#7/8 drop-in anchors

[pxnsneverland]

Ruthless Grace | Austin Butler x OC (part 1)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

plot summary: Amidst the grime and squalor of Victorian England's winding cobblestone alleys, a young woman's life hangs precariously in the balance. Violet, a poor peasant girl with long raven locks and piercing gray eyes, possesses a haunting beauty that belies the harsh realities of her existence. Tragedy struck two years prior when Violet's mother succumbed to illness, leaving her to fend for herself and her father – a cruel, selfish man consumed by vices of alcohol and gambling. On one fateful night, Violet's father drags her unwillingly to that very den of iniquity, and there she learns a horrifying truth from the club's greedy, perverted owner: to repay his mounting gambling debts, her father has sold her into sexual servitude. Violet's vehement protests fall on deaf ears, until an unlikely savior emerges from the shadows. Lord Austin Butler intervenes with a bargain of his own. This dangerous man offers to pay off Violet's father's debts in exchange for her accompaniment, and Violet is torn from the only life she has known. While Austin's demeanor remains shrouded in mystery and detachment at first, Violet gradually glimpses his softer, even playful side as time passes within the manor's walls and an unexpected connection blossoms between the unlikely pair.

pairings: austin butler x oc

word count: 3,025

warnings/notes: I decided to post another Austin fic I've been playing with for a little while. This is a set up chapter for the story and hopefully you guys enjoy it. The romance will begin soon :)

Chapter 1: Anchors and Aspirations

The icy wind bit through Violet's thin shawl as she maneuvered through the bustling market square, her gray eyes flitting from stall to stall. With the stealth of a seasoned thief, she slipped a hand into a basket, withdrawing a bruised apple before anyone noticed. At her heart, there was no love for thievery, but survival in the grim alleys of Victorian England left little room for scruples. As she tucked the stolen fruit into the folds of her dress, a shadow loomed over her. Her heart caught in her throat. She turned slowly, only to see Mr. Clarence Johnson, a local shopkeeper known for his scrupulous eye and unforgiving nature.

“Miss Everly,” he said, his tone surprisingly soft, his gaze not on the stolen apple but on her face. “You look more worn than usual. Are you unwell?”

Violet tensed. Clarence Johnson was an uncommon figure in their decrepit part of town; his presence alone suggested he was either lost or up to something far beyond her understanding.

“I am just fine, sir,” Violet replied, her voice steady despite the fluttering of her heart. “Just tending to some errands for my father.”

“Aye,” he nodded slowly, his bushy eyebrows knitting together in concern.

“But you needn’t resort to pilfering for your sustenance,” he continued, glancing at where the apple had disappeared into her dress. “There are other ways, Miss Everly, ways that do not risk your slender neck at the gallows.”

Violet stiffened, her hand instinctively clutching the fabric over the apple. The threat of the law was always a ghost that haunted her every step in these streets. “Thank you for your concern, Mr. Johnson, but I assure you, I manage as best I can.”

Clarence surveyed her with those discerning eyes that missed little. “Your father,” he began, his voice dropping to a softer timbre, “he does little to provide, am I right?”

The accusation stung because it was true, yet Violet felt a surge of defiance. “He is my father still,” she said coldly, daring him with her gaze to speak ill of the man despite his failures.

Clarence sighed digging into one of his pockets and pulling out a few coins. He handed it to Violet. “Go buy the apple, girl. It would be a shame to see you hang for a fruit.” A trace of regret flitted across his features. “Miss Everly, I—” He paused, seeming to choose his next words with care. “I find myself in need of a reliable assistant at my shop. Someone keen and observant. Your... talents could be put to better use than thievery.”

Violet's heart pounded fiercely against her ribcage at the offer. Employment from Mr. Clarence Johnson was an unexpected lifeline, a beacon in her relentless sea of struggles. Yet, mistrust curled inside her like a dormant snake. Why would a man of his standing offer her, a known petty thief, an opportunity?

"I appreciate your offer, Mr. Johnson," Violet started cautiously, her voice a low murmur as she glanced around the bustling market to ensure no eavesdroppers lurked nearby. "But why would you trust someone like me in your establishment? You know very well my... activities."

Clarence's eyes softened, hinting at a depth that Violet hadn't noticed before. “Everyone deserves a chance at redemption, Miss Everly. I’ve watched you, not just today but many times. You’re quick, smart, and despite your current... enterprise,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly, “you have morals. You steal only what you need and no more.”

He was right—Violet never took more than necessary to survive. Her actions were driven by desperation, not greed. The acknowledgment of that fact from Clarence Johnson stirred something akin to hope within her chest.

"Consider it," he urged gently as he started to turn away, leaving the coins in her palm.

Violet watched Clarence's retreating figure, the coins heavy in her hand like the sudden possibility they represented. In a world that had offered little but hard edges and cold shoulders, the warmth of an unexpected offer ignited a flicker of daring in her spirit. She could almost taste the promise of stability, a stark contrast to the bitter tang of pilfered fruit and the relentless ache of uncertainty. Still, Violet knew better than to leap without looking. Her life had taught her the sharp lessons of betrayal and disappointment too well. As she moved away from the market square, her mind raced with both the perils and prospects of Clarence Johnson's proposal. Could she truly step into the light of legitimate work without the shadows of her past pulling her back? And more pressingly, what did Clarence see in her that others didn't? Was it pity, a calculated gamble, or perhaps something more personal?

As she wandered through the alleys, her route took her instinctively towards home—a term used loosely for the cramped, dingy room she shared with her father. The door creaked ominously as she pushed it open, revealing Edward Everly slumped over a table littered with empty bottles. The stench of stale liquor and despair hung thick in the air. Violet's entrance went unnoticed by her father, his consciousness lost to the depths of another drunken stupor. She stood there a moment, her gaze hardening as she took in the sight of his decrepit form. This was the life she was born into, one suffocated by poverty and neglect, a stark reminder of what awaited her if nothing changed.

With a soft sigh, she stepped over the threshold, her boots echoing softly on the bare wooden floor. The coins still clenched in her hand felt like both a promise and a burden. She walked past her father, careful not to disturb his fitful slumber, and seated herself on the small, worn-out chair near the cold fireplace. Here in the dim light of their one-room abode, Violet allowed herself a moment to think. Mr. Clarence Johnson’s offer was tempting—an escape from this life of constant desperation. Yet doubt gnawed at her; trust was a luxury she could scarcely afford. Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden groan from across the room. Edward Everly stirred, his eyelids fluttering open only to squint at his surroundings in befuddled drunkenness.

"Violet?" he slurred, his voice soaked with alcohol and confusion.

"Yes, Father," she replied quietly, steadying her voice to hide the tumult inside.

"What are you doing, sitting there like a lost soul? No food again?" His voice was rough, accusatory, as he tried to focus his bleary eyes on her.

Violet's hand tightened around the coins, the metal biting into her palm. She considered telling him about the job offer, about the possibility of change, but the words died on her lips. Her father's unpredictable temper and his disdain for any sign of ambition or hope outside his own distorted view discouraged any such revelations. Instead, she rose to her feet, smoothing the front of her dress with a practiced motion. "I'll get us something to eat," she said, her tone neutral. "Rest now. You need it."

Edward grunted in response, collapsing back onto the table with a weary thud. Violet turned away, feeling the weight of responsibility press down on her once more. As she stepped out into the waning light of day, the coins still in her grasp represented more than mere currency; they were a test of her courage and resolve.

The streets outside whispered with the voices of dusk—traders packing up their stalls, children playing before they were called in for supper, men heading towards the pubs for their evening respite. Violet moved through them like a shadow, unnoticed yet sharply attentive. She made her way to the tiny store at the corner of the street, its windows dimly lit and shelves sparsely stocked. Mrs. Bauble, the elderly proprietor, looked up from her knitting as Violet entered, her eyes narrowing slightly with suspicion and then softening as she recognized the young woman.

"Back again, Violet?" Mrs. Bauble asked, setting aside her knitting. Her voice was raspy yet carried a warmth that was often absent in their bleak surroundings.

"Yes, Mrs. Bauble," Violet replied, approaching the counter with the coins still tight in her grip. "A loaf of bread and whatever meat you can spare for this."

Mrs. Bauble eyed the coins and then Violet, a knowing look crossing her features. "Trouble or fortune, my dear? Those coins look heavy with one or the other."

Violet offered a small, weary smile. "Perhaps a bit of both," she confessed softly.

The old woman nodded as if she understood all too well the dual nature of sudden opportunities. She turned to gather the requested items, wrapping them carefully before handing them over to Violet. "Be cautious, child. Fortune's favor is a fickle friend," she advised, her wrinkled hand briefly squeezing Violet's.

Violet nodded, feeling the weight of the old woman's words sink into her heart. "I will, thank you, Mrs. Bauble," she murmured, taking the small parcel with a sense of gratitude mixed with trepidation. As she left the store, the cool evening air brushed against her face, whispering possibilities that both exhilarated and terrified her. The walk back home was a quiet one, filled with the sounds of her own footsteps echoing off the cobblestones and the distant laughter of children not yet called to their suppers. Violet's mind spun with thoughts of Mr. Clarence Johnson’s proposal. It was a chance to step away from the shadowy margins of survival into something resembling a normal life. But at what cost? Could she really leave behind the streets that had taught her everything about resilience and distrust just as easily?

The uncertainty churned inside her as she approached the door of her humble abode once more. Violet paused, hand on the latch, feeling the divide between her current life and the one that might await her with Clarence Johnson. She could almost hear her mother’s voice, soft and encouraging, urging her to take a chance for a better future. Yet, the haunting memories of past betrayals loomed large, making her hesitate. Resolutely, Violet pushed open the door, stepping back into the shadowed confines of the room she shared with her father. Edward Everly was now snoring loudly, lost in an alcoholic haze that seemed to provide him the only peace he knew. Violet set down the small parcel of food on the shaky table and took a moment to look at him. Despite everything, he was still her father, and a pang of compassion tempered her longstanding resentment.

Quietly she unpacked the bread and meat, setting aside a portion for herself before preparing a smaller plate for Edward when he would inevitably awaken. Her actions were mechanical, performed with little thought as her mind wrestled with larger concerns. She knew that accepting Clarence’s offer would mean more than just changing jobs; it would mean stepping into an unknown world, risking exposure and vulnerability in ways she hadn't before.

Later, as darkness enveloped the room and the flickering candle cast long shadows across the peeling walls, Violet sat with her thoughts, tracing the outline of the bread with her fingers. The sense of impending change weighed heavily on her. It wasn't just the prospect of leaving behind the familiar, suffocating squalor that gnawed at her; it was also stepping into a realm so vastly different from anything she had known. What if she was unprepared for the challenges? What if she failed?

As these doubts swirled in her mind, Edward stirred from his stupor, his movements sluggish as he adjusted to the dim light. He squinted at the plate set before him and then up at Violet, a rare flicker of confusion crossing his usually indifferent gaze.

"Did you fetch this, Violet?" he mumbled, his voice hoarse.

"Yes," she replied quietly, watching him closely.

He took a piece of meat and chewed slowly. For a moment, there was silence between them—a silence filled with unspoken words and stifled dreams.

"Why do you stay?" Edward's question came unexpectedly. His eyes, clearer now, fixed on her with an intensity that made her flinch slightly.

Violet paused, her breath catching in her throat. It was not like Edward to show interest in her choices or her life. The question hung in the air, heavy and laden with implications that Violet had long avoided. She searched for an answer that could appease both her father and her own restless heart. "I stay because this is my home," she replied quietly, her eyes not meeting his. "And because you are here."

Edward snorted, a bitter laugh escaping him as he looked around the decrepit room that barely served as a shelter. "This? This is no home, Violet. It's a prison. You're young still. You shouldn't be shackled by my failures."

His words, so starkly honest, struck Violet with unexpected force. It was rare for Edward to acknowledge his own shortcomings so openly or to express concern for her well-being. This glimpse of the man he might once have been—before grief and vice had reshaped him into the figure he now presented—left her momentarily speechless.

"You could leave, find a better life. Isn't there anyone...?" His voice trailed off, his question unfinished but clear.

Violet’s heart pounded in her chest as she considered her father's words. They echoed the very thoughts that haunted her nightly dreams—the possibility of a life beyond these walls, a chance at happiness that seemed so tantalizing yet so remote. But the thought of leaving her father in this state, as wretched as it was, tugged at her conscience. "There might be," she admitted softly, allowing herself to think of Clarence Johnson once more. His offer had been genuine, filled with promises of respect and a new beginning. Yet, the weight of her current reality shackled her ambitions.

"But I fear what leaving would mean for you," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper.

Edward scoffed, looking away from her piercing gaze. "Don't make an anchor out of me, Violet. I'm already drowning." His voice was gruff, edged with the harsh self-awareness that alcohol sometimes brought to his lips.

Violet swallowed hard, feeling the sting of tears she refused to shed. Her father’s usual indifference made his moments of clarity all the more painful for their rarity and raw honesty.

"I need to think on it," she finally said, standing up and moving towards the small window that overlooked the dim alleyway below. There, she pressed her forehead against the cool glass, trying to draw strength from the night itself. The tangled streets of London sprawled out before her—so familiar and yet suddenly brimming with the promise of escape. Her heart fluttered at the thought, a wild bird caged by years of oppression and fear.

Inside, Edward shifted uneasily in his chair, watching her silhouette framed against the weak moonlight that dribbled through the grimy window. For a moment, he seemed about to speak again, perhaps to retract his harsh truths or to further encourage her departure. But no words came; instead, he sank back into his chair with a heavy sigh that spoke volumes of his resignation to life's cruel turns.

Violet remained at the window long after her father's breathing evened out into the rhythm of sleep. Her thoughts were tumultuous waves crashing against the shore of her resolve. Clarence’s proposal was not merely an employment offer; it was an invitation to step into a world where she could perhaps wash away the stains of her past and emerge reborn. It promised safety, respectability, and above all, an identity unchained from the degradation that had colored her life. Yet, her father’s words haunted her: "Don’t make an anchor out of me." Could she really leave him here, adrift in the haze of his vices, or was it her duty to stay and prevent him from sinking deeper into despair? The weight of decision seemed insurmountable, anchoring her to this moment of indecision.

Violet pressed her cheek against the cool pane, the glass fogging slightly with each exhaled breath. Outside, the labyrinthine alleys of London whispered secrets of escape and adventure, but also murmured warnings of betrayal and hardship. Each whisper tugged at her soul, a symphony of opportunity and fear mingling in the night air. Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft noise behind her. Turning slightly, she saw Edward shifting again in his chair, his face etched with lines of discomfort and regret. For a fleeting second, she saw not the man who had failed her but rather the father who had once held dreams and aspirations beyond the confines of their dreary existence. The weight of his words echoed in her mind, a haunting reminder of their shared struggles and the unspoken bond that tied them together.

Drawing in a deep breath, Violet stepped away from the window. The cool air had not offered solace nor had it stiffened her resolve. If anything, it had only deepened her turmoil. Walking over to the flickering candle, she snuffed it out with a quick pinch, plunging the room into darkness. She navigated through the black with practiced ease, her every step whispering against the wooden floor. Reaching her modest bedding in the corner, she lay down without changing, drawing the thin blanket up to her chin. The darkness was not just a physical veil but also a metaphor for the uncertainty that clouded her future. As she lay there, her mind continued to race, replaying her earlier conversation with her father, weighing each word, each pause.

