Nearly every time Mouse had seen her, she'd seemed… generally happy-go-lucky. Not a pushover, by any means, but certainly at ease, with herself, with the crew. Confident. She didn't move like someone who was getting beaten nightly— perhaps she wasn't.
Mouse… wasn't quite as terrified of her as she expected to be.
"Aye, little Mouse!" She slunk over to her, certainly not keeping her waiting.
"Dom said you're on light duty, so I've a project for ya. I think you'll like it."
"Sir?"
"You know anything about birds?"
"Uh, they fly, sir?"
"Aye!" Chase laughed and clapped her on the shoulder. Which… hurt, but clearly wasn't meant to.
"I don't think chickens do, so much, though."
"Chickens, sir?"
"Aye, with me." Chase started walking, and Mouse followed along obediently. She had to take nearly two steps for each of Chase's, but she seemed to notice and slowed a bit.
Cass had flipped a crate over on top of the birds to keep them contained.
"This is Cass, and Jonah. They're building a containment situation for the birds, and you'll be in charge of caring for them."
"I still don't see why we're keeping live chickens," Jonah muttered, and Cass punched him lightly in the shoulder.
"Shut up, dumbass, Captain's orders. Now hold that board."
He ducked his head and did as he was told. Chase looked pleased.
"Sir, I don't mean to disappoint, but I don't really know anything about chickens."
She shrugged. "Someone must. Go ask around, give you a chance to aquaint yourself with the crew. If anyone gives ya a hard time tell 'em I sent you."
So that was how Mouse found herself wandering the ship, asking everyone about chickens.
Most people just told her how they liked their chicken cooked. They were clueless when it came to keeping live birds, other than grabbing eggs as kids or "chuckin scraps in the yard".
Eventually, she managed to cobble together that they ate scraps and grain and maybe dirt, plus any bugs around, and too much fish made the eggs taste bad.
By the time she made it back, Cass and Jonah were nearly done.
Jonah was on top of the pen they'd built, nailing an old piece of sail to the top.
"Shade was Jonah's idea," Cass told Chase, who raised an eyebrow.
"You didn't cut it off the sail, didya?"
He shook his head. "No sir. It was a torn scrap from mending, and we've plenty more canvas in storage."
Chase looked somewhat pleased. Her gaze landed on Mouse and she smiled. "Whatcha got, little Mouse?"
"According to the crew, they eat kitchen scraps, grain, grass, bugs, and possibly dirt?"
"Dirt?"
Mouse shrugged. "Maybe looking for seeds?" She took a deep breath before continuing. "Phoenix said she'll save the scraps for them each day as she cooks, and check grain stores to see what can be spared."
"Aye, well done, lass. I'll bring it up tonight when I meet with Phoenix and Petrel."
Chase was pleased with her efforts!
"You'll be responsible for ensuring they're fed, watered, and clean. You can ask for help, but it's on you to be sure they're cared for, every day. They don't take a break from eatin', you don't take a break from feedin'. Savvy?"
"Uh, aye, sir."
Chase smiled.
——
Perhaps Chase had overestimated how much space the chickens needed. The birds seemed happy, though, which was good. Clucking about, pecking at whatever their little bird eyes saw. Certainly better than in a barrel in the ocean.
The crew was all-too eager to toss the birds their scraps and watch them get devoured. By the end of the night, they had names, and the crew had decided they needed a below-deck home as well in case of a battle.
Petrel seemed amused by the whole ordeal at the evening meeting.
"Mouse'll track how much they eat so we know how much grain to store for 'em," Chase announced, and Phoenix nodded.
"For the chickens. That we could just eat." That was Petrel's skeptical-but-amused voice.
Phoenix looked mildly offended. "I'm not cooking Mouse's chickens unless we've nothing else to eat. The girl lights up."
Chase was always pleased when Phoenix got brave enough to speak up like that. They'd known her so long now.
Petrel raised an eyebrow. "These are Mouse's chickens now?"
"Aye, they are," Chase agreed with a sigh. "And half the crew's attached now too."
"Buncha pirates getting all doe-eyed over a few chickens," Striker muttered.
"More like gettin' doe-eyed over the new girl, I think," Phoenix corrected, and Striker shrugged and waved her off, but smiled despite himself.
Eventually, the other three left Chase and Petrel alone, and they snuggled into bed together as usual.
"Mouse spent hours talking to the crew today," Chase murmured.
"About what? The chickens?"
"Aye. Told her to ask folks what they eat. She seemed to like having a job."
Petrel kissed the top of her head. "That was a good idea."
"Mm. Figured somebody had to know something. Oh, and Jonah was actually useful today."
"Jonah?"
"Mm, that boy I was tellin' you about? Helped Cass build the coop for 'em."
"Cass built the coop?"
"Aye, did a good job, too."
"Mm, maybe these birds won't be so bad after all."
Chase woke the next morning to find that the crew had worked the chickens into their songs.
Chase grinned when they came aboard. "Ahoy, doctor!"
Dominick smiled. "Ahoy, sir." Chase raised an eyebrow as Dominick caught Mouse before she could kneel.
"Mouse's on light duty for a month and double rations. And no kneeling."
Chase nodded. "Aye. I'll see to it. Anything else?"
He shook his head. "I'll need to do a more thorough exam in a few weeks, once she's in better shape."
She nodded again. "Aye. Thank you, Doctor."
She dismissed him. "Phoenix, thanks for accompanying her. See to it she's fed, then send her back up to me."
Light duty, no kneeling, double rations. Petrel would be pleased.
