a way you imagined was exhaustive, into the trees, most likely thinking of Toothless. Yeah, that was a problem.

You were glad he said it first. 

[knoepfl]

A Heart Buried Beneath the Shovel

Characters

1. Roslyn Ratcliffe

Governor Ratcliffe’s clever and mischievous daughter, who hides her conflicted emotions behind teasing and charm.

2. Wiggins

Ratcliffe’s loyal but timid servant, who is both flustered by Roslyn’s antics and intrigued by her moments of vulnerability.

3. Governor Ratcliffe

The vain, greedy leader of the settlers, obsessed with finding gold and controlling everyone around him.

4. Percy

Ratcliffe’s pampered pug, often adding humor with his spoiled, snobbish behavior.

Trigger Warnings:

Power Imbalance: The story explores a hierarchical relationship between a servant (Wiggins) and his superior’s daughter (Roslyn), involving teasing and moments of discomfort.

Mild Emotional Manipulation: Roslyn masks her feelings for Wiggins with sarcasm and deliberately creates more work for him.

Storm Scene (Mild Peril): There’s a brief moment of danger during a shipboard storm, involving a character nearly falling but being caught.

Masterlist

Words: 962

--- Scene 1: The Voyage Across the Atlantic

The wind howled across the open sea, filling the sails of the Susan Constant as it cut through the waves. The ship creaked and groaned, its hull burdened by men and supplies destined for the New World. Above the din of the ocean, Governor Ratcliffe’s commanding voice rang out, barking orders to the crew as he paced the deck in his elaborate plum-colored attire. Beside him, Wiggins carried himself with characteristic nervous energy, balancing a teapot and tray while dodging the haphazard movements of the sailors.

Leaning against the railing was Roslyn Ratcliffe, watching the scene unfold. She wore a smirk, her violet cape flaring slightly in the salty wind. Her dark curls framed her face, and her hat was tilted just enough to give her an air of effortless elegance. Unlike her father, Roslyn observed more than she commanded, her sharp eyes taking in the crew’s faces and the restless Atlantic surrounding them.

"More tea, Governor?" Wiggins asked, stepping delicately to Ratcliffe’s side.

Ratcliffe waved him off without so much as a glance, muttering something about how incompetent the men were. As Wiggins turned to return to the galley, Roslyn stepped in his path, her boots clicking sharply on the wooden planks.

“Careful, Wiggins,” she said with an exaggerated tone of concern. “One wrong move, and my father might have you scrubbing barnacles off the hull.”

Wiggins straightened his wig, trying not to fumble the tray. “Yes, Lady Roslyn. I’ll do my best to remain... barnacle-free.”

Roslyn grinned, amused by his obvious discomfort. “Tell me, Wiggins,” she continued, leaning in slightly, “what do you do when you’re not doting on my father? Do you ever dream of grander things? Or is this your calling?”

“I… I prefer to focus on the tasks at hand, my lady,” Wiggins replied, his voice tight.

“Hmm,” Roslyn mused, stepping aside to let him pass. “A pity. I would have thought someone like you might dream of adventure. But I suppose you’re more useful carrying trays, aren’t you?”

Wiggins glanced back at her, unsure if she was teasing him or mocking him outright. “Adventure isn’t for everyone, my lady,” he said, trying to sound polite but firm.

Roslyn raised an eyebrow but said nothing more, returning to her place by the railing.

---

Later that evening, as the ship’s lanterns swayed with the motion of the waves, Wiggins found himself below decks, tending to Ratcliffe’s quarters. He meticulously folded his master’s opulent garments, aligning each ruffled collar and polished boot with care. The governor’s dog, Percy, lounged nearby on a cushion, watching Wiggins with disinterest.

As he worked, the door creaked open, and Roslyn stepped inside, carrying a small book and a look of feigned nonchalance.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” she said, though her presence immediately commanded the room.

Wiggins straightened, placing a folded sash neatly on the table. “Lady Roslyn, this is your father’s private quarters. Is there something you need?”

Roslyn ignored the question, instead running her fingers along the edge of the ornate table. “Do you enjoy it?” she asked suddenly.

Wiggins blinked. “Enjoy what, my lady?”

“This.” She gestured vaguely at the room. “Serving him. My father can be... demanding.”

Wiggins hesitated. He knew better than to speak ill of the governor, especially in front of his daughter. “The governor is a great man,” he said cautiously. “It’s an honor to assist him.”

Roslyn smirked, clearly unconvinced. “You’re very loyal, Wiggins. I’ll give you that. But loyalty and honor only get you so far.”

“I serve where I’m needed,” Wiggins replied, returning to his work.

Roslyn watched him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she tossed the book she’d been holding onto the table. It landed with a thud, scattering some of Ratcliffe’s papers.

“Oops,” she said lightly. “It seems I’ve made a mess. I trust you’ll clean it up.”

Wiggins sighed inwardly but kept his face neutral. “Of course, my lady.”

As he began to gather the papers, Roslyn leaned against the doorframe, watching him with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Goodnight, Wiggins,” she said at last, her tone almost playful. “Don’t work too hard.”

And with that, she was gone, leaving Wiggins to wonder why the governor’s daughter seemed to take such delight in making his life more complicated.

---

The next day brought dark clouds on the horizon, and the crew moved quickly to secure the ship. Ratcliffe shouted orders from the helm, his voice barely audible over the rising wind. Roslyn, however, stood calmly near the bow, her cloak billowing behind her as she watched the storm roll in.

