#<-that's the Always Carry. other stuff rotates in and out

[some-stars]

listen five hours is a fucking lifetime. in five hours i can throw up on my nice blouse and/or pee my pants. i can develop an unbearably bad headache extremely fast. i can get so hungry and/or thirsty i start making abysmal life choices. i can suddenly become aware of my body after dissociating for two hours and realize my lips are so cracked they hurt. i can urgently need to play a video with sound on my phone in public for some reason impossible to foresee. all of these things HAVE happened to me multiple times. also pads take up more space than tampons.

@ people who carry bags everywhere what do you put in them what is there to bring other than chapstick, keys, phone and maybe a tampon why are you packing a suitcase to be outside for 5 hours

[averlym]

" just...come here. just sit here with me" (...that one scene from princess momonoke, click for better resolution)

[onepieceisreeeeaaalll]

may I request another Luffy x fem reader please. Where Luffy is always picking up y/n like anywhere and everywhere they go (they aren’t dating or anything yet either) and he’s just always carrying her. Maybe even one day she’s wearing a skirt and so she freaks out when Luffy goes to grab her but Luffy holds her skirt down while carrying her. I don’t know I feel like it would be cute. Thank you!

Carried Away - Luffy x Fem!Reader

Hey! This was SO FUN to write! I spent too long trying to avoid it because I was overthinking, but it's been sitting in my drafts just haunting me. Here it is! Hope you like it!

Tags: SFW, use of y/n, platonic, pre-relationship, gunshot, Marine shenanigans

Check out my masterlist if you like stuff like this!

~1.7k

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

Incident One - The Thousand Sunny, noon

“Luffy, you can't be serious.” Nami sighs. 

The ship has been sailing a course towards - well, you can't remember. Nami's the one who handles the navigation, and quite honestly, you didn't hear where she said you'd be going. Something about the logpose, needing to restock - the usual. The point is that it's meant to be an easy journey. 

So, everyone's a little surprised to see a random, abandoned dingy in the middle of the ocean. With a treasure chest in it, no less. 

“Yeah - duh! We can't just leave that there!” Luffy whines, gesticulating his hands at Nami. “We're pirates - remember? That's treasure!”

“We don't know that, idiot!” Nami snaps, reaching a hand up to smack at Luffy's head. “It could be explosive, like that barrel was forever ago! Remember that?” 

He's already barreling near the edge of the ship, though, eyes widen with excitement. You can't help but giggle at the energy he has. 

“Aw, come on! Let me go over and take a look! I'll be real quick. Besides, what if it is treasure? Don't you want the money?”

Nami seems to pause at Luffy's comment. Everyone looks between her and Luffy, before she lets out a very long sigh. If you look closely enough, you're sure you can see berrie signs in her eyes. 

“Fine. But seriously, only real quick. And bring someone along with you so you don't get stuck in the water. Like Zo-”

“Alright! Let's go!”

Your eyes widen the moment Luffy's arm snakes around your waist, rotating around it over and over again in rubbery fashion. You weren't even close to him, but for some reason, you're the one he's selected. 

“Wait!” You screech, your hands grasping at his arm, but it's too late. 

Laughing wildly, Luffy backs up, rearing his other arm before launching you against his side and sending you both over the edge of the Sunny. 

“Luffy!” You scream, but the sound of the wind passing by is too loud in your ears. And so is Luffy's laugh. 

You land on the dingy with a thud, your arms still grasping onto Luffy tightly. His arm retracts from the rotation around your waist, and while you breathe heavily to calm your racing heart, Luffy is already marching towards the treasure chest in the small space. 

“What the-” You start, but Luffy's quick to wave you over.

“Nami said I needed someone to come with. Here, check this out with me!”

Your head aches, and all you can do is stare at him as a groan slips past your lips. Well, you can't argue with that logic. 

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

Incident Two - A Nearby Island, morning 

Yesterday, that treasure chest proved to not have treasure itself, but some kind of treasure map. The crew was mixed. On the one hand, it seems like an obvious trap. On the other hand, money. Money won out. 

Much to everyone's relief, the map has led to a nearby island. The one the crew was headed to, anyway, so it was really of no inconvenience. There's the opportunity to restock, to fix gear, to get a bite to eat. It's a much needed respite after the long journey everyone's just had, so why not add a treasure hunt?

No one is more excited about this than Luffy, Chopper, and Usopp. 

“Treasure hunt!” They gleefully cheer, leading the charge down the gangplank. 

The ship is docked off the shore, hidden away by large trees and surrounding cliff sides. So long as everyone is careful, there's no reason to believe there should be any danger. 

You're gathering your things, sorting through them on the deck. Getting a free day with some berries in your pocket is rare enough as is. It'd be preferable to make the most of it. Maybe some new boots? Oh, or something to take up your free time! Knitting?

It’s while you're lost in your thought bubble that you feel something grab at you. Looking down, your wrist is clamped by - is that a hand? Attached to-

The rubber arm is long, outstretched from the bottom of the gang plank, and you let out a gasp as it reels you quickly away from where you're standing. 

“Luffy!” You whine, as exasperated now as you were yesterday. 

You're snapped to Luffy's side, pulled with such a force that your feet fly off the ground until you crash into his body. Luffy beams, moving his hands to straighten you up properly. You blow some hair from your face, jerking forcibly from his grasp. Even though he's strong, it seems to have taken him off-guard. 

“Seriously, what was that for?!” 

“Didn't want you to get left behind! We're treasure hunting!” Luffy grins.

“You can't just-!” You start to argue, but you're too flustered to really finish your statement. He's beaming at you too brightly, and that smile is too damn infectious. 

With a sigh, you pull away, walking down the hill ahead of the group. 

“I'm going clothes shopping!” You exclaim.

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

Incident Three - Town, noon

This is getting out of hand. You're aware of how much Luffy likes to grab at the crew, throw them around, and it's no secret that he prefers it to finding another route to having people do as he says. Luffy's impatient. Impulsive. Reckless. It's grown on you, sure, but there's something about the way your stomach lurches every time you're tossed around that leaves you uneasy. 

But you've planned for this. It was a decision made out of necessity, nothing more. A cute skirt purchased in town, too short to really significantly cover anything if you were moved around. Sure, Luffy is…well, Luffy, but he's still a guy. At the end of the day, there's no way he'd risk your modesty. Right? He could respect that. 

That's the idea, anyway. 

Your shopping trip has ended, and you're sporting your new skirt, holding a bag of clothes casually in one hand. It's a beautiful day. The sun is shining brightly on the town, birds are chirping, and there's an arm around your waist. 

Wait.

Your eyes widen as you're pulled back forcefully, soaring several feet backwards into the air. A scream rips from your throat as you're pulled into Luffy's arms, and the rubber man is running with impressive speed through town. Your arms wrap around his neck tightly to hang on, and everything is whirring by so fast that you can't figure out what's happening immediately. All that you know is you're moving, you've lost your bag of clothes, and Luffy is the culprit. 

“Hey, (Y/N), good thing I found ya! I lost Chopper and Usopp, but they'll catch up. We're gettin’ outta here!”

“Monkey D. Luffy, what the hell are you-?!”

Gunshots. You screech, scrambling as you shift in his arms. Luffy groans with mild irritation, adjusting his hold on you tightly as he sends an arm onto a nearby pole. He launches you both up, and you bury your face in his neck. 

“Marines?! How did that happen?!” You exclaim, and your face turns red as your skirt flies up. An arm moves from his neck, quickly scrambling to pull the fabric down.

“Oh - yeah! Turns out that treasure map was left by them! Funny, right?”

“Funny?!”

"Well, kinda." He shrugs, before turning his head out to the Marines. "Stupid jerks! We wanted our treasure!"

"There's Straw Hat!" A Marine yells, followed by several loud bangs from their guns.

You gasp as he jumps between buildings, and bullets are ricocheting off of stone structures you both pass, nearly grazing you. You're pretty sure some hit Luffy, bouncing off of his rubber legs and sending them off every which way. But your skirt keeps threatening to creep up, and you're not sure how tightly you can hang onto him with just one arm. Luffy can feel you bouncing in his grasp, and he glances down at you with a look. 

“What's wrong? Put both arms around me or you're gonna fall!”

“I can't, my skirt!” You whine. “I'm gonna flash everyone!”

“Hm?” Luffy tilts his head, furrowing his brows as he looks down at your lap. Noticing your hand pinning your skirt down, he doesn't think twice. He reaches to grab your hand, pulling it around his neck. 

“Luffy!” 

“Stop whining, just hold on!” Luffy groans, and one of his hands moves to the fabric of your skirt before it can fly up any further. He holds it down, one hand on your skirt and the other wrapped around you tightly. 

Your face flushes, and you gasp as he jumps from the roof of a building down to a tree, and then to the ground. You jostle with every move, but your arms have secured you to his body. You're safely nestled against him, and you don't think twice about moving. 

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

Incident Four - The Thousand Sunny, evening

The ship lurches as it lands in the ocean far from the island the crew was on. You all let out a collective sigh of relief as the sails carry you far, far away from that Marine trap. By the time you and Luffy had arrived on the ship earlier, everyone else had barely made it, and Franky had already loaded up the cola to coup de burst the crew to safety. 

It's only now, in the aftermath of the fight, that Luffy's grasp on you loosens. He had been too caught up in punching and tossing Marines away to even think about letting you go. Your feet touch the deck carefully, and Luffy's rubber limbs retract as they snap back into place. 

Your hands immediately move to straighten out your skirt, and you hear a huff from your Captain beside you. Glancing up, you take notice of the way he adjusts his hat, looking at you with a tilted head and a confused expression. 

“Why're you wearin’ somethin’ like that, anyway? Makes it harder to fight, right?” He asks, and his tone is genuinely dumbfounded. 

Your face flushes, and words die in your throat. What explanation is there? I didn't want you to toss me around? Clearly, that didn't work, and it feels a little embarrassing to say as much. You're not sure why, but telling Luffy you bought a skirt because of him feels weird. So, you clear your throat, leaning back against the railing of the ship behind you. 

“Oh, um…just thought it was cute.” You lie, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “I didn't think we'd be running from Marines today.”

Luffy's quiet for a moment, and his eyes flicker to your skirt only briefly. He still looks dumbfounded. 

“Huh. M'kay. Just don't complain when I grab ya next time that your skirt’s goin’ up.” He responds with a grin, a playful chuckle sounding from his chest. 

This son of a-

"Sanjiiii! I'm hungry! Whadda ya got?” Luffy exclaims, turning away from you decisively. 

“Can it, Luffy, we just got out of port! I need to unload the groceries!” Sanji shouts from across the deck.

Even though you're still annoyed, and your skirt is still riding up, you find yourself laughing. Maybe the Captain grabbing you for adventures isn't the worst thing in the world. 

[what-the-floofin]

So how do baby taurs work for the equitaurs and cervitaurs in your stuff?

Oh that's a good one actually - lots to talk about! Too much for one post, but gotta start somewhere. Enjoy some messy micro scribbles peppered throughout. They were originally very very tiny so, pardon blurriness.

I've got my Taurs running overall pretty similar to equine cycles and gestations - meaning they are what you call 'long-day triggered' by the spring and summer seasons.

(Though they do cycle throughout the year, just at slower rates and less consistently over cooler seasons)

This goes for the cervitaurs too - rather than using the shorter gestation of their deer alikes - as they and their foals are a bit bigger and more complex to deal with. Which also goes to suggest that twins/multiples are not a frequent occurrence for cervitaurs in comparison to actual deer, and inherently poses as much danger as it does for equines instead. Possible, but high risk and incredibly demanding.

So, you're looking at an 11 month gestation on average, and typically starting in a mid-spring to late-summer window. Which places most taurs at being born early-spring to mid-summer. It's most uncommon to be winter born, but not weird tbh.

Foals are super awkward, there's no getting around that, and in the first year they have a ridiculous growth rate when compared to other sentient creatures of similar lifespans.

These things are weeds - the difference from one day old to three months old is phenomenal alone. They are, however, cooked a little further along than what you'd be comparing to for a newborn human. They're able to support themselves enough to avoid outright injury (think like a 3-4 month old baby), but gaining actual control of all those limbs takes a bit more time. The equine half however would be a touch undercooked for a horse. Just physically, in size. No worries about comparative internal developments, that's all good and ready to go.

