TheWaffleBat
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V had never had charisma, and he didn't even have a good face to make up for it. Plain and weather beaten like the bare metal of a sandblasted car, stripped of paint, he cut a humbler figure than Jackie; his dark hair shorn evenly and his scruff of a beard kept short, the clean lines of cybernetics cutting across his cheeks and up through his eyes stark against the ragged scar slashing his face from brow to jaw. Unremarkable, really, except for the hungry, lean frame of a nomad, wiry in a way that belied his real strength - as sullen and mean-looking as the coyotes, face long and narrow and hollow-cheeked, brows low over his eyes and mouth thin. Like any second he'd bare teeth and bite.
Jackie strode ever onwards with a confidence in himself and a certainty that the future he dreamed of would come to pass that was enthralling, and V followed by his side and a half-step behind like a scowling ghost.
V holds his friend close, and the reason he left his family even closer. But somehow between Jackie's friendship and V's death, they come together.
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"The fifth and final dragon!" Cried the herald. "A she dragon gifted by Eyvind, High King of Daganheim, raised in the northern Crags where storms rage without rest! Her birthplace is hard and unforgiving, and she is equally as fierce."
Sigi leaned forward with a gasp, straining to see deeper into the passage leading deep underground as its portcullis opened once more. "Ohh, Florian told me about her," She breathed, eyes wide and bright. The oily squirming in Joran's throat writhed again, a tightening knot - his heartbeat drummed too loudly in his ears, slightly out of time with itself. "She'll tolerate the Keepers, he said, but she's refused everyone presented to her and no one knows why - he said she nearly killed a candidate a few years ago."
"Madness," Muttered their father once more, but his gaze was as rapt on the sands as everyone else's.
Sigilind is a wanderer, a warrior, a restless soul eager to leave work in her father's forge behind; her quiet brother Joran is not. But there is more to a dragon's choice than a warrior's strength.
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He’d split a rock on his head as a child. He’d ripped a nadder’s head from its shoulders as a baby. He’d been made chief when his father died to dragons, and as chief he’d watched his Valka miscarry for years only to be snatched away by dragons from their only surviving child; and, nearing what should have been the end of his time as chief, his heir and son had gone missing, probably because of dragons too. And he’d survived that. The people of Berk were tough, worn and weathered and rooted down into the earth like the mountain against whose base they had settled.
But Stoick wasn’t so certain anymore that they could survive much longer. Hiccup was gone, but the village still skirted disaster; Astrid was his heir, but the Berk she was inheriting was char and charcoal.
After Hiccup went missing Stoick's certainty in victory against dragons disappeared too. A mysterious Dragon Master offers hope, but hope is a man with a Night Fury for a shadow and a power that brought the tyrant who last bore that title to his knees.
Series
- Part 1 of Forced to Dream
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Ghosts and Devils Come A'calling by TheWaffleBat
Fandoms: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
04 May 2024
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The fear began to swell, pressing up against the base of Eret’s skull. The smell of smoke drifted on the chilled breeze, acrid and sharp. Blood began roaring in his ears, like the flames that consumed Drago’s ships - Eret’s breath faltered in his chest, a phantom press and pressure of heat. The man nodded slowly, mostly to himself.
Eret clenched his hands into fists against the tremble in them, forcing his breaths in shallow gulps and long, thin gusts. “There’s a rider here?” He said tightly, almost normally.
“Aye,” Said the man, low and hushed. “That ruin there, against the wall? Used to be a market hall in days gone by. Dragon trappers from all over the world came ‘ere to trade; more coin passed hands in them walls‘n almost anywhere else in the world. Not even kings had the gold we saw in there. After a gronckle broke my leg I was no use for trappin’, so I worked the trade routes. I was there in that hall when that one came.”
Eret has given up dragon trapping. But dragon riders still haunt him, even outside the archipelago.
Series
- Part 2 of Forced to Dream
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These Worn Out Souls by TheWaffleBat
Fandoms: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild/Tears of the Kingdom
29 Sep 2023
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Days blurred into weeks. The world overhead had changed while Zelda stared past the ground into greater depths deep below the earth. Chasms and caves and islands in the sky, ruins older than Hyrule falling across her kingdom and strange beasts no one had ever known crawled out of hiding. The Zelda of months gone would have leapt at all the new discoveries waiting for her. Her ravenous curiosity clawed at the weight settled over Zelda’s thoughts even now, but she had little room left in her head to care.