Wiggins, carrying a bundle of ropes, paused when he saw her. “Lady Roslyn, it’s dangerous up here. Perhaps you should—”

“I’m quite capable of taking care of myself, Wiggins,” she interrupted, not looking at him.

“But the storm—”

“I said I’m fine,” she snapped, though her voice softened as she turned to face him. “I’m not some delicate flower that needs coddling, you know.”

Wiggins nodded, though he remained uneasy. “Even so, it might be best to stay below deck. Just until the worst has passed.”

Roslyn studied him for a moment, then sighed. “Very well, if it’ll put your mind at ease.”

As they made their way back, the ship lurched violently, throwing Roslyn off balance. Wiggins instinctively reached out, catching her before she fell.

For a brief moment, their eyes met. Roslyn’s usual mask of confidence slipped, revealing something vulnerable beneath.

“Thank you,” she said softly, her voice barely audible over the wind.

Wiggins released her quickly, stepping back. “Of course, my lady.”

They continued below deck, the moment hanging between them like the storm outside—a turbulent force neither of them could fully control.

---

[quiggel]

My thoughts on Dungeon Meshi ships

Falin x Marcille: It’s practically canon. Love it. OTP. Those girls gay good for them. They should be making out sloppy style. I’m obsessed. Laios x Kabru: I don’t ship it. However, Kabru 100% has a crush on Laios. Laois is simply disinterested and oblivious. (However if you draw them both as women I may consider.)

Senshi x Chilchuck: Only when it’s funny. They would be absolutely horrible together however that comic of Marcille judging them is hilarious so I’ll allow it.

There are probably other ships but uh I don’t know about them. Not sure why I made this post.

[drivinmeinsane]

i know you just did this, but good god i need more of the driver!!! you just write him so incredibly well. the driver x ken fic is my roman empire <2

anyway i just love driver being dangerous and intense and obsessed with the reader, if that's something you'd wanna write :)

Thank you!!!! Driver is one of my absolute faves to write for, and I'm glad you enjoyed the content I wrote for the silly little ship. <3

I hope this is along the lines you were looking for!

{ masterlist }

※ Summary: Your not-quite-boyfriend, Driver, handles your after work harassment situation.

※ Rating: T for mention of implied murder and sexual harassment

※ Word count: 1130

You’re quiet when you get into the passenger seat of his car. The black leather seat is cold underneath you. You buckle yourself in, hoping that your body doesn’t betray you with shaky hands. The man behind the wheel doesn’t greet you. That’s normal. Perfect even, after the night you’ve had. 

“Thanks for picking me up,” you finally say, trying to aim for normalcy.

“Happy to do it.” He doesn’t spare any extra words.

It’s routine now, this nameless man picking you up from work. He's been doing it ever since he slid into your life at the laundromat of all places. He'd offered you a ride back to your apartment in his forty year old car after being involved in the struggle with your laundry basket. It had ripped itself out of your hands and emptied the contents over the pavement. He helped you put everything back in despite your furiously flushing face. He didn’t bat an eye over your ratty sweatpants or your underwear. Accepting his offer was easy. He seemed politely earnest, safe. Besides, you had reasoned, it was broad daylight. What harm could there possibly be? 

There hadn’t been any. The short ride had gone so easily that you had let it slip that you were without a vehicle. In response, he offered to help you with errands and to take you to and from work. You shot him down partially, insisted on walking or taking the bus during daylight hours to your job. He had begrudgingly relented on picking you up from your workplace. This agreement has ended in the two of you spending a lot of time together. More than you probably should be. It's not just errands and commutes. There have been shared meals, movies… he’s been everything but your boyfriend. That line still has not been crossed. Though… you have started to wonder what it would be like to take the ever-present toothpick out of his mouth and kiss him. Would he let you? Would he enjoy it?

You finally take a look at him while you sit in silence at the last stop light before the turn into your apartment’s parking lot. He is looking straight ahead, eyes focused on the street beyond the Chevy’s hood. His face is impassive, but right as the light turns green, his eyes flicker to meet yours. The possessive glint in them causes your breath to hitch. For a split second, he looks like he would eat you alive. You turn away, the moment passes.

He doesn’t speak until he pulls into a parking spot in front of your apartment building. He gets out and opens your door for you like always, ever the considerate friend. He watches you extract yourself and shuts the door after you. He leans against it, crosses his arms, looks like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“What happened tonight?” Disinterested tone to go right along with his relaxed posture. His eyes say differently.

A long silence stretches out between the two of you. You’re reluctant to speak, embarrassed over the situation. You manage to look at him and he calmly raises his eyebrows. He’s not going to drop it. 

“You know… it was just those guys again. They got a little bolder tonight, I guess.”

“What did they do?”

“Ran their mouths,” you shrug. “One of them found some courage and slapped me on the ass…” You trail off, the look on Driver’s face enough to steal the words right out of your mouth. You’ve never seen him look angry, not like this. 

“I’ll kill ‘em.”

You laugh, thinking he’s joking. When his face doesn’t soften, you realize he’s serious and you sober up. “No. I’m okay. Really. Please don’t worry about it.”

“They upset you.” The mechanic says it matter of factly, like upsetting you is a death sentence. 