She looked around. "Where's Cass?"
A nearby crewman shrugged and continued mopping the same spot on the floor he'd been working on for the last five minutes.
"And what are you doing that's so important ya can't go and get her?"
He looked up, startled, and scurried off. She sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose.
He returned a few minutes later with Cass, who looked annoyed.
"You can build, right?"
"Obviously, I'm a cooper, ain't I?"
"Great. You know anything about fowl?"
"Like, chickens? I know they're tasty."
"We hauled three up overnight. Unless we want the deck covered in chickenshit, I need you to build em somewhere to live."
"That's why there's five people swabbing the deck?"
"Apparently chickens shit a lot."
Cass groaned and rolled her eyes. Chase had always liked her attitude.
"How much space?"
"How much do they need?"
"How should I know!"
Chase snorted. "Okay, okay. Uh. Birds like perches, right? So give em a perch to sleep on, and, hell I dunno, enough space that it takes them a full minute to walk the perimeter?"
"You want me to watch these damn birds walk for a full minute, figure out how far that is, and build a fence round it?"
"And a perch. Oh, and somewhere they can lay eggs."
"Why don't we just eat 'em?"
"Thank you!" Striker called, and Chase rolled her eyes.
"I'm putting Mouse in charge of 'em, I just need somewhere for 'em to live. Can you do it or not?"
Cass huffed. "Yeah, I'll do it. I'm taking Jonah."
"Wh-what?" The crew member who'd gone to get her looked distressed about being conscripted into coop-building service, but looked more afraid of Cass.
Good.
Jonah had offered his services a couple ports back, but hadn't proved to be useful in… literally any way. He couldn't even tie a half-decent knot, despite Striker's best efforts.
Chase was considering strongly suggesting he find other means of employment, given that he didn't need the protection of the crew.
But hell, maybe he'd be useful to Cass.
—
"May I ask questions?" The way Mouse looked up at Phoenix made her heart ache.
"Go ahead, dear."
"Why am I getting double rations?"
The two were sitting in the galley, Phoenix watching to make sure she ate and drank enough.
"You're a waif, dear. Any thinner and the breeze would carry you off."
"I've always looked like this."
"Don't mean it's healthy. You need meat on your bones."
"Isn't it a waste of resources? For me to eat more?"
"It's a waste of resources to let you starve, dear. You have to eat."
"But I'm not even working to make up for it."
"Because you ain't healthy enough to do so. Part of gettin' healthy is gainin' weight." She grabbed her own belly to make a point. "Eating is not negotiable."
Mouse nodded and finished the rest of her plate. Save for one thing.
"Miss Phoenix?"
"Just Phoenix, hun."
"Okay. Um, I'm not trying to get out of eating, and I know I'm supposed to be grateful for what I get, and I am, but I, uh. I can't have apples."
"What'dya mean, 'can't have' them?"
"They just. I dunno, they make me sick and I know that's bad, but I don't want to get sick and waste the food."
She was trembling. Poor thing.
"That's fine. Is there anything else?"
She shook her head.
"Okay. No apples for Mouse. Got it."
She looked shocked, like she couldn't believe it was that simple. Maybe she couldn't.
"My job is to make sure people have the food they need. If you're heavin' up your guts, you ain't well-fed, and I've not done my job."
She nodded slowly, like she was trying to roll it around in her mind.
"Okay. I know Striker went over the big rules with you. There's some other rules you need to know."
Fear flashed in her eyes and she whimpered softly.
"Easy, dear. You're okay. No whip."
She relaxed at that, just slightly.
"I'm in charge of feeding and maintainin' resources for the crew. Dom's in charge of health and cleanliness, Striker's security and maintenance. Chase is over us— she's the go between for the Captain and everyone else. She's also the only person who's allowed to punish anyone on the ship, according to the agreement she and the Captain made when they mutinied the last Captain. Chase agreed to be punished for the mistakes of the crew, and to handle discipline herself."
She paused, to let that sink in, before continuing.
"The Captain's brutal and fierce. She's terrifying in battle, frankly. But under her, we prosper, and she's never led us astray. Chase reports to her nightly."
"To be punished?"
Phoenix shrugged. "Only Striker's privy to that knowledge. The point is, Chase and at least two of the three of us must agree that something warrents punishment for her to deliver it. Unless someone hurts another crew-member without cause. Then, they're turned over to the Captain herself."
Mouse seemed to be thinking hard about all of this.
"What I'm trying to tell ya, Mouse, is that you're not in danger of punishment unless Chase says so. And if anyone harms you otherwise, no matter what they say, tell Chase. Or tell me, or Dominick, or Striker. Savvy?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good. Now. Let's go see what Chase's gotcha doing."
Contains: discussion of burns, whipping, scars, broken bones, and captivity
Previous
A man Mouse did not recognize was sitting next to her when she woke. But it didn't appear he had woken her.
"Ah, Mouse. Nice to meet ya."
She tried to sit up, but was neither in bed nor on a floor and so she flailed.
Right. She was on a ship. In a hammock. She'd been given a hammock next to Phoenix's. And blankets.
Phoenix had briefly woken her in the night. Now, she was nowhere to be seen.
No one was, except the man.
The very tall, very broad man.
"M'sorry, I didn't mean to sleep so late."
"Easy dear, easy." He put a hand on her arm to steady her.
"How'd'ya sleep?"
Like the dead. "Well, thanks."
"Good, good. I'm Dominick, please, come with me."
She scurried out of her hammock and followed him. It was easier today, to move on the ship.
But gods, she was sore.