So they're typically gonna spend shy of their first month feeding and sleeping, practicing rolling up, sitting and limb coordination to build strength for self-standing. If mama has places to be, that baby is getting carried.

I also absolutely subscribe to the idea of arms being naturally held close to torso prior to having balance and coordination. It would support them a lot! Then it becomes a self-soothing gesture seen in the anxious, and an instinctive positional response when badly startled. Tuck in!

By three months you can expect them to be racing on their little stilt legs - albeit still with the occasional wobble and spill. And wowee did that happen fast when you think about it.

While the zoomies are a lot, they're balanced out by the fact that so much oncoming growth means foals crash nap very frequently. These buggers sleep a lot. It's go hard and sleep hard on endless rotation. Play, snack, nap, rinse and repeat.

This accelerated growth races away throughout their first year, and then drops right back into something a bit more reasonable - at least when you're considering it from the human perspective!

Yet in comparison to how they first started out, it's practically snail paced.

I'm meaning, you look at the size of a 3 month old horse foal, and that's the closest comparison to a 2 year old taur foal in body. Every 'horse foal month' thereafter starts guiding the next 'taur foal year' visual until you hit that yearling horse look for a taur when they're 10-11 years old. Then by that point, they've reached most of their full leg length, and the next 10 years is focused on finishing the bulking out of their frame.

(click to enlarge I hope) - Featuring my lass Thalo here haha

By rule of thumb I just have both equid and humanoid aspects grow in relative balance to each other, lanky stages and all. From the human perspective, the humanoid half grows crazy fast at first and then becomes comparatively similar. From the horse perspective, the equine half is crazy slow and always is. It would also give credit to having a higher physical durability than their animal counterparts. More time was spent growing!

It's worth noting that a lot of perceived 'weirdness' only comes from trying to compare them purely 1 to 1 with either horse, deer or human kids. Taurs are their own thing though! And nature's most consistent attitude is to Find What Works and Do it. No matter how wack, if it works it's used.

So, a rapid starting growth tapered into a much slower rate once they're stabilised and running was just the path that worked best for this Taur survival. Keep it simple!

There's always more to cover, but this is chunky enough for now. Whew!

[marlynnofmany]

One More Earth Animal -- Part Two

(Part One is here)

Fernando Hwan Tengku-Jones was expecting a cat. His friend on the colony world had said they were sending one that somebody’d left behind — poor thing! —and Fern couldn’t wait to give it a good home. He’d already cat-proofed his quarters as best he could. Fragile things were put away, his reading lamp was secured to the bedside table, and he’d grabbed a few cardboard boxes from the recycle stash that would make good hidey-holes. A litter box should be available somewhere in this space station’s commerce sector — he’d been here before. He could check after the drop-off. As much as he would have liked to get that set up first, he wasn’t in charge of the schedule.

His Frillian crewmates were curious about the companion animal that the captain was allowing him to bring onboard. He’d spent the last half of the trip telling them every story about cats he could think of. Each of them rippled their frills in patient disinterest, but he didn’t mind. They’d be won over by the adorable kitty soon enough.

When the ship docked at their usual berth, Fern did his part in helping unload the usual shipment. The specialty maintenance shop here always ordered the same stuff at this time of the rotation. Everything was normal. But then Fern got to dash off to meet another ship, and he was more excited than he’d been in a long time.

He called ahead, and was told to meet at the cargo bay door. When he arrived, he saw that this ship was unloading boxes as well. He didn’t see any logos anywhere, and the boxes weren’t even all the same kind, plus the crew wasn’t wearing uniforms.

Looks like one of those freelance setups, he thought while he patiently waited at a distance. That always sounded like such an unreliable way to make a living. But at least they get to travel to interesting places. Where there are cats!

When the crew finished handing the motley assortment of boxes off to a motley assortment of customers, the one with the tablet waved him over. This was a cute little lizard who probably wouldn’t want to be described that way. As yellow as a very serious banana. She called into the ship for somebody else to come out, and Fern was delighted to see another human carrying a cat-sized cage.

“Hello!” the other human said, waving her free hand. “I have something important to tell you about your new friend here.”

Fern was immediately worried. “Is it injured? Or pregnant?” His captain had approved a single animal, not a litter.

“Thankfully, no!” she replied, setting down the cage with the front turned away from him. “First of all, he’s perfectly healthy and perfectly tame. And he’s been fixed. But most importantly, his stink gland has been removed.”

“His what?” Fern thought of his aunt’s cat who had stunk up the house by scent-marking the walls. Wasn’t that just pee, not a gland?

“Congratulations,” the other human said. “You are the proud owner of a non-spraying skunk.”

“A what?” Fern said on reflex, processing her words.

She lifted the cage and turned it so he could see inside. “This is the friendliest little snuggle buddy, and he likes being brushed.”

Fern stared. A very fluffy skunk stared back. While most of his brain was still circling in shock, the thought surfaced that the animal really did seem tame: not threatening to spray even though its gland had been removed. Theoretically.

He asked, “You’re sure it’s completely de-stinked?”

“Yes.” The other human nodded. “Our medscanner is top-notch. And I spent a lot of time with him on the trip here; I’m certain he was hand-raised as a pet. No idea how the poor guy ended up in the middle of nowhere, but he more than deserves a loving home. Think you can give him that?”

Fern’s heart twinged, and he shook himself. “Yes, absolutely. Did he come with a name?”

The other human smiled. “Nope! That’s up to you. I’ve been calling him Fluffy, but that’s just a placeholder.”

“Seems pretty accurate,” Fern said, gazing through the bars.

The yellow lizard stepped forward with the digital paperwork. Fern signed for the skunk, his thoughts in a whirl.

“If you’re already set up with cat food, good news: skunks will eat that,” the other human told him. “They’re omnivores, so this guy will eat a lot of the same stuff you do, just try to keep it as close to nature as you can out in space: plain and not overly processed. He’ll love peanut butter and chicken eggs if you can get them. Oh, and keep him away from the usual list of Crazy Human Toxic Foods! No chocolate, onions, garlic, or caffeine. Or hot peppers, though that’s more unpleasant than poisonous for him.”

“Right,” Fern said, handing the tablet back. “Good to know; thank you.”

“Sure thing! I hope you guys have a long and happy life together.” She presented him with the cage and gave his uniform a look. “Merchant ship, right?”

“Talented Toolmakers, of Frillian Pride,” Fern recited automatically as he accepted the armload of skunk. “I got hired when the route changed to spend more time in human territory. But then it changed back, and I haven’t seen much from home lately.”

“Well this guy’s glad to have you,” the other human said. The lizard was already walking back into the ship. “We have to rush off to another delivery, but good luck! Skunks can get into places they shouldn’t, and claw things open that a cat wouldn’t be able to, so keep him away from the engine room.”

“Got it!” Fern waved goodbye as the other human trotted back onto her ship. While the bay doors closed, Fern took careful steps back toward his own.

He expected his crewmates to react in alarm at the news that his cat was a skunk … but he’d forgotten that they were unfamiliar with Earth animals.

“If it can’t make that smell, and it isn’t going to bite anyone, then I don’t see a problem,” the captain said. “Just keep it in your quarters while it gets settled in. You can bring it out under supervision later.”

“It really is as fluffy as you said,” remarked the engineer.

“What does it eat?” asked the pilot.

Fern replied, “A lot of the same things I do.”

“That’s convenient!” the pilot said. The others agreed.

And that was that. Fern took the skunk into his quarters, let it waddle around and sniff everything, then fed it a messy plate of cat food. He put a folded hand towel in the cage and gently stuffed the skunk back in so he could run off to buy a litter box without worrying about what it would do while he was gone.

He splurged on a fancy litter box with a covered top and an auto-scooper, designed for ship’s cats. When he set it up and opened the cage, the skunk went right for it, which was a relief.

Probably a relief for him too, Fern thought. He’s been in that cage a while.

The captain announced that they were taking off. Fern settled down to socialize with his new pet, confident that he wouldn’t be needed for a while yet. Their route was predictable, after all, and this next part involved a lot of empty space before they reached the warehouse.

A lot of empty space, and pirates.

Human ones according to the intercom, which just made the whole thing more insulting. This was NOT the taste of home he’d been missing. The captain’s announcement held a lot of profanity, and Fern could see why. It was bad enough to be shaken down when they had cargo they could be reimbursed for, but right now their hold was empty. And the pirates wouldn’t accept that.

They’ll want our own tools, Fern thought, looking around his quarters. And food, and fuel, and… His gaze fell on the skunk nosing about his bookshelf.

And fuck them.

He lunged for the intercom button. “Captain, if you’re sure they’re human, I have an idea.”

Several minutes later, the pirate ship locked onto the merchant vessel, and clamped an adapter over the airlock. Pirates gathered, ready to board, armed with guns and knives and vicious grins.

Those grins evaporated when the first pirate looked through the airlock porthole at what waited for them on the other side.

One lone human, wearing a breather helmet and carrying a fluffy, agitated skunk.

The pirates detached immediately and took off with enough thrust to rock the ship.

The pilot got the merchant vessel back on course, while the captain sang praises over the intercom, and Fern brought Fluffy the Fearsome back to his room for some well-earned brushing.

The next time that particular merchant ship passed through the area, it had a large emblem of a skunk pasted next to the company logo.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[hxltic]

Hello,can i request domestic Ghost x reader, marriage headcannons?

Sure!

Ghost has been trained to eat to keep himself alive. You finally get him comfortable with eating whenever he wants to, and come to find out, he really likes little foods. He shakes his palm filled with sunflower seeds back and forth, or maybe almonds, or fruit snacks

Building on this, he drives on road trips. Every time. He’s better with sleeping now but he’s always had trouble laying his head to rest, so he chooses to take advantage of it by driving all day and night

Ghost’s hearing isn’t 100%. All the warfare he was around before he retired has ruined that. It’s not bad by any means, it’s still around like 85%, but this just means all his other senses have multiplied. He can feel you walking into a room and reads lips extremely well, though sometimes when his back is turned you may have to repeat yourself

Ghost hasn’t taken off his ring since the day you two got married. There’s something so personal about it, the cool metal around his skin, that makes taking it off impossible. It’s like he carries around your love for him everywhere he goes. It’s reassurance someone really does love him for all that he is

You can try to slow dance in the kitchen to old music he loves, but he can’t dance. Not at all.

“You alright?” In his thick accent. That’s it. That’s the headcannon.

He could cook, but he was really rusty. He had to learn when he was younger to take care of himself and his family, especially his mother, but the military didn’t call for it and now he has to relearn it again. It didn’t take long though—soon he was whipping it up

(If you were to have kids) He knows everything about them. Fuck all that shit about the dads not knowing their children’s teachers and things. He knows how one of his daughters likes her hair, which toy is her favorite, her favorite restaurant, favorite color. Everything. At the doctors, of course he knows their individual birthdays to the minute, eye color because they’re chocolate brown like his, and where their birthmarks are.

He’s a girl dad, in case I hadn’t made it clear.

He has the ability to tell identical twins apart. And he’s never wrong.

He gets really bad heartburn.

He doesn’t own many clothes. His closet is small, compared to yours, carrying just a few trusty shirts, shoes, and jeans he has on rotation for laundry. This ultimately changes later in the marriage as you find yourself shopping for him, and his style has changed a wee bit.

He doesn’t like Italian food.

Despite how everyone thinks he’s a morning guy, he isn’t. He only got up in mornings because he was told to. His best work is at night since it works with his inability to sleep well, so he does computer stuff and paperwork then. Sometimes he’ll be in the kitchen eating when you get up for water.

Ghost loves when you put on your wedding dress. You feel the same about the matching tuxedo he wore, but he owns a few of those, so he doesn’t think it’s the same. He paid for the dress, one in a million and hand-sewn, but you’re far more beautiful than any clothing

He likes to clean. The smell of bleach is oddly comforting to him

©️ hxltic

[allurearia]

Love is spoiled milk.

Kageyama is emotionally constipated never understanding others' emotions but for you, he's willing to try.

