Gift Fic #1 for SirSpain-de-Hearts"Suiker, kaneel, peper…" Abel muttered to himself as he marked off the items from the list he was holding while inspecting the copious amounts of boxes before him in the storeroom. His crew was resting up elsewhere, probably reacquainting themselves with their 'special lady friends' but he still had work to do. It took a long time to get here and it would be a waste of money if their precious trading commodities had been lost or spoiled along the way. And everyone knew wasting money was just about one of the worst crimes one could commit.More Like This
As he walked along the rows upon rows of boxes, all marked with the official symbol for the Vereenigde Oostindische Compagnie, the Dutch East Indian [Trading] Company, he heard a strange sound from the leftmost corner of the room. Calmly yet with deliberation, he strode towards the sound. If a stupid mouse had gotten into one of the boxes and was now consuming the precious trade goods, he wouldn't forgive it!
The sound turned out to
Scottish Stereotypes..More Like This
Alistair Kirkland, let out a huge breath of smoke, as he peered down over the couch arm to see his friend (your name) flipping open a laptop screen.
“What are ye doin'?” he asked, his thick accent made her want to swoon.
“I want to ask you some questions.” she answered, hoping her friend would agree instead of finding a bypass to avoid it.
“Fine then.” he grumbled. “But be quick.”
By then, (your name) was already on the apparent 'site' and began to scroll down the page.
“Is is true that Scottish are all gingers?”
Alistair looked to the top of his head to see a little glimpse of his red hair. He already knew he had RED hair, but the question (your name) just said sounded dumb.
“No lass. Not all Scottish are...'gingers'.”
(Your name) gave him a cute smiled, before continuing down the page. Alistair, however still didn't get the idea.
“All Scottish people eat haggis?”
“No (your name).” Alistair