Still. Still, Hyrule needed her. The world was ending all over again and Link was gone, but Zelda was a princess still; the goddess’ power hummed in her blood. This was not the first time she’d shouldered the burden of the apocalypse on her own, and she doubted, now, that it would be the last.
Zelda isn't unfamiliar with losing Link; to death from a Guardian's beam, to amnesia from his resurrection, and now to the darkness below Hyrule Castle. But Link may be closer, and further away, than ever before.
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Kassandra, and the only parents to really love her.
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Link, and his grief for the Champions as he remembers them.
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“I haven’t really been to a wedding where I’ve, uh… let loose. But, hey,” Dennis shrugged, “maybe I’m doing it wrong.”
“If I hadn’t already agreed to go to this conference, I’d offer to go with you,” Robby said casually. “Show you how it’s done. I’ve got a good track record as a plus-one, too.” Dennis had to say something. To interrupt. To shut this down. But what was he supposed to say? No, you can’t be my plus one, because I lied about my cousin, and there is no wedding, and it seems a little weird to bring a date to a fucking funeral– “Apparently parents love it when you bring home a doctor.”
And just like that, the bubble popped.
“I’m not gay,” Dennis snapped.
He had never hated the sound of his own voice as much as he did right then.
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Or, Dennis is anxiously headed home for a "wedding" in Broken Bow, Nebraska, the details of which are increasingly fuzzy. Robby's got a medical conference in Omaha that same weekend. So they carpool. Seventeen hours both ways in an enclosed space with no way out except a tuck and roll. This'll go great.- Language:
- English
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- 38/39
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Bookmarked by TheWaffleBat
11 May 2026
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“And what about you? Are you in safe hands?”
Robby runs a hand through his beard. He thinks about Whitaker clinging on behind him on the bike. He’d hold on so tight that it was like he was trying to pull Robby into his chest rather than himself into Robby’s back.
“I don’t know about that either.”
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Sick with their own separate miseries, Robby and Whitaker take a trip out to Nebraska together on Robby's motorcycle. They don't expect to find what they need in each other. And yet...
- Language:
- English
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- 31,638
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- 2/2
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- 2
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- 2,406
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Bookmarked by TheWaffleBat
28 Apr 2026
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Dennis Whitaker will never be the man Amy Miller needs him to be, no matter how hard he tries.
After an awkward kiss turns into a crisis about what he does (or doesn’t) want, he turns to an unexpected source of solace: his boss, currently halfway across the country on a road trip rapidly turning into an existential crisis.
The ensuing phone call changes everything.
Or: A (smutty) thesis on Dennis Whitaker, masculinity, and compulsory heterosexuality.
Now with a Part 2!
Bookmarked by TheWaffleBat
18 Apr 2026
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They don’t talk much, the night Dennis moves in. Santos shows him the spare room, kitchen, bathroom, spare keys, then trudges into the shower. The day has, after all, been stupidly long, and they still stink faintly of blood. Dennis steps into his room—an actual room of his own, what the hell—wrestles a fresh fitted sheet onto his bed, and honestly, gratefully, passes out from exhaustion.
It's the best he's slept in months.
(Dennis, Trinity, and the many ways they take care of each other.)
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Bookmarked by TheWaffleBat
14 Apr 2026
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After the Fourth of July, Robby leaves.
Whitaker follows.
Somewhere between Pittsburgh and the Great Plains, Dennis convinces him to come home.
Or: A getting-together oneshot that turned into a series about Robby and Dennis figuring out what they want to be to each other. Featuring yearning, hurt (but also comfort), Jack Abbot serving as Robby’s unlicensed therapist, Trinity Santos suffering more than Jesus, quite a lot of smut, actually, and gratuitous references to the great state of Nebraska.
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- English
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- 79,216
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- 7/7
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Bookmarked by TheWaffleBat
11 Apr 2026