Kageyama x reader

Kageyama Tobio wasn’t exactly a people person. He wasn’t the type to open up easily, and socializing? That was never on his list of priorities. Why bother? He had volleyball, and his teammates were people he interacted with out of necessity. It wasn’t that he hated talking to people but expressing his thoughts or feelings felt like a challenge he didn’t care to face. 

You, however, were the complete opposite. Emotions were second nature to you, as easy as breathing. You never hesitated to speak your mind, always upfront with how you felt. Yet lately, there was an odd tension, like something wasn’t quite clicking between the two of you. As much as you loved Kageyama, it felt like you were the only one carrying the emotional baggage of this relationship right now, feeling like something was off since a few weeks 

And right now, things were definitely off.

“You know the milk’s gone bad, right?” you called from the kitchen, staring at the carton on the counter. The sour smell was unmistakable, and a wrinkle of disgust crept onto your face. "Tobio, how long has this been sitting in here?"

Kageyama appeared in the doorway, towel slung over his shoulder, fresh from practice. “What milk?” he questioned as soon as he reached the doorway recognizing the carton of milk that he had forgotten to throw out yesterday

 He scratched the back of his neck, eyes avoiding yours. “I... might have forgotten about it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Might?”

Kageyama shifted awkwardly, his gaze still focused anywhere but on you. “Okay, fine. I forgot. What’s the big deal?” His tone was gruff, defensively trying to brush it off, but you could tell he was frustrated not with you, but with himself.

You sighed, a smile twitching at your lips. Tobio could remember each set and the teams rotation on court but remembering the expiry date on milk? That was a lost cause.

“It’s not that big of a deal," you replied, opening the fridge to grab some strawberry flavored yogurt. "But it’s funny how this keeps happening. You focus so hard on the big stuff, you miss the little things."

Kageyama’s frown deepened, arms crossing over his chest. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

You walked over to him, tapping the carton of spoiled milk as if to prove your point. “This, Tobio. The milk. It’s a small thing, but it keeps happening. You get so caught up in your head, in volleyball, that these little things just slip by.” You gave him a pointed look. “And it’s not just the milk.”

Kageyama’s eyes narrowed slightly, his defensiveness bubbling to the surface. “So what? You think I don’t care because I forgot about some milk?”

You sighed softly, setting the yogurt down on the counter before turning to face him fully. “That’s not what I’m saying. I know you care, Tobio. But when you let the small things go, it starts to feel like I’m the only one paying attention. Like I’m the only one who notices when things... spoil between us.”

His expression softened, though he still looked uncertain. “I don’t get it. What does the milk have to do with us?”

You couldn’t help but smile a little, despite the frustration in your chest. Kageyama was brilliant on the court, but when it came to emotions he was like a lost kitten sometimes. “It’s just an example,” you said, stepping closer to him. “You’re amazing when it comes to the big things—volleyball, your goals, making sure we’re okay in the long run. But sometimes, it’s the little things that matter. Like remembering to throw out spoiled milk. Or... noticing when I’m upset. Or just when things aren't right between us”

Kageyama stared at you for a long moment, processing. His arms uncrossed, and he rubbed the back of his neck in that familiar, awkward way. “I... didn’t realize.” His voice was quieter now, his defenses starting to crumble. “I’m just... not good at noticing things like that. But I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone in this.”

You smiled, reaching out to place your hand on his arm, the warmth of his skin grounding you. “I know. That’s all I needed to hear.”

He nodded, still looking unsure but clearly wanting to do better. “So... I should pay more attention to... the yogurt?”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes playfully. “Yes, Tobio. And maybe the milk too.”

He let out a small huff, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll try.” His eyes met yours, sincerity shining through the awkwardness. “I really will.”

You leaned into him, resting your head against his chest. “That’s all I need. We’ll figure it out, together.”

Kageyama wrapped an arm around you, holding you close in a quiet way, and for a moment, everything felt right again.

The little things mattered, and even if he didn’t always see them, he was willing to try. And that was enough.

Love is spoiled milk.

finally wrote something for kageyama<3 yall have no idea how long ive been wanting to write this. CLEARING OUT DRAFTS THAT HAVE BEEN SITTING IN FOR SO LONG

Love is? Masterlist

[gardens-light]

Ok. Ok.

Here me out.

TFOne!Starscream being a girl-dad to a sparkling?

For example: At least a solarcycle after Sentinel's betrayal, Starscream and the rest of the High Guard are forced to live on the surface until they come across a tiny sparkling femme that happened to be abandoned for some reason. So, basically Starscream has to deal with leading the Guard and also being a parent. Lots of fluff while also showing the realism of caring for an infant. (ex. sleepless nights, constant crying, all that stuff)

I dunno why I asked that. I'm just a fatherless human who just happens to see the strangest characters as father figures.

I absolutely adore this headcanon! And can certainly see Starscream making a sparkling into a 'daddy's girl.' I can already mentally picture the chaos that would happen within the Guard base, and how the others would react to having a sparkling around. Hope you don't mind me using your example, as I thought it was truly adorable, and wrote a one-shot/headcanon. Enjoy!

Inheritance of Ash and Stars

The skies of Cybertron once gleamed with pride, but no longer.

After Sentinel's betrayal towards his Prime's, and rise to tyrannical control, Starscream and what remained of his loyal High Guard had been forced to flee- banished to the dilapidated surface. Buildings laid in ruin, half-sunk in ash and corrosion, their former glory buried under layers of war and silence.

It was here, in the skeletal remains that Starscream carved out his new domain.

He was not idle. Starscream never was.

In the forgotten crevices of the surface, he and his remaining High Guard constructed a concealed base beneath the collapsed shell of an ancient flight academy. With cloaking dampeners, sensor-jammers, and Soundwave's surveillance drones deployed in a ten-klick radius, they stayed just ahead of Sentinel's searching scouts.

Some days were tense- especially when the enemy patrols got too close- but Starscream's wit and Soundwave's precision ensured they always slipped away, ghostlike and untouchable.

Yet... nothing could have prepared them for her.

---

It was one rotation cycle after the first perimeter sweep, when Soundwave returned to the base, carrying something small in his arms.

A sparkling. A femme.

Starscream stood within the command chamber, bending over a holomap of Iacon's underground tunnel routes, his voice sharp with irritation.

"You're late!" he snapped, not even glancing at Soundwave's arrival, "And I don't have time for- what is that?"

Soundwave, as stoic as always, gently unfolded the tarp, revealing her trembling form. Curled up and motionless within his arms. Her plating was scratched and soot-streaked, optics dim with fatigue. Not even mustering a cry, just simply staring at her surroundings- frightened but alive.

"Sparkling. Unregistered." Soundwave simply explained, his voice monotone as always. "Found in Theta-Seven. Abandoned. No identifying marks, nor registration chip. Guardian nowhere near her whereabouts-"

"A sparkling?" Starscream pinched the bridge of his nose. "Are you malfunctioning?! Why in the name of Primus would you bring that here?-"

"She was offlining. Her frame is pre-reformat. Estimated age- twelve deca-cycles-"

"And what do you expect me to do with this?" Starscream gestured with disdain. "We're fugitives, not a nursery service! That's just another mouth to feed! A liability!-"

The Seeker's words slowly trailed off, as the sparkling gazed at him. Big, innocent optics- glowing a faint teal- filled with something Starscream hadn't seen in a very long time... Hope.

Just her, a curious, small being simply clinging to it.

A small smile came to her, a little twitch of her faceplates- almost as if she wasn't aware she shouldn't of smiled at a mech like the Seeker Commander.

In that brief, flicker of a moment, his ever-scheming mind shifted. Actually... this might be an opportunity presenting itself. A sparkling can be molded. Raised. Trained. Formed into something powerful. Something... loyal. A new future- a legacy!

"Well... perhaps we can make room." His words flowed like silkily confidence, reaching down to scoop her into his arms with a flair of dramatic grace. "Poor thing couldn't possibly survive without guidance, after all. She'll need someone brilliant. Resourceful. Strong."

Silence fell across the command center, surrounding bots gave each other confused glances and questioning expressions.

"Designation?" Soundwave's question rolled out ever so flatly.

Starscream held the sparkling like a prized relic, as he turned to his Guard. "Behold... Nova! From this moment forth-she's my aire and successor!"

Looking up at the sparkling, as she gurgled in his arms. Her claws gripping onto his digits, making a small beeping noise before promptly sneezing energon mist all over the Seeker's face. Leaving the commander lowly growling in disapproval. Charming...

---

The reality hit faster than a missile.

Nova cried. Not once, not twice- but constantly. Her vocalizer seemed to be designed by a sadistic mech, as her cries felt like it could pierce through armor plating. She refused to settle during recharge cycles unless Starscream held her- an indignity he swore would pass, only for it to worsen. Her energon preferences were bafflingly specific, rejecting any blend that wasn't precisely three degrees above standard warmth with exactly 2% high-grade mix.

"She's defective," the Seeker groaned one night, dragging a servo down his faceplate as Nova wailed in his arms. "There's no other explanation."

Skywarp, who had once chuckled at Starscream's parental misadventure, now tiptoed around the base to avoid waking the sparkling. While Soundwave, ever unreadable, continued to monitor and assist without questions.

One night, after hours of pacing, feeding, and failed lullabies, Starscream sat down with Nova in his lap. His optics dull and his wings drooping, she curled against him, tiny servos wrapping around one of his claws.

"...You're... trying to kill me, aren't you?" he murmured bitterly.

She nuzzled his palm, murmuring something unintelligible, as she slowly drifted into recharge. And despite everything- the chaos, the noise, the stress- Starscream slowly drew his wings around her like a shield, holding her close.

"I... didn't ask for you." He repeated more softly, "but... I wouldn't be without you."

A Few Days Later

The command deck had been cleared and dimmed for early recharge cycles, but in Starscream's private quarters, chaos reigned.

"Hold. Still." The commander's tone was already strained.

One servo balancing a compact energon spoon filled with a specially-blended mixture. The other hovered near Nova's helm, trying to keep her from wriggling out of her feeding harness- a custom rig he'd had Soundwave design, after she somehow managed to flip herself upside down during the last cycle's meal.

Nova simply stared back at him with suspicious optics, mouth firmly shut, chin tipped up like a defiant noble.

Starscream, perched delicately on a reinforce crate, narrowing his optics. "You require sustenance. This mixture has been finely tuned to your impossible preference. Temperature calibrated. Texture smoothed. There's no logical reason for you to reject it-"

Nova chirped once- and knocked the spoon clean out of his servo.

Splat.

Starscream stared at the slowly spreading blot of energon paste upon his pede, one optic twitching slightly, wings stiffened. "Right... Of course... Excellent aim, I must admit."

Nova let out a mischievous giggle, waving her arms with glee. A sticky glob of energon clinging to one of her digits like a badge of honor.

The Seeker dropped his helm back with a dramatic groan. "She's laughing at me." he muttered aloud to no one in particular. "I swear, this is sabotage."

Nova let out a frustrated chirp as she wiggled within her harness, dramatic groans leaving her as she tried to escape.

Starscream rubbed the bridge of his nose, "you want dramatics, you little scraplet? Fine. Then dramatics you shall get."

He crouched low, holding the spoon just beneath her chin, then began humming low, growling jet engine noises. With a whoosh and a whistle, he waved the spoon through the air in looping patterns. "Incoming from Vosian airspace! Enemy radar can’t lock on! It’s too fast!”

Nova’s optics went wide. She chirped excitedly and leaned forward, giggling uncontrollably.

Starscream grinned, adding more flair to his gestures. He spun the spoon in a tight circle, pulling it back dramatically. “Here it comes! The daring, brave, and very cunning Commander Starscream is bringing the high-speed energon express in for landing! Final approach! Prepare for landing!"

Nova laughed, flapping her arms.

“Three! Two! One!” he crowed—and popped the spoon gently into her mouth.

Nova made a happy trill, chewing without fuss.

Starscream pumped a fist silently, then repeated the maneuver.

“Another daring dive! Commander Starscream evades anti-aircraft fire! Ooooh, what a twist! Such speed! Such elegance!” He twirled the spoon, dodging her servos, “And—” another bite slid smoothly into her mouth.