You wring your fingers together. Uncertain. Nervous. Concerned. You haven’t been sure of what your relationship with him is lately, and when he acts like this, you’re even less sure. He frightens a primal part of your brain with his intensity. He is like a different creature in the night, more animal than man.

“Driver…” you say softly. You’re not sure of what else to say.

He stays quiet. The look on his face as he leans against his car and rolls the toothpick in his mouth between his fingers is full of dark promise. You shiver and it has nothing to do with the cold. He notices it, of course he does. He’s the most observant person you have ever met. Nothing escapes his awareness. The man pushes himself out of his casual lean, uncrosses his arms, and comes to your side. He lightly brushes his fingers over the back of your arm. You can feel the warmth of his skin through the layers separating your bodies. 

The walk to your front door is uneventful. He remains at your side, close enough to where you brush against one another with every other step. You pause at the door, unlock it, and impulsively twist to look up at him. You catch a tender look on his face before he puts his guard up and he’s a blank slate again. Your mouth feels dry. You throw caution into the wind and fully face him. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you wrap your arms around him, firmly hugging the man. Driver is stiff, caught by surprise, but his arms come up around you. You stand like that for a long moment. He gradually relaxes and melts against you. 

“Don’t do anything ridiculous. I worry about you,” you mumble against the smooth fabric of his bomber jacket. You reluctantly release him and step back. 

He doesn’t respond with words, just opens your door for you and gently guides you through your own doorway with a firm hand spanning across your lower back. 

“Goodnight," he tells you.

───※ ·❆· ※───

It’s not until halfway through your shift that your coworkers start making a ruckus. One of them loudly calls your name from the other room until you respond. You push through the swinging door out into the dining area to see the other employees gathered around the television mounted on the wall. 

“-beaten almost to the point of no recognition-”, “police say the men were found in an alley by-”, “-no suspects at this time-” 

The news anchor’s voice fades in and out as your mind reels. He didn’t. He wouldn’t.

“Aren’t these the guys that were giving you trouble last night? Musta got on somebody’s bad side.” The dishboy jokes to you.

“Yeah,” you say, faking a laugh.

He would. You know in your gut that he would. For you, he would do anything.

[direwombat]

tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton and @titiagls to share some more wippy goodness this wednesday (thank you both 🧡🧡🧡)

i promised last week that i'd share the jakesyb werewolf au belligerent sexual tension, so here's a draft of that :)c this snippet occurs later in the scene of my previous wip wednesday, picking up while the newest pack initiates are having their little baptismal dunk in the henbane. predictably, jacob is still being a possessive freak about things <3

[Jacob] presses the knife’s tip against his finger. Not hard enough to draw blood, just enough to feel the cool bite of metal against the calloused flesh. But it doesn’t stop his imagination from running wilder than the Wolf inside. She’d look so good like this: drenched from head to toe with her clothes clinging to her lithe form and staring up at him with awe, wonder, and hunger in those wild green eyes. He wonders if she would lean into his touch when he went to mark her as one of the Pack. 

He wonders if she would grab his wrist when he’s done and nurse at his wound — just as eager to get a taste of him as he is to taste her. 

The wind changes direction, trees rustling in the breeze. 

Then he smells her. Cinnamon whiskey and cigarette smoke drifts lazily through the air. 

Along with the sweet and sour notes of sweat and sex. That of hers and the Huntsman. 

His wolf stirs, possessive and angry. The hair on the back of his neck stands on end and the grip around his knife tightens. His gaze darts out to the congregation and sees that his Chosen, the ones familiar with Eli's scent pick up on it as well. As does Joseph, whose back and shoulders suddenly go tight. 

One of the Chosen pushes his way through the crowd to approach Jacob. “Sir,” he whispers, “I think we may have a problem.” 

A stolen glance and subtle nod of dismissal from Joseph is all Jacob needs. “I’ll handle it,” he grunts, shoving his way through the crowd with predatory intent. The mass of people instinctively part for him, making way for one of their four Alphas. 

He storms his way back up the riverbank and towards the church. Now that he’s away from the rest of the pack, the stoic facade he was barely clinging to crumbles to dust. Lips curling back to reveal his teeth, he growls and snarls his way as he follows the Deputy’s scent. Blood courses white hot through his veins, pulse and thundering in his ears. He knows it's just her somewhere in the shadows; that she wouldn’t have knowingly brought her precious little Huntsman into a literal den of wolves. His scent isn't fresh enough for that to be the case.

Besides, she values his life too much to do such a thing.

Yet here she is using him to make us jealous, his wolf pants, wild-eyed and frothing at the mouth. Can’t value his life too much if knows just how easily we could rip him apart. 

She’d kill us before we could get to him, he reasons. She thinks of Eli as her pack.

The next thought is one of both man and wolf: We’ll have to fix that.

Sybille doesn’t make herself difficult to find. All Jacob has to do is follow the trail of smoke drifting from behind the church. He rounds the corner to find her lurking in the shadows. She’s leaning against a stack of wooden shipping crates. A cigarette dangles loosely between two fingers. She watches him approach, regarding him with  half-lidded eyes — bored, disinterested, mocking.

“You gotta lotta crates, here,” she muses, kicking at the one she’s leaning against with a sturdy boot. A ring of embers glows, casting soft orange light over the sharp, angular planes of her face. She quirks a skeptical brow. “All of this is for construction, I take it?” 