As sleep eventually claimed her in its restless embrace, Violet dreamt of vast oceans and endless horizons—a world away from the cramped confines of their decrepit home. In her dreams, the ocean was a deep blue, not the murky grey of London's foggy mornings. She stood on the deck of a ship, the wind tugging at her hair and billowing her threadbare dress like a sail. This was a freedom she had never known, unshackled from the burdens of her father's failures and the oppressive weight of their squalid existence.

Stay tuned for part 2!! Click HERE to view!

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hi! I hope you're doing well. I just shared a gifset of de-aged Derek and present Derek pinning Stiles to the wall and was curious if there are any fics where de-aged Derek maybe sticks around longer than canon, and he and Stiles start dating because it looks like he'll be stuck like that. Then, of course, he gets aged up again at some point ... anything? Thanks!

Yeah!

Out of the Mouths of Pups by cardel

(1/1 I 1,358 I General)

Everyone smells anxious and that should set off alarms in him but it doesn’t. The human begins walking towards him, slowly, until he’s standing in front of him. Derek looks up at him curiously, not feeling threatened, Derek stays calm.

That is until one of the werewolves takes a step closer to Derek, the human’s heartbeat picks up. This triggers Derek’s instinct to protect, and propel him to stand in front of the human. He flashes his alpha eyes at the approaching werewolf.

You feel like mine too... 🩵☄️🧡 by Eerien_Ent29

(1/1 I 2,681 I General)

Stiles' anger and frustration boiled over as he spoke with Erica on the phone. "What do you mean he's gone? I entrusted him to you guys so you could take care of him! What happened? What did you tell him?" His voice crackled with a mixture of concern and anger.

Of Boundaries and Bedroom Walls by AClosedFicIsNeverRead

(7/7 I 19,015 I Explicit)

Noah eyed the teenage werewolf with barely concealed apprehension, taking in the unhealthy measure of swagger and self-confidence oozing off the kid. He was entirely too good looking and built for 16 years old and it was clear that he damned well knew it.

Derek smiled back at the Sheriff, self-assured and showing off just a few too many teeth to look strictly human.

“Alright. Let me see if I’ve got this straight,” Noah began, rubbing his forehead as he prayed for strength. “You want me to allow a teenaged boy to sleep directly across the hall from my teenaged daughter with zero parental supervision while I’m pulling overnight shifts?”

“Daaaad!” Stiles groaned. “It’s still Derek!”

- OR -

The one where de-aged Derek moves in with the Stilinskis and becomes fixated on the delicious, hyperactive human girl. Sure, she says they won't be more than friends. That doesn't mean he can't try to change her mind, right?

anything that's dead shall be regrown by blueinkedbones

(26/? I 54,176 I Teen)

“Derek,” the guy with the hands says. He's still got his hands out, kind of reaching, kind of catching, kind of dropping to his sides. His voice is calm, but his eyes are too bright to sell it, and his heartbeat is out of control. “Are you—Do you know who we are?”

Derek swallows, thinks. If this is a treaty thing, another pack thing, why would they care about him? He's not even the alpha-in-training, he's nothing. Mom doesn't even bother explaining most werewolf politics to him. He knows most of it from Laura, Peter, from passing packs who used to think it was cute to tell the youngest beta their complicated histories and have it repeated back to them around still-awkward fangs. Now that's Cora, and not recently, either—She says she's too big to play kid games.

“No,” Derek decides. “Should I?”

A Wolf In Wolf's Clothing by alexenglish

(8/8 I 81,325 I Explicit)

The pack of Beacon Hills' past transgressions are about to converge on them, and Derek stumbles out of the forest with no recent memories and straight into a pack he doesn't know, with an alpha and an anchor he can't possibly remember.

[longwuzhere]

Here are some cool Easter eggs that I found the newest My Adventures with Superman episode, “Let’s Go to Ivo Tower, You Say”. Links to the easter eggs post:

Episode 1 is here

Episode 2 is here

Episode 3 is here

Episode 5 is here

Episode 6 is here

Episode 7 is here and here

Episode 8 is here

Episode 9 is here

Episode 10 is here

My Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman comic issue 1 post is here

SPOILERS if you have not seen the episode of course:

Perry assigns our intern trio to go get interviews about Anthony Ivo. I previously mentioned Ivo's deal in the comics in this post, but we'll talk more about this version of Ivo later.

Shout out to Lois' hanbok! As a kid in the 90s my first exposure to the DC was through the DC Animated Universe. Because of the way some of the characters like Lois, Clark, Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Terry, were designed, as a kid, I thought they were Asian. Very cool to see this version of Lois be Korean.

Before Lois shows up for their black tie event at Ivo Tower, Jimmy knocks down a stack of papers and magazine and Clark goes to pick it up and stumbles upon the Metropolis Star with a cover that shows him as a kid flying 15 years ago.

The Metropolis star is a rival newspaper to the Daily Planet in the comics. The publisher makes its first appearance in Superman #9 (1987) (W&P: John Byrne, I: Karl Kesel, C: Tony Ziuko, L: John Costanza).

When our intern trio makes it to Ivo Tower, Lois spots some very interesting powerful and political figures of Metropolis, the CEO of Galaxy Communications and Mayor Fleming.

Galaxy Communications makes its first appearance in Superman's Pal Jimmy Olsen #133 (1970) where it was headed by Morgan Edge, the then leader of Intergang. In the comics Clark and Lois does work for Galaxy communications thanks to it buying out the Daily Planet forcing Clark to be the evening news anchor. The Galaxy Communications panels here are from Swamp Thing #68 (1988) (W&P: Rick Veitch, I: Alfredo Alcala, C: Tajana Wood, L: John Costanza).

Mayor Fleming makes her first appearance in Action Comics #894 (2010) (W: Nick Spencer, P: R.B. Silva, I: Denis Freitas, C: Dave McCaig, L: Rob Leigh) where she appoints Jimmy Olsen and Sebastien Mallory as a welcoming committee for Dalwythians aliens. Like her MAwS counterpart she is obviously the Mayor of Metropolis.

Later, Lois goes and questions Senator Sackett at the party/event.

In the comics Sackett was a councilman not a senator who makes his first appearance in Superman #130 (1997) (W: Dan Jurgens, P: Norm Breyfogle, I: Joe Rubenstein, C: Glenn Whitmore and Digital Chameleon, L: John Costanza) depicted here in the issue's panel wearing a Superman costume. Sackett in the comics is in Luthor's pocket.

I am like 99.99% sure this is Lex Luthor like who else in Metropolis is named Alex, has red hair (if this is Lex Luthor and he shows up again, I'll talk about him and what I mean by this in another post.), and works in the science and tech field.

We finally meet Ivo and he is as I was hoping he'd be a major techbro tool. The way he acts in his introduction and his meeting with Clark is very much like Lex and Clark's meeting in Batman v Superman. Both Ivo and Lex upon meeting Clark know how strong he is. In MAwS Ivo punches his chest and it hurts him and in BvS you heard an audible thud when Lex knocks on Clark's chest. Very similar vibes between both scenes.

Clark confronts Ivo about one of his deals and name drops one of Metropolis' mob families.

Bobby Gazzo, head of the Gazzo crime family in Metropolis, makes his first appearance in Batman: Dark Victory #1 (W: Jeph Loeb, P&I: Tim Sale, C: Gregory Wright and Heroic Age, L: Richard Starkings). Fantastic sequel to Long Halloween, highly recommend reading both books.

After Clark gets thrown out and Lois offers to repair his jacket, we see Lois mentioning her dad, Sam Lane a military general and if the person at the end of the second part of the first episode is Sam Lane...

...and he shows up again in the show I'll talk more about it in another post. For now this is all just speculation.

Might be reading into this but maybe a subtle nod to how the words "Superman" and "pal" are often used together. Both have been used as a comic book title, "Superman's Pal Jimmy Olsen" as I've mentioned in these posts a few times.

The show here did a very clever thing with Ivo. Normally any other media pertaining to Ivo would give the audience his power and weakness stealing robot Amazo, but here the MAwS team was able to combine both Ivo and another villain in Superman's rogues gallery, Parasite.

The first Parasite, Raymond Jensen, makes his first appearance in Action Comics #340 (1966) (Cover Art by Curt Swan, George Klein, and Ira Schnapp). All iterations of Parasite have the ability to temporarily steal away anyone's energy, strength, and their knowledge. As I've said there have been other Parasites that Superman fought, the second and most recurring Parasite is Rudy Jones, the Parasite I'm more familiar with, who makes his first appearance in Firestorm #58 (1987).

Cover Art by Joe Brozowski, Bruce Peterson, and Tom Ziuko Alex and Alexandra Allston the third and fourth Parasite (green Parasite and purple Parasite respectively) first appeared in the Adventures of Superman #633 (2004).

Cover art by Gene Ha and Art Lyon

The latest Parasite, Joshua Allen, makes his first appearance in Superman #23.4 (2013).

Cover art by Aaron Kuder and Dan Brown So yeah there are similarities between the Amazo robot and Parasite and it was smart of the MAwS team to just combine Ivo with Parasite to avoid redundancies. Besides the Amazo robot is more of a Justice League villain anyways.

Near the end of the episode, after the Parasite suit wrecks Ivo's body, he begins to look more like his recent iterations in the comics now. The panel here is from Justice League of America #4 (2013) (W: Geoff Johns, P: Brett Booth, I: Norm Rapmund, C: Andrew Dalhouse, L: Rob Leigh). Hope you all had a wonderful time checking this post out. Like I said at the beginning my other MAwS easter egg posts are:

Episode 1 is here

Episode 2 is here

Episode 3 is here

Episode 5 is here

Episode 6 is here

Episode 7 is here and here

Episode 8 is here

Episode 9 is here

Episode 10 is here

My Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman comic issue 1 post is here

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

C/W ::: Sorta sleepy oral M->F, cum // piss on face, piss play (??) heed the warning, please. And planning // prep for more piss play. Over use of italics as usual. What. I like them, ok?

F!reader married to Dilf!Bkg (in his early 40's), v. established marriage // 7 years, 1 kid at Mitsuki's house for the weekend,

Katsuki wakes up first. The sky is bright as he peeks out of his sleepy eyes. He lays there for a few minutes, just staring at the outline of your curves under the light pink sheet. It's already hot. Probably 85 outside by now despite it being only 8 or so in the morning. He hasn't looked at the clock yet. He can't seem to take his eyes off of you.

You shuffle in your half-asleep state and roll onto your back. He smiles at you when you open your eyes to see if he's still there. But in your heart, you knew he would be.

"Good morning," he whispers to you and moves over to kiss your shoulder up to your neck. It's slow and lazy. The kind of affection that didn't know the rush of everyday necessity.

"Hey, you. What are you still doing here? I thought you'd be long gone by now. You think you'd be getting breakfast after the dessert I gave you last night?" You tuck your chin and giggle as the 2 day growth on his face tickles your bare chest. His hair is wild against your face as you try to push him away.

"Oh my god, you perv! Are you trying to shove my head down to your cunt again? Jesus fuck. I go down on you last night and you think it's all I'm good for? You think you deserve it? You're somethin' else, ya brat." He grabs your hand and holds it above you, against your pillow and scoots over so he's between your legs.

He hooked his arms under your knees and raised them up to your chest, his hands rest on the mattress next to your hips. "Mm, I gotta pee real quick. Lemme up. I'll be right back."

"You weren't even that good at it, ya loser." You spit back. He stopped and looked you dead in the eye, "That's not what you were sayin' last night. You goddamn liar. You wouldn't shut the fuck up, 'Oh Kats, don't stop Kats, holy shit Kats. You're God's gift to women, Ka-'…"

You slapped his flexed bicep, laughing. "I would never say such lies. I would never wish you on anyone. Man or woman. You're terrible. You're a terrible, horrible, filthy person."

You tried, and failed.

"Yeah? Gotta piss, eh. Well, you should've thought about that before you sassed off to me, fuckin' brat. Now, lemme see if you can keep that smart ass mouth of yours shut while I give it to you again." He leaned down and started to lap at your clit. You inhaled sharply, unable to get anything out of your mouth but a desperate whine. "K-Kats, really. I - h- oh fuck, th- fuck that's good. You're stupid good at eatin' pussy. And I promise I'll come back to you after I use the little girls room. Ge-get up, p- pl- … Kats, you're gonna make me cum and it's not gonna stop at that. It's not gonna be pretty."

He wouldn't let up on your clit. And it was so fucking hard for you to make him. It felt so good, very first thing in the morning. His fingers found their way inside of your hot and dripping pussy, sliding in and out easily. He knew just where to hit you and when. He knew exactly what buttons to push. He knew your body almost as well as you did and it was so good.

Katsuki looked up at you, his eyes hooded and his mouth slick with your juices, "You're so fuckin' cute when you whine for me to stop. However … not gonna ... stop. Not until I can feel your cum dripping down my chin and your legs are shaking aroun' my ears."

You laughed and dropped your head back onto your pillow. "I'm warning you. You have been warned, you stubborn shit." Resting your forearm over your eyes and anchoring your other hand in the hair just above his undercut, you gave in to him. And relaxed, while trying not to relax everything too much.

And, so you did. You quit your bitching and relaxed into his mouth on your cunt. It was warm. His tongue running between your folds wasn't much in contrast to how the rest of you felt; it was wet and hot, too. But when he doubled down, sucking on your little bud of nerves and delving his fingers into you, it was nearly more than you could handle. His nose sliding over your clit when his mouth wasn't on it. You could feel yourself quickly approaching that crossroad.

He hummed approvingly when you melted under his touch and raised your hips to match the ebb and flow of his ministrations. He was sloppy, his slurps and soft moans only egged you on more. "What are you so - hohh shit - happy about? Nothing about this is going to end well, Katsuki." He let go of your clit with a pop and told you to quit yer bitchin', let him do what he enjoys doing and does best. "Fine. But you're changing the sheets, shit ass." You laughed at his response to that; He buried his face even further into your hot core and doubled his efforts.

"Hm-mahh, Kats, nuh-uh, nonono oh fu- holy shit! I'm g- I'm gonna fffuuuccckkk, Katsuki!"

Your cheeks turned rosy pink and you felt the sudden urge to have the fan on. "Kats - hot, I'm h-hot." He grumbled into your cunt, "Fuck, I know y'are. I know, baby. So fuckin' hot. Cum for me, c'mon."

Your body tensed up and your knees snapped shut as your orgasm hit you like a runaway semi. The hot liquid - not much of a surprise to you - caught your husband completely off guard. Despite your many, many warnings, he still didn't anticipate the release of such bodily fluids.

"Hol- … holy fucking shit, babe! Did you … did you just … piss?" He yelled. You had never been so grateful that your kid was at their grandma's house and not there to hear their dad yell at their mom about pissing the bed.

"I-I- YOU!!! I fucking told YOU!! And your dumbass just pushed and pushed and poked and sucked on me. And now? Well now, you have to change and wash the sheets." You looked at him with a smug look on your face that you had not earned but felt like he deserved to be at the receiving end of.