Another triumphant giggle. She was loving every second of it—and to Starscream's horror, so was he.

By the time he reached the final spoonful, Starscream had one knee on the floor, both arms dramatically raised like a performer in the coliseum. His wings fluttered with exaggerated force, and his face was frozen in a wide, animated expression—mouth curved into a silly grin, optics comically large for emphasis as he sang out, “And now, the final flight! The grand finale! Commander Starscream descends into the unknown, sacrificing all to deliver the final payload to Princess Nova the Picky!"

Nova squealed, beaming from helm to pede as the spoon slipped into her mouth. Starscream grinned—until he caught sight of his reflection in the polished side panel of a nearby terminal.

He froze.

He blinked once.

Then again.

His wings slowly drooped back into their usual arch. The grin slid from his face. The ridiculous energy evaporated like coolant in open sunlight.

He cleared his throat sharply and rose to his full, dignified height.

“Ahem. Right. That… was merely a tactical morale exercise,” he said, voice suddenly stiff and formal as he adjusted an invisible badge on his chest. “A brief moment of… necessary theatrics. To secure nourishment. Nothing more.”

Nova tilted her head, optics bright, chewing the last of her meal. Then, with a smirk far too knowing for a sparkling, she reached up and booped him on the nose.

Starscream flinched.

“…You will never speak of this to anyone,” he muttered.

Nova just laughed, mouth still sticky. And despite himself—despite all the fuss and all the embarrassment—Starscream allowed a tiny, reluctant smile to return.

One Month Later

The command chamber was dim, lit by the pulsating glow of a flickering holomap at its center. The map projected a crude wireframe model of the surface lines of Cybertron—half of them corrupted, the others overlaid with red indicators of supply routes, sentry patrols, and guarded checkpoints. Above it all stood Starscream, wings arched in their usual confident sweep, his optics glowing a sharp, calculating crimson as he surveyed his gathered High Guard.

Skywarp lounged against the wall, his helm tilted lazily but optics sharp. Thundercracker stood with arms crossed, ever the tactician, while Soundwave hovered just beyond the perimeter, silent and unreadable as always.

Starscream’s voice sliced through the tension like a plasma blade.

“Our rations are depleted to less than a fifth of standard reserve,” he stated with a sneer. “Energon intake rationed. Maintenance supplies nearing critical scarcity. And unless one of you 'geniuses' has miraculously discovered an energon well hidden beneath our floorboards, I expect a viable solution. Now.”

Skywarp stepped forward with a mischievous glint in his optics. He waved a claw over the interface and pulled up a feed—a schedule.

“Well, funny you should mention that, oh fearless one,” he said. “This here’s a signal ping I intercepted off an old military subroutine. Seems Sentinel’s got a train making surface runs every three cycles, probably offloading materials for those maintenance drones he keeps sending down to scavenge old war bunkers.”

Starscream’s optics narrowed. “A train?”

“Big one,” Skywarp confirmed. “Low defense, fast transport. But they don’t guard it heavily—not unless it’s carrying something valuable. I’m willing to bet it’s moving high-grade.”

Thundercracker leaned in, arms still folded. “We let it come close to Sector 3, rig the old bridge with a remote charge. Derail it. Quick, clean. Then we take what we need and vanish before anyone notices.”

Starscream considered it, wings twitching as he leaned over the table, claws drumming across the control panel.

“It’s risky,” he muttered. “If Sentinel tracks it back to us—”

Ping.

His optics twitched, trying to ignored it. “As I was saying—”

Ping.

The sound repeated again—low, soft, persistent. The kind of noise that chipped at his processors like rust at a wing joint.

“Soundwave,” Starscream snapped without looking up, “unless you've somehow located Sentinel's secret stockpile of energon, I suggest you keep your interruptions to yourself!”

Silence.

Ping.

Starscream’s wings flared. “That is IT!”

With a sharp snarl, he slammed his servo down onto the holomap table. The projection flickered and glitched, throwing fragmented lines across the chamber.

His optics snapped to Soundwave. “You have ten seconds to explain why you feel the need to interrupt an operation-critical strategy meeting, or so help me, I will—”

But Soundwave said nothing.

Instead, he stepped forward. In his arms, wrapped in a soft recycled thermal cloth, was Nova.

Starscream froze mid-rant.

The Guard stared, blinking in disbelief.

Soundwave gave no words, no monotone analysis. Only a small, subtle motion—a gentle nudge at her back with the edge of his servo, encouraging her forward.

Nova wobbled slightly on her pedes, talons curling on the grated floor as she tottered unsteadily, adjusting to the weight of her own frame.

Starscream’s optics widened, the entire room going utterly still.

Nova looked up—those wide teal optics full of excitement and focus. She smiled.

Then, for the first time, she stepped forward.

One shaky step. Then another.

The chamber held its breath.

Her balance faltered, and she tipped slightly to the side—but before she could fall, Thundercracker lowered himself, carefully catching her. “Whoa there, kiddo,” he murmured gently, stabilizing her by her tiny shoulders. “You’ve got this.”

Nova blinked up at him, then looked toward Starscream—her little optics locking onto him like a beacon. She let go of Thundercracker and tried again. Another step. Then another.

Skywarp knelt beside her path, waving softly. “Come on, little wings. You’re almost there.”

“D-Da…” she squeaked. Her little arms stretched forward, seeking balance, seeking him.

Starscream’s engines faltered.

“D-Dad!”

Her words was more stable now. Clear. Joyful.

Her tiny peds carried her halfway across the chamber before she stumbled—but Starscream was already kneeling, arms out before he even realized what he was doing.

She landed against his chassis with a delighted chirp, arms flinging around what little part of him she could grasp. Her helm pressed to his plating, venting soft little static bursts of laughter.

Thundercracker’s optics softened.

Skywarp blinked, slack-jawed, then smirked faintly. “Well, I’ll be…”

Starscream didn’t speak at first.

He simply… held her.

One clawed servo slowly cupped the back of her helm as she buried herself in his chest. His optics dimmed slightly, his wings lowering in something rare and unseen—a quiet, vulnerable stillness.

“…You picked a terrible time to develop basic locomotion,” he muttered, though there was no venom behind it.

Nova giggled again and nuzzled in tighter.

Starscream glanced up—his command mask slipping, even if only for a second—as he looked at his team. The ever-loyal, battle-worn High Guard who had watched him scheme, rant, and fight across countless battles.

They stared at him now with something entirely different in their optics. And Starscream, for once, didn’t flinch from it.

He straightened slightly, still holding Nova in one arm, and cleared his throat.

“Ahem. Status reports will continue… shortly,” he said with strained composure. “In the meantime, the heir to the skies has taken her first steps.”

Nova chirped and squealed, beaming up at him.

Starscream allowed himself the smallest smile—and this time, he didn’t bother hiding it.

[theamityelf]

I finished mid terms and am still exhausted but I'm curious on what you think a mini makoto but it's normal hopes peak academy

Like before the killing games when it was normal but one thing led to another and makoto became a mini now his class has to take care of him until one of the other ultimates find a cure

Perhaps makoto would be able to meet hajime or class 77 through his luck?

Chai anon-

Wonderful. I love it. And I hope midterms went well!

(Mini Classmates AU Masterlists)

This feels like a prequel to the Mini Senpais AU. Like, in the same way Junko canonically had to test the memory stuff for the killing game, something had to happen with the shrinking technology before she put the mini senpais in the killing game with her classmates.

Either Makoto shrinking was a standard Hope's Peak accident that ended up giving Junko the idea for the Mini Senpais AU, or Junko was already planning the mini senpais and she deliberately did something to cause Makoto to shrink as a test subject for her plan. Either way, we get Tiny Makoto.

Hope's Peak staff largely treats this as an opportunity for the Ultimates to practice problem solving...or is it that the school just doesn't care to waste resources on helping a luckster get back to his right size? 🤨

Whatever the case, it's left to Makoto's class to determine how to help him and who to tell about him.

His family hasn't even been informed.

There's a lot of bickering over how to handle the situation.

Taka and Hiro have a kind of dad energy about it, in that they often disagree about whether or not Makoto should still be expected to do schoolwork.

"I've found a smaller pencil!" Taka declares one day. "Here, see if you can hold this one."

Makoto manages to get both hands around the small pencil and hold it upright, though it's clearly heavy for him.

"Perfect! Now you're that much closer to taking notes again."

"For serious? You're still trying to make him take notes?" Hiro protests.

"Of course! I refuse to let my good friend lose his chance to pursue his studies. He won't be falling behind on my watch. Any true friend would agree."

"Isn't Mini-Makoto suffering enough? He deserves a vacation."

They both feel they're standing up for Makoto, when they argue their respective points.

Besides that, a lot of people want a chance to hold Makoto. Ideally, they'd come up with a rotating schedule where everyone who wants to gets to take care of him for a day. There's probably an unofficial rule that no girl takes him home for the night.

Leon, Sayaka, Hifumi, Junko, Taka, Celeste and Hina are all openly eager to take their turn carrying Makoto around and stuff.

Sayaka is the most considerate out of all of them, handling him carefully and checking in to make sure he's comfortable and doesn't need anything, without making him feel too weird about things.

Celeste treats him as a novelty and also puts him to the task of grabbing her things; he's in charge of rummaging through her makeup bag for her eyeliner or lipstick, so she can freshen her makeup between classes, or her coin purse when she wants to buy something, etc. And she likes decorating him with accessories and stuff.

Hifumi is super excited to have a figurine-sized friend. He does a reverse of Celeste's thing, in that he acts as Makoto's servant. He is suspiciously eager to pamper tiny Makoto.

Junko is obviously not fully unrestrained, but she's still Junko. She's doing all kinds of things to make the situation weird and overwhelming for Makoto. She's always talking loudly, walking fast, poking his tummy, and just picking him up for no reason. He frequently has her huge lipstick kiss marks taking up his entire face. Sometimes she squeezes or tosses him around a little. Not in a way that actually risks harming him, and she always says she forgot she was holding him and thought he was a stress toy, but it's definitely nerve-wracking. Doesn't help that when she carries him from place to place, it's in her shirt pocket, so he's just kinda...on her. And it's...jiggly...in there.

Hina is mostly normal and does her best to be accommodating, but she also sometimes just forgets Makoto places. On her desk, on her lunch table, by the pool. Maybe she sets him on a bench or trash can while she bends to tie her shoes and forgets him there. (That's one way the 77th class might find him.) Other than that, she often uses him as a timer when she's about to do a run or swim.

Leon mostly just thinks the whole thing is cool. He says something about using Mini Makoto as a conversation starter to get chicks, but really he's excited about his friend being like four inches tall.

Byakuya, Chihiro, and Mukuro are also eager but aren't as open about it. Byakuya manages to engineer things in such a way that he ends up being the one who keeps Makoto in his dorm room each night, mainly because he says that everyone else's dorm is trash. He spins it as him taking pity on Makoto for his sorry state.

Kyoko and Mondo don't think they want to, but they do. Like, Kyoko acts like she's more interested in the mystery around Mini Makoto than the prospect of interacting with him in his tiny form, but all someone has to do is place him on her desk and she's lowkey obsessed.

(Which leaves Hiro, Toko, and Sakura who don't really mind all that much either way. Hiro maybe suggested that they sell tickets to see Makoto, or something of the sort, but the group voted against telling anyone because they've been tasked with fixing this and if they have trouble doing that, they don't want a bunch of people to know. These Ultimates have reputations to uphold!)

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

Hello I literally love ur writing style SO much, been binge reading all your httyd stuff and having a blast!!! Ty for being awesome, ur updates always make my day :3

The Jealous One pt 5

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Fem!Reader

Words: 1848

The Great Hall is always a nice place to frequent when one’s seeking companionship. You are, however, not doing that.

Tags: fem!reader, silly, ambiguous timeline, Snotlout Jorgenson, Ruffnut and Tuffnut Thorston, Jealous!Hiccup, Post RoB/DoB, Pre-RTTE

<Previous - Next>

You spoke and acted suddenly with Hiccup and with a wrongness that had made you uneasy for days to follow.