Rather than indulging in her condescending tendency for accusatory banter as he normally has — wolf in sheep’s clothes; play nice, play nice, play nice — he instead grabs her by the lapels of her denim jacket, hoists her off the crates, and slams her back against the church’s vinyl siding. Pink lips part as the wind is knocked from her lungs with a low oof. She stares up at him dazed and doe-eyed. It only lasts for a moment, but it’s a taste of the submission he so badly craves from her. 

And then her teeth are baring in a ferocious snarl. Her hands fly up to grasp his wrists and with a hissed, “Get your hands off me,” she kicks her leg out, trying to sweep his knees. The motion gives him just enough space to push between her thighs and press his hips flush with hers, pinning her in place. She wriggles and thrashes against him. Spittle flies from her lips as her teeth gnash angrily together. 

Yet despite her struggling, her head angles to the side. The pale column of her neck stretches out before him and the Wolf takes over. He leans down until the slope of his nose is nuzzling against soft skin and he inhales deeply, drinking in her musk. His tongue darts out to lap at the light sheen coating her skin. The salty-sweet taste blooms across his tongue. A pleased rumble vibrates low and deep in his chest.

She responds with a growl of her own, but the arch of her back betrays her. Thin, but obviously muscular arms wrap around his neck as she steadies herself against the solid mass of his body. One hand claws at the space between his shoulder blades while the other tangles itself in the crop of hair atop his head. 

“You’re late,” he growls. Sharp teeth graze over her thundering pulse. He seals his mouth against her throat, savoring the way it flutters against his lips. His head spins at the sensation. He’s so close to her mating bond — can fucking smell the pheromones releasing as he rocks his hips up and ruts against the heat between her thighs. 

In a half-hearted attempt to pull him away, she gives his hair a harsh tug. “You’re damn lucky I showed up at all,” she grits through clenched teeth. “Now, lemme go.”

He snaps his teeth to nip at her earlobe and a sardonic laugh rumbles deep in his chest at her barely suppressed shudder. “Oh, no, honey. You’re lucky you came to your senses.” His voice drops, deep and threatening. “I’d’ve hunt you down, otherwise.”

“I’d’a like to see you try.”

“Careful what you offer, sweetheart,” he hums. “I might just take you up on it.”

Her breath hitches, and from where he is, so close to her pulse, he hears her heart racing in excitement. And maybe it’s the remnants of her time with Eli, but as he goes to lick his lips, he swears he tastes something sweet and citrusy blooming in the air. 

Arousal. 

Hers, specifically. 

His Wolf is begging him to fuck her. Put her in her place and establish hierarchy. Throw her to the ground. Claim her. Own her. All he wants is to rip her apart and for her to return the favor. He has half a mind to throw her over his shoulder and slam her against the flatbed of his truck and show her just how much she belongs to him. 

Only him.

and posting a silly little dnd related doodle i did earlier today that's really for myself and three other people, but it's been a while since i've drawn something and i can't wait to get home so i can slap some colors on this. the party's tiefling artificer pulls the puppy-dog eyes and every time that happens this is what i picture my npcs seeing

taglist:

@josephseedismyfather, @la-grosse-patate, @tommyarashikage, @florbelles, @statichvm

@fourlittleseedlings, @wrathfulrook, @harmonyowl, @ivymarquis, @carlosoliveiraa

@cassietrn, @confidentandgood, @strafethesesinners, @trench-rot, @miyabilicious,

@simplegenius042, @g0dspeeed, @inafieldofdaisies, @josephslittledeputy, @aceghosts,

@adelaidedrubman, @finding-comfort-in-rain, @voidika, @strangefable,

and anyone else wanting to share their wips today! (taglist opt in/out)

[hoodoobarbie]

LIFE UPDATE

Mentally I feel like was been struggling to create content, art, write and even interact on social media, due to massive adhd burnout, during the past few months and year. I feel like I let y’all down but I’m slowly returning to my blogs an social media.

This blog grew super fast and which scared, then overwhelmed me. I got overstimulated and started overthinking everything. I also think I got overzealous and started too many small projects, confusing myself even more. I’m still learning that I need to keep things simplified for the good of my adhd challenged brain while struggling with executive function despite my grand ambitions. Slowing down, for the sake of clarity is something I’ll always have to work at.

Spiritually I’ve grown so much on my path in Hoodoo which has been incredible. I don’t know if I should make that a separate post for later but I just feel incredibly blessed and even more connected to myself, my people and the world around me. I’ve gotten wiser and I’m forever grateful for all things Hoodoo, it’s saved my life. I’ve watched people come in and out of this community, by way of the church, disinterest, witch wars and even psychosis. I’ve learned a great deal about myself and my own mental health, which has empowered me further. I’ve laughed, I’ve learned, I’ve thrown hands with big dogs and made peace with and gained more understanding of the metaphysical realm.

Most importantly my faith and hope in life has been restored, knowing that I no longer will be a victim of injustice. I’m blessed to know how to conjure justice, swiftly and without fail. No longer with head on swivel or on edge as a black woman, it’s given me deep sense of peace and relief. No longer a victim of unlucky circumstances, I am the captain of my own ship. It’s all so scary, exhilarating and mind blowing at the same time. It’s a feeling I wish and pray for every black person to experience in their lifetime. It is a weight that I hate to see us carry, which is why I do my best to spread the love of Hoodoo all around.