He led her to a small room and closed the door. She watched him warily. He was… he was the doc, Phoenix had said. And one of the people who had been called to the Captain's Quarters, to be punished on her behalf.
So it stood to reason he was going to punish her now. She watched his hands as he gathered various tools.
"Sit there please, on the table."
She quickly did as she was told.
Then Phoenix walked in, carrying a bundle of fabric.
Clothes?
Of course. If a doctor was punishing her, he'd want to make sure nothing got infected after.
Phoenix sat next to her and she took a deep breath, trying to take comfort in the slightly more familiar person here.
"Alright dear, I assume you've been to a drylander doctor, at some point, yes?"
She shook her head and he looked alarmed.
"Never?"
"The home said it was a waste of money," she replied, and he frowned, but it was clear he was trying to control his expression.
"Oh. Well. My job's to make sure you stay healthy."
"I'll do my best."
Phoenix's brows furrowed. "That's not—"
Dominick held up a hand. "My job is to do everything I can to keep you healthy."
"Oh."
"Before we begin, do you have any complaints?"
She blinked at him. "No?" What could she possibly complain about? They fed her last night and allowed her to sleep, even though she stowed away on a ship!
Phoenix patted her knee. "He's asking if anything hurts, dear. Or if you feel sick."
"Oh. Um. I'm a little sore, but that's normal. A bit of a headache?"
He nodded. "Phoenix's brought some clothes. The shift's just for the exam, the sturdier clothes are for daily wear. I'll step out so you can get changed, then I'll come back in. Phoenix'll stay in the room so ya aren't alone with a strange man."
Then he stepped out. And Mouse's mind was reeling.
Phoenix passed her the shift, so she changed into that quickly, then carefully folded her other clothes.
"How does he want me?"
Phoenix tilted her head. "Don't know what you're asking, dear."
"For my punishment? My captor always wanted me kneeling."
"Punish— no, dear, he's not— he's not gonna punish you. Just sit back here, you're alright."
She sat back down next to Phoenix obediently, both confused by and grateful for the reprieve.
Phoenix told Dominick to return, and he did. A look she couldn't identify crossed his face as he took in the bruises that covered her legs as much as her arms.
"I trust your back and belly are similarly marked?"
She shrugged. "Similar. More lashes, on my back. I know how to take those well, sir."
He looked at Phoenix, and Mouse couldn't guess what it meant.
"Okay. Any other injuries to report?"
"Would you like me to disrobe and show you?"
He looked taken aback, though she couldn't fathom why. "If you would like, you may."
So she did.
"Okay," he said softly, after a long moment. He stepped towards the door and locked it. "So no one comes in," he explained. That hadn't crossed her mind.
Why did he care if someone saw her body?
Phoenix looked… sad.
"How long were you with your captor, dear?"
She thought back. "About a year, I guess."
Dominick stepped behind her. The hair on the back of her neck stood when he stepped out of her sight, but she didn't turn. "This is not a year's work. May I touch your back?"
She gave a sharp nod. "Been in a group home since I was four. I was bad."
"They sure seemed to think so," he muttered. His hand ghosted over her back and she shivered at the faint touch. He traced along her spine, felt her ribs in the rare places that were absent of bruises.
Then he placed both hands gently over her back. "Breathe deep for me. Any shortness of breath or pain?"
She did as she was told. "The middle of the front of my chest twinges when I breathe too deep."
He moved his hands lower on her back, his fingertips over the sides of her ribs.
"Again."
She did so.
"May I touch your chest?"
She nodded again, and he placed a hand in the center of her chest. "Breathe deep again?"
She did so.
"No heavy lifting for a month."
She looked at Phoenix, who simply nodded.
"How will I earn my keep?"
Dominick looked down at her, seemingly in confusion and concern. "I said no lifting. That will be respected."
She gave a shaky nod. "Yes, sir."
His attention turned to the bruising on her neck.
"Is this long term?"
"Common over the last year, not before."
"Did you lose consciousness?"
"Sometimes."
"How many times?"
She shrugged. She hadn't expected to need to keep track.
"On your belly, what happened there?"
"Burns. I was bad about curling away from my captor. And his friends."
"You can put the shift back on."
She did so.
"Lay back for me? So I can feel for abdominal abnormalities."
She did so. Being touched hurt, but it was surface level pain, nothing deeper.
He helped her sit back up, then put a hand over her knees and had her move them, and grimaced.
"A few broken ribs. Crepitus in the knees. Malnourished, dehydrated. Wounds and scars marked. I'll do a more thorough exam when the bruising subsides."
She nodded. It made sense, she supposed.
"Light duty for the month. Actually, I believe Chase has an assignment for you. Double rations til you've recovered body mass. No kneeling if you can help it." His gaze softened. "No eating eggshells off the floor, kid."
Chase has an assignment for you.
"Yes, sir."
"Change into the other clothes, then we'll take you above deck to see Chase."
He stepped out of the room once again, as if he hadn't already seen her. It still made no sense to her. But she did as she was told, changed into the new clothes, and followed the pair above deck.
Contains: reference to starvation and strangulation, discussion of a Cat o' Nine, consensual touching/massage/kissing
Previous
Petrel was in bed by the time Chase made it back to her quarters.
"Who is it?" Petrel asked sharply.
"Only me," she replied.
"Oh, you are never only." There was a warmth in her voice that Chase would've sworn could melt the icebergs.
Chase kicked off her boots and crawled into the bed. "Letting your guard down early tonight."
Petrel shrugged. "Striker is on duty tonight. Full moon. Risk is relatively low."