He laid there. Half stunned and fully hard. "Babe. I'm … you … fuck. That was so hot. I mean, I'm sorr-sorta sorry. But fuck. You just came so hard you pissed. I have never made you cum like that." He stood and walked over to where you were standing, dripping onto the hardwood floor. Cupping your pussy and rubbing it with the palm of his hand and fingertips, he leaned down to kiss you. "We're doing that again. I'll get the shit we need. You do whatever you need to do. I'll be back and serving up some drinks after a bit. Be ready for me. I love you, peeps."

"Peeps?" You tilted your head in confusion. "Oh, yeah. 'S my new nickname for ya. You like it?"

Laughing, you tiptoed the rest of the way to the bathroom to clean yourself off. "Whatever floats your boat, baby. Whatever floats your boat."

Taglist ::: @darkstarlight82 @millennialmagicalgirl // @bakubunny (Yes I know. But just in case you somehow missed it and because of the conversation we had about his little kinks the other day ; )) @thenamesmiz (if you only wanted kiri stuff lmk!) @callm3senpaii (are you still out there? Lol) @arlerts-angel

[just-wublrful]

only one of you is going to make it and you’re afraid it's going to be you, or, alternatively: you are standing by the tragic hero and it is looking rough out there-

( @lasilhouetteinbianco i did it there’s moby. whoo)

A History of My Brief Body, Billy-Ray Belcourt | Antigonick, Sophokles trans. Anne Carson | The Little Prince, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry | Doña Juana “la Loca” (1877), Francisco Pradilla | Giovanni’s Room, James Baldwin | THE TRAGIC HERO UPON REACHING THE END OF THE SCRIPT REALIZES HE HAS BEEN DEAD THIS WHOLE TIME, Joan Tierney | Wishbone, Richard Siken | Orpheus and Eurydice, George Frederic Watts | Bitter Water, The Oh Hellos | Sonnet 116, William Shakespeare | YOUR LOVE FINDS ITS WAY BACK, Sierra Mulder | Nymphs Finding the Head of Orpheus (detail, 1905), John William Waterhouse |  Wishbone, Richard Siken | Richard Siken, in an interview with James Hall | Moby Dick, Herman Melville | Weeping Nude (1913-14), Edvard Munch | Love and Pain (1895), Edvard Munch | Metamorphoses, Ovid

[ID: An assortment of various quotes, lyrics, and paintings from a variety of sources.

1. To love someone / is firstly to confess: I’m prepared / to be devastated by you.

2. Ismene: I can help you suffer. // Antigone: No. // Ismene: I can give you reasons not to die. //  Antigone: No.

3. And he took me by the hand. But he was still worrying. “It was wrong of you to come. You will suffer. I shall look like I was dead, and that will not be true...” I said nothing.

4. A painting of a young woman dressed in black. She stands in blank despair beside a casket in an open field. She is surrounded by a procession of numerous mourners, as smoke from a behind her rises into the air.

5. What are we staying here for? How long do you / want to sit in this house, eating your heart out?

6. You are kneeling at the water’s throne / When preparing for an ending scene / It’s important that / Swords drop like anchors / Yours will never rise again / I am watching from the cowberries, or / From your mother’s curtains, as if / Through a burial shroud, or

7. And it’s another wrong-man-dies scenario / and we keep doing it, Henry, / keep saying until we get it right... but we / always win and we never quit.

8. A painting of Orpheus and Eurydice at the entrance to Hades. Orpheus, in a toga, reaches out to catch Eurydice as she goes limp and pale, soul having returned to the Underworld. In the background a dead tree trunk can be seen.

9. I am not a fool entire / No, I know what is coming / You will bury me beneath the tree / I climbed when I was a child

10. Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, / But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

11. My throat is a beehive pitched into the river. Look! / Look how long my love can hold it’s breath.

12. A painting of Orpheus’ head floating down a river after being torn apart by the Maenads. His face is turned upward, with pale skin and long red hair. His lyre floats beside him, alongside numerous lily pads and lilies.

13. See, we’ve won again / here we are at the place where I get to beg / for it where I get to say, Please,

14. Eventually something you love is going to be taken away. And then you will fall to the floor crying. And then, however much later, it is finally happening to you: you’re falling to the floor crying thinking, “I am falling to the floor crying,” but there’s an element of the ridiculous to it — you knew it would happen and, even worse, while you’re on the floor crying you look at the place where the wall meets the floor and you realize you didn’t paint it very well.

15. “...Sleeping? Aye, toil how we may, we all sleep on the field. Sleep? Aye, and rust amidst greenness; as last years scythes flung down, and left in the half-cut swathes — Starbuck!” But blanched to a corpse’s hue with despair, the Mate had stolen away. 

16. A painting of a nude woman sitting upon her bed, hunched over with her head in her hands and legs sprawled. She appears to be weeping. Her long, dark hair, spills around her shoulders and into her lap.

17. A painting of a woman and a man embracing each other. The woman has warm skin and long red hair, which spills over and contrasts with the man’s pale, grey skin. She buries her face into his nape, and he into her arms.

18. But when she saw him in his hapless plight, / though angry at his scorn, she only grieved. End ID.]

[lowcountry-gothic]

A poem for each EnneaType.

By Melissa Kircher, transcribed from @enneagrampaths.

A poem for EnneaType 1

and failure isn't failing it's actually an event creating space for new life to burst into wild reality

A poem for EnneaType 2

the soot and ash a charcoal facade behind which two eyes, glowing watch out she burns hot

A poem for EnneaType 3

I think poetry might be inside you the words there ready to tumble out I think the stars shine only for you tonight and the earth turns to keep you on it

A poem for EnneaType 4

if I let out the pain I said it will shatter galaxies that's fine she replied I made lots of them you can break a few

A poem for EnneaType 5

stay anchor in the depths every drop in the ocean sings for your presence here. now.

A poem for EnneaType 6

opening like petals rooted like pines woven back whole one thread at a time stretching up, out, down new rhythms like rhyme mothered soul tender finding child eyes dancing forest wild tasting deep like prophets wise

A poem for EnneaType 7

the sun hanging by a thread details that weigh mountains I want to find you again the girl in the tutu that sparkled and when I do pulling you into my lap I'll whisper you already knew the wisdom of the Universe

A poem for EnneaType 8

strong is two feet solid in the soil toes curled into the loam strong is letting pain sweep through your branches and losing some leaves strong is allowing the shadows to surround you to change you and then gently letting them pass

A poem for EnneaType 9

what could I do? these were my people so I went I entered their anguish I felt their relation and then I understood the spectrum of my own heart

[eddiemunsons80sbaby]

Nobody's Fool: Chapter 28

Pairing: EddieXReader

Summary: You have bartended for years after you were forced to drop out of college due to family circumstances. You have dated your fair share of musicians, had your heart broken by one particular one, and have learned they are not be trusted. You have sworn off of them for the rest of your life. Then, one night, a new band plays at the bar, and against your better judgement, you can't help noticing the lead singer and guitar player. Could he possibly be different from the ones who came before him?

Warnings: 18+ Only due to eventual smut and language. There is also a toxic family relationship with a narcissistic mother if that is triggering for you.

Masterlist

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27

Nine Months Later

“Seriously, what are you planning?” you asked. 

“It’s a surprise,” Eddie laughed. “Shit, you are so bad at surprises.”

“I don’t like not knowing what’s going on,” you pouted. “You’ve been secretive for two weeks and now I have to go shopping with Nancy and do exactly what she tells me. It’s weird.”

“It’s not weird. I'm trying to be romantic, damn it,” he said, kissing you. “So just get with the program.”

“Fine, but I don’t have to be happy about it.”

“You are so goddamn stubborn.”

“And you love me anyway,” you smiled.

“That I do,” Eddie agreed, pulling you close. 

The last nine months had been pure bliss. You should have taken a sledgehammer to those barriers you'd tried to put up against him long before you did. You knew you would never get bored of him, never want to look at anyone else and you also knew he wouldn’t either. You had never been so sure of anything as you were of the two of them. 

Your mom had to do time, six months in the county jail. You had not spoken to her again since that night when she hung up on you. Your mom had tried to call collect a few times but it stopped after you had refused the calls every time. Yes, that woman was your mother, she had given you life, but that was all she had done. You were at peace with your decision to cut that diseased limb from your family tree. You didn't owe her anything.

You had begun seeing a therapist and Eddie had been completely supportive of your decision. The therapist was the one who recommended that you walk away from your toxic parents and embrace the family you had created around yourself instead. Following that advice had been like finally dropping the anchor that had been dragging you under the tides for far too long. 

You realized you didn’t need to focus on those you had been stuck with through blood. Eddie, Jen, Robin, Nancy, Steve, and the others were your family now. You couldn’t have created a more perfect support system than them.

The therapist also helped you see that you had never really been in love with Sebastian. You hadn’t mourned the loss of him in your life. You had mourned the idea that there was someone out there who loved you. You honestly wished you would have made the choice to go to therapy a long time ago, but it was hard to admit that you were such a mess that you needed professional help. Your friends hadn’t made you feel embarrassed about it once and Eddie had been your biggest advocate, only wanting you to do what you needed so you could be your best self.

After Nancy arrived, she dragged you from the house and drove you into town. You tried to get her to spill what was going on but she was tight lipped. She parked and the two of you headed into one of the boutiques downtown. You were immensely confused. This place sold fancy dresses and stuff. What would you need from here? You weren't sure you even owned a fancy dress. You and Eddie were not exactly fancy people.

“Well, come on,” Nancy smiled. “First stop is picking out a pretty dress.”

“And why do I need a pretty dress?”

“No questions, remember?” Nancy reminded you. “I promise it will all be worth it.”

You sighed but followed her in. Nancy must have had you try on fifteen different dresses before she clasped her hands, squealing at the last one. It was sage green. The bodice had spaghetti straps and was fitted with applique leaves. The bottom flared out like a ball gown. Layers of tulle flared out around you, vines of the applique leaves winding down it in various places.

“Oh my god, this is it,” Nancy squealed. “It’s gorgeous. It brings out your eyes and it looks so like spring with everything blooming and growing.”

“Okay, so glad we found the perfect dress. Just wish I knew what the hell I needed a poofy dress for,” you sighed.

Nancy rolled her eyes, “Seriously, just stop being such a pain in the ass and go with it. Okay, take it off and bring it out so I can pay.”

“Why are you paying for my dress?”

“Eddie is paying for the dress,” she said. “He gave me the money already.”

You sighed, changing out of the dress and back into your comfortable jeans and shirt. Nancy paid and you headed back to the car. You really wanted to know what the hell was going on. This was so strange. You wound up at Nancy and Steve’s house. You followed her in and Nancy told you to sit as she began gathering stuff from her bathroom. Walking out, she had a make-up case, a curling iron, hairspray, and way too many bobby pins.

“Whoa, what are you doing?”

“Hair and make-up,” Nancy said as if it should be obvious. “We need to make you beautiful for that very beautiful dress. Now, sit still and let me work my magic.”

You sat, reminding yourself that you loved Eddie more than life itself and this seemed to be important to him. So, you allowed Nancy to do your make-up and mess with your hair. It wasn’t that you didn’t wear make-up or fix your hair but you were usually pretty minimal. Your whole get ready and get out the door routine took about fifteen minutes. This was becoming a two hour affair. 

“Okay, all done,” Nancy finally said, smiling. “Now, go put the dress on.”

“Fine,” you muttered, grabbing the dress and heading into her bathroom. You pulled it on, managing to zip up the back and turned to look in the mirror. Holy shit. Nancy was like a fairy godmother. Your hair was pulled up, with a few soft curls framing your face on each side. Your face looked soft and pretty. Damn, you even had cheekbones and really long lashes. You didn’t think you'd ever thought you'd looked so pretty before. Nancy had highlighted your eye color perfectly and the dress just made them pop more. 

“Wow,” Nancy breathed as you walked out of the bathroom. “You look so beautiful.”

“Thank you. You’re in a fancy dress too,” you commented, noticing she had changed into a purple satin dress. 

“Yep,” she simply said. “Let’s go.”

You were back in the car, but you were a bit more interested in paying attention this time. You assumed this was your final destination and you were dying to know what this was all about. However, Nancy pulled up to Hawkins High School and you were even more confused than you had been before. Seriously, what was going on?

“The high school?” you asked.

“That’s where we are,” Nancy said. “Come on.”

Nancy got out and headed into the school. You followed, looking around. You had been here quite a few times over the last nine months to surprise Eddie with lunch on days when you had to work at night. That way you could still sneak in some time together. But you didn’t know what the hell you were doing here on a Saturday night. Nancy was leading you toward the gym. When you got to the door, she stopped.

“Go on in,” she smiled.

“Okay…”

You pushed the door open and froze in place. What were you seeing? The whole gym was decorated in glittering silver stars, sheets of tulle fell from the ceiling with twinkle lights twined through. Blue and silver balloons were in bunches all around with a disco ball hanging from the middle of the ceiling. There was a big cardboard painting of Van Gogh’s starry night as a backdrop for photos. There was a table with a punch bowl and a variety of snacks. Hanging above the table was a big banner that said “Starry Night Prom 1993.”

“What in the…” you began.

“Welcome to your prom.”

You spun and there was Eddie. He looked so handsome in black jeans, a white button up shirt, and a black jacket. His hair was pulled back into a bun, a few strands falling loosely around his face. 

“Jesus, you look absolutely beautiful. That dress is amazing,” he breathed, walking over to you. 

“Thank you. I...Eddie, what is all this?” you asked, laughing and gesturing to the gym around you.

Eddie held up a box, opening it. Inside was a beautiful corsage of white and pink roses with baby’s breath. He slid it onto your wrist. 

“Well, you told me you didn’t get to go to your prom, and even though I went and mine was lame, I didn’t want you to miss out,” he said softly, his lips pushed out in an adorable little pout. “Besides, I wanted a do-over prom because if I would have gone with you, it would have been perfect.”

“This is insane,” you breathed, looking up at him. “Did you do all this?”

“God no,” he said quickly, laughing and shaking his head. “I asked my boss if we could have the gym for the night. But the decorations, I had a lot of help with. I should say they were mostly Nancy, Jen, Robin, and Vicki. This gym would not look nearly this good if it would have been just me.”

“They did an amazing job. I love the theme. It’s beautiful,” you said.

“Oh, that was my idea,” he smiled. “I was thinking about our first night together.”

“Aww. That's so sweet. You are so sweet. Thank you.” You wound your arms around his neck, kissing him. Your heart felt like it could dance out of your chest and across the room. Damn, this man was so perfect. “So, we’re just going to dance and snack, just me and you?”

“Nope. Come on in!”

The doors opened and in came Jen and Kyle, Nancy and Steve, Robin and Vicki, and Jeff and Gareth with two girls you didn’t know. You burst out laughing. They were all dressed as if it was prom even though they were all twenty five and well past their prom days. 

“Oh my god!” you yelled, clapping your hands.

“I think someone spiked the punch!” Robin yelled, shaking a bottle of vodka. 

You were completely overwhelmed. You had spent so much time thinking you weren't worthy of love, thinking no one would ever care enough about you. Looking around this gym, you remembered what Eddie had said to you so long ago. The people you choose are often worth more than the ones you’re stuck with. He was so right. These people in this room were worth everything and they all loved you and thought you were worthy. This right here, this was your family, and you had never wanted anything more.

Steve walked over to a giant boombox and suddenly you heard a familiar song coming through the speakers. Eddie took you in his arms and you pressed your cheek against his chest, your arms wrapping around his back, your hands gripping his shoulders. 