I’ve worked and will continue to work hard on my ancestral journey, choosing to venerate them over worship. Through veneration, I’m breaking inter generational trauma, curses and chains and laying the groundwork for a better life for my entire bloodline.

In the meantime, Happy Hoodoo Heritage Month!!

HOODOOBARBIE

[staycalmandhugaclone]

32 Rotations

Warning! This is not a complete fic. This is a teaser of something I started, fell in love with, and am still in love with though I know I'll never likely continue it. It's the introduction, a summary of the middle, and the scene that popped into my head that initially inspired the overall fic. I wrote it right after the season 1 finale. With that in mind... enjoy

I'm not tagging anyone because I'm not sure if I should??

Oc: Jazeel (Jaz) - human female with no other descriptions currently

Veektil (Veek) - male iktotochi

Ship: C_ROC Gorzanti-class light cruiser

Warnings: cursing, idle threats of violence, star wars appropriate violence, smoke inhalation

WC: 1,907

I loved moments like this. Quiet. Dark. There was nothing. No pressure of even artificial gravity. No flickering light from failing fluorescent tubes. No sensation of rough fabric against bare skin. Only the slow, steady th-thud… th-thud of my languid heartbeat, the gentle sighs of my own breath. Floating. Senseless. Out here, there was no up, no down. Everything felt timeless and eternal, and like it never existed at all. Floating.

Be-eep.

The unapologetic intrusion of the blaring alarm tore me from the reverie in a flare of disoriented panic barely a second before blinding lights filled the room burning eyes eagerly accustomed to the blackness just as the metal floors flew up to slam into my back. For several stuttered gasps, I lay there, stunned. Bastard.

“So much for a kriffing warning.” The words snarled from scowling lips as I stalked through narrow corridors into the cockpit, fingers impatiently buttoning the newly adorned gray jumpsuit.

“I told you to stop doing that weird meditating thing.” The pale-skinned iktotochi didn’t bother pushing himself out from under the disassembled control panel, hand fluttering dismissively toward me.

“It’s my karking ship, Veektil.” I growled back, leg tensing with the urge to kick the unruly mechanic.

“Of course, your majesty. My sincerest apologies.” He drawled before letting his disinterested impatience sink back into that almost unnaturally deep voice. “Kick me, and I’ll let you do this yourself – then we’ll see if this rusted heap gives two scobs about who’s on the title.”

“I told you not to use that damn mind-reading crik with me!” Admittedly, the lingering ache in my shoulders almost certainly contributed to my mood, but my skin crawled at the invasion of my thoughts, unintentional or not.

“And I told you to stop hovering when I’m trying to fix ‘your karking ship’!” He snapped back, finally pushing out form under the mess of loose wires and displaced metal sheeting.

“I wouldn’t be hovering if you’d fixed it back on Yavin IV like you were supposed to!” The normally subtle red tinting the smooth skin atop his prominent crown and dotting down around the base of his broken horns flared with some combination of anger and embarrassment .

“I couldn’t! I told you we need a new fuel modulator! You’re the one who insisted it would last to Ryloth!” The tendons gleamed white atop his hand, fingers clenching around the innocent quarkdriver.

“If you”

Tri-eep, Tri-eep, Tri-eep.

An alert trilled incessantly from the datapad hanging at my waist. Lips twisted up, eager to loose just one more retort, I so nearly ignored the message, frustration swelling beneath unjust blame, but the device was relentless and, with a groan, turned sharply away from the gruff mechanic, footsteps just shy of stomping as I tread back to the commons room.

The nearly claustrophobic halls flickered amidst the failing overhead light, a background annoyance that would be addressed in due course.

The alert is a distress call from a nearby planet neither were familiar with. They answered the call to find Kamino’s city destroyed and a severely emaciated and dehydrated soldier abandoned on a landing platform. Crosshair wakes after several days in their medbay, at which, Jazeal (Jaz) assures him that she's taking him to a fellow clone. Crosshair violently refuses, feeling abandoned by both the Empire and the clones, and ends up staying with Jaz and Veek for a variety of odd jobs that gradually become more and more skewed towards assisting the rebellion until eventually learning that Rex was the clone she’d originally intended to take him to. They end up specializing in smuggling clones out of captivity, often times against the clones wishes due to their chips. Through all this, Crosshair acts only as virtual support, staying in the ship initially due to his slow recovery, and afterward due to, Jaz assumes, a reluctance to return to a life of violence, but when a mission turns south, she had little option but to ask for help.

“Cr-” The initial attempt at his name broke in a torrent of painful coughs, eyes burning amidst the heavy smoke filling the air. “Crosshair! Crosshair, this is Jazeal! Come” My knees nearly buckled against the violent way my diaphragm convulsed, straining to rid the black fire from my lungs, “Come in!” The comm was silent for mere seconds before static bubbled from the dented speaker.

“I read you.” My heart lurched at the familiar rasp, dread and hope warring with each other in the midst of pure desperation.

“I’m sorry! Cross, I’m so sorry, but I need – ARGH!” Fire burst through my shoulder, wrenching a scream from my already raw throat.

“Jazeal?! Jaz!” My legs trembled as I staggered to dart around the corner despite the way the relentless coughs seemed to lock every muscle of my floundering body.