"Mm, but you're jumpy."
"Tends to happen when I have to hold a knife to a battered girl's throat. Did you see the way Phoenix looked at me?"
"Yes, love, but she knows."
Petrel shook her head. Chase pulled off her shirt and laid down on her belly, then groaned softly as Petrel shifted to sit on her back and work at the knots in her shoulders.
"How's Mouse?"
"She passed out cuz she didn't know she could eat."
"Gods. How is she now?"
"Sleepin'. Phoenix made sure she ate properly, bread 'n stew an' all, then sent her to sleep. I sent Gar and Douglas to help Phoenix clean up."
"And Dominick?"
"Will see to her in the mornin', as requested, aye."
"How's the rest of the crew?"
"Loud n' rowdy, but they know I won't protect them if they harm a crew member."
"You think any of them would?"
She stayed quiet for a while. "I don't think anybody'd let 'em. Core group's solid. I'm not so sure about a couple of the newer recruits, but they've not done wrong yet."
Chase winced when she hit a tender spot beneath her shoulder blade, and Petrel remained quiet as she held pressure there until it faded, then resumed working the tension away.
"She kissed my boots."
"Aye, she did."
"She's been strangled."
"Aye, she has."
"And starved."
Chase sighed softly. "She was a drylander, love. Whoever did this to her— she's here, and safe. We can't go ransack a port city to find him."
"We could." There was her humor. Chase turned her head to see the grin she knew Petrel held.
"Aye, we'll rally the crew and knock on every door," Chase agreed.
"What would you instruct them to ask?"
"Avast, ye matey!"
Petrel snorted. "Really leaning into the pirate thing?"
"Aye, for intimidation. Avast, ye matey! We're looking fer a scallywag whose been keepin' a young lass captive! We found 'er and are wonderin' if he'd like to come aboard 'n meet the Captain."
"And if you find him?"
"We'll haul him aboard! You decide from there."
"Mm. Two hundred lashes."
"Aye."
"With that nasty old cat-o-nine in the old Captain's chest."
"Ooh, aye," Chase agreed.
"Then we keelhaul him."
"Aye-aye, Captain."
Petrel bent to kiss her between the shoulder blades and Chase shivered, then twisted and wrestled her over til Chase had her pinned. Petrel grinned up at her.
"C'mon love, off with your shirt and on yer belly so I can work your shoulders too."
"Just a minute. Just… let me look at you."
Chase blushed and looked away, Petrel reached up and pulled her back.
"Always so strong, so brave," Petrel murmured. "Do you know how adored you are?"
"Captain—"
"Mm?"
"I know that you love me, as I love you."
"You are everything good in me," Petrel murmured. "Everything good and kind, every gentle thing."
"You are my strength," Chase replied. "My light, my compass. Your ferocity protects us all. You are the reason I can be good and kind and gentle."
"And you are the reason I can be strong and fierce and true," Petrel purred.
Then a knock on the door. "Striker? What is it?"
Chase wiggled out from under Petrel and tugged her shirt back on quickly.
"A floating barrel, Captain. Starboard side."
Petrel and Chase quickly made sure the other was presentable.
"A barrel? Worth disturbing me?"
Petrel pushed the door open and looked out.
"Haul it aboard."
"Aye, Captain."
Striker dropped a net expertly. He heaved and dropped it a couple times to ensure it wouldn't detonate, then hauled it aboard and pried it open.
Chase stepped forward to investigate. "Smells foul," she muttered, pulling a cloth over her face.
"Oh, Captain, you'll uh."
"Use your words, Chase."
She shook her head and bent to reach into the barrel.
And pulled out a chicken.
A live chicken.
"What tha-"
There were three chickens in total, in the barrel. Certainly all worse for wear, but alive. A few of their companions hadn't been so lucky.
Petrel sighed and waved her hand. "Dispose of the barrel, it's disgusting. I guess we have chickens now."
Striker shrugged. "We could simply eat them."
Chase shook her head. "It would be nice to have eggs occasionally."
"Three eggs are not enough to feed a crew!"
"Neither are three chickens."
Petrel put her head in her hands. "Chase, assign someone to build something to contain them. And clean up after them. And… feed them I guess."
Striker rolled his eyes and Chase grinned. "Aye, Captain."
"Get them squared away before you report back to my quarters, Chase. We weren't finished." Petrel closed the door behind her.
Chase looked at the barrel again and scrunched her nose. "You could probably chum with that, y'know."
How Chase became Quartermaster, and her deal with the Captain
Contains: Unnamed character death, scars, a child captive, a bit of fluff at the end
Previous
Chase knew her role well. She'd been on the ship longer than it had been the Leviathan's Lament.
Which meant, she'd been on the ship longer than Petrel.
That was not to say that she disrespected her Captain's authority. They'd built this crew together— person by person, raid by raid, offer by offer.
She made her rounds daily. Checked in with the crew. Gathered reports, collected complaints, and presented them all to the Captain, every night.
She'd served under other captains, before Petrel. She'd ousted captains, saved crews and been saved by them in return. She'd started on the ship as a child, a stowaway herself. She'd been a captive until she proved her mettle.
Petrel had been a captive too, once.
She'd saved Petrel, and been saved by her in turn. They had mutinied together, against the last Captain. Then Chase had turned and held her at knifepoint before the remaining members of the crew.
"I will not allow you to harm my crew," she had growled, eyes still blazing with adrenaline and rage.
Petrel had stayed calm. Poised. Rehearsed. "I know."
"I alone will handle the discipline of my crew."