Acting out with Snotlout and the Twins had gone against a lot of your do-good lay-low-and-miserable instincts, which made you momentarily numb to them, in a way. 

When you were caught up with them, too busy to think, you ended up doing things in ways you definitely wouldn't have had you been thinking normally. The joy always ended up outweighing any other feelings you might have had on what you did later, but now it was a little different.

You feigned normal, but also you avoided Hiccup a lot, so you weren’t sure how you ended up here.

“-I don’t think that does anything for most dragons,” Fishlegs looked down at Ruffnut, some of his general nervous demeanor melting away in favor of minor exhaustion at her relentless questioning, maybe catching on some, “There are some, but…”

Snotlout was off on the other side of the Hall. Be it far below him to serve. However, he’d lost a very minor bet so he had to go get you guys dinner for the next five weeks.

You weren’t quite sure where Ruffnut was. Busy, probably. 

You sighed, slightly rotating the mug you had in hand, slumping down on a nearby bench, giving the off-put Viking a rest. That wasn’t your intention, to put him off, anyways.

Tuffnut chuckled to himself, before dropping down on the opposite bench, cradling Macey over his shoulder.

Fishlegs stood watching you for a moment, before perking up slightly. 

You turned your attention away from him, choosing instead to lay your head over your arms on the table. You didn’t care to register anything past that, even as Fishlegs began silent conversation with a new party, someone you barely sensed joined him through the loud hustle and bustle of the hall.

It took a while, but eventually you heard a familiar holler, followed by an exhausted declarative, “Food’s here.”

You lifted your head genially to reveal Snotlout, with a set of four plates balanced on his arm, one balanced between the horns of his helmet. Ruffnut followed closely behind, laughing at him.

“Snotlout!” You cheered.

Ruffnut poked his middle, causing him to nearly fumble your food as he balanced angrily past moving gaggles of Vikings. 

“Hey!” He snapped, “Watch it!”

She cackled as a group of running children, followed by Gustav, nearly ran him over.

“Oh, wow,” Came a voice from your left, “Never thought I’d see him do that.”

Your head jerked to reveal Hiccup, standing above you, watching Snotlout with mild amusement, though there was something stiff about him which you thought was very well deserved.

“That’s for sure,” Said Astrid with casualty, revealing herself from behind a set of women carrying two full plates of chicken to one of the larger tables, where clans preferred to sit together.

You grimaced slightly and turned away, leaning back against the meal table behind you, elbows propped against wood. 

Then cringed as they eyed each other with mild apprehensiveness from opposite sides of the table, then rolled your eyes and scooted away slightly as you spotted Snotlout, who had finally made his way over, Ruffnut dropping a roll of thick, hastily carved spoons on the surface. 

You cringed as they clattered across wood, picking one up and rubbing it with your sleeve.  

“You have to get your own food,” Snotlout scoffed at the two plus Fishlegs as he finished unloading plates onto the table. 

“Thanks, Snot,” You batted your lashes at him falsely as he gagged, ignoring the odd, caught-off guard look from Hiccup as you glanced back.

You fought the urge to gnash your teeth at him.

“But…” Fishlegs started, staring at the plate that had once previously been on top of his head. But you knew he’d have no luck. As always, Snotlout managed to negotiate himself an extra bit of food on top of his already loaded plate.

You noticed, with glee, that your plate was loaded with a little extra stew than normal. Something Plegma usually only did for the Riders.

“Nice,” You said, somewhat pleased, lifting your brows slightly and grinning from ear-to-ear, slouching back further against the table before taking a small bite.

“Food could be better,” You said snippishly, as you nudged the stew around your bowl with a spoon, resting your mug against the table and tugging it towards you with your other hand.

“Ugh,” Ruffnut rolled her eyes.

“Stick-in-the-mud,” Snotlout agreed, though not with cheer, looking at Tuffnut with a sneer as he scratched himself in the armpit.

You blew a raspberry at them, before frowning.

Maybe you had been grumpy. 

You glared at Hiccup from the corner of your eye, a move that might look coy on someone else, though you personally just felt a little bit queasy, as if a horde of bugs had started buzzing up and down your intestines, angry as you.

What had happened- you weren’t sure it was even an argument -maybe it was- but you could have gotten over it, maybe. Going over it with Tuffnut, though, had broken something in you that you hadn’t realized you’d been building back up hanging out with one half of the Riders.

You sighed shakingly, as you finished another swallow, bringing your mug down genially. It settled on to the table by your side with a simple clack, before pushing off against the table, swinging your legs over the side.

You felt the tension in your chest release as you moved across the hall, not expecting anyone to follow.

You weaved through the throng of the Great Hall clumsily, though not without experience. One hand held your elbow, the other the handle on your mug.

Your goal was, of course, to refill your cup, though that also had the slight upside of taking you away from the Riders.

You’d gotten sick of watching them all talk together, and to be honest, you were feeling a little out of place.

People milled by, momentary, uninterested onlookers to your conversation, by the side of a lunch table; a sturdy, tall woman with red hair piled up into a huge knot, a man in a helmet with four horns knocking people aside with his elbows, large trays in hand.

A lady with a shawl passed by, covered in the skulls of small animals swept by, nearly knocking you in the head with a wooden tray, speaking loudly to someone on her other side.

Looking back, you couldn’t help thinking about how you would have loved this if you’d been just a few years younger.

Sure, you were only friends with a few of them, but-even if you weren’t at the forefront of the crowd, you always imagined you’d feel like the girl of the hour. Maybe it would have been better because of it. Sure, you were living on a small rock island in the middle of nowhere, constantly showered on by torrents of hellfire and bloodshed, but you had Hiccup.

The Riders were his dream, so being ditched felt like he was telling you to kick rocks. Like he wanted you to feel miserable. Deep down thought, you’d wanted his dream- You’d wanted to be there too.

You’d had Hiccup in those daydreams, those dreams within dreams, casual and there and real enough like goats milk on skin, like falling asleep with hands carding through your hair after a long day.

You were incensed. You wanted to cry and yell, but you also felt terrible. The feeling built high in your stomach.

You wondered if anyone else took notice. 

You had never quite spent time with all of the Riders at once, and were quite adverse to the idea. The more you thought about it, the more you were even less inclined to stay than before.

You paused at the brush of a palm over your shoulder, loose and without any sort of grip, yet feeling enough for you to take notice, stopping suddenly. 

The hairs on the back of your neck stood. If you’d had hackles, they would have been raised.

“Hey, wait, where are you going?” It was a bit difficult to hear over the rabble, the crowd around you built up by voices much stronger than his or yours with personality and enthusiasm, yet you were able to make it out, a voice you knew by heart all the same.

Hiccup.

You turned and reached behind you, feeling the edge of a table bump into your rear. You leaned against it, racing your hand down slightly behind you to brace and dust over its surface.

The grain of the table was lumpy under your fingers yet smoothes by years of use and the grazing passes of many other hands.

“Why do you care?” You grumbled, arms falling loosely from their cross. You were nearly surprised when he heard you after.

“Why do I care?” Hiccup shook his head, “...What’s going on?”

You nearly missed the last bit, his voice nearly drowned out by the shout of someone two tables over. It was quite difficult to hold up an argument in the middle of a crowd, it seemed.

“Nothing,” You said, in lieu of an explanation, irritation spiking in your gut.

“It’s not.”

At that moment, the large arm of a blonde man nearly pushed him onto the table aside.

You fought down the urge to smile, looking down and feeling pretty malicious.

On the floor, you were greeted by a half-eaten leg of meat lay bitten into and discarded a few lengths away from you, a puddle of what was either stew or something you didn’t want to think about just further ahead.

You grimaced and scuffed a single loose boot toe into the Great Hall stone, annoyed, not surprised at all when it slid smoothly against the surface.

“What are you getting at?” You asked antagonistically. You felt stupid, dancing around him, mostly because you didn’t want to be talking to him at all. 

Was it arrogant for you to want to get away? Was this conversation penance, punishment for your earlier outburst?

You couldn’t help but wax poetically about it in your head.

“What am I-?” That seemed to do it -tick him off, that is.

“I can’t really read that mind of yours, genius.”

“Maybe if you stopped spending so much time with Snotlout-” Hiccup stepped forwards.

You snapped, gritting your teeth and stepping closer, feeling your nails dig into your palms through the fabric of your skirts, clutched in your hands,  “What’s your deal been?! I’m friends with Snotlout. What’s the big deal?!”

“I-...” He started, looking frustrated, though his eyes darted to the side slightly, “I just-”

“Gods,” You grit your jaw, bringing your hands to your head, not flinching when a few drops of mead spilled out the other end of your mug.

You didn’t show it, but you felt terrible. 

You hated the way his brows tilted, the momentary expression of grief on his face- yet you just wanted him to leave you alone.

[flames-unicorns-and-sentryguns]

Red Scout Headcannons part 1 ( because I'll think of more later)

Scout has always liked dogs but he could never have one as a kid because finances were on the tight side. But he always wanted a dog to play with and go out on runs with.

Scouts ma made sure all the kids put in their share of the house chores. Everyone had a rotating chore schedule or everyone had one chore or set of chores they excelled at.

There were only so much space in the fridge so I imagine scout and his brothers learned to cook for themselves at a young age. Because of this Scout learned how to cook and can cook fairly well. He knows how to cook on a smaller budget/ list of ingredients. Knows how to stretch out his resources.

As his brothers grew up and moved out there was more food in the fridge so Scout didn't cook as much. Somewhat out of laziness but also because hey he wants to enjoy his mas cooking more.

For spending money, Scout got a variety of jobs pre Merc days. I'm borrowing this from another conversation I saw that talked about Scout working in a kitchen at some point.

He probably got into fights partially for money from other kids before he got recruited by Mann Co.

In his merc days he was living it up. Sure, he didn't get along with all his coworkers especially spy. And it was Hot and dusty and the water smells weird but he's getting paid for the stuff he uses to do as a kid/ teen except he can go all out!

He's a slacker at the base when it comes to the non work stuff because honestly? This is better than what he's been through. He can eat as much as he wants- to an extent. He can have his own room and everything. Scouts got money to buy what he Wants without feeling guilt about it.

He can buy all the art supplies, the music and merch to his heart's content.

He stays up later than the other Mercs but he does make up for it by sleeping in on the weekends. Enjoys going out to town more than the others.

Scout sleeps on his back.

Initially. He moves a lot in his sleep until about the mid point of his sleep cycle where he's still for the longest time.

Knows how to budget when it comes to the Important Things. His decision to spend tons of money on tom Jones merch is partially because boy hasn't had that much experience with that much disposable income at once. Plus he was probably expecting to work for a lot longer and get more fat paychecks.

When it comes to chores on the base, he's more competent when it comes to them en mass than the other Mercs take him for. Of course if he's in a bad mood, he'll slack off more and pay less attention to detail.

Except for cooking. He's efficient at cooking for the whole team. Scout knows how to make it at least filling if nothing else. When it's his turn to cook he'll ask everyone if they want any specifics for their dinners ( like more spicy or less spicy etc) before he gets in the kitchen and then fuck off for a while and come back out carrying everyone's dishes just like they requested.

Spy is actually pretty proud of that fact. It's nothing special, nothing fancy but it's more than serviceable.

He loves to draw because it lets him get some of the Extra thoughts out of his head. Even if they're just scribbles it makes him feel better. The art style/ medium changes depending on his mood.

More sketchy/ cartoon like? He's feeling bored/ amused by something

More portrait like? He's been thinking/ feeling observent.

Scout loves baseball, to no ones surprise. He has a lot of hand me down baseball cards from his brothers. In his youth he and his brothers would gather around the tv/ radio to listen to the Game.

He would probably enjoy obstacle courses.

[queeranarchism]

When non-hierarchal decision making breaks down

I already posted this here but I wanted to make it into a post of its own. There are a lot of things that can go wrong in non-hierarchical decision making. This post will be focusing on what coordinators (assigned or informal) can do that can undermine the non-hierachical nature of the group and can put more power in the hands of the coordinator.

Within groups genuinely committed to non-hierarchy, everybody needs to be committed to maintaining a space where it is always socially acceptable to say ‘I think you’re having too much power over this decision making process’ and we all gotta teach each other how to recognize dynamics like that.