“I need backup.” The strained words finally wheezed past my lips, attention falling to the outdated comm clutched in soot covered fingers. Silence. One beat. Two. “Cross, please.” I whispered, begged. Please. Please.

“What’s the code to the weapon’s locker?” A sob of relief tore through me, but then I paused. Code?

“What?” Oh. Oh. “N-no, Cross… there’s no code on… Maker, I’m so sorry – You thought… There’s never been a code.” Even in the center on the chaos raging around me, ruined walls and corridors barely visible through the suffocating smoke, boiling air threatening to sear the very flesh of my throat and lungs, the scream of too-close blaster fire and booming of synchronized marching; still, I felt myself freeze at the realization that he’d thought, all this time, that I’d tried to keep him from his armor, his rifle; his past identity. In the brief eternity of silence, I could only imagine his shock; his disbelief.

“What’s your position?” Like nothing was amiss, he so immediately fell back into his old role: a soldier, support; protector; and my heart broke for him.

“I’m pinned down in the weapons depot near Hanger 3B.” I explained, words tearing over ruined vocal cords, as I leaned around the crate to loose a few more bolts. “But Veektil’s still near-” I didn’t doubt the thud of my knees crashing to the ground sounded clearly through the mic; lungs bucking, “C-comms,” I choked, “not… not that far. I just need an-an opening.”

“There are three squards locked on your location. The only thing keeping them from finishing you off is the fact that you’re surrounded by enough explosives to level the whole mining facility.” He stated in that carefully emotionless drawl.

“So, you’re saying I have the-the upper hand.” I couldn’t hide the wheeze even with the threat of laughter sown through my words.

“They don’t need to shoot you, and they know it. A few more minutes and you’ll be dead from asphyxiation. They just need to outlast you until the smoke does their job for them.” Lip caught between my teeth, I found myself staring blindly at the comm for several seconds. I knew what he’d said was true; there was no point in feigning denial. I just… thought I had more time. Tears left trails down the thick layer of soot covering my cheeks. My gaze turned absently to the distant ceiling as I forced some bit of control back over my seizing diaphragm.

“Hey Cross?” I called, voice quiet now even as I sent a few more blind shots toward the doorway. I didn’t wait for him to respond; certain he wouldn’t. “Think it might be time for you to bite the bullet.” I felt myself smirk despite knowing he couldn’t see me. “That friend of ours’ll be happy to… happy to see you.” My body contorted beneath a fresh wave of coughs, vainly fighting for air that simply wasn’t there. “You should… should probably get out of here… Just… don’t go crashing my ship.” Silence. Had he already left? Had he seen the futility and fled?

“Those really the best ‘last words’ you could come up with?” My chest jerked with a gasp. Those sneered words rich with a façade of boredom hadn't come through my comm… Legs trembling, I pushed myself up against he crate, jaw hanging in disbelief at the lithe figure adorned in onyx armor standing in the doorway, rifle leaning nonchalantly against this shoulder. Finally, laughter bubbled amidst broken gasps.

“You drama queen!” The words came out in some heartbreaking mix between laughter and sobs even as a wide grin pulled at my lips. “Just had… had to make a-a big entrance.” His helmet tilted and, though I couldn’t see it, I was certain the sleek plastoid hid a smirk. His shoulders rose, but I didn’t give him a change to speak, already pushing myself to move.

“Veek’s not far.” I explained, but, as I attempted to move past him, he shifted just enough to bloc my path. Instantly, my expression fell, brows furrowing with impatience, lips twisting into a scowl.

“Get clear of them smoke – you’re barely standing as is. I’ll find Veektil.” Pushing sharply against his chest, I tried once more to force my way past him, annoyance clear in my hoarse voice.

“We don’t have time to waste for you to go room by room! I know exactly where” The strain of forcing some measure of strength into my words crippled me, lungs balking until my chest began seizing with gasps too shallow to even feign relief before convulsing in coughs too quickly to grant even a taste of tainted air.

Vaguely, I heard a curse catch on his lips as his arm darted around my chest, locking me against the harsh planes of his armored torso before my legs collapsed. Hands clutching his forearm, teeth ground, I strained to bite back the fit, the panic seeping through my veins like ice. Movements rushed, he quickly leaned his rifle against the wall and reached for his helmet. Panicked anew, I lashed out to stop him, hand locking around his wrist as my head shook violently.

“S… seal…” I stammered, finally managing something akin to a breath. “M…m-m’alright.” He studied me in silence for several seconds, as though waiting to see if I’d break again, but, muscles taut, I managed to maintain control.

“You need to get out of here.” He stated again.

“Not… without… Veek.” I nearly growled, and just caught the sharp exhale as he glanced down the hall further into the base.

“You realize I can’t carry both of you.” He said, the faintest hint of annoyance hiding something too close to worry. Flashing him a strained smile, I carefully regained my own footing before pulling away from him.

“I’ll be alright.” I whispered, too aware that we both knew it was a lie. But what other choice was there? Without waiting for him to argue further, I pushed myself deeper into the base. A quick glance back left my heart fluttering. He stalked silently behind me, rifle perfectly cradled against his shoulder, balance dancing evenly between each measured stride. This was the elite commando. Lethal. Precise. Everything he was made to be. But not everything he was… One day, I hoped he’d believe that.

The chorus of approaching soldiers echoed over the roaring flames tearing through neighboring rooms. My hand shook as I raised my pistol, but Crosshair didn’t hesitate, quickly sweeping in front me. I barely saw the ivory armor before a series of rapid shots flew from his rifle.