Wise men say

Only fools rush in

But I can’t help falling in love with you

Shall I stay

Would it be a sin

If I can’t help falling in love with you

Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Darling so it goes

Some things are meant to be

Take my hand

Take my whole life too

For I can’t help falling in love with you

“I love you Edward Munson,” you whispered, tears stinging your eyes as you swayed softly to the music. “This is so wonderful. No one has ever done anything so thoughtful for me before. How did I get so lucky?”

He smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You were smart enough to hop on the back of my bike.”

“Such a smart decision,” you agreed with a smile.

“The smartest.”

“Can I keep you?” you asked, gazing up at him, your hand resting on his cheek. 

“Forever sweetheart,” Eddie grinned, his lips finding yours again. 

Being in his arms with the sound of your friends dancing and laughing, filled you with the same warmth you used to feel from sitting in the sunshine. The warmth melted away all of the worries and concerns and fears you had ever felt. At this moment, all of the walls you had tried to build for so long were demolished completely and you knew you'd never have to rebuild them again.

The End

Thank you so much for reading!

Taglist

@tlclick73 @bebe07011 @emma77645 @corrodedcoffincumslut @babeyglo @kimmi-kat @bblunuh @vintagehellfire @hellfire--cult @avobabe87 @just-a-sewer-goblin @emilyslutface @micheledawn1975 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @emxxblog @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels @lma1986 @kittydeadbones @kaelaiscool

[xx-blueboy-xx]

Oooooh Gabriel’s guide to Sam Winchester I must know 🥺

WIP Ask Game!

Sooo!!!

The title is a reference to "Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy" - and there is a reason for it!

Here is a little synopsis of the fic I have:

Gabriel, in a last ditch effort to save his life - goes careening through space and time. Searching for his one and only: Sam Winchester.

Sorta.

He really should have told the hunter about his feelings, before he went off and nearly died. Now, he is stuck jumping through universes and alternate-timelines, until he manages to discover the soul his own was anchored too.

So: basically, the plot is season-13 divergent where as Gabriel is being stabbed by Alt!Michael he tries and does his "fake death" trick but due to a lack of grace (and Alt!Michael's doing) something goes awry. Anddd, so, instead of ending back with OG!Sam in the bunker in the OG!Supernaturalverse he crash lands himself straight into an AU!

The fic follows him hopping between universes as he attempts to track down his Sam - meeting a bunch of AU!Sams along the way! And each chapter is titled realted to something he knows about Sam/learns what is different about the AU!Sams he meets! (and are numbered like a list)

I was planning on finishing it for GBB but, life happened and I didn't get around to it + had to drop out due to a lack of time. It is currently sitting at about 23k words with 4 complete chapters!!

Which are, because i genuinely love this fic and I will finish it someday (there is 2-3 more chapters I have planned and a lit of editing)

1. Sam Winchester is Not A Coward

- which is taking place in the world where Dean visted during his jinn dream! Lawyer!Sam who because of OG!Dean's visit entire timeline was set astray... (so the supernatural still exist in this world he just didn't know about it obv - because all the ppl they saved died)

2. Sam Would Die For Dean

- this is also taking place with Lawyer!Sam

3. Sam Likes Two Spoonful of Sugar in his Coffee

- in this one Gabriel meets a coffee-shop no real monsters Sam! Who is a huge fan of the books "Supernatural" (but they feature the Ghostfacers as the two brothers)

4. Sam Winchester is Warm

- Still with coffee-shop Sam! And it features Gabriel meeting his own alternative (who is basically just Richard Slieght)

5. Sam Winchester is Not An Evil Son of A Bitch

- the unstarted chapter but !! It's BoyKing!Sam :) and Gabriel meets his own alternative from this world too!

6. Sam Is Perfectly & Beautifully Human

- Gabe ends up in a Reverse!verse and meets angel!sam and hunter!gabe (unstarted only plotted)

7. Sam Is A Survivor

- Sam is dead. That's it. That's the world. (plotted only)

8. Sam Is Everything

- Gabe finally makes it home!!! 🎉 To his Sam!

I am like spoiling the whole thing but it has veen a while since I touched it so, jt's nice to explore it again/think about it once more. Life just got soooo busy when I was working on it.

Anyways! Have an excerpt because, well, I have a lack of self control!!

(From Chapter 4, the last few hundred words of the WIP)

“I don't owe a traitor anything. All you need to know, dearest little brother: is that you are never getting home. And that I am tired of being nice. I tried my best to give you a happy ending. But, perhaps, I should show you one of the bad endings, hm? Maybe that will make you appreciate my gifts more.”

“Bastard! You know over the millennia, you would think someone would have managed to remove that stick from your ass!” he screams at nothing hearing his own voice echo off the walls, and spiral down the staircase: his true voice is leaking through a bit as well. Ever since Asmodnoues he hasn’t had such good control over it as he used to. Having spent hundreds of years in a vessel had made him a master of control. He doesn’t receive an answer to his quip, feeling the world tilt before it swirls. Melting around him, the walls and ceiling dripping. Feeling as if he is being thrown by an invisible hand he finds himself stumbling into an entirely new environment. His vision swims and he feels his grace flare out around him defensively only for it to be - locked. Not gone. But locked inside of his body. He feels shackles around his wrists and his blazing golden eyes snap to them. There are Enochian runes carved into strange flickering-smokey bracelets. They vanish, but their effect is as strong as ever.

He has been bound. To what, or who, well that’s to be seen. Gabriel flares his wings out feeling them stir the air around him from their incorporeal state. He doesn’t fly. His shoulders slump in defeat and he finally starts to take in where he is. In some kind of grand throne room.. It looks nicer than it had in a long time, there is a strange familiar touch to the layout. Every ruler of Hell loved to reshape the place. Large black-marble columns, very Greek in style around him lining the long-hall. Beneath his feet a plush red carpet was rolled all the way to the base of a massive throne, carved from bone. Human skulls line the top of the throne, placed delicately upon spikes, hollow eye sockets glaring with small red-burning fires in them.

The archangel feels like he has lost the ability to process as his gaze first finds the shining black-dress shoes upon the man sitting in the throne. Gabriel’s eyes reveal the long-blue tail whipping behind him, deep-red spikes lining it, and he can see carefully folded leathery-wings behind his back, the spiked tips blood red while the wings themselves fade from black into a navy blue. Two long-horns protrude from the man’s head of wavy-brown locks spiraling straight up in spires. On earth, these kinds of things would be unseen on the vessel. But not in Hell. Blazing yellow eyes glow as they take in the sight of the archangel, who finally processes the face that bares the sharp-toothed grin being sent his way.

“Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in?”

The Boy King, steps down from the throne of Hell.

[lacedinweb22]

You're... Spider-Man (Miguel O’Hara x reader)

🕸️ Entangled series 🕸️ ch. 8 - prev parts: ch. 5, ch. 6, ch. 7

You've figured him out.

✰ ✰ ✰

I ran out of my apartment building, dragging my bike beside me. The front of the building was completely surrounded by reporters, cop cars, news station vans, and Spider-Man fans, cosplaying and shouting, waiting to catch a glimpse of their hero in action. 

Umbrellas filled the scene; red and blue flashing police lights reflected in the puddles I stepped into.

The news anchors stood in a row, all reporting in front of my building. 

“It’s almost 9:30; we should be seeing our favorite hero very soon!”

“Why this block? We’re asking ourselves the same thing!” 

I pulled my raincoat hood over me, pushed through the crowd, then hopped onto my bike and headed for Miguel’s apartment.

***

I stood on his doormat, my knuckles resting against the door, hesitant to knock. 

What if he rejects me? What if I’m insane and wrong about him? What if he’s done with me and turns me away?  

I took a deep breath and knocked. 

No answer. 

I knocked again. 

Still no answer. 

He programmed my prints onto his door knob’s recognition algorithm weeks ago, allowing me to enter his apartment if necessary. This felt necessary. 

I wrapped my hand around the door knob. It glowed blue then pushed in, opening the door and revealing his dark apartment. The windows and blinds were all closed up, the apartment was lit only by the orange glow that peeked from his bedroom, the door ajar. 

I slid my shoes off, tiptoeing and looking around for Miguel. He wasn’t here. His motorcycle helmet was still here and his car keys remained on his kitchen counter. Where is he? Out being Spider-Man?

I walked towards his bedroom, slowly pushing the door open, the light glowing brighter on me. This feels wrong. But in the end, this will be worth it. Miguel will trust you, the lying will be over, and you’ll … live happily ever after.

I walked into his room. It looked the same as when I saw it last. His desk covered in gadgets and scribbled notes, his bed neatly made, books littered across the comforter.

I sat at the edge of his bed, realizing that Miguel wasn’t here, and wasn’t using his car or motorcycle, confirming my suspicions. 

He’s probably on my block, at my apartment. He’ll be on the news anytime now. Maybe he’ll come back early because I’m not there. My stomach dropped. Things will never be the same after this.  

“Okay so Miguel is Spid— no. It can’t be you. Was it fucking obvious? Right in front of me all along? How could I not see it?” I whispered as I stood back up, panicked, pacing back and forth in his bedroom. 

I stood at his desk; the orange hologram lit up my face as it all dawned on me. I looked down at the clutter, giving attention to the detailed gadgets he must have engineered, and piles of sketches of prototypes I’d never seen before. This isn’t physics. I traced my fingers along his handwriting, beautiful scribbles spread across his notepad. He’s so smart. I guess if anyone is Spider-Man, it would make sense that it’s the genius geneticist that is the arrogant, annoying, bratty Miguel. 

A photograph poked out of his journal. It was us; Lizzie took it during a study group in the spring. That’s Spider-Man? This competitive son of a bitch is our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man? The Miguel who will rematch me one million times until he wins? The Miguel who won’t shut up about my physics solutions being off a decimal? This stubborn, arrogant asshole?

My laptop bag was hung across his shoulder. Always holding my shit. If he knew my bag was heavy, he’d steal it from me, using his height advantage to dodge my grabs. Stubborn asshole.

But,

Sweet, generous Miguel. 

…

Shit.

It’s adding up.

The noise of metal clashing disrupted my memories, booming from his bedroom window, causing me to turn sharply, my stomach dropping, my heart beginning to race. I watched the fire escape stairs rattle, anxiously. I stepped back, waiting to see him. This is it. 

Red webbing wrapped around the metal followed by a figure quickly pulled up onto the fire escape, the huge crash making me jump. It was him. Spider-Man. The man who saved me in the alleyway and walked me home. Massive, tall, and muscular, in costume, just like I’ve seen on the news, right in front of me, the side of him he’s kept from me. The side of him I met that night, but

hadn’t truly met. 

I gasped, catching my breath as he pulled the window up then stopped suddenly as he looked up to see me through the glass. He paused then slowly slid it further up. I helped lift it up, our hands against each other on opposite sides of the glass. I crawled through the window before he had the chance to come in. I stood in front of him, the rain pouring down on us. 

“I have to be dreaming,” I whispered, backing away as his tall, glowing figure towered over me. The adrenaline began to hit. “Y/N,” “It’s you. The guy that saved me last month, right? That’s who you are, right? God, how could you keep this from me?” I shouted against the beating rain, exhausted. 

“Jesus christ,” he grumbled, dragging his hand over his mouth and down his chin. 

“¡Lo sabía! I knew you’d be here. You weren’t at your apartment, and I still had to deal with the whole crowd following my every fucking move,”

I ignored him, picking up his arm, my touch interacting with the nanoparticles. 

“I could hear your heart racing from a mile away,” 

I looked up at him, my anger put on hold. 

“And smell your perfume from a mile away,” he muttered, looking down at me analyzing his nanotech.

I dropped his arm sharply, pushing him away.

“You’re– I mean I was right! You’re a liar and you’re… Spider-man,” I said, nodding to his get-up.

“Why are you here, Y/N? I had one simple rule for you to follow! Just. One. Not to visit me at night,” he scolded, his mask furrowing down at me. Shit, forgot about that. 

“You and your fucking rules! You’ve broken more than I can count and you’re worried about this one? I mean this lie— it breaks all of them. Look at you, Miguel, you’ve won, you’ve outdone yourself,” 

My eyes glossed over every mezzo detail. His suit was unbelievably detailed. 

He was this mesmerizing figure of crimson red glimmer and dim dark navy towering over me, glowing onto me, as I stood under him, his loyal shadow.

“Miguel, you’re Spider-Man,” I breathed out again, in shock, hearing my voice confirm my most outrageous theory.

“Really? Had no idea—” he muttered, looking down at his suit, “Why. Are. You. Here?” he asked, slower and quietly.

“I figured you out, Miguel. I want to hear the truth from you now… but first— you— you’ve been lying to me all along: your brother knows how to fix a fucking car, you didn’t bang up my soda breaking up a fight, you weren’t interning late, you’ve been out… being Spider-Man.”

His head hung low, his mask emotionless, a barrier between us; my reflection in his eyes looked back at me. 

“Miguel, to think you could’ve been hurt, seriously hurt, or been taken, I— I could’ve lost you any fucking second, and I wouldn’t have even known! I wouldn’t know how, or where … I wouldn’t have even said goodbye! How, Miguel… how could you keep this from me?” I yelled, looking up at him through my tears, the rain drenching my hair, blurring my vision. I looked up at the glowing figure; I knew Miguel was under there, or just a stranger I thought I knew. 

“I was trying to protect you! I didn’t want you to get entangled in my messes, with the shit I have to deal with!”

“I’m already entangled! I thought you trusted me—”

“I do but this isn’t about that! This is your life! This is so much bigger than petty fucking lies!” he exclaimed, rain glazing his suit. 

I wiped my drenched face. Miguel reached his hand up to me, but I pushed it away. 

“This is your life too! These are lies you’ve told me that– I wouldn’t have known that I lost you! Lost. Do you fucking get that? You’ve been in harm’s way this whole time and I didn’t even know! I’ve also– I mean god, do you even know how fucking crazy you made me feel? All these mixed signals? I’ve been fucking delusional about you being gone for hours at a time thinking you’ve just come back from a— a fucking quickie! I mean— I even thought it was the girl from the bookstore!” 

I sighed, my burning heart coming to a simmer. 

“I thought… I just— It could’ve saved me so much confusion and… maybe we would’ve been together by now, maybe we would’ve made sense,” I breathed out, wiping the rain and tears from my face. I looked up at his mask; I hate that I can’t read him.

“Together,” he muttered, his head hung low in thought.

“Nevermind that. Let’s go back for a second, so you’re ‘protecting’ me… is that why you’ve been surveilling my apartment this whole week? You don’t want me to get entangled yet you’re there crawling up and down my building? Is that why you were there the night of the attack? You’d rather stalk me then just tell me the truth?” 

“Well maybe if you let me speak every once in a while, I would’ve already told you!” he exclaimed, looking down at me. 

I collected myself. 

“Can you just take off your mask, please?… I came here to tell you, okay? To show you, I connected the dots… finally, about us and about your second life, I figured it out. And I want to be mad at you so bad right now, for keeping this from me and lying to me, but— you’re right, okay? I’m sorry. I’ve been so selfish and… oblivious, and I’m sorry,” I finished quietly, looking up at his masked gaze.

He deactivated his mask, his face finally confirming the Earth-shattering truth I thought I was prepared to face.

I exhaled, seeing the truth for myself.