Some examples of what to look for:

One person is coordinator for a long time and takes offense at the idea of someone else taking over. Someone taking over would not be seen as a normal rotation of tasks but as a judgement on the coordinator.

Alternatively: a group of close friends rotate key positions and nobody else in the group ever holds a key role.

The coordinator proposes what must be done, instead of letting the group come up with ideas together. The thing the coordinator wants to do ends up being the thing the group decides to do a lot of the time.

Some people talk far more in meetings than others and the coordinator does not take steps to restore the balance and create space for the quieter members to speak.

If the coordinator is sick, the meeting does not happen or no key decisions are made. If anyone else is sick, the meeting carries on as usual.

Meeting dates and times are set by the coordinator alone or by a small group who inform the others.

Access tools such as keys to the meeting space, access to the back account and passwords of the groups email-addresses, website and social media accounts, are not shared with the whole group. 

Important skills, knowledge and networks are not shared. Group members with a less central position can not take over key tasks because they have not been allowed to learn how to do them or build the connections to organize them.

The key decision makers all live in the same house or hang out together a lot, other members find that the plan is already 90% done by the time the actual meeting takes place and they can’t really go in a different direction anymore.

Members that challenge the coordinator(s) are ‘accidentally’ not invited to meetings or meetings are always planned on a day when they have other obligations. 

Meetings in which the coordinator(s) does not get their way are dragged on until members get too tired and agree to the coordinators proposal to get out of the meeting.

Members that challenge the coordinator(s) are told they’d have a bigger part in decision making if they’d do more work, attend more meetings, etc. A few members use the fact that they have a lot of time and a lot of energy to dominate groups and efuse to change their decision making process and meeting schedule to better incorporate members who have a demanding job, or young kids, or who are often low on energy or who can’t travel much, etc. This often ends up putting marginalized people on the side lines, as they often have a lot more stuff on their plate to deal with, and it especially impacts disabled people who can not conform to abled ideas about productivity. At worst, people who can’t keep up with the grueling pace set by the high-energy abled folks face to choice to either burn out or get out.

This is an incomplete list. Feel free to add your own.

None of this means that non-hierarchical decision making can not work. I would argue that it is the only decision making that really works. But we have to keep working at it and recognizing when it's not functioning as intended and we have to be ready to accept the idea that our decision making process needs to be improved upon.

[cryptidsofwakemoor]

Chapter 11 - Gratuitous Waffle Violence

Matchstick uses eating utensils to varying degrees of success, while Tikki draws up a roommate contract.

~*~

Mystic

Morning comes again, as it always does.

And with it, the spicy smell of a hot drink, as the catalyst to his waking.

Sitting on the rug next to the couch is another mug of the hot 'cider' Tikki made the previous night- but he can smell something else, too. The scent of the only other hot drink he was familiar with, the one the scientists in the lab carried around sometimes. It was earthy and bitter, but not in an unpleasant way.

Clinking noises from the kitchen, and plap plaps. Tikki must be awake, and making something.

Spooky

Slowly he unfolds himself, lanky legs stretching out from under the blankets followed by his upper torso and arms, his bones popping. He wasn't used to sleeping on something quite this soft... Sprawled out on the couch, he turns his head to try and see what Tikki's doing, but all he sees is her back as she prepares something just out of his view.

He was almost reluctant to get up, but the smell of the cider beckoned, and his mouth was feeling dry. He leaned down and scooped the mug up from the ground, holding it carefully in both hands and slurping noisily.

Mystic

"Wow, your bones sound like glow sticks," Tikki comments, back still turned. "First time you're sleeping on something soft?"

She tried to hide how much the thought pissed her off. Who was responsible for taking care of this kid in the 'lab'? They were shit at their job. Probably on purpose, which made her more angry, which forced her to stuff that feeling away for another molotov cocktail that surely wouldn't detonate later.

"I made you more cider- sounds like it did the job last night," she continues, not waiting for a response. "You should start drinking more regular water after this, though. Can't have you dehydrated, and you'll get more energy back if you eat properly. Which probably means I shouldn't be giving you too much sugar, but ehh..."

Tikki eventually turns back around, this time carrying a platter over to a strange contraption on a rotating spit. She flips it open, and pulls a set of puffy, boxy discs from inside. Loading up a plate with four separate discs, she sets up a second platter with only two, and lathers them in a translucent golden-brown syrup. With a march in her step, still wearing her colorful fish pajamas, she goes back to the living room that seemed to their designated eating space for the moment.

Tikki holds out the plate to him, complete with the utensils he wasn't sure how to use, and sits with her own.

"You're going to want the cutlery for this one," she says, smirking as she sips from her hot drink. "It's very sticky without it. Then we can start talking plans for whatever you're doing."

Spooky

He took the plate and was just about to pick up the food with his other hand, though he stopped dead in his tracks when she warned about it being sticky. Remembering the nectar tubes outside, he was reminded all too well that ‘sticky’ meant having to wash off.

Not really keen on taking another bath so soon, he considered the metal instruments that were given to him along with the disc- a long, flat one and another one with four prongs. Tikki had used the pronged one just yesterday to eat the, uh... theeeee omm... omelet! Yeah, she stabbed it and used it to pick it up. Didn't seem too hard.

He sat down and put the white disc in his lap, wrapping his fingers around the handle of the pronged utensil until he was holding it in his fist. He then lifted it and stabbed it more viciously than necessary into the food disc at top of the stack, attempting to pick the whole thing up with it. The puffy food was soft despite its crispier outside, though, and fell off the utensil, landing with a syrupy plap back on the stack and lightly splattering him in the stuff.

He slouched forward a bit in response, his brow knit together as his eyes regarded the stack with a rather grumpy look.

Mystic

Tikki snorts into her mug, clearing her throat before setting it aside, and picking up her own utensils.

"You have to cut the waffle, first," she explains, taking the fork and poking it, then cutting into it with the knife in the other hand while the plate rests on her lap. "You can use the knife, or the edge of the fork if you're lazy, like me."

Tikki then does just that, using the side of the fork to cut another square of her food. It takes a bit more wiggling, but once it's free, she pops it into her mouth just as easily.

"I'll get you a wet napkin after we eat, don't worry about it."

Spooky

He huffed out a breath and picked up the knife in his other hand, holding it just about as clumsily as he did with the fork. He stabbed the stack with the fork once more, then stabbed his knife into it as well, awkwardly sawing back and forth with it until it scraped noisily against the plate.

He stopped, grimacing at the sound but... there weren't any pieces free yet, so he wrenched the knife to the side and started sawing again.

Yeah, he was definitely going to need a napkin.

At last he managed to get it into smaller pieces... He stabbed those, carefully lifted them up to his mouth, and finally was able to take a bite. His eyes widened. While this whole utensils thing had been a bit more complicated of a way to eat something... It was so fucking worth it! The... bread? was nice and crisp, and the syrup was way better than the sugar water in those flower tubes. Prior annoyance forgotten, he licked his chops and went to stab another piece.

Mystic

Tikki shakes her head in mild amusement, eating some more of her own waffles.

"You might have an easier time if you're a bit more gentle about it," she says, smiling tiredly as she lifts her mug and takes another drink. "Moving harshly is what splattered the syrup. One sec-"

Tikki goes to the kitchen, grabs a napkin from a rung, and soaks it with a bit of hot water. Returning to the couch area, she holds it out to him.

"Here- you can wipe off the syrup with this."

Sitting back down, she hums, finishing her own two waffles in short order.

She waits quietly while he eats, drinking more of her mystery drink.

"So..." she says, finally breaking the silence once he's had time to work through the stack of waffles. "What's your plan going forward, Sticks? Do you have an idea of what you want to do?"

Spooky

He paused and looked up from his plate, his cheeks visibly stuffed with waffle and syrup dripping from his mouth. Then, still wide-eyed, he looked past her, not really at anything in particular.

Plan going forward? He'd been on the run for a while now, technically free even if he was being hunted, but up to this point it felt like his days had to be almost entirely devoted to his continued survival. If it wasn't hiding, it was food and water he was primarily focused on.

Now that those needs were met, though...

Now what...?

His eyes focused on her again, and he looked almost as if he was expecting her to continue on with what she wanted him to do, but no instructions were forthcoming.

Feeling lost, he gave a noncommittal shrug and went back to eating.

Mystic

Tikki hums, frowning a little.

"Okay, maybe that was a bit too broad," she acquiesces, cleaning a bit of syrup off her plate with the fork and nibbling it off the tines, almost literally chewing over her thoughts. "Anywhere in particular you want to go? You don't have to stay in this town if you don't want to- from the sounds of it, you seem pretty scared. I can help, but... I don't know, I guess I just feel bad that you seem so afraid all the time. You shouldn't have to be."

She felt a little bad pointing it out, but it needed to be said. She was observant. She'd seen him running for cover in the trees, acting like exposure to the world for even a fraction of a second meant certain death. Granted, she had no idea which 'lab' was responsible for... this. Whatever they'd done to him. Who knows, they could be near town.

"...it- reminds me of how I used to feel, early on," Tikki explains, scratching at one arm. Her pointed fingers catch lightly on the silver scales that faintly dust over her regular teal ones.

Spooky

With his waffles now gone too, he stuck the end of the fork in his mouth for a minute as he tried to think. When he took it back out again, the tines were red hot.

"Where else...?" He mumbled, looking down at the syrup puddle on his plate. It wasn't very reflective, but he could see the vague circular shadow of his head in it, blocking out the light that would otherwise be making it shine.

He truly didn't know any other place in this world, and it had taken a while just to get used to this one. Maybe it would've been better to just have kept running until he was far away, but even on the outside it seemed like he couldn't really escape. How long would he have to run until he didn't see that logo anymore? Until he knew he was out of their reach?

"They're ehn... ev... everywhere," he added.

Mystic

"...oh."

Tikki seems saddened by this, frowning as she looks down at her own empty plate.

"...I'm sorry," she says. "I know I didn't have anything to do with it, but- well, somebody has to say it."

...

"...who did it?"

Dangerous question to ask. But then, it was dangerous for her to simply have him in her home, and she seemed fine enough breaking that rule.

Spooky

He slid his fork around in the syrup, though he made no move to lick it or anything- it was just movement for movement's sake.

He was clearly hesitant to answer... Not because he didn't trust Tikki by this point, but moreso that he was afraid. Perhaps irrationally so, since it wasn't like it would summon them to just utter the name of it... But knowing that didn't ease his paranoia any. Still... if he was going to stay, she deserved to know, if only so she knew who to avoid too...

After seeming like he wasn't going to say anything, he finally opened his mouth and spoke again, this time in a whisper.

"Aria."

Mystic

...

"...wait."

Tikki says nothing for a moment as the gears turn. She sits up, removing a small tablet device from a pocket on her pajamas. She taps at it for a second, staring at the screen on the front as a light comes on, casting faint illumination on her cheeks.

"Aria, as in- the megacorporation? The company that does appliance and tech delivery, and is a giant monument to the follies of capitalism?" Despite almost none of these words making sense to him, Tikki seems to be getting incensed the deeper she goes, so it must have communicated something accurate to the true Aria conglomerate. "Ugh. Figures it would be a giant business with its fingers in so many pies that it could pay to get away with murder."

It was truly sad how little of an exaggeration that statement was. Tikki had no doubt in her mind that if this kid stayed where he'd been before, and proved not useful enough to whoever deemed the criteria, they could have simply erased him. Be done with him and act like he was never there- against his will or not.

"You can't leave, then," Tikki continues, thinking. "Otherwise, you'll get caught by the vainglorious manchildren with too much padding in their wallets. I'm certainly not going to turn you over to that. So... do you want to stay, then? Again, I don't have much, but... I have a roof and a couch, and I'd like to think I'm pretty good at avoiding the public eye."

Spooky

There were a lot of terms being used that were flying over his head, but as he leaned to try and get a look at her screen, his wide-eyed, anxious reaction upon seeing the logo was all it took to confirm it for her.

He stared down as she scrolled through the results, his shoulders tense.