"I expect so," she agreed. "And if you do not?"
"You will discipline me. And me alone."
Petrel raised an eyebrow. "You would be punished for the mistakes of the entire crew?"
Chase didn't back down. Instead, she bared her teeth. "A hundred times over, to prevent this again." She motioned to a bloodied corpse at her feet, a young man beaten to death by an overzealous Captain, who also lay dead nearby.
"This will not happen again."
"So be it."
Only Striker remained, from before.
Phoenix and Dominick had joined up as most of the crew left, many of them unwilling to serve under a female Captain. There were others who had come and go.
Only Striker knew the rules as well as Chase. Only Striker saw it all for what it was. Phoenix and Dominick had both settled into a comfortable sort of half-knowing.
Everyone else feared the Captain, trusted Chase, and didn't ask questions.
Petrel was fierce and decisive in battle. All the crew had seen her fight, some time or another. Chase bore scars like trophies and could match Petrel without effort. They sparred often. The crew made assumptions, no one corrected them.
The old crew told newcomers of the deal.
The ship became a haven, the Captain remained feared, and Chase balanced it all on her shoulders.
Chase would have made a fine Captain. But Petrel was not so suited to the life of a Quartermaster. Chase wouldn't sail without her.
To work, it had to seem real. In a world where kindness was seen as weakness, Petrel and Chase had to perform cruelty to protect weakness.
—
"They believe I caused these," Petrel murmured, late one night, a year or so in. She and Chase were tucked away in her giant bed, Chase half asleep as Petrel rubbed expensive lotions into the dozens of lash scars she carried along her back and shoulders.
"Mm?"
"The crew. They see your scars and cannot see mine. They assume I caused these." Her voice was a broken sort of whisper that had Chase twisting to sit up.
"Aye, they must," Chase replied, taking her hands.
"But I would… I would never."
"I know, I know. You know. They cannot."
"They must hate me."
Chase kissed her wrists. "Why'd'ya think that?"
"Because they love you. And I hate everyone who has done this to you."
She scoffed softly, despite the ache in her chest. "They don't hate their Captain. They can leave, they choose to stay."
"For you," Petrel insisted. "They fear me."
Chase sighed. "Perhaps. But they're safe."
Petrel leaned forward and rested her forehead against Chase's chest, earning a kiss to the top of her head.
She took some of the lotion and warmed it in her calloused hands, then began to work it into her Captain's neck, her shoulders, the matching scars along her back.
"I do not deserve such softness," Petrel whispered.
"Too bad," Chase purred. "You have it."
"I do not deserve you," she whispered, even softer still.
These will mostly be oldest to newest, top to bottom
How To Start The Mornings- Intro to Spruce, Dahlia, and the Inn, this is mostly world building stuff
Alive and Awake- Meet Felix, the friendly Satyr chef!
Cinnamon Rolls With Felix- More Felix! A bit of backstory, mostly alluded to
Iron Fish- Meet Katy the vampire! Find out how she and Spruce met!
Night Lights- Meet Aspen! Watch a silent fireworks show! Hang out with Felix, Spruce, and Katy
Designation 09, Part One, Part Two- Meet Nine, a strange space pillbug-kitten that fell as space trash. Spend time with Spruce and Felix as well
Unexpected Company, Part One, Two, Three, Four Meet Atlas the Orc, as well as Cricket and Rook! Lots of fluff in the last part
Cricket Sees A Doctor- Spend time with Cricket, Aspen, Felix, and Katy! Medical help, lots of snuggles
On Patrol- Spend the day with Dahlia the totally normal donkey! No dialogue
Cinnamon Rolls with Felix and Cricket- Follow up to Cinnamon Rolls With Felix, but with Cricket involved!
Crossover with Mimzomworld, Inn Side, Nightcaller Side- A strange creature appears with with a hurt baby satyr. Crossover with @paintcrab.
Roaming Rook, Part One, Part Two- Get an update on Rook as he tries to convince a nearby village that Cricket needs help!
Interview With The Vampire- Spend time with Katy and Nine as they try to figure each other out. Medical care, living weapon, medical neglect
A Cricket In The Stables- Atlas and Cricket get some quality time, and we meet Atlas's ponies!
For The Vulnerable- Atlas and Spruce have a chat as Atlas prepares for his next mission, Baby Atlas Lore
Hell's Coming With Me, Part One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight- Atlas brings home a vampire in very bad shape, Katy asks Spruce and Nightcaller for help
Joyride- Aspen, Felix, Cricket, and Nine go for a run
New Expectations- Oscar is struggling to adjust, Katy tries to help
Signs of Life, Part One, Two, Three, Four- Oscar discovers bathtime and makes friends with mice while helping Katy with research! Lots of vampire lore
I'll Keep You Safe, Part One, Two, Three- Dahlia finds a hurt baby unicorn
Baby Unicorn ART by @wolfeyedwitch
Black Magic Preacher- Oscar has nightmares and meets Nine (Set before Signs of Life)
Cricket Gets Sick- Cricket gets pneumonia, has flashbacks. Lots of platonic cuddling.
Soften Every Edge, Part One, Two- Baby Unicorn's parents come looking.
Can't Escape My Nightmares- Aspen has nightmares. Platonic cuddles with Spruce.
Cricket Songs- Kenku Bards and a look into Kenku society
Pancakes and Magic- Felix tells Cricket and Nine about Orcs and Barbarians
We Were Weapons- Nine and Atlas bond over being treated as weapons (Set after Pancakes and Magic)
Whumptober 2025 Masterlist! (All Prompts Filled!)