He hovered over me; the street lamps lit up the side of his face. I looked down at his suit then back up at the bruises and cuts on his cheeks. The rain began to soak into his waves, his hair dripping down onto his face. 

It made sense. The sudden splash of maroon in his eyes, late nights at Alchemax, the new frequent bruises on his knuckles. All of it. 

“And I’m sorry I lied… a lot,” he whispered. My lips fought a smile. He looked at me the way he did at the party, surrounded and drowning in all of the noise. It feels the same. 

“How did this happen?” 

I lifted my hand to his lips, tracing my fingers on his sharp fangs. 

He put his hand on my hand, “Alchemax,” he whispered back, still staring down at me. I grabbed his hands, the suit glitched away exposing his bare hands. I held them in my hands, tracing the bruises on his knuckles, and his nails, where I knew his claws hid under. 

I traced my fingertips along his suit then noticed black peeking from his suit collar. I pulled it out; it was the necklace I gave to him. 

“You… wear it when you…?” I whispered.

He nodded, looking down at me, “Never taking it off,” he muttered, softly smiling down at me. 

“I thought you were too stubborn to want to talk to me again. What… changed?” 

I grabbed our notebook from the windowsill, and quickly turned to the sketched page. I hovered over it, trying to shelter it from the rain. 

“You… you drew this. It kind of opened my eyes, helped me realize that I— that you—” 

“I want you?” 

He looked down at the page then back up at me. “Glad you finally see how fucking oblivious you are,” he scoffed, grabbing the now drenched notebook and tossing it back inside. He filled in the gap between us, our bodies pressing against each other. 

“Let me set things straight, Y/N. I wasn’t flirting with you because you were the only girl around at the party. It wasn’t me being lonely, or bored,” he explained desperately, his eyebrows knit together. He pushed my wet hair out of my face. 

“And it wasn’t the alcohol that made me say all of that or act that way with you, it was you. It was you,” he breathed out, nodding, his hypnotizing crimson eyes latching onto mine. 

“You want me?” I whispered, smiling up at him. He put his hands on my waist, pulling me into him.

He nodded, his lips right in front of mine, “Of course I want you.”

I wiped his wet face, my hand slipping against his soft skin. 

“I really really do,” he whispered.

His thumb caressed my cheek, his lips brushing against mine. Our bodies pressed tightly together, slippery against one another. He combed his fingers through my drenched hair, brushing the mess back. He slowly pressed his lips against mine, his warmth spreading to my stomach, triggering butterflies and sparks of electricity throughout my body. 

And suddenly, it all made perfect sense. 

✧༺♥༻∞

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[pisupsala]

Of All The Stars in The Sky | 12 | Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw

Summary | War looks different from high above in the sky. But when Bradley finds himself on the ground, far behind enemy lines, it becomes a race against the clock to get out. And try not to look back at what he’s leaving behind.

Pairing | Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!reader / Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!oc (no use of y/n)

Warnings |Mature content | 18+ only[WWII AU] swearing, war, violence, death, explicit smut

Words | 9.6k

Index | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17

Library

Chapter 12 - I Fall in Love Too Easily

“Do it, you coward.” You challenge him instead, that mischievous smirk suddenly on your face again—it is fast becoming his favorite thing about you. Fearless, stubborn, and oh so sweet when you want to be. You keep surprising him on every front, encircling him, until he cannot think about anything but you. He’s dreamt of this moment—that you would come to him. Finally, admit that you really felt something for him. That you wanted him. That he wouldn’t feel so goddamn alone anymore.

And now you’re challenging him. Because of course you are. 

Dropping the matches at his feet, he reaches for you, cupping your face gently and closing the distance between you. Your breath is coming out in rapid bursts, your face suddenly flushed—you almost don’t believe he’d actually go through with it.

He lightly brushes his lips against yours, like he is testing the waters—giving you a chance to retreat. You parried his advances—overt or subtle—so many times like a doe shooting away through the forest.

Your breaths mingle as his mouth hovers only millimeters away from yours. It’s so familiar. The flames you had been desperately trying to extinguish are roaring higher than ever before. You’ve been close to Rooster before, felt his skin under your hands, his hot breath on your face—but never like this. Never this real. 

You can’t wait anymore. Pushing yourself up on your tiptoes, steadying yourself with your hands on his broad shoulders, your lips meet his.

Your lips are as soft as Bradley imagined—for all your boldness, your kiss is almost shy, lips gently brushing against his. But you are finally here. He lets you lead, not wanting to break the spell or spook you, trying to have the moment last. 

If you ever thought just getting a taste of Rooster would be enough to quench your want for him, you feel almost cursed by the knowledge that this isn’t enough. It will never be. You want him whole.

With the slightest sigh, you open your mouth, Bradley grabbing the chance immediately to deepen the kiss. His hands slide down your neck to the collar of your coat, causing you to shiver under his touch. A smile tugs at his lips. He cannot deny how much he enjoys every small reaction he draws out of you, like with every sigh and every moan; he learns how to read you a little bit better. 

You press yourself into him, hand snaking up the back of Bradley’s neck, raking your fingers through his hair. It’s silky and soft. Your fingers instinctively tighten around his curls, like you’re looking to anchor yourself against him. He groans into the kiss. The vibrations of his sounds are quaking down to your core. 

Your kiss turns hungry, greedy almost, and Bradley welcomes it, pulling you impossibly closer to him. He noticed long ago how nicely your body fit against his, even though it was only in fleeting moments, through accidental touches. Now that you’ve launched yourself into his arms with purpose, your want is apparent; everything has fallen into place—even just for this moment. It feels right like this is precisely where you are both supposed to be together. 

Bradley tries to hold back, but you are so goddamn beguiling, balancing on your tiptoes, softly moaning into the kiss—he cannot help but match your fervor.

Your breath hitches as he pushes your coat down your shoulders. As the sleeves slide down your arms, your fingers untangle from his hair, almost automatically falling by your side You break the kiss as you land back flat on your feet. Looking up, you study Rooster for a moment—he looks flushed, but he moves with purpose. The soft thud of the heavy wool of your coat hitting the ground is the only sound in the room besides your heaving breathing. You gasp loudly as Rooster pulls you back into him and latches his lips on the column of your neck. 

The soft skin of your neck has been beckoning to him, teasing him in glimpses for so long now. He smells the soap on your skin—it’s so deceptively simple but completely intoxicating. It’s like you are melting in his hands, stretching your neck, exposing more of your skin to him.

Your fingertips lightly dance over the quickly forming scars on Bradley’s face and neck—the wounds you treated for him, a constant reminder of how he got here, why you are here. 

He sighs as he finds the pulse point on your throat, dragging his teeth across it—his mustache tickles against the sensitive skin, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine. You can’t stop the moan that tears from your mouth. Bradley’s hands tighten on your waist, bunching up the fabric of your sweater under his fingers.

Your lips find him again. You don’t even care if it’s evident how desperate you are for him; you just want more. It gives you no small amount of satisfaction that Rooster doesn’t seem to be able to hold back either, his hands roaming over your sides frantically, pushing your sweater up, fingers tantalizingly dancing over your rib cage. 

“Tell me to stop.” He mumbles, voice raspy and breathing heavily against the shell of your ear. “Anya, tell me, and I’ll stop.” 

“N- no.” You stutter desperately, voice high. “Please, Rooster, no.” 

His mouth returns to yours feverishly as he guides you backward, your feet tripping over your coat on the floor. Bradley catches you easily, pulling you up against him, a strong arm wrapped around your waist. Your toes are barely reaching the floor anymore as you fist his cotton shirt on his back, pulling it out of the waistband of his slacks.

Your back hits the cool wall as he sets you back on two feet. His forearm is resting flat against the wall next to your head. You grapple at him, pulling his face to yours, kissing him fiercely, desperate not to break the spell between you.

You’ve spent so long filing off every edge and hook of yourself, fitting yourself into an unassuming role, slotting neatly between everyone else, you almost forgot that that’s not who you were before. It feels like Rooster’s hungry kiss is peeling back the layers of you, exposing every imperfection, every sloppy stitch, and every rough edge that is part of you.

The realization that this is the first time in maybe years you have genuinely felt like yourself, like the person you were supposed to be instead of what you were made to be, stokes the fire in you even more. You want to remember this moment, in all its chaos and passion, and you want to remember him because he’s making you remember you.

You press yourself into his muscular chest, hooking your leg around his thigh. Bradley’s hand travels down your side to the curve of your ass, dragging you up while kneading the flesh through the layers of fabric. Wedged between Bradley and the wall, you decisively pull his shirt up, your nails grazing over the exposed skin of his stomach. His muscles twitch under your touch. Bradley groans into your kiss, grinding his lower body into you as he shrugs off the garment. 

He feels so hot against you, like a fever taking hold of you. He’s making quick work of your sweater, pulling it over your head in one fluid motion, his lips following close behind, anointing the newly exposed skin of your collarbone with kisses.

Your mouth travels over Bradley’s neck, lightly licking the newly forming long scar over his throat. He hisses at the contact, your heart skipping a beat at every reaction you elicit from him. Bradley nips your shoulder, fingers hooked under the straps of your slip dress and brassiere and pulling them down.

Bradley grinds into you again; you feel how hard he is against your pelvis. You gasp in ecstasy, your fingers clumsily traveling down his torso to the fly of his slacks. The soft trail of hair on his stomach tickles against your wrist. He is pushing your skirt up now, his calloused fingers palming the delicate skin of your thighs.

He isn’t sure how it’s gotten from you playfully taunting him to him pinning you against the wall, feverishly pulling at each other's clothes. It sure wasn’t what he was expecting, your propensity to sidestep him at every turn when things got a little too real, but he’s far from complaining. Every little dream, every dirty thought he tried to bury somewhere deep inside him, guilty he cast you in that light in the first place, is now suddenly turning into a reality.

You taste sweeter than he could have ever conjured up in his mind, and the fact that you came to him on your terms, reeling him in with that teasing twinkle in your eye, makes it all the sweeter to Bradley.

Progressively, your movements turn hesitant and light, Bradley notices. Like you’re unsure how to proceed—as if the haze is melting off you. He forces himself to slow down, heart almost beating out of his chest, matching your pace, before he pulls back to look at you. You meet his eyes with a dazed look, eyes lidded and swollen lips. He’s breathing as heavily as you are, the swell of your breasts blooming over the top of your simple cotton slip with every movement. You’ve never looked more beautiful to him as you reach out back to him, gripping his hair and pulling his face back to yours.

Your kiss is shy. Bradley lets you take the lead—maybe reality is setting in for you, the ebbing rush of adrenaline suddenly leaving you cold. He waits for you to break the kiss and turn away, but selfishly, desperately, he hopes you don’t. But then you grind against him, a small moan falling from your lips as you arch your back, the top of your breasts brushing against the bare skin of his chest. He curses, painfully grasping your hip.

You still, your arm wrapped around his neck. You open your mouth like you’re about to say something,but uncharacteristically hesitate again, fixing your eyes on his shoulder instead, where your fingers trace a delicate pattern.

Shit.

“Have you -” Bradley starts, willing himself back into equilibrium, trying to calm the blood rushing in his ears. “Have you ever been with a man before?” He asks gently, his voice husky from need. Bradley cannot imagine you didn’t have everyone wrapped around your little finger with that beautiful smile. His heart is pounding in anticipation so loudly now; he’s sure you can feel it, as close as you are still to him, your arms still tangled around his neck, his large warm hand still under your skirt, holding you up between his hard body and the cool wall.

You lick your lips nervously, eyes fluttering across the room but avoiding him. The tiny crease between your eyebrows is there again. It would be adorable if Bradley weren’t burning for your answer. 

“Yes.” You swallow. “Once.” It comes out in almost a whisper. You burn in embarrassment. Fuck. Rooster had his choice of girls, and a dark part of you is suddenly intimidated that you will not measure up to his experience. One somewhat drunk, certainly regretful roll in the hay is your best offer.

You hate to feel exactly what he called you: a jumped-up little schoolgirl —hopelessly, only playing at it.

“Was he good to you?” Bradley asks, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth in a moment of selfishness, wanting to pull you back into him. The question catches you off guard as you look at him in confusion. However, he doesn’t elaborate or cease his efforts to keep your head spinning—his large warm hand massages your thigh, fingers creeping a little higher with each motion. You sigh deeply before closing your eyes.

“No.”

“I’ll be good to you, sweetheart.” He promises, trailing kisses up your jawline, hot breath caressing the shell of your ear. “So good.”

You are convinced that at this point, Rooster could tell you the sky was purple and the grass blue and you would believe every word. You want to believe him more than anything. Every off-hand comment, teasing joke, all those lingering touches; in your heart, you always wanted it to be true.

“I trust you.” You breathe.

The hunger and desperation of Rooster’s movements become a simmering heat as he methodically moves his hot mouth over your skin, leaving a fire trail in his wake. Your nails rake over his broad shoulders. Tortuously slowly, his mouth moves over your now-exposed collarbone. You are breathing hard,like your throat is parched with an intense thirst only Rooster’s lips can alleviate.

But he won’t give in to you. Bradley is savoring the moment, committing every little noise you make, the softness of your skin, the heat of your body to memory. It’s been so long since he’s been close to someone—Bradley can barely remember, only in vague shadows and flashes, the last time he fell into someone's arms like this. It must have been before he left for that last cursed sortie; it all feels so far away, like everything that happened in England, let alone back home in the United States, happened to someone else in a different lifetime. 

All he can think about now is how he feels completely touch-starved God, he wants to be good for you, but right now, he needs this. He needs you in every way he can have you; take as much as you are willing to give him, from every smile you grace him to your sharp spitfire tongue, but most of all, the comfort of your body. 

He needs to feel a measure of control. You whine in frustration as Rooster keeps denying you his kiss, his mouth only inches away from yours as he bumps his nose tenderly, teasingly against yours. It’s hard to miss the grin on his face as he watches you struggle. 

Of course he’s enjoying this.

The bands of your slip hang off your shoulders, the fabric slipping over your heaving chest alluringly. With nimble fingers, Rooster pops the button at your skirt's waistband and effortlessly pulls down the zipper. Taking a step back, his fingers sliding down the length of your leg, fingertips playfully skimming past the back of your knee, he sets you back down. You’re not proud of the whiney sounds escaping your lips as the cold air suddenly hits you.

Rooster just grins at you. That devastatingly handsome grin; it fills you with want. To slap him or to kiss him—either would work right now. His hands are skimming down your sides, quickly tugging your skirt down your hips—the rust-colored fabric pools at your feet. Stepping out of the skirt, you kick off your shoes and socks, shivering again as your bare feet touch the floor.

You look so cute—wild strands of hair that have escaped from your braid frame your face, your lips swollen from the kiss, the small marks on your skin from his teeth, pupil blown. In that simple white cotton slip, so deceptively simple, so deceptively innocent -

“If you back out now, Rooster…” Your words are forced, the barely concealed anger seeping through. Your hands are balled into fists. “Then I’ll…” 

Taking a deep breath, nostrils flaring, you look at Rooster, eyes blazing. He is perfectly unbothered by your unfinished threat, still grinning at you. You don’t get another second to consider how you would finish the sentence when Rooster’s fingers graze over your cheek so tenderly before sliding up the nape of your neck into your hair at lightning speed. 