While he had been developed in their labs, the fact remained that he didn't understand the full scope of what Aria was. How could he? He had seen computers before plenty of times, but he'd never been allowed to use one himself. He'd never had money before, to his knowledge. The smiling, corporate facade of this company was just baffling to him, it painted a friendly picture so alien from the place he was used to that it gave him a severe sense of tonal whiplash just to think about it.

Listening to her, though, was kind of cathartic even if he didn't know some of what she was saying. Her anger was a small comfort to him, and it made him feel less alone in the world to know he had at least one person who had his back in this case.

Even though he was worried about what they would do to her if they found her, let alone what they would do if they found out she'd been hiding him...

At this point, the question wasn't whether or not he wanted to stay- he did, very much so. The question was really more like 'am i willing to risk Tikki's safety?' Tikki was the first and only truly friendly face he'd encountered... that he... didn't struggle to recall from an old memory, anyway.

On one hand, it would be dangerous, but on the other... He was a weapon. If they did track him down, or did anything to hurt Tikki... He would make them hurt too.Or worse.

Looking back up at her with a more resolute expression, he nodded.

He wanted to stay.

Mystic

Tikki smiles, pleased with this response- and kind of relieved.

“Oh good,” she exhales. “I wanted to give you the choice, but I won’t lie, I was probably going to worry about you a lot if you left.”

Tikki sets her plate aside and claps her hands together.

“Then, I guess we gotta draw up a roommate contract. Y’know- lay down some terms so we’re both comfortable.”

She leans over to rifle through a drawer of the cabinet set under the silent television, removing a yellow paper pad and pencil. Snapping the paper out flat, she places it on her knees and starts writing, talking while she does so.

“I’ve never had to share a space with someone that wasn’t a sibling before, much less on land, but I think I can handle that. Since this is my house, here are my terms: One, obviously you don’t have a job, so you can’t pay rent. That’s fine- but you’re going to have to help me around the house. Managing a space for two people is a challenge on my own, and in the process, I can teach you how to take care of yourself. Like laundry, cooking, etcetera... I’m not going to be your maid, but you’re not going to be mine, either. Could be helpful in an emergency, like if I get um- indisposed. Basically I’m just saying we help each other, okay? Two, you don’t sell out my uh-“

Tikki scratches behind her neck.

”-medical condition to any authorities. I’m not even normal by non-human standards, but hey, neither of us are very normal, are we? It’s like we’re made for each other,” she jokes.

Tikki finishes writing her notes, tapping the pencil on the paper before her gaze slides over to him.

“Does that sound fair? Anything you’d like to add, any rules you want to lay down?”

Spooky

The corners of his mouth quirked up a little at her relieved response, though it quickly turned to a look of surprise when she grabbed a paper and started talking about a 'contract'. That was a word he'd heard before, he was pretty sure, but like most things he overheard in random conversation snippets from scientists, he didn't have enough context to really understand what it meant.

Listening to Tikki though, he was able to figure out that it seemed to be some form of agreement. Wasn't sure why it had to be written down though... Maybe so both people wouldn't forget it?

Idly licking the syrup from his plate as he watched her write, he did his best to follow what she was saying- he wasn't sure what a rent was or what 'indisposed' meant- but he was able to grasp the main idea of it. 'Help each other' seemed reasonable enough.

Second part seemed obvious enough to him that it didn't really need to be written. After all, he did already promise that he would keep the secret! But if she felt better writing it on the paper too, well, that would be alright.

It sounded fair enough, so he gave a nod to that question, though when asked if there was anything he wanted to add, any rules he wanted... He got that far-off look in his eyes again and set the plate back down in his lap, immediately paralyzed by choice. While in the lab there were a lot of decisions he wished he could make in regards to his living situation, like no more ‘resilience testing’ chambers or shackles, or no more jabbing metal shit into his back... It didn't seem like Tikki's house had anything of the sort, and he'd only been here for one night.

What could he want that would apply to this place? He glanced over at Slithers as if to see if he had any ideas, but as Slithers was an inanimate plushie, no suggestions were forthcoming.

He gave an awkward shrug to Tikki. There was only one thing he could think of that was super obvious, but if they were gonna write everything down, might as well.

"Hh... Hide me... from Aria," he said.

Mystic

Tikki nods, not questioning the request in the slightest.

“Good, we’re on the same page.” She puts a line on the paper between her points and his, writing ‘Stick’s Rules’ above his section. “We can add more if you think about anything later.”

Tikki finished writing, and signed it with a looping scribble of some sort.

“I do have a guest room,” Tikki explains, sheepish all of the sudden, “but it’s- not furnished. I never had a reason to buy a second bed, and I was… kinda using it as my indoor hiding place when I change? So unfortunately that room isn’t usable right now, cuz it’s just kinda an empty box. Maybe sometime soon, though, once I save up enough money, we can set you up in there? Apologies in advance for any damage to the room. It’ll take a while, so you can have this living room as your space until that day. I don’t use it much anyway, the fireplace dries out my scales.”

Spooky

He blinked, perking up a little bit in intrigue. A room of his own?

His cell back at the lab had been very sparse save for restraints, and it was more part of a larger room with heavy duty viewing windows separating them. Needless to say it hardly felt like a space to call his own, not with so many eyes on him.

He would gladly take an empty cameraless box over that, at least it offered some privacy. In the meantime, though, the living room seemed nice.

...Why was it called a living room, though? Didn't seem like it was alive, any more so than the rest of the building at least. Weird...

Still, the thought of staying in it was kind of exciting- it was warm, had a lot of stuff to look at, there were good smells from the kitchen, and he liked the fireplace. It was probably a good thing he didn't have any scales to worry about drying out.

...That did remind him, though. Tikki was a fish lady. Weren't fish supposed to live in water? There was an aquarium at the lab. He'd only seen it a few times in passing, but it was a rare spot of colors and visual interest in an otherwise mostly monochrome environment, and he probably could have watched it for hours if they'd have let him. There were fish in Tikki's room too, though that tank wasn't nearly as big, nor populated.

The only water he'd ever seen Tikki in, though, had been the pond outside. Did she normally go in there when it wasn't iced over? Hm...

That in turn made him wonder about the place she said she was from before. Picking up Slithers and looking down at its beady lil' eyes, he thought for a moment before asking: "what's... Sea?"

Mystic

Tikki blinks. Her eyebrows raise when she realizes what he was asking.

“Oh- the sea! It’s a large body of saltwater, just a few miles away, also called the ocean. You can’t drink it, but the water is home to a lot of colorful fish, animals, and plants. My people live there- in your tongue we’re called ‘mermaids’. There are some of us that can live in rivers, but most of us live deep in the ocean. It’s my-“

She pauses, the cheer dissipating for a brief moment. When she speaks again, it’s muted.

“-was my home.”

Spooky

It didn't escape his notice how her expression seemed to light up when she started describing it, but faded so quickly at the mention of her leaving. It was... very clear she hadn't wanted to go. Something had forced her to leave. Whatever the reason was, it probably prevented her from going back, too...

Remembering Slithers's purpose, though, he lifted the plush up and nudged her shoulder with it, trying to hand it back to her.

"...don't like water..." he mumbled, sliding his hand over the nape of his neck. "liked... watchin' fish, though." His voice was still weak, but it was at least sounding a little better today, and not as much like he'd been gargling gravel.

Mystic

Tikki glances over in confusion as she feels something squish against her. Then she smiles, seeing the plush. She takes it and gives it a small hug.

“Thanks,” she mumbles. “You’re a good kid.”

A sigh.

…after a few moments, she places the plush back on the couch next to him. She appreciated the gesture.

“Yeah? Fish like watching us, too,” Tikki says with a chuckle. “You gave the guppies a big spook when you woke us up. They’ve been babbling about you all morning. They think you’re some kind of giant walking eel.”

Tikki stretches her back, grunting as the vertebrae pop a little.

“Any other questions you got for me? Since we’re laying all cards on the table now, might as well, I guess. You already know my biggest secret.”

Spooky

There it was again, that odd chuffing kind of laugh, the best he could manage currently. Eels were those noodly ones with all the teeth, right? He only really saw them poking their heads out from rocks in their tank for the most part, but they looked kind of goofy. The mental image of him poking his head out of a rock and opening and closing his mouth a lot just struck him as way too silly not to laugh, despite the state of his voice.

"Tell 'em sorry," he rasped, coughing a little from the laugh. He didn't mean to spook them, but at this point he was kind of used to that reaction.

That did remind him, though, of something else odd he noticed the night before. "...I couldn't h- hear 'em..." he whispered, trying to give his voice a break. He'd seen them swim towards Tikki, and they seemed to be the ones to wake her... but surely enough, he'd only heard the bubbling of the filter at most.

Mystic

"Oh don't worry, I did," Tikki giggles, sipping from her mug. "Guppies aren't the brightest, and thought your glowing eyes meant you were a predator there to eat them or something."

Hearing him whisper and cough, she reaches over and pats him on the shoulder.

"It's okay, take it easy on your throat. You'll probably need several more days of resting your throat and drinking cider or tea with honey to heal whatever damage you may have."

Tikki takes his mug, which was now empty, and goes to refill it in the kitchen.

"I'd be surprised if you could hear them!" Tikki says idly. "It's a mermaid thing- we can talk to fish, and understand them. They're not always intelligent, it can depend on the individual, or even type of fish. Usually larger fish are smarter- bigger brains to absorb more information, n' all. Anything that's not a fish, like turtles or otters, are harder to communicate with; not quite the same language."

Spooky

Huh... That sounded pretty nice, talking to animals... even if only a certain type of 'em. He'd seen a few animals at the lab, and plenty more of them while roughing it outside, but they didn't seem to like him. They usually ran away before he could even get close, which made sense for the wild ones, but even the domestic ones that were perfectly fine with being around humans seemed to freak out when they saw him. Which sucked, because they were cute, and it seemed like it would be nice to pet them...

His gaze drifted down to his hands, and his eyes fell half-lidded as he sighed. Yeah, right... Probably better that he didn't, he'd probably just crush or burn them by accident or something...

He didn't notice Tikki returning until a refilled mug entered his view, and it almost made him jump for a second.

Mystic

"I don't blame you for being skittish," Tikki says, somber as she hands him the refilled mug. "I don't know your full story, but I can imagine you've been through some hell. It's okay if you need time, there's no shame in it."

Leaving him to his drink, she picks up the contract and folds it, tucking it into a pocket on her pajamas. Hands now mostly free, she grabs his abandoned plate and stacks it on top of her own to go clean.

"Which reminds me- you've been kinda running around in tatters for a while." Tikki looks over her shoulder from the sink. "You need clothes besides- y'know- a blanket. Are you fine with hand-me-downs? Just nod yes or shake your head for no, to save your voice."

Spooky

He looked over his shoulder and tilted his head at the term 'hand-me-downs', having never heard it before, but... he did know what clothes were, and while the blanket had been doing okay at keeping him warm, it was a little annoying to have to hold it around him with his hand to keep it from falling down...

Also, a quick look at the shorts he'd been in since before he'd even escaped- now threadbare in places and torn in others- told him they were definitely not going to last much longer.

Not wanting to go completely without, he looked back up at her and nodded quickly, his face faintly glowing in embarrassment.

Mystic

Tikki accepts that answer.

“Awesome. I’ll see what I have that fits- might be a little big for even you, since I’ll need to pick something not form-fitting, but you’ll grow into them.” She gives him a quick, wry smile. “As if you’re not already a beanpole, heh.”

True to her word, once Tikki finishes with kitchen cleanup, and walks back off toward her room and disappears again for a few minutes. He can hear the distant clatter of moving drawers and the creak of hinges on closet doors, along with a faint plastic clicking noise. Eventually, she emerges with a small armload of cloth.

“Got some sweatpants and leisure shirts that’ll probably be fine,” she says, rifling through them before lightly tossing them in his direction. They land on the couch cushion with a pff. “Mostly just comfort clothes. Go ahead and use the bathroom whenever you want to change.”

Spooky

He made a face at the beanpole comment as she turned back around to finish up in the kitchen. Beanpole? What does that even mean??

When Tikki left to get the clothes, he looked himself over front and back, trying to figure out what she meant. The moment he heard her returning, however, he quickly stopped and pretended to just be chillin' out with his arms loosely crossed instead.