Not A Horse, Rebecca and Felix have a chat
Walking Boots, Rebecca and Aspen meet!
Walk With Me, Rebecca and Aspen have a chat
Drabble Collective Nov.2025
Before the First Light, Oscar works on their fear of the suns
How Do I Trust You?, Rebecca and Aspen have another chat and visit Aspen's room
Emma and Earnest, Part 1, Part 2 Two new elder centaurs show up at the Inn
Finding Felix, Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, Felix's backstory!
June of Doom Day 1: Teddy, Atlas finds Teddy, a Faun
June of Doom: Wicker's Story, Part 1, Part 2, Wicker's early days, and what he was up to before Spruce and Katy found him
The Gnoll Cub, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Spruce finds a Gnoll cub, Wicker has to deal with his own fear of the species, and the trio have to come to terms with a cult
 Contains: Implied fear of noncon/noncon touch, fear of starvation, discussion of whip, discussion of bruises
Previous
Mouse was introduced to a truly dizzying number of pirates as they swept through the galley. After nearly a year of just her captor and his closest friends, it was overwhelming to see so many people.
It didn't help that they were all pirates.
Everyone had always outranked her on dry land, too.
(No one here touched her.)
Still, they ran her ragged as their server for the night. They laughed and cheered about being properly served, "like at one of those fancy drylander establishments."
At the end of the night, once everyone had had their fill and gone, she glanced back and, as she expected, there was no food left.
She slumped against the wall— sweating, exhausted, and shaking.
But no one had touched her.
She bit back a sob and returned to scrubbing the floor. And tried not to think about how Phoenix, Chase, Striker, and Dominick (she hadn't even met him yet) were surely being punished on her behalf.
—
She woke to warm hands on her shoulder.
She didn't know she'd fallen asleep.
"What 'appened, Mouse?"
She blinked up and was shocked to see Striker looking at her with… concern? No, annoyance. Had to be, why would anyone be concerned for her?
"Mm-dunno," she muttered. "Room's—spinnin'."
Phoenix was behind him and Mouse smiled at her, then her face twisted into a sob. "Are— are you, are you two— the Captain, she—"
"Shhhh, shh, breathe little Mouse. Don't you go worryin' yourself about us." Phoenix pressed a hand to Mouse's face and she whimpered softly and leaned into her cool hand.
"Didn't ya eat?"
"Nnno, nothin'left… 'nd I didn't wanna be a waste a' resources."
Striker looked at Phoenix and really did look concerned now.
Phoenix sighed. "When'd ya last eat, dear?"
It was a trap.
"Sneaky little rat— I,ate the scraps ya dropped. 'mSorry."
Striker frowned. "Before that?"
"Mmmm….Idunno, but 'm fiine," she shook her head then had to squeeze her eyes shut because the room spun faster.
"Why didn't ya eat the food I saved for ya?"
"The wha?"
Striker got up and got a bowl and a cup and pressed both into her trembling hands.
"Whado I do withthis?"
"Drink," Striker told her, his voice commanding. So she did.
"And now eat."
She clumsily shoved a piece of bread into her mouth.
"You are useless if you are not fed," Striker grumbled. "Do not do this again. You will eat."
She imagined the crack of the whip as he had gone over the rules and nodded.
"Thank you," she mumbled as a tear streaked down her face and slipped off her chin.
"Don't mention it," he replied, then stood and stalked away.
"Eggshells and potato peels ain't food," Phoenix scolded gently.
"I-idn't know'f I'd be allowed to eat," she whimpered, curling in on herself.
"Foolish girl," she hissed. "Finish the food. You remember where to sleep?"
Mouse nodded.
"Finish your food and sleep. Dominick'll getcha in the morning."
She nodded again and watched Phoenix get to work cleaning.
And wondered if her limp was new, or if she just hadn't noticed earlier.
—
The Captain's Quarters were, well, about as luxurious as was possible on a pirate ship. Which was to say, rather nice. There was massive bed, lavishly dressed. Enormous windows overlooked the ocean; smaller ones overlooked the deck. Heavy green curtains were pulled over the windows now, shielding their meeting from the rest of the ship.
Petrel studied the four people she'd summoned and paced, while the four sat and watched. The oldest members of her crew.
Her council.
"Striker."
His head snapped up to meet her gaze. "Aye."
"She's been aquainted with the whip?"
"Aye, Captain. Saw to it myself."
"And the rules?"
He nodded sharply. "In accordance to our tradition."
"What of her reaction?"
"She's no stranger to a lash, Captain."
"That much was clear," Chase cut in. Petrel spun on her heel to face her.
"Explain."
Chase did not flinch at the eye contact. "Bruises up'n down her arms, 'round her neck. Certainly elsewhere, if one looked."
Petrel tilted her head, a gesture Phoenix had always found rather bird-like. "Domestic? Occupational?"
Chase shook her head. "Unsure."
"Domestic," Phoenix answered. "And starved."
"Explain."
"Said she can cook, clean, and sew. Been sneakin' scraps off my floor when she thinks I don't see."
"Could still be occupational," Dominick mused. "Bad apprenticeship."
Phoenix shook her head. "Don't think so."
Petrel waved her hand. "Hardly matters. Dom, you're to examine her tomorrow."
"Aye, Captain."
"Phoenix, go with her if she needs."
"Aye."
"Striker. How'd she get on the ship?"
"At Dock, must've been."
"She was down there that long?"
He nodded. "Stowed away with the fishing nets."
Petrel turned to look out the window over the deck. A sleek black cat hopped up onto her shoulder.