There is nothing gentle about how his fist closes at the roots near your scalp, pulling your hair tightly. He tilts your head back, exposing the length of your neck. He ghosts his lips over the taut skin, not quite touching you, but you feel his mustache brushing against you—your skin erupts in goosebumps. You hiss, not in pain, but in anticipation. 

“You’ll what, Anya?” Rooster practically purrs. You are firmly wedged between him and the wall again, suddenly keenly aware you are only in your underwear.

“Ah- I’ll -” You screw your eyes shut. Something clever, hell, even something dumb, would be great now, but the words won’t come. It’s like you’ve lost the ability to form sentences. Head tilted up, you can’t see Rooster’s face, but you can practically feel that smug grin on his face. Swallowing hard, you struggle to finish your threat. 

“I- I swear I’ll… - shit, Rooster!” You cry out as he nips you just below your ear, jerking your head involuntarily in reaction to the overstimulation. Rooster’s grip immediately eases, allowing you some movement back, but he keeps his hand buried in your hair, fingertips pressed against your scalp.

He watches as your eyes flutter shut as he slowly tightens his grip again. Arching into him, your hands rest on his chest, a slight tremor shaking your fingers. Oh, so this is working for you. It’s a secret Bradley gets to uncover about you. One Bradley doesn’t want you to share with anyone else. A part of him hopes no one else will ever hear your soft breathy moans; he wants to be the only one you cling to so desperately with that longing look in your eyes.

Bradley doesn’t consider himself a particularly selfish person. Or possessive, for that matter—he is keenly aware most things in life are just passing. Temporary. And the one time, it should be more evident than ever that there is absolutely no chance of this going anywhere beyond what it is—just in this moment —he cannot help it. He wants more, and he wants all of you to himself.

Somewhere from deep in his gut, words start bubbling up—but Bradley thinks better of it, kissing you rather than saying anything, releasing your hair, and pulling both legs around his waist. You hook your ankles around his back, anchoring yourself against him.

Bradley moves back, pulling you away from the wall. You gasp in surprise, suddenly self-conscious that Rooster is holding you up, although he does not indicate any struggle. You try to steady yourself by grabbing onto his shoulders—Rooster’s muscles are tensed, and suddenly you feel the definition of every plane and edge. He is not only good-looking, he feels goddamn good. Strong. It’s making you weak at the knees—something you haven’t felt in a long time.

A giggle escapes you as you land lightly on the narrow single bed, back first. Rooster is hovering over you, looking at you in wonder. Whenever he thinks you can’t look prettier or more attractive, you’re happy you prove him wrong. Your slip dress has ridden up your thighs, bunched up at your hips as your legs are still around his waist. Hair mussed, lips kissed swollen—you look ravished. And he’s not anywhere done with you yet.

Leaning on your elbows, you look back up at him. So many times you had wished Rooster would look at you with longing—lust even —not to tease you, but genuinely. You hated yourself for it because you were sure that would never happen. But now Rooster is looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world.

He leans back, gently unhooking your legs from his waist. You sit up a bit straighter, planting your palms on the mattress, following his movements sharply. Your stomach clenches as he pulls back from you. Rooster is not looking at you as he maneuvers your legs, placing your feet on the mattress. 

“Rooster…” You trail off, frowning slightly as he finally looks at you, his face suddenly uncharacteristically serious, but he doesn’t reply.

“Wha-” Not even able to finish the whole word, you yelp loudly as Rooster suddenly grabs your ankle and yanks your leg up, pulling your weight off your hands. You land flat on your back again, head just below the pillow, as Rooster casually drapes your leg over his shoulder.

You start laughing—from shock, nerves, the way his mustache tickles against your calve as he peppers it with kisses—everything feels so strange, and your emotions are so high-strung after today it’s coming out in weird ways. Rooster’s shoulders shake as he laughs with you before he looks at you again. You bite your lip, holding your breath in anticipation.

“I don’t think I like it anymore when you call me that, Anya,” He says earnestly between kisses—gone is the playfulness of just a few moments ago. His hand is running up and down your thigh, thumb gently brushing the hollow of your knee, tickling the sensitive skin. 

You breathe to confirm. He doesn’t reply, gently nipping you right above the knee. Your hand comes up to cover your mouth.

“I think you should be calling me by my name,” He clarifies, meeting your gaze again. It never bothered Bradley what people called him—most people call him Rooster. But you are not most people, and he wants you closer. He is not just his call sign and the reason he got it; he doesn’t want that to be how you look at him. Not anymore. He just wants to be Bradley for you.

“Bradley.” It sounds almost like a question, the name unfamiliar on your tongue, a slight lilt weighing down the L. No one has ever said his name in such a delightful way before; he is sure of it. The dazed look on your face, your fingers resting lightly on your lips, your state of undress and laying on his bed, is the perfect way to finally hear you say his name. 

He groans heavily, screwing his eyes shut. Bending forward, Bradley rests his head against your stomach, your leg still hooked over his shoulder—your slip has now bunched up above your hips, exposing your panties. His hand moves up under your slip dress, comfortably resting on the bare skin of your waist. He stays there for a moment, trying to get a grip.

Gingerly, you rake your fingers through his hair. Bradley hums in response, pushing your slip up further.

“Bradley, please,” You whisper, squirming, trying to move your hips. The fire in you is burning almost painfully, and you desperately want Bradley to fucking move. 

He cannot stop the litany of curses as he hears you say his name so needily, roll your hips against him so wantonly, fingers tightening in his hair. Hearing him lose control and swear like that spurs you on more—seeing your effect on him is exhilarating.

“Anya - fuck,” He groans as he finally lifts his head, tightening his grip on your waist to keep you still. But you do not intend to make this easy for him, arching your back and tugging at his hair. “Sweetheart, wait one second.” 

You stop deliciously contorting under him, only your heavy breathing moving your body now. The frustration passes over your features like a shadow, although you try to hide it. Bradley knows that the following words out of his mouth will probably not make you much happier.

“Sweetheart, you don’t happen to have condoms, do you?” There’s no way to make the question less awkward, but you are both taking enough risks. Leaving you as a lover is one thing; leaving you as an unwed mother is another.

“No,” You narrow your eyes at him momentarily as you lean on your elbows again so that you can look at Bradley. “Why don’t you?”

“I must have lost them when I crashed my plane.” He deadpans in response. You pout before you drop yourself back onto the bed. Hand covering your face, your shoulders start shaking. If Bradley didn’t know you better, he’d think it looks like you’re crying. But your laughter suddenly fills the room.

You cannot believe this. It’s absurd.

“This is so stupid!” You exclaim between bouts of laughter. Bradley can’t help but laugh as he sits up again—all the tension you've built up needs to go somewhere. And he likes to hear you laugh like that, without inhibitions. 

“Is this really how this night ends?” You ask, peeking at him between your fingers, trying to hide your disappointment by filling your sudden emptiness with words.

“I wasn’t aware of the night ending, sweetheart.” Bradley purrs, his hands suddenly moving up your legs again. You look at him wide-eyed, reminding him that despite your nimble fingers and plenty of bravado, you’re quite inexperienced. 

“I promised I’d be good to you, Anya,” Bradley soothes. “And I’m a man of my word.”

He pulls you up before grabbing the hem of your slip and tugging it up, stopping just under your breasts. “Will you let me show you how good I can be to you, sweetheart?”

You swallow heavily, averting your gaze. “But…” “I won’t do anything to compromise you, Anya,” His fingers wrap around your chin, gently guiding you to look at him. He seems earnest—there is no trace of him joking or teasing. “I promise, sweetheart.” 

Inhaling deeply, trying to make sense of all the feelings rampaging through you, you look back into his warm brown eyes. You feel nervous because you are in largely uncharted territory here, making you feel vulnerable. Both physically and emotionally. One part of you wants to start laughing again, to somehow diffuse the tension you are feeling.

But looking into Bradley’s eyes as he patiently waits for your response, his fingers caressing your jaw—what are you really feeling?

Trust your gut.

“I trust you.” You echo, your hands coming up to gently cradle his face. His eyes close for a moment, leaning into your palm. You feel vulnerable, but when you examine it, it doesn’t feel heavy or scary. Nervous but not apprehensive. Not with Bradley. 

Pulling Bradley’s face to yours, you don’t hesitate as you kiss him again. This whole night felt like you were hurtling downstream on a violent river—the tension and stress of sending the message, the desperation and burning need you felt for Bradley—it now finally feels like a calmness besets you because it feels right.

This kiss feels a lot more intimate, and it’s giving you butterflies. Bradley’s hands travel from your jaw to your collarbone before he breaks the kiss to tug your shift dress up further. He doesn’t need to say anything; you understand him instinctively as your arms come up automatically to allow him to pull the garment over your head. 

His hands start roaming over the newly exposed skin of your stomach, back, and rib, while he presses kisses on your collarbone, before his thumb lightly brushes over your breast. The sensation feels dull through the layered fabric. You push your chest out, pressing your breast into Bradley’s hand. He gladly obliges, squeezing and tugging the band down further. 

The anticipation in the air is electric as Bradley's touch sends shivers down your spine. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, your senses heightened, every nerve on edge. With a soft sigh, you let your hands wander over his shoulders and chest, caressing his skin—his muscles move and contract under your touch. You want to make him feel good too.

The soft click of your bra unclasping should have you hesitating. But you want to feel Bradley everywhere, that this goddamn thing is in the way right now. You boldly pull the bra off down your arms, pushing it away. In a flurry of movement, your panties follow suit. 

Bradley was always gentle around you, never fighting as you pushed and pulled him with you—gladly following your lead. You know he was strong—the broad shoulders, the defined arms, and the chiseled chest make that hard to miss, and god knows you’ve sneaked enough peeks���but before today, he rarely demonstrated the functionality of his physique. The effortlessness with which he picked you up earlier and he now how lifts your hips, sliding your panties down, pulling them off your legs with one hand, is leaving you breathless. 

It’s exciting to realize how you’re at his mercy right now and how much power he has been allowing you over him all this time. He trusted you all this time—the realization makes you feel warm. A fluttering comfort settles in your bones. Trusting him back was the right choice.

You are naked now—instinctively, you want to cover yourself up, bringing your arm over your chest as if that will make you feel less self-conscious. 

“Don’t, sweetheart.” Bradley pulls your arm away, holding your hand down by your wrist as his mouth covers your nipple, his tongue flicking against the puckered bud. He uses his other hand to manipulate your other breast, teasing your nipple between his fingers. At moments, it’s painful, but it doesn’t hurt—it’s like every sensation heightening your pleasure. 

Bradley is kissing and licking his way down your body, like he is determined to mark as much of your skin as his, to taste every little bit of you. Every moan and whimper you make for him is a reward for him, marking you as his own. He is so patient and precise in his endeavor you lose yourself in his touch. Only when his mouth lands on the inside of your thigh it suddenly breaks your reverie. You gasp, instinctively trying to move away. But his hand rests flat on your stomach as he gently shushes you. 

“It’s okay,” He cajoles you. “You lay back, sweetheart, relax,”

Bradley’s head dips down again, kissing your hipbone, his hands running down your sides before he places his lips just above the slit of your pussy. You whimper softly in anticipation. “And tell me if it feels good,” Bradley murmurs against your skin, his hot breath brushing against your wet, sensitive core. You open your mouth, but no sounds come out as Bradley’s tongue slides up your slit. It’s as if your rational brain has completely disconnected from your base desires. Your hips buck up in Bradley’s face, because you want him to do that again. His hand tightens around your waist, steadying you.

His tongue moves against your clit slowly as he explores every fold of your pussy. You’re wet for him already; shit, it’s such a shame he doesn’t get to fuck you properly tonight. All the more reason to blow your mind with his mouth—especially since it seems he’s the first one to do so. Good. You deserve to get taken off properly, and he gets to enjoy your perfect pussy. 

He takes his time licking and sucking, listening for your reactions, sounding off your enjoyment. You writhe under his ministrations, but no words come out. That won’t do for Bradley.

“Does it feel good, baby?” He purrs, looking up. “You taste so sweet.”

Your body is moving shakily, contorting, your breathing rapid.

“Tell me with words, Anya.” Bradley teases you as his hand travels up your stomach to your breast, pinching your nipple. You moan, but he wants to hear you say it—he wants to hear you say his name in ecstasy. A dark part of him wants you to sing him praises with that same sharp tongue you’ve cut at him before. But he wasn’t lying when he told you he is a man of his word—he will make this good for you. 

“Y-yes,” You stutter out between shallow breaths. “Don’t stop.” You whine, rolling your hips, heavy with need.

He rewards you by sliding a digit into you—god, you’re so wet for him. Your back arches as he sets the pace, none too slow to not lose the momentum of getting you to your peak. Not another word makes it out of your mouth, everything distorted by your moans. 

“Talk to me, sweetheart,” He encourages you, teasing his mouth close to your clit again. “I want to hear you.” 

The first coherent thought that flashes through your mind is that if Bradley’s face weren’t buried between your thighs, you would probably kick him in the face. However, it all falls apart rather quickly as he slides another finger into you, the angle of his fingers putting pressure on the most sensitive nerves—but he keeps moving back, applying a little bit less pressure each time. You curse lowly, not being able to find the words.

“Please, please, please,” You beg, blinking hard. It feels like every fiber in your body is tense, wound up in knots, and you are desperate for release. Every moment his mouth is not on you is almost painful. You feel desperate, you don’t know what to do, what to say to make him move again, your bravado drowning in the lusty mist of your brain.

“I need you,” You finally whisper, like in a broken prayer. “Bradley, baby, I need you to-”

That’s all he wanted to hear. The rest of your sentence drowns in a moan as his tongue presses against your clit, moving quicker than before, hooking his fingers up. You exclaim loudly, as electricity seems to be coursing through you now. The words now come off their own accord, like an emergency part of your brain, has finally engaged with one single mission—don’t let him stop.

“You feel so good,” You moan him praises, his name on your lips like the chorus to your favorite song. The tension in your body is rising, your hips rolling of their own accord, your muscles growing taut. Bradley reads you like a book, understanding your fervor, and meeting your need with quicker, harder movements of his fingers.

“Bradley—more, I need more,” You’ve been reduced to begging again. “I want you harder.”

Jesus fucking Christ, it’s like you’re vocalizing every single thing he’d been fantasizing about, begging him to go harder in that cute little needy tone. He liked to think you might like it rough, but shit, you’re so inexperienced; he didn’t think you’d ask for it already. He is more than happy to oblige you, of course. 

But Bradley needs to keep his mind on getting you off because he’s so pent-up at this point; he might cum in his pants like a schoolboy from just your voice and sweet-tasting pussy. Putting his free hand on your ass, he props your pelvis, creating more tension around your abdominal muscles. It takes only seconds for your foot that is resting on his back to start shaking. The irregular tremors have him intensify his efforts.

“I’m almost… there,” You hum, anchoring yourself to Bradley, grabbing his hair and probably pulling too hard. He groans against your core, the vibrations nearly leaving you screaming. “Please -Please—like like this, Bradley,” 

And then, suddenly, like a band snapping, your body collapses and you finally find your release. Bradley presses his face into you as you cum, not stopping licking you, wanting to taste you at your peak. Your thighs tighten around his head, delightfully painfully before shakily releasing him again—the way you tighten around his fingers, makes him wish it was his cock instead. Fuck, you are tight.

