Currently feeling fond of Shadowsight/Rootspring have you any thoughts?
I LIKE THEM!!!!!!!
i like shadowsight a lot. i don’t really have many feelings about rootspring as a character but his relationship with shadowsight was cute. bristle root is aight but i prefer shadowroot. warrior cats u have done the ‘girl tragically dies and her boyfriend is really really sad about it’ thing a million times can we get some new content. but yeah they’re cute
awinterdawn here I drew your aesthetic. A skeletal fox with antlers, beehive in its ribcage, and chocolate oranges for eyes. The second picture is a negative of the first because it looks awesome like that.
Send me “Remember When?” and I’ll write a drabble of how my character recalls meeting yours.
The blonde woman’s eyes opened and she looked up from under her eyelashes to the man who had just addressed her. She stretched her legs into the small aisle, arms reaching over her head. Blake had never been a morning person and this eight am shuttle was akin to torture in her book.
“Took my father by surprise, as well,” She returned with a wry grin that spread to the green eyes she had undoubtedly inherited from him. “I think my mother is still recovering.”
“I have no doubt in my mind that Melinda will manage. You are the first one to leave the nest.”
“If by nest, you mean Earth.” The woman snorted, running a hand through her hair. “Left the coop ages ago. I started my first degree eight years back, if you recall.”
“I haven’t stopped hearing about it since,” the man replied with an amused laugh. He glanced away from her for a moment, eyes scanning over the rows of the nearly-full shuttle. “Well, anyway…” He placed a hand lightly on her shoulder and smiled at her fondly. “Welcome to Starfleet, Cadet Blake.”
The woman grinned up at him. “Thank you, Captain Pike.”
He nodded curtly and turned away, walking over to the shuttle pilot standing by the door. They exchanged a few quiet words that were inaudible to Blake, faces turned away so she couldn’t read their lips.
However, she noticed Pike’s posture change- straighten almost- as a new person stepped on the ship. The boarder was a young man whose face was more than a bit worse for wear, his sandy hair askew. He approached the captain, who grinned as he passed, and made his way towards the back of the shuttle.
A few of her fellow cadets stirred in their seats as he crossed their row, rousing a snarl from a cadet with a bandaged hand. “At ease, gentlemen,” he smirked, stopping in front of a woman she instantly recognized as Nyota Uhura. “Never did get that first name.”
Blake made a mental note to make every attempt to help her friend keep that promise as Uhura failed to contain a grin. “And you never will.”
The newcomer found his way to the seat two places to her right, dropping down to buckle himself in. Upon closer inspection, Blake could see just how swollen his face was and determined pretty quickly that he was the civilian at the heart of this morning’s gossip. There were definitely some good looks behind the dried blood and bruises and she was fairly certain that if he had hit on her while wearing the gray shirt and leather jacket in her presence last night, the new cadet certainly would not have gone home empty handed.
But before Blake could make a sly comment, Commander Gibbs’ voice boomed through the shuttle. For a rather unassuming looking woman, the commander packed a big bark and an even worse bite. “You need a doctor!”
Her hand was wrapped around the arm of a much taller man, clad in a tan jacket and jeans. He was scruffy and disheveled, hair mussed in every direction. “I don’t need a doctor!” he protested as they drew nearer, allowing Blake to take note of his strong jaw and hazel eyes. “Dammit, I am a doctor!”
Gibbs’ patience was quickly running thin. “You need to get back to your seat. Now!”
They came to a halt in front of her section. “I had one in the bathroom. With no windows,” he retorted impatiently and Blake bit down on her lip to try to conceal her grin. The cadet from the bar, on the other hand, made no attempt to hide his own amusement. “I suffer from Aviophobia. That means the fear of dying in something that flies.” The doctor gestured to his surroundings to illustrate his point.
Gibbs was not amused by his condescension. “Sir, for your own safety, sit down. Or else I’ll make you sit down.”
The doctor looked as though he were about to protest again, but stopped himself and acquiesced to the commander’s demand. “Fine.” He waved her off, sinking into the seat between Blake and the man in the leather jacket. As Gibbs headed for the cockpit, his eyes settled on his male neighbor. “I may throw up on you.”
“I think these things are pretty safe,” he answered somewhat unconvinced, as though he were trying to reassure himself.
“Don’t pander to me, kid,” the doctor returned with a grimace, a distinct southern accent flaring inevitably along with his blood pressure. “One tiny crack in the hull and our blood boils in thirteen seconds. A solar flare might crop up and cook us in our seats. And you wait ‘til you’re sittin’ pretty with a case of Andorian shingles!” he scoffed, continuing to rattle off the dangers of spaceflight. “See if you’re so relaxed when your eyeballs are bleeding! Space is disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence!”
At this, Blake snorted for the second time that day. “As long as you turn to your right when your reversal of fortune strikes, you’ll be fine in my book.” After a moment, she added, “I can’t make any promises about Andorian shingles, though. But I do hear it’s very rare.”
“I hate to break this to you, but Starfleet operates in space.” The poor cadet continued, trying to ease the other man’s nerves, but to no avail.
The doctor slumped in defeat. “Yeah, well, I’ve got nowhere else to go.” He extracted a flask from his jacket and unscrewed the top. “The ex-wife took the whole damn planet in the divorce. All I’ve got left are my bones.” He took a long swig from the container and swallowed harshly, offering it to the younger man.
“Jim Kirk,” the man on the right introduced himself, raising the flask before taking a sip.
“McCoy. Leonard McCoy,” the other man replied, taking back the container from Jim. He nudged Blake’s leg with his own, offering some to the woman. “How about you, darlin’? Although, you seem a hell of a lot more comfortable riding in this death trap than the rest of us.”
“Second generation Starfleet. Comes with the territory,” she laughed at him, accepting the offering. “Danielle Blake.” Blake took a small sip and shook her head as the liquid slid down her throat. “Bourbon at… what? Eight thirty in the morning?” She handed the bottle back to McCoy. “I like you already.”
The thrusters pulsed, sending the shuttle into the air as Leonard’s hands tightened their grip on the harness. “This is Captain Pike…”
“I could have used a girl like you last night…” Jim muttered, leaning back in his chair.
Danielle leaned forward so that she could catch his eye. “Probably. But I doubt you could handle me. Not many other girls can fashion a makeshift phaser out of a tricorder and a dilirium crystal. Imagine what else my mind can drum up…”
Both Jim and Leonard straightened in their seats and craned their necks to the left. McCoy arched an eyebrow. “Oh, I like her.”
Blake patted him on the leg. “I’ll be sure to stun any Andorians before you can catch something, Leo.”
The corner of his lips quirked just the tiniest bit. “Thanks.”
“Hey!” Kirk griped. “What about me?”
“Oh, James…” Danielle sent him a sympathetic look. “God only knows what you’ve been exposed to by your various conquests. You’re a lost cause.”
A chuckle escaped Leonard’s throat and he allowed a grin to spread across his features. Blake internally remarked how much more attractive he became when he smiled. “Yeah. I definitely like you.”
“Civilization as we know it might suffer from losing a man of my particular…” Jim trailed off in search of the word, his icy blue eyes sparking. “Talents.”
Danielle’s eyes glinted in the light of the shuttle, smirking at him. “I think civilization will just have to take its chances.”