[mitten-kittens420]

Yes we all know that Dennis is a terrible, terrible monster of a man, but I think his softness with Charlie is something we (re: I) NEED to talk about. I mean it’s obvious that Dennis genuinely cares about him, as much as his emotional immaturity allows him. It’s probably why charden will always be the most realistic ship in that show— in my mind, at least.

First thing that comes to mind is in The Gang Gets Extreme Home Makeover or whatever it’s called. When Charlie starts freaking out and gets all heated about Sears, it’s Dennis know calms him down immediately, and seems to know exactly how to do it. And Charlie caves so easily. And the little hug— it wasn’t just a quick thing. I mean, Dennis was holding on tight AND and Charlie immediately got all comfortable. The man licherally nuzzled up against his arm what more do I gotta say?? And again when they’re shopping for supplies it’s just *finger snap here* like clockwork. Charlie gets upset and Dennis cools him off like it’s nothing.

In The Gang Hits The Road when they’re both chilling in the back of that camper van/trailer/uhaul bullshit. I mean, Charlie’s never left Philadelphia and the one person he voices his concerns about it to in Dennis. And sure, he was a bit freaked out about it around every one else and he mentioned being uncomfortable with the whole idea, but it was Dennis that he actually opened up to. And Dennis didn’t make fun of him, or say any snide comments, he sat and heard Charlie out and genuinely offered advice and reassurance. And I feel like I need to reiterate: it was not mocking at all!! Dennis was genuinely ready to back Charlie up and he was confident with what he was saying.

And this one can swing either way with manipulation or actual bonding (leaning more toward manipulation but shhhh) but in Waiting For Big Mo. That entire section of their little chat about bouncy balls. Dennis was nice. And he didn’t really argue, when he did it wasn’t with anger or annoyance, it was calm and his voice was soft and I have a lot of feeling about them in this episode. He knows how Charlie likes to play with his little army action figures which means he’s probably watched him do it many times. And sure in this episode Dennis is a dick to him, but it’s later seasons Dennis and I….. well I have thoughts about the later seasons.

And then you have him jumping to reassure Charlie that he is in fact fun to drink with in The Gang Gives Frank an Intervention. I’ll be brief with this one since it was so short but Dennis didn’t waste a second. Immediately let’s Charlie know he likes hanging out with him and he is fun, and sure it’s not that good of a situation and sure, he probably likes it mostly because Charlie probably gets himself hurt a lot and it’s funny to him, BUT it doesn’t matter because he JUMPS. And it’s not about that in the moment, it’s not about Charlie being stupid and reckless it’s just about Dennis needing Charlie to know he enjoys his company.

And again I’ll be brief because I don’t like this episode as a whole— Sweet Dee’s Dating an R- Person (😐) it’s Dennis who goes to check on Charlie. And when he finds him sitting alone in the dark he opens the blinds and tries to cheer himself up. And he sits and writes a song with Charlie— though we’ve seen Dennis (and the rest of the gang) continually be annoyed/disinterested/straight up hating Charlie and his singing/song writing. Dennis still sat and helped. And maybe that was because he wanted the credit, but whatever. He sings with him and wrote music and did that ridiculous little dance and it was a sweet scene. And like I said I really do not like this episode all that much besides the Charlie and Dennis scenes but this little snippet alone is enough to change how I view it. It’s still a shitty episode with a shitty premise but this little scene was so sweet I eat it up every single time. Id probably skip this one all together when I rewatch the show if it wasn’t for this scene and this scene alone.

And these are just what I can think of off the top of my head. Yeah. I have a lot of thoughts about charden. And I KNOW it will never ever be canon but I actually can’t lose because I’ll never let reality destroy me.

[lenievi]

I'm trying to get back into writing, so I'm rereading some of my wips, and I love this one so much and I want to see it continued so badly...

(a snippet)

“Doctor Piper,” Spock said. “This is Doctor McCoy.”

Piper stood up and offered McCoy his hand. “Doctor.”

McCoy accepted it. “Doctor.”

“I see you wasted no time,” Piper said, looking at McCoy’s bag. “So eager to take over my post?”

McCoy’s cheeks heated. He didn’t even put on his uniform. “I was told the Enterprise urgently needed a new surgeon. I didn’t know you were still here until Spock told me a few minutes ago.”

Piper hummed. “Good to see some passion. Spock, I think you and McCoy will find you have some interests in common. Not like you and me.”

“I’ve always found our conversations agreeable, Doctor,” Spock said. “No matter how rare and infrequent they were.”

Piper patted Spock on the arm, and the hard lines around Spock’s mouth softened.

“Well, I can show you around the sick bay,” Piper said to McCoy, “or you can go settle in your quarters and come back. It’s quiet today, but don’t let that fool you.”

McCoy let out a laugh. “If there ever was a starship doctor who had two days without an emergency, I’ll eat my hat.”

“You're not wearing a hat,” Spock said.

McCoy didn’t know what to say. Spock was either going to be the funniest person or the most annoying one. Decision pending.

The door to the sick bay opened. “Hey, Mark. I need –”

McCoy startled. The voice brought up a memory – not a forgotten one, but one he’d buried deep. Quickened breaths, hands roaming over his body, caressing, gripping, and whispered words that – he squashed it down.