As your body melt into the mattress, all tension suddenly gone, every knot untangled, Bradley withdraws his fingers from you. He helps you ride out your wave, softly kissing your folds, feeling how it still makes your leg shake. Bradley wonders if you’d let him make you cum for a second time, but you start squirming the moment he applies more pressure.

“No - no,” You’re feebly trying to pull him up, grappling at Bradley’s face and shoulders. “I can’t, I don’t-” The words come out disjointed, but your intent is clear. You’re overstimulated and don’t want any more right now. Luckily, Bradley understands you perfectly and simply kisses your hip again, before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

You’re still trying to catch your breath, and focus your vision as you come off your high. Bradley moves up to you and pulls you in his arms, moving you onto your side, sliding your leg over his hip. Your head is resting comfortably on his arm, nose brushing against his chest. Closing your eyes, you cuddle up closer to him.

“You’re so beautiful,” He tells you softly, as he kisses your forehead. “Next time, I want to see your pretty face as you cum.” Bradley adds teasingly. You giggle, as you look up at him, your eyes meeting his. He is teasing you, of course, but he’s looking at you lovingly.

Fuck.

It’s really never going to be enough.

You will have to go living the rest of your life with the knowledge that your paths only intersect at this moment in time, and that Bradley’s loving looks, strong hands and skillful mouth are not yours to have. Just for now. Just for here. 

So where do you go from here?

Do you pull back and accept the burden of knowing that you’ll never have more of him than this? Or do you plunge in head first, understanding that every additional touch, every kiss, and every way height Bradley teases you will be the impossible measure for every future encounter?

Right now, your head and heart still buzzing, your limbs tangled around him, and his fingers dancing down your spine, the answer is so easy. 

Craning your neck, your mouth seeks out his—you are pretty sure you can taste yourself on his wet lips. It exhilarates you. If you’re going to let this change you, you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t at least try to make sure Bradley won’t forget about you so easily, either.

Your hands are traveling down his torso, your fingers clumsily back at the waistband of his slacks, unbuttoning them. You can feel how hard he is against your stomach—it would be incredibly unfair if you didn’t reciprocate. Even though you’re not quite sure what to do. Bradley hums as your hand brushes against his erection.

“You don’t have to, sweetheart.” He lies, wanting nothing more than your hands on his cock, or, even better, your mouth. But he also doesn’t want to force you into anything—for tonight, he can take it slow.

“I want to,” You reply determinedly, tugging at his pants. Well, who is he to deny you? He thinks with a grin.  Raising his hips, he helps you strip him off his pants and underwear. Finally, he is a naked as you are. Your eyes greedily roam over his body, and linger on his erection. The way your tongue darts out to wet your lips, the fact you’re probably not even doing that consciously, has Bradley’s head spinning. 

“Show me what you like,” You whisper against his mouth as your fingers move up and down over his treasure trail. He groans, screwing his eyes shut.

He must have dreamed you up. He must have died the night he crashed, and gotten stuck in a strange purgatory where you are his redemption. 

Gently, Bradley takes your hand from his stomach, and wraps your significantly smaller hand around his cock, covering it with his own. 

“Just like that, baby,” He moans as he moves your hand with his own. Using your hand to jerk himself off makes him feel like he’s corrupting you, and it’s turning him on even more. Bradley is unsure how long he will last as he guides your hand to just the right amount of pressure and speed. You’re kissing his neck, experimentally nipping at him, finding his most sensitive spots. God, you’re so eager to please, so determined to excel—and a quick study. 

“You’re so big,” You hum in between kisses. “Can I… taste you?”

Bradley curses. He wasn’t going to ask, but if you’re offering…

He lets go of your hand, moving onto his back. You’re half draped over him, your hand still on his cock. You move back, sitting on your knees between his legs. Propping his head up with the pillow, he follows your movements with rapt interest. Tucking a few trends of your now-messy hair behind your ears before your hand returns to his erection, moving slowly but determinedly. Cautiously, you bring your mouth over his cocks, dragging your tongue over his length. Bradley hisses, and you almost stop moving. “Keep going, baby,” He encourages you. 

A blush is creeping down his chest, and he is breathing heavily as he’s looking at you with hooded eyes. Pumping your hand, you take as much as you can in your mouth—it’s never going to fit—a slight chocking sound escaping you, Bradley’s cock hits the back of your throat. You hear him curse between encouragements as you begin to move more, trying to find a rhythm.

You hope he’s not just being kind to you and this is actually pleasurable for him, as your jaw soon starts straining. Releasing his length, your eyes meet Bradley’s for a moment, and you wonder if it’s really clear you have no idea what you’re doing. 

Bradley reaches out to you, caressing your jaw before winding his fingers through your hair again, grasping you tightly at the scalp. Your eyes flutter. 

“Let me show you how I like it, baby,” He guides your head gently over his cock again, pushing you down until he feels you resist with a small whimper. Fuck. Just that sound over and over would be enough to send him over the edge. 

“Your mouth feels so good, Anya, and you’re doing such a great job,” Bradley’s constant flattery has you on a cloud. “Relax your throat, baby.” He advises you as he sets a rhythm, moving your head up and down. You try your best to fit more of Bradley, moving your hand over his thick cock in tandem with your mouth, but tears spring in your eyes as he bucks his hips up.

Bradley is so close already he’s almost embarrassed. But when you lock eyes with him, his cock filling your pretty mouth, as you valiantly take more and more of him, he can’t take it anymore. 

It’s been a long time since the need to orgasm has almost caught him off guard—god, he wants to cum in your warm mouth, and watch it dribble down your chin. No, not this time, not if this is only your first time giving head. That would be unfair to you.

You yelp in surprise as Bradley suddenly pulls your head up—for a moment you’re scared you did something wrong. Your hand still as his hand comes to cover yours again, pumping along his length hard and fast. Bradley arches backward, every muscle in his body taut, as this ropes of cum shoot all over your chest.

Bradley collapses into the mattress for a second before immediately sitting up, a worried look in his face. 

“Shit, sweetheart- I’m sorry,” He starts hurriedly.

“Why?” You ask, unsure, but also a little dejected.

“I didn’t mean to cum all over you,” Fuck, he’s never going to get his vision from his mind. You, sitting on his bed, naked and marked, with his cum covering your beautiful tits. “Let me get you a towel.”

“You’re saying it like it’s a bad thing.” Your tone has a light edge.

“Not a bad thing, sweetheart,” Bradley assures you as he moves past you. “I think my cum looks great on you,” He winks at you over his shoulder as he grabs a towel from the small adjacent bathroom. You playfully narrow your eyes at him.

Bradley helps you wipe down, stealing teasing kisses from you as he does. Finally, he pulls you against him under the covers on the narrow bed, slotting his legs between yours as he spoons you. 

“Stay the night.” Bradley murmurs in your ear.

“I can stay now, not the whole night,” You reply, fighting your heavy eyelids.

“I can live with now.”

***

It’s still early in the evening—it can’t be later than 8 PM—but the sun is almost set. Over the hills flanking the river valley in the center of the city, the sky is dappled in quickly fading shades of pink and orange. It’s not warm after the long rainy day, and the April air still has a bite to it. You are wrapped up in your coat, a light scarf helping protect you from the chill.

But what helps most is being cozied up to Bradley, your left hand wrapped up in his, tucked securely in his coat pocket. You are strolling, shoulder to shoulder, savoring the moments when you can appear just as any other couple. He knows the way now—as many escape routes and diversions as you could teach him, there is no reason to pretend this is still for practice. It’s for you.

Six days is such a short goddamn time, and you’re already halfway through your allotted time together.

It’s been hanging over the two of you like a sword. You don’t really talk about it, both tacitly electing to avoid the subject. Of course, it’s not like you can pretend it’s not happening. Bit by bit, you’ve been trading and searching for things for Bradley’s journey. All you know is he will be traveling south, towards the Austrian border, where his liaison will take him on the rest of the journey. The southern border is mountainous and overgrown with this pine forests. It’s muddy in spring—slippery and treacherous. 

Good boots. Dark, warm clothes. Wax-covered matches. A torch. Food.

The list in your head goes on, but always stops short before the final items you should return to him. The ones you took from him all those months ago, hidden away, tucked into an old shoebox behind at the bottom of your closet. His papers. His gun. 

Bradley's identification bracelet suddenly feels heavy in your coat pocket, where it’s been for all this time.

Your heart clenches. When you give Bradley all those things back, it’ll be the real end. He’ll disappear out of your life, and you won’t have a tangible trace of him left. Which is the safest solution.

But what if you forget him? Forget his warm brown eyes, soft honey curls, that cocky smirk, and the sound of that deep raspy voice in your ear? What is your mind cannot conjure up the smell of his skin anymore? Is it all eventually meant to fade away in a dream?

Just because that’s the sanest, most sensible, and safest thing to do?

Your face pulls into a sorrowful frown, staring down at the cobbled pavement under your feet. It’s easy to forget around Bradley, he drives you to distraction with one look. But you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t long for the intimacy, someone to share your secrets with, and just him. You’re throwing yourself into this romance with reckless abandon, but the reality is never far away. 

Whenever you allow yourself to dwell on it for more than a few seconds, the dark pit in your stomach seems to get deeper. In just a few days, you will have to take the plunge, and you’ll watch him turn away from you for the last time—and you’ll still be here with only memories for company.

It’s only when you feel a slight nudge against your shoulder, you look up. Bradley is looking down at you wordlessly, but fondness and worry are evident in his eyes. Why spend your precious time worrying? He’s here now. And he’s looking at you—only at you. 

You smile, stopping him, not minding the people on the street rushing past you. You bounce up, aiming your lips for the corner of his mouth. Bradley automatically inclines his face to you, almost as if by a magnetic force, easing your access. His mustache tickles against your lips with easy familiarity, like you’ve been packing a lifetime of experiences into six short days.

Slowly you resume your journey down the street, turning onto the embankment. It’s fully dark now, the promenade lit by the orange glow of the ornate wrought iron streetlights, casting creeping, flickering shadows around the street. The soft wash of the flowing river and the call of birds fill the background. 

You pass a few other couples—the vista of the old town, the thousand spires, and quiet spots on the benches between the trees make it a prime spot for romantic couples. It feels like the most natural thing to be walking here with Bradley—you can’t help but think that this is exactly what you’d be doing together if it weren’t for the war. 

Carried on the wind, a piano melody sounds from an open window. You recognize it. It was a popular pre-war jazz song. The tempo is lower, and the pianist is adding flourishes and improvisations, almost as if any recognizable part of the melody is just a coincidence. You slow down a little bit, almost involuntarily, to stretch out the moment.

Bradley notices—how can he not? You’ve been comfortably burrowing yourself into every part of his brain. And heart. Although he’s not quite sure, he is ready to admit to that. To what end even? To make an impossible promise? 

He follows your gaze up to the open window. Whoever plays the piano is exceedingly good at it, carefully weaving the simple melody in complex patterns. It’s almost surreal, mesmerizing even—the quiet promenade in twilight, the music fluttering down. You’ve come to a standstill, almost wistfully looking up at the window, lips just a fraction apart.

Bradley takes your hand from his pocket, lacing his fingers through yours. Your eyes meet his as he pulls you against him, other arms sneaking around your waist. He could charm the devil with that smile, and you cannot help but smile back at him. “Can I have this dance, miss?” He teases, voice soft, leading you through the first few steps. Your free hand comes up to his shoulder automatically. “Gentlemen ask first.” You chastise in a whisper, grinning, following his lead. The last time you danced, you were so distracted you barely noticed how well Bradley danced—he always moves with such ease, so fluidly. He maneuvers you so easily through the steps it’s like you’re floating in his arms.

“And miss a moment of this?” Bradley’s voice is suddenly earnest, brushing his nose against yours. You just chuckle in response before closing your eyes and sighing. In a faraway part of your mind, you allow yourself to uncover your unspoken wishes, the dreams you hardly dare to dream, the fantasy where nothing but Bradley happened. You go dancing together, laughing and joking instead of speaking in covert glances and whispers, where he’ll wait for you after class with flowers in his hand, sweeping you off your feet every time. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” You utter softly. Saying it out loud makes you feel strangely light, like for a moment, you are living that fantasy.

Bradley twirls you playfully, heart jumping slightly as he catches sight of the dreamy smile on your face. The giggle that escapes your lips mingles with the music as if it was always supposed to be part of it. 

He’s known you for almost two months, you being the only person he ever saw, ever spoke to—and he thought he had you figured out pretty well. But it’s as if he’s had a crash course in you in the past three days. From your spitfire attitude and drive to excel that excite him so much, to your endearing innocence and warm generosity that have his head spinning.

Bradley’s been in love before; he’s quite sure of it. Had anyone asked him a few months ago, he would have joked he’d been in love a thousand times for a night at a time. But nothing he ever felt before—even when he was sure he had been in love—measures up to the maelstrom of feelings he has around you. Everything else just fades into the background when he has your full attention.

Bradley pulls you back into him, wanting to feel your closer again. Now that he still can. Your fingers trace over his cheek, where the scar has been forming. The soft look of fondness on your face makes it impossible not to kiss you. Bradley wasn’t planning on restricting himself when it comes to that. Every kiss might be the last.

You welcome his mouth against yours, immediately opening your lips for him. It’s hardly appropriate for him to kiss you so passionately in public, but you cannot find it in yourself to truly care.

All you want is for this moment never to end. ***

You try to stifle a yawn unsuccessfully, turning your head away from your companions at the small table at the café. It’s mid-morning, and you and Eva are having a friendly catch-up over tea with old classmates. You have a vague recollection you promised you’d tag along, but you didn’t remember it was supposed to be today—or rather, you didn’t think about it anymore—until Eva dragged you out of bed this morning.

Forcing yourself to participate in the gossip and light chatter, you can’t help when your brain fogs over from tiredness. You didn’t slip into your bed until 5 AM that morning—the sun was already coming up by the time you managed to untangle yourself from Bradley. He keeps insisting you sleep over; you keep insisting that you can’t.

It’s about patterns. Like you take the same route to work each day, you greet your neighbors, you sleep in your own bed. Because there is no explanation for why you wouldn’t.

“Anna, are you okay?” As Tereza asks, three pairs of eyes at the table all turn to look at you, all other chatter stopping short like they’ve all been dying to ask the question. “You look...” She hesitates as if she’s looking for the right word. “Exhausted.” 

Oh.

“I’m on the night shift a lot.” You clarify, smiling serenly, taking a sip from your tea.

“Oh, is that what we’re calling it these days?” Eva’s quip elicits giggles from the whole table. You titter along, shooting Eva a sharp look. She just shrugs in response, a satisfied grin on her face. Mercifully, the conversation moves along quickly; after all, it’s a lot more fun to gossip about people that are not at the table currently. 

When you finally leave the café, you feel like you’re dead on your feet. Eva hooks her arms through yours, and together you start walking back home.

“It was fun seeing the girls again,” Eva starts conversationally. 

“I’m glad they’re doing well,” You reply, blinking against the sun. “The tea was good too.”

“It doesn’t compare to before.” Eva retorts. “And those cakes! They’re more sawdust than flour.” She adds dramatically.

“I’m sure they don’t put actual sawdust in it.” You laugh. Eva just rolls her eyes. “It tasted more like sand to me.” You whisper conspiratorially. 

Eva elbows you in the ribs as you laugh together. When you feel another yawn coming up, you don’t bother hiding it, merely covering your mouth with your hand.