When she unceremoniously tossed the clothes on the couch next to him, he was quick to start checking them out. On top of the pile was a big shirt that, when held up, had a drawing of an orange animal sleeping in a red box, with a blue blanket draped over them, and the words 'I HATE MONDAYS' on it.

He blinked, before shrugging and tossing it back on the clothes pile. He then scooped the whole thing up in his arms and went off to the bathroom to get dressed.

~*~

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[hmshermitcraft]

Etho has been out of spoons for months now. He has no energy to do anything at all outside of working (because he has to) or eating (because he has to) or showering (because he has to) or using the bathroom (because he has to). He wants to hang out with his friends, he yearns for their conversation and bickering and their energetic bits but he can't. He just rests and rests and rests, waiting for the day he has inspiration and strength again.

He's so sick of being weak, of being tired. There's no joy in his endless napping, he just can't do anything else.

Cleo leaves food in his fridge and takes his trash out and refills his water bottle so he can take his meds at night.

Bdubs comes in every other day to brush his hair and brings him a bucket so he can brush his teeth.

The worst thing is that he gets up every morning, he works on his projects, he talks to people, he's normal, he's healthy. But then the moment he can relax he collapses and can't get up again. He uses all his energy and he can't go on. Which doesn't make any sense because why can't he have energy for the things he wants?

He's just...so tired.

Xisuma catches him while he's out and about, doing things. Says, "hey, you've been working too hard and it's making you use all your free time to catch up on rest." He takes Etho to a town an hour away from work, from everything. "This is my parents summer home, they won't be back for like, nine months. So it's yours for now, utilities n' stuff are paid so don't worry about that."

Then he offers to leave. Says that he'll stay close-ish to bring Etho food and all, but he offers to give Etho as much alone time as he could ever want.

"I know you like your own company better than anyone else's and I prefer to recoup by myself too so it's no worries."

"no uh, actually. If you would stay..that'd be preferable I think."

For the first days Etho sleeps and sleeps and sleeps, he wakes up, eats and uses the bathroom and then he sleeps again.

Then he migrates to the couch to listen to Xisuma knit or play guitar, then he's breaking out his noise cancelling headphones so he can watch X play doom until the early morning sunrise. Then he's asking to help with dinner, something that resets his progress a little bit he's quicker to bounce back.

Xisuma takes him for a little walk one week. Then two little walks, then they stop in at a coffee shop, then Etho sits in the shopping cart reading out the list. Their friends start to visit, Bdubs and Beef and Doc come for a night of super smash bros and Mario kart, Cleo comes over and plays some Zelda breath of the wild, zedaph tango skizz and impulse bring a board game he's never heard of before. Etho even gets to gossip in Japanese with Grian and Joel about everyone he's seen living here, like the dog walker who always has far too many dogs.

Then Xisuma miscalculates how long it will take a comforter to dry and asks to share Etho's space for a night. Which they do. Etho wakes with X's legs under his own because apparently Xisuma likes to rotate 90 degrees in his sleep.

Xisuma will never live it down, even as they continue to sleep side by side.

By the time Etho is yearning for something to do they've started cuddling, and by the time Xisuma deems him healthy enough to go back to work they're kissing a little.

Work is easier when he returns, he works four days a week instead of six. He has a boyfriend who leaves space for him to join in making dinner or going on little walks or whatever but never pressures him. He has extra energy to do things he enjoys.

He's not perfect, he still naps every day, still gets overwhelmed. But it's better.

He's doing better.

-carrie

He thought he'd find it frustrating to be cared for, like it's something he doesn't deserve. But, instead, it's a weight off his shoulders. It's not just him anymore. Xisuma is looking out for him as well, gently pulling Etho away when he's burning out again. His friends are there as well.

Etho isn't perfect. But he's got people there to stop him reaching so low again.

[wordy-little-witch]

Okay CoraBug hours where we look at canon, go HAH No, and carry on bc I Do Not See It

Buggy and Cora being absolutely the schmooziest, goofiest couple ever.

Cora and Buggy experimenting with makeup looks together.

They each have an Egg Each, but they have each other's eggs, or they both make two each so one can have the second egg on hand for long distance stints.

Long denden calls and writing letters to each other.

Sengoku having several attacks of just as many varieties because his son is dating a pirate and it's THAT pirate as well and he's So Fucking Angry bc Buggy isn't even all that bad, he HATES it-

Uncle Garp. The shenanigans there. Need I say more?

Shanks telling Buggy about Luffy and it goes "my brother adopted the grandson of my boyfriend's honorary uncle" and you can see the smoke coming from his ears.

Cora and Buggy were childhood sweethearts, and Shanks ABSOLUTELY gave Cora a shovel talk. Roger also gave Cora a shovel talk. Rayleigh played psychological warfare as a test (Cora passed).

They do shows together and their favorites are acrobatics and aerials.

Buggy has forbade Cora from fire stunts, so Cora simply watches Buggy do them and drools respectfully. (In his defense, Buggy is VERY skilled with batons and dragon staffs.)

Devil Fruits have something they need to Feed or things that Feed the fruits. For some, it's foods, some it can be abated with tobacco. Cora uses his cigarettes and Buggy runs on sugar.

Cora is actually a very clean person and prefers unscented soaps, he just has a skill for always looking freshly mugged in an alleyway. Buggy meanwhile is a neat freak who changes up his soaps frequently, but always within a certain brand/maker rotation bc he has sensitive skin.

Drawbacks Of Devil Fruits My Beloved - they're both more lethargic in highly humid weather, or in the rain. Cora's sleepier overall when stuff gets to that point, but Buggy runs a higher risk of getting sick as a result.

Buggy sometimes has Bad Brain Days, be it an episode or he's overstimulated. Regardless, when he needs Space, he'll shimmy under Cora's feathered coat and Cora will cast a bubble for them with just enough muted input to calm Buggy down but not trigger his intrusive thoughts.

Likewise, when Cora is in Cover And Perform Mode, Buggy will gently lead him away and pull the other down to his chest, ear over his heart, and will just... talk. Random, unimportant things like "Oh I heard dinner will be this tonight" or "I've been thinking of getting x, y, z tools for the ring". Just stuff to ground him, she he isn't alone, that things are okay and fine and safe.

They have prank wars. Ritchie always wins. Nobody knows how.

Cora will straight up scruff Buggy like a cat when he gets angry and stabby.

Buggy will climb Cora like a tree when he feels playful.

<><><><> Bonus Incorrect Quotes <><><><>

Buggy: They call it committing murder because it's a commitment. It's stronger than marriage.

Cora:

Buggy:

Cora: babe, no-

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Cora: I could kill you if I wanted.

Buggy: Yeah? So could any other human being. So could a dog. So could a dedicated duck. You aren't special

Cora:

Buggy:

Cora: I love you-

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Buggy: *banging a pen on the table out of frustration*

Cora: Stop that. How would YOU feel if I banged you on the table?

Buggy: I—

Buggy: I don’t know the correct answer to that question.

Cabaji, who just wanted to eat his lunch in peace:

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Buggy: BE A BETTER PERSON!

Cora: WHY?!

Buggy: BECAUSE SOMEONE NEEDS TO HAVE MORALS IN THIS RELATIONSHIP, AND IT SURE AS FUCK AIN'T GONNA BE ME, SWEETHEART!

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Cora: *sighs*

Buggy: You bored?

Cora: Yeah.

Buggy: Wanna start drama for no reason?

Cora: I thought you’d never ask.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Cora: I truly go into housewife mode when I'm someone's soulmate- like, I'll make you pancakes and bacon every morning.

Buggy: This is a lie.

Buggy: I'm literally dating them. This is a lie.

Buggy: THEY DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO COOK A PANCAKE, WHAT IS THIS.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Buggy: What’s your favorite color?

Cora: Stop asking stupid questions. Ask me something logical and mature.

Buggy: How many moles of sodium bicarbonate are needed to neutralize 0.8ml of sulfuric acid at STP?

Cora: My favorite color is pink.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Context: Roger and Garp having a play date, Shanks and Mihawk are sitting to the side while Buggy is doing smth mundane across the beach when Cora descends on the swordmen

Cora: Wait, what's going on? Are we all talking about how hot Buggy is? Because Buggy is a straight up sexual fox riding a red-hot nuclear bombshell right toward the yowza plaza in the heart of Babe City, Assachusetts, U S A. The last A just stands for more ass.

Mihawk:

Shanks:

Cora:

Mihawk: wh-

Shanks: YEAH!

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Buggy: I'm very scary.

Cora: You're about as scary as a wet kitten.

Buggy: Wet kittens are cute, at least I've got that going for me.

Cora: And small.

Buggy:

Buggy: ...Yeah, yeah. I guess.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Buggy: Live fast, die young, leave behind a pretty corpse! That’s what I always say!

Cora: You should say something else.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Cora: What’s your body count?

Buggy: Do you mean sex or murder?

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Cora, carrying a box: What would you say if- if I, hypothetically, came home with several kids one day?

Buggy: …

Buggy: What’s in the box?

Cora: What woul-

Buggy: Cora, what’s in the box?

Cora: I think you know.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Buggy: Hey, wanna take a shower with me?

Cora: I have a gun in that nightstand beside the bed. If I ever say no to that question, I want you to take it out and shot me because I’ve obviously gone crazy.

[chiliger]

As far as shower ideas go, I was not expecting to come up with an AU where Anakin Skywalker adopts a tubie after the Battle of Kamino because the Kaminoans were going to decommission the kid for losing a limb in the chaos of all the fighting.

Of course it wasn’t planned for, it’s just one of those things that happen too quickly too fast and while normally Anakin would be outraged at the practice of decommissioning (because that was supposed to have been banned), he uses his smarts by talking to Kix first.

“Can you fake a death report?”

“….. Depends…. Sir.”

“Okay cool, I’ll take that as a yes. I need you to mark this tubie as KIA.”

“E-Excuse me?! General, I can’t just—“

“Kix, I know, I know. But I overheard the longnecks talking about this little guy, and they want to decommission him.”

“You had me at longnecks.”

With a flick of a stylus, Kix marks the tubie off the records, thus allowing Anakin to just take the baby and sneak him off Kamino. Echo and Fives help with “requisitioning” some of the clothing and supplies needed ‘cause that stuff got damaged during the battle who’s gonna notice a few extra missing.

Rex, upon seeing a sleeping tubie strapped to his general’s chest, gets an instant migraine and comms Cody, who then decides that’s none of his problem but then sends Rex “How to Care for Younglings” guides because they’re going to need all the help they can get.

Obi-Wan, after the initial shock, is not surprised but he’s definitely not happy about it because now that baby is not just Anakin’s responsibility, it’s now his too, because apparently Anakin decided to introduce him as “Uncle” Obi-Wan. (They’re gonna have a great time explaining this to the Council.) Ashoka is on the side grinning wildly because new baby nephew? brother? She is all for the ensuing chaos.

The tubie, who gets named Widget, pretty much immediately becomes an honorary member of Torrent Company. They make a rotation chart on who gets to hold him while the General is busy (which in all honesty Anakin probably keeps Widget on him like they’re glued so Torrent takes what they can get).

When they return to Coruscant, Anakin takes Widget to Padmé the first chance he gets. He has some explaining to do but this is honestly one of the least hair-brained things he’s done in a while (coughcough). Padmé and Widget become smitten with each other anyway.

I’m just basically imagining Anakin carrying this cute big-eyed baby with him everywhere and just radiating happy young parent energy. He can’t take Widget all the time on the venator, but boy does he go the extra mile to sneak him onboard just to have extra quality time (with help from Ashoka of course ‘cause she’s determined to be the cool aunt). And it’s just, Widget is his son, and Anakin is his dad. Even though Widget has to be left at the Temple creche (I bet that arrangement was a doozy) every time while the 501st are on campaign, Anakin calls any chance he gets to check up on him.

This is definitely a fix-it AU, by the way. Even though there are still attachment issues involved, Widget changes the course of Anakin’s fate for the better.

.

.

Somehow I always write more than I mean to, and there’s still so many things and details I didn’t write down but I think I wrote out the gist of it. Anyway, Anakin with baby.