This couldn’t be happening.

Maybe it was just a similar voice.

He turned around. 

And there he was. The man who introduced himself to McCoy as Jim three years ago. He hadn’t changed much. His hair was shorter and thinning at the front, his shoulders filled up, and his gold-greenish tunic was tight enough to outline the contours of his biceps and pectorals. McCoy wet his lips, his eyes roaming up and down Jim’s body.

Two and a half stripes on his wrists. It was just his luck. Jim was the damned captain of this ship.

“What happened to you, Captain?” Spock asked.

McCoy frowned and looked at Jim… the captain more carefully. He had avoided looking at his face before, afraid of what he would see there. Recognition? Disinterest?

Their eyes met. Kirk looked away as if McCoy was just a piece of furniture.

THAT'S IT WTF SELF how DARE you end it here?

[a-ackermann]

RP RULES

This will only be a brief synopsis of my rules and standards, after reading below if interested please dm me, we can discuss rules and boundaries more in depth prior to beginning an rp. As of now all rps I’m opening are AoT exclusive.

- As a literate writer, varying on how detailed or lengthy of a writer you are will of course effect my responses, however please consider that me being a literate writer means the majority of my responses will be longer, varying 2-10 paragraphs, overall I max out at 3k word replies (IF that is what we’re going for). So long as there’s something for me to actually form a real response to I’ll gladly keep a rp alive.

- I will portray most canon characters and am very open to either SFW or NSFW plots, though when it comes to my own prompts my rps tend to turn NSFW eventually. (though I’m very strict about enforcing slow-burn say it were a build up to romance.) I tend to prefer playing as my OC with canon characters, obviously I ship my OC with Levi but this doesn’t mean I exclusively rp with Levi mains/portrayers. I’m open to about anything so long as you reach out with a suggestion. If you wish to have no NSFW content whatsoever, or at the least no sexual content please let me know!!!! I have no issues with these accommodations just because I’m a freaky little goose in the pond.

- I do not write homosexual pairings, both mxm and fxf. I’m a straight woman, who used to identify as a trans gay man when I used to write for gay pairings exclusively, if I were to do that now I’d feel as if I’m fetishizing. So respectfully, please don’t come to me asking for this because I have no exceptions.

- Regarding sexual content, I will not engage in any beastiality, scat/piss fetishes, DDLG/MDLG/age-play, etc, basically if it could get you in legal trouble or it’s just generally fucking disgusting don’t even bother suggesting it. Reiterating here, I enjoy getting freaky in writing now and then, but I won’t ever make it the exclusive theme of the rp.

- Please understand I love doing this in my free time,

FREE TIME!!!

Meaning, no, I am not ignoring you. I’m an outspoken and confrontational person by nature, if there is an issue I will openly address it to your face before ending a role play, guaranteed. Therefore, give me time if I haven’t updated you whatsoever, as in not even to say that I’m answering you soon, because I’m either at work or at home rotting after work.

- If you’re looking for me to play a specific character for you in one rp and you’re willing to portray for me in another at the same time lmk!! I know it can be exhausting writing as a character for someone else’s appeal when you also have an idea to execute.

- If you dislike the way I write for a character, please let me know so that we can discuss it and potentially work out changing things about my portrayal to better suit your expectations. I’m very open to criticism so long as it comes from good intentions.

- If you want to restart an rp by all means please speak up!! It’s very difficult to rouse or annoy me over an rp, I’d rather know you’re unsatisfied than continue leading an rp knowing you’re struggling to come up with a response.

- ISO long-term rp partners atm, I’m very interested in meeting other compatible writers.

- I’m not hellbent on any particular platform, I prefer Discord, otherwise if there’s an app you’d prefer to talk on just let me know.

- Finally, I can be picky with what rps that I open and those I engage with, though this doesn’t mean I’ll shoot you down immediately if I don’t like your suggestion, I’ll most likely stay and work with you til we’re both happy with a plot unless what you’re looking for is something I’m entirely disinterested in.

Please do not be afraid to reach out to me!! Even if we end up not starting an rp together I can assure you I will get back to you and I wont be upset if you have questions either 💙💙💙💙💙

P.S. Just to avoid further confusion, I’m continuing to go under my OC name on this account 💙

[chayscribbles]

writing share tag (17.8.2024)

thanks @cherrybombfangirlwrites for the tag! i guess the rules are just to post a snippet of writing?

anyways i don't think gemini heist even has a plot at this point it's just my girls being silly. for context some of them are on a recon mission to the palace before the heist.

“Did you make it into the security system?” Euna asked. Gabi shook her head. “The fiolite-based network is too foreign. I may have to ask Illiana for help when we get back to the ship.” She glanced at Zeya, who seemed utterly disinterested in anything other than her new stolen keychain. “Are we ready to go back?” “I wanna see the museum,” Euna announced. “What? But we still need to—” “Museum access is included in our passes,” Euna insisted. “Come on, Gabs. Let’s make the most of these seventy credits.” “I already saw the museum,” Zeya said. Euna’s expression stiffened. “Stay out here, then. I’m gonna see the museum.” Zeya glared at her. Euna glared back.  “I’ll go to the museum with you,” Gabi said quickly. Euna’s grin returned. “Yay!”

tagging, no pressure: @cherubina @bookish-karina @diabolical-blue @pumpkinsplots @bluewritesbadly have funnnn