"Ensure someone's posted on deck at all times while docked. One of us. All storerooms must be patrolled daily."
"Aye, Captain."
"Phoenix. Make sure she eats and sleeps."
"Aye," she agreed.
"Any other concerns?"
The four looked at each other, each shook their head in turn, and Chase spoke for them. "No, Captain."
Petrel nodded. "Dismissed. Chase, report back after Mouse is squared away to discuss the crew."
She watched them go, then sank into her chair with a heavy sigh.
The cat hopped from her shoulder into her lap, kneading with one front paw, and Petrel scratched under her chin.
"Aye, Remora. We've a scared little Mouse aboard."
 Contains: References to whipping, restraint, fear of starvation
Previous
"Rule number one." Crack! "Stay out of the Captain's way."
Mouse was kneeling, hands bound to a post before her. The whip, mercifully, did not touch her.
"Rule number one," she repeated. "Stay out of the Captain's way."
"Rule number two," Striker continued, cracking the whip once more. "You'll do as your told."
"Rule number two, I'll do as I'm told."
"Rule number three!" Crack! "You'll take what you're given and be grateful for it."
On down the list they went, each rule punctuated by the crack, but never the strike, of a whip. When he finally dropped the whip and clapped her on the shoulder, she yelped like she'd been struck, her nerves frayed.
He stepped back as Phoenix approached. She'd been watching.
"Whaddya know about sailin', little mouse?"
She shook her head. "N-Nothing, ma'am." Striker untied the ropes to release her, and she fought the urge to rub at her wrists.
"Whaddya know about anythin'?"
"I can— I can cook and clean and sew. I'll learn anything you ask."
Phoenix studied her for a long moment.
"With me, then." The older woman turned on her heel and walked towards the galley, and Mouse scrambled to keep up.
It was the first time she'd tried to walk on the ship without someone holding onto her. The ship lurched and she stumbled into the wall. Phoenix turned, and she shrank under her gaze. The older woman sighed and grabbed ahold of her arm.
"Loosen your knees, lass. You ain't on dry land no more."
The ship shifted again and she struggled to stay upright— would've fallen, if not for the hand holding her up.
"Focus, little mouse. Feel the waves."
The next shift was a little easier.
"Can't be so stiff."
The pair stood a while as Mouse got used to the way the ship rocked. She paid attention to the way Phoenix moved, how she braced and relaxed and let herself ride, and tried to copy it.
"Good'nuff," Phoenix muttered, then continued onto the kitchen. Mouse hurried after her, quietly pleased that she'd done anything 'good enough'.
"Ya can't cook till you've got your sea legs, but I've got plenty 'round here that needs cleaned." Phoenix shoved a stuff brush and a bucket of water into her hands. "Firstly, the floor. Lemme know when it's clean enough to eat from."
The prospect was daunting. She couldn't imagine this floor ever being that clean. But she wasn't about to argue, so instead she nodded, dropped to her knees, and got to work as Phoenix cooked above her.
A new fear took her. Ships had limited resources— would she even be allowed to eat? What if they simply worked her til she starved to death? She mulled this thought over and over and over, and when a scrap of food fell off the counter and onto the floor in front of her, she snatched it and shoved it into her mouth before anyone could stop her.
Phoenix didn't seem to notice. The relief she felt was… indescribable. She continued to snatch scraps from the ground as she scrubbed. And as she did, she discovered she was adjusting to the motions of the ship.
When she finally stood, her knees and back ached, her hands were red and raw, but she was able to stand through the rocking.
Stand, that was, until she heard Chase and a woman she didn't recognize. A woman Phoenix referred to as Captain.
She crumbled to her knees immediately, then returned to scrubbing, hoping desperately to be ignored.
Be glad ye ain't meeting Captain Petrel today.
Her breath hitched as dark, shining boots came into view.
Without thinking, she bent low and kissed them.
And for the second time that day, she found herself at the tip of a cutlass.
——
Phoenix stared Chase down as Petrel entered the kitchen. Chase shrugged. Too late now.
Petrel tilted her head. "Little Rat seems to know her place," she purred. She, like Chase, used her cutlass to lift Mouse's chin, then tilt her face from one side to the other.
"Mouse, Captain." Phoenix flinched at Chase's correction, but Petrel seemed unbothered.
"Mm, a Mouse in my galley. Better than a bilge-rat."
Chase grinned. "Much."
"Captain," Phoenix cut in softly, "did you need something?"
All these years, and still, the Captain's focused gaze was hard to stand. Her sharp golden eyes didn't miss a thing.
Reminded her of a predator.
"Ah, my Phoenix. Chase will be taking dinner in my Quarters tonight. I expect you, Striker, and Dominick to join us after dinner, I'm sure you're aware."
She nodded and bowed. "Aye. Of course, Captain."
The Captain spun sharply on her heel and swept out of the galley, Chase still at her side.
The door slammed shut, then she heard Mouse sob and glanced down.
"No time for that, girl. Up ya come, floor's good'nuff for now." Phoenix scooped her up; Mouse took a shuddering breath and nodded.
"Are you… are you in trouble because of, of me?"
"You're an observant little thing, ain't ya?"
Mouse whimpered, and Phoenix patted her on the shoulder.
"Don't worry 'bout it, little mouse. Rules are what they are. I'll be fine. Now, let's get dinner on."
She watched, transfixed by the way Phoenix cooked. She had ingredients Mouse had never heard of.
"Ingredients oughta be used in the order they'll go bad. Can't have anyone falling ill from spoilt food."
Mouse nodded along, and Phoenix turned to look at her, eyes narrowed. "I can't hear ya nod," she barked.
"Yes ma'am."
"Better. Anythin' ya can't eat?"
She hesitated. When she'd told him, there had suddenly been apples in everything,
"Can't hear ya, Mouse!"
No. No, it was better to keep it a secret.
"No, ma'am."
What's the worst that could happen?
Better not to give these people something else they could use against her.
"Aye. Now go fetch more water."
They carried on like this for a couple hours— Phoenix sending her for something else as soon as she delivered the previous request.
Sneaking onto a pirate ship in the middle of the night had definitely been a questionable decision.
She'd known that when she did it. She didn't know the first thing about ships or pirates or pirates ships. But it was a place to hide, a way to leave, and she needed to escape.
If she got caught, she could cook and clean and take a beating. And at least on a ship she could see the sky. It couldn't be worse.
Not worse than where she'd coming from.
So she snuck onto the Leviathan's Lament, slipped below deck, and prepared to beg.
The smell of brine was overpowering as she curled up in a wooden crate behind a heap of fishing nets. But her captor couldn't get her here. That's all that mattered.
He'd picked her up the day she turned 18 and been turned out by the group home. No family or friends to protect her, no one to even notice she'd disappeared.
She'd been grateful at first, for a roof over her head if nothing else, but that relief had given way to terror almost instantly as he drug her to his basement and locked the door.
Now, nearly a year later, she shivered as the rough wood of the crate dug into her bruises. But she'd made it.
She'd made it.
She hadn't realized she'd fallen asleep until she was woken by the lurch of the ship. When was the last time she'd woken to anything other than grabbing hands or shouting?
Now she just had to wait, and hope she hadn't thrown herself into a worse situation. Out of the frying pan and into the… open ocean, as it were.
The longer she stayed curled in the crate, the more her mind wandered, and the more afraid she became. It could be worse. It could be so much worse. What was she thinking?
She tried to keep her breath even. If she started hyperventilating now she's be found. She just had to hide. Hide until they docked again, which had to happen eventually.
By the next day, her hunger began warring with her fear. She was almost ready to step out, to find the Captain and throw herself at his feet and beg for mercy, when she heard footsteps and froze, every muscle tense.
It sounded like a man, humming to himself as he gathered nets. A voice above deck yelled something and she flinched, whacking a bruise against a crate, and whimpered softly.
"Aye, what's this?"
He pulled the nets back and gave the crate a shove with his foot, sending her tumbling.
"Please, please," she whimpered. "I'll do anything you want sir, anything."
He scoffed. "Yeah, sure. Up ya come." He grabbed her easily around the upper arm and pulled her to her feet. "Ya better be countin' yer lucky stars, the Captain don't wanna be disturbed today."
She was hauled above-deck and… for a moment, she was stunned by the vastness of the ocean around her. It was all she could see.
Which… also meant there was no way to escape.
She took a shuddering breath. It would be fine. It would be fine.
It wasn't as if her life before the last year had been easy, either.
She was pushed in front of a woman and immediately dropped to her knees, eyes on the feet in front of her.
"Well hello, little mouse." She felt the cool tip of a blade under her chin and allowed her face to be guided up to meet the eyes of the woman before her.
She was tall and broad-shouldered, with dark eyes, short dark hair, and skin well-tanned by the sun.
"Well? Can ya speak, mouse?"
"Ye-yes, ma'am."
"Sir." She flinched at the sudden harshness in her voice, but it was gone as quick as it had come. "Why'd ya sneak aboard?" The woman studied her up and down, then a hint of a smile tugged at her lips and she moved the cutlass away from her chin to gesture at the bruises up and down her arms and circling her neck. "Have to do with these?"
She nodded, biting her lip. "Please, I'll do anything you need, anything you want."
"Mm, yes, ya will. What's your name, little mouse?"
"M-Mouse is… Mouse is good."
Better than anything he'd called her.
The woman chuckled. "Alright little Mouse. I'm Chase, Quartermaster. That there's Striker." The man nodded.
"Welcome aboard the Leviathan's Lament, little Mouse. Striker, take her to quarters and… acquaint her with our rules."
"Yes, sir." He pulled Mouse back to her feet and her heart sank. "Down we go, time ya meet the crew."
"And be glad ye aren't meetin' Captain Petral today," she heard Chase call as she was led away.
—
Striker made every effort not to hurt her without it being too obvious. He kept his grip broad and firm without being tight or punishing.
He had practice, by now.
The poor girl was terrified. That was… probably for the best. It'd make things easier.
She was silent as he hauled her down the stairs to the living quarters. No begging or pleading— like she'd just accepted her fate. It was unnerving.
"Eyes up! We've a stowaway."
Most of the crew had been relaxing below deck— the weather was fair, the sun punishing, and the Captain occupied, so they'd been working on small tasks like repairing clothing and taking stock of the galley, but everyone snapped to attention at Striker's voice.
"What's your name, lass?" The question came from an older woman, mottled in burn scars and missing her left eye. .
"Mouse," she replied softly, and the woman tilted her head.
"Can't hear ya, lass, speak up!".
"Mouse," she repeated, a bit louder this time.
"Aye. I'm Phoenix, the cook. Dominick's not 'round at present, he's the doc."
Mouse nodded. A few more folks introduced themselves, most just watched. Striker didn't pay much attention, his gaze was locked on Phoenix.
Because there was a stowaway.
Which meant tonight, he, Chase, Phoenix, and Dominick were all expected to report to the Captain's Quarters.