“I don’t know why you bother pretending you sleep in your bed,” Eva says in that tone, where it sounds so very clinical and non-accusatory, but you’ve known her long enough to know it’s a dig at you.

“I like sleeping in my own bed.” You reply simply.

“Funny,” She snorts. “As you’ve barely done so in the last few days.”

“Okay, Mom.” You roll your eyes at her.

“Hey,” Eva stops walking, grabbing your sleeve. “I’m just making fun of you—I can hear you sneaking in the early hours.” 

You regard her impassively, expecting some sort of lecture.

“And Tereza was right; you look exhausted. But… you also look happy.” Eva cracks a genuine smile. “And I just want you to know, you don’t have to pretend on my account.”

“Thank you.” You tell her warmly. Of course your best friend would be able to see beyond your facade—and you don’t really expect differently from her.

“That said—I want details. Who are you spending your - ehm, “night shift” with?” She starts walking again, pulling you with her, wiggling her eyes brows. You groan, trying to tear your arm from hers. “I’ll start guessing.” She warns you.

The strangled sound that escapes you is way too loud, akin to a dying animal. Several people walking down the street past you on the street look around at you like you’ve grown a second head, which sends Eva into a fit of giggles. 

“You are so dramatic sometimes, Anya, honestly.” She chastises you, still laughing.

“No, you just drive me to insanity.” You sigh.

“No, but really, you have to tell me,” Her voice is suddenly quiet, as she quickly looks around to see if anyone is near. “Is it that tall and handsome piece of ass that you have stashed, you know…” She jerks her head upward. “Up there?”

A part of you wants to slap your hand over Eva’s mouth to stop her from talking out of embarrassment and to stop her from blabbing something dangerous. The more rational part of you decides it’s better not to react at all and just write this off insane ramblings. So instead of saying anything, you just shoot Eva a stern look as you shake your head—this is not a topic you’ll be discussing.

Of course that’s all the confirmation she needs.

Maybe one day, when the story is no longer a threat to your life, you will tell Eva the whole story over a bottle of wine or two—your crazy, dangerous, and impossible wartime romance. One day, that’s all it will be; a story rooted in distant memories.

note | im the actual worst, sorry (but mostly slow)

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[jordaninthevalley]

The Ginger Island Mushroom Cave Argument

This is a follow up of my "Mushroom Cave vs Fruit Bat Cave" post.

Originally this was going to be included in my initial post, but I felt like it was long enough so I am going to be making this it's own seperate post.

This also ensures that I can dedicate my full focus on this argument and everything within it, so buckle up for yet another long post as this contains information for every. single. aspect. of getting to ginger island, different things within certain aspects of it, and much more.

Divider Credit

A common argument I see within the various discussions I participate in or just read through without throwing my opinion into the mix related to this topic is, essentially, "Ginger Island has a Mushroom Cave so you should just pick the Fruit Bat Cave because you don't need two of the same cave!" and I, frankly, find this argument to be insane. This post goes into why.

The Boat:

Anytime after Summer 1, Year 1 you can enter the fish shop and a cutscene will trigger, Willy does not have to be in the shop, but the cut scene is Willy telling you how he has an "old friend" in the back and hints that if business picks up he will show you what he has in the back room. This door is locked before this cut scene and remains locked afterwards.

To be able to access the back of the shop you need to finish either the Community Center or the Joja Warehouse. Sometime afterward Willy will send you a letter inviting you to enter the back room of his shop, where you will find his "old friend" - a broken down boat. The boat has three things which need to be repaired, the hull, the anchor and the ticket stand.

The Hull: 200 Hardwood The Anchor: 5 Iridium Bars Ticket Stand: 5 Battery Packs

Hardwood:

To get hardwood you can find it from a Large Stump, Large Log, Mahogany Tree or Mystic Tree. If you have the Lumberjack Profession, all trees have a chance to drop hardwood.

Large Stumps can be destoryed with a Copper Axe or better. You need 5 Copper Bars and 2,000g to get that. Large Stumps provide 2 hardwood, meaning you'll need to chop down at minimum 100 Large Stumps to get 200 hardwood. Large Stumps have a 10% chance of dropping a Mahogany seed.

Large Stumps (Re)Spawning: - In the Secret Woods there are 6 Large Stumps which respawn - On the Forest Farm there are 8 Large Stumps which respawn - On the Four Corners Farm there is 1 large Stump which respawn - With the Shrine of Callenge activated you can find Large Stumps on floors 41-69 in the Mines. Stumps spawned on the Standard Farm do NOT respawn

Large Logs can be destoyed with a Steel Axe or better. You need a Copper Axe, 5 Iron Bars, and 5,000g to get that. Large Logs provide 8 heardwood, and do not respawn.

A large log does block the entrance to the Secret Woods, meaning that unless you glitch through with a chair to the Secret Woods, you won't be able to get the hardwood from the secret woods until you have the Steel Axe.

A Mahogany Tree produces between 8-13 hardwood when felled, I suggest not chopping down your first Mahogany Tree that you grow but instead letting it spread for awhile until you start to chop them down incase you do not get another mahogany seed when you fell your first tree.

A Mystic Tree also produces between 7-11 hardwood when felled, but I think that tree is better used being tapped for Mystic Syrup over farmed for hardwood.

Iridium:

To get iridium you must head to the Skull Cavern (you can also find it in the Volcano Dungeon, but that is found on Ginger Island.) If you pick the Hill-top or Four Corners farm, there is a chance of them spawning there after reaching Level 10 in your Mining Skill.

You can also find them from Magma Geodes, Omni Geodes, Super Cucumber Fish Pond once the population reaches levle 9, a meteorite, fishing treasure, panning, the traveling cart and the Statue of Perfection.

A Meteorite has a 1% chance of happening, and will only happen if the random 3x3 area the event chooses on the farm has a 2x2 area within it that has no water, placed objects that block movement, buildings, resource clumps or farm animals. If this isnt met the event does nothing. If you get the meteorite, you need a Gold Pickaxe or better to harvest this. To get a Gold Pickaxe you'll need a total of 17,000g, 5 Copper Bars, 5 Iron bars, and 5 Gold bars. When you destory a meteorite you get 6 iridium ore, 6 stone, and 2 geodes with 25% chance to drop a prismatic shard.

They can also drop from Purple Slines, Iridium Bats, Iridium Crabs, and Iridium Golems in the Skull Caverns.

Magma Geodes can be found on levels 81 - 119 of the Mines. Omni Geodes are found when breaking rocks but every Tuesday Krobus Sells 1 for 300g and the Oasis sells 3 every wednesday for 1,000g each.

In total you will need at least 25 Iridium Ore, and 5 coal, to get 5 iridium bars.

The traveling cart has a chance of selling an iridium bar for 3,000-5,000g. The following mobs also have a chance of dropping an iridium bar:

Shadow Shaman at 0.2%

Shadow Brute at 0.2%

Iridium Bat at 0.8%

Purple Slime at 0.9%

Iridium Golem at 3%

Battery Packs:

Battery Packs are gained from Lightning Rods during thunder storms, solar panels after 7 sunny days, 5% chance to dropped from the iridium bat, and as a possible gift from Pam or Kent. The traveling cart also sells them at times for 1,500-2,500g

If you pick the remixed bundles and get and complete the Children's Bundle, you will be awarded with 3 battery packs. The solar panel recipie is acquired after the "Island Ingredients" Special Order is completed, but you have to have Ginger Island unlocked to have a chance of getting this Special Order.

The Lightning Rod recipie is acquired after reaching foraging level 6 and you craft it with 1 Iron Bar, 1 Refined Quartz, and 10 Bat wings. You also get one when completing the 10,000g Bundle in the Vault in the community center.

The Lightning Rod can only be hit once per thunderstorm, so if you only have one lightning rod you'll need at least five thunder storms to obtain 5 battery packs.

If noLightning Rodd have been struck there is a 100% chance for one to be hit. If 50% of the Lightning Rods on the farm have been struck there is a 75% chance for the rest to be hit. If 90% of the Lightning Rods on the farm have been struck there is a 19% chance of the rest to be hit.

The Community Center / Joja Warehouse

You need to complete the Community Center to be able to even repair the boat. This takes, at minimum, a year to do but can take much longer depending on your playstyle. You will need 42,500g to complete the Vault bundles.

You can also pick the Joja Warehouse to complete, but you will need a total of 140,000g to buy the membership as well as all of the developments. You can fudge this a bit by completing certain Community Center bundles and then buying the Membership so you can reduce the amount of gold you have to spend.

Ginger Island

Once you repair the boat you can travel to Ginger Island for 1,000g per boat ride. When you reach the island you are on 'Island South', this contains the dock as well as the paths to the other parts of the island.

You will head to the only open path with takes you to 'Island East', where you follow the island resident "Leo" and upon interacting with things within his hut you will unlock 'Island North'.

When you unlock 'Island North' you will follow the Magma Sprite and head to the Volcano. You will only be able to unlock 'Island West' after gathering 10 Golden Walnuts.

'Island West' includes the farm, and a dilapidated farmhouse that can be fixed up for 20 Golden Walnuts, you will need an additional 5 Golden Walnuts to be able to recieve mail while on the island. For another 20 Golden Walnuts you can craft the Farm Obelisk which will only warp you to the farm, you will have to get a seperate Obelisk to be able to warp to the Island without using a totem. Upon making the Farm Obelisk, you will be given one Island Warp Totem.

You can sleep at Ginger Island and will wake up on the island. The golden walnuts are scattered around the island, and can be found when completing puzzles, fishing, tilling up certain locations around the island, and more.

Ginger Island Mushroom Cave

Now that we are on the Island, how can we get the Mushroom Cave?

Head to 'Island North', when you see the Field Office (Green tent with bone on the outside) head to the left. There is a broken bridge which can be repaired for 10 Golden Walnuts. This leads to the dig site, which has the Mushroom Cave. There is a boulder blocking the cave which you need to blow up with a bomb to not only release Professor Snail but also have access to the Mushrooms.

The cave randomly spawns new mushrooms everyday, and they grow directly from the ground so you benefit from the Gatherer or Botanist profession as well as get XP from them, this does make it better than the Farm Mushroom cave on that front but not the cost front.

Staying On Ginger Island?

The only thing that would make the mushroom cave a benefitial thing at this point in the game is if you stay on the island and never leave it. You can, somewhat realistically, do this as you do have a farm on the island, a bed, as well as a shipping bin.

The island farm does have some perks such as not needing scarecrows, sprinklers can be placed here, fruit trees can be grown here, and the island acts as a greenhouse.

However, you will have to head back to the normal farm to be able to complete certain quests, get certain achievements, unlock certain items, have animals and keep them happy, catch certain fish, get various items and much more. So, to even fully play the game you cannot stay on Ginger Island forever, this means we need to either spend 1,000g every time we want to head over and benefit from the mushroom cave and the other things we can benefit from on the island, or we need to be able to craft the warp totem or build the obelisk.

Warp Totem: Island

Bought from the Volcano Dwarf for 10,000g.

Floor Five of the Volcano Dungeon houses a dwarf that runs a small shop but unless you have the Dwarvish Translation Guide you won't be able to access his shop.

You get the Dwarvish Translation Guide by donating all four of the Dwarf Scrolls to the Museum. - Dwarf Scroll 1 can be found Tilling in the mines or Skull Cavern on any floor at 0.16% chance. Bat, Bug, Cave Fly, Duggy, Green Slime, Grub, Rock Crab and Stone Golem have a 0.5% chance of dropping it. - Dwarf Scroll 2 can be found Tilling in the mines between floors 1-39 at 0.1% chance. Ghosts, Frost Bats, Dust Sprites, and Blue Slime all have a 0.5% chance of dropping it. - Dwarf Scroll 3 has a 1.5% chance of being dropped by Blue Slime while other Slimes, Lava Bat, Lava Crab, Squid Kid, Shadow Brute, Shadow Shaman, Metal Head, Spider, and Blue Squid have a 0.5% chance of dropping it. - Dwarf Scroll 4 has a 0.2% chance of being tilled up in the Mine on floor 80 and above. Monsters outside of Serpents, Skeletons, Wilderness Golem, Carbon Ghost, Iridium Bat, Iridium Crab and Haunted Skull have a 0.1% chance of dropping it.

If you are able to access his shop, you will be able to purchase the recipie for the Warp Totem: Island for 10,000g. This will always be in his shop until you purchase it.

To craft a singular warp totem you will need 5 Hardwood, 1 Dragon tooth, and 1 Ginger.

Dragon Tooth:

Obtained in the Volcano Dungeon either around the skeletal remains of a dragon or by killing a Lava Lurk, which has a 15% drop chance.

If your inventory isn't full, you don't have to worry about items falling into the lava as they will automatically go into your inventory, however if you don't have room there is a chance that when it drops on the ground it can land in the lava.

You can also get Dragon Teeth from a Stingray Fish Pond which has a population of at least 9.

Stingrays are found in the Pirate Cove found on the Southeast side of Ginger Island. You unlock this area by building the Beach Resort for 20 Golden Walnuts after repearing the Farmhouse. If you put a Stingray in a fish pond, you will have to fulfill quests to be able to reach max amount of fish in the pond. For the first quest you'll have to give them seven cinder shards, which are found within the Volcano Dungeon by either mining nodes, inside chests, or dropping from a Magma Sprite, Magma Sparker, Magma Duggy or False Magma Cap. For the second quest you'll have to give them a dragon tooth. Once you reach 9-10 Stingray in the fishponds: - Roe has a 63-69% daily chance of spawning - Magma Cap has a 4% daily chance of spawning - Cinder Shard has a 9-10% daily chance of spawning - Dragon Tooth has a 5% daily chance of spawning - Battery Pack has a 9-10% daily chance of spawning

These are, as far as I am aware, the only ways to get Dragon Teeth. There is not a guarentee that a Dragon Tooth will spawn around the Dragon Skeleton, and Lava Lurkers seem to be the best way to get them.

Ginger:

Ginger cannot be grown as it is similar to Spring Onion. You can find it growing wild on the island and harvest it with your hoe. TigerSlime have a 9% chance of dropping Ginger and theyre found in the volcano dungeon as well as in tiger slime grove.

Tiger Slime Grove is found in 'Island North' and is north of the pond.

Island Obelisk

You can buy this Obelisk from the Wizard for 1,000,000g, 10 iridium bars, 10 dragon teeth, and 10 bananas. It is 3x2 building and is neceassary to achieve perfection.

To be able to buy the various buildings from the Wizard, you need to complete both the Dark Talisman Quest and the Goblin Problem Quest. To complete the Dark Talisman Quest you need to complete the community center or joja warehouse and unlock the sewers. You will have to trigger a cut scene up in the mountains after completing either the CC or the JW, then speak to krobus. After speaking to krobus you'll have to go to the mutant bug lair and go through it to get the dark talisman. Upon retreiving the dark talisman, you'll head back to the railroad and place it in it's appropriate area. To complete the Goblin Problem Quest you'll enter the witches swamp, speak to Goblin once and then you'll give him a void mayo. You can either fish up the void mayo from the surrounding water, or you can buy a void egg from krobus and turn it into void mayo, or if you have a void chicken you can turn one of it's eggs into void mayo. Once you give the Goblin his void mayo, he'll run into the hut. You now have access to the hut, he won't be around. Grab the Magic Ink and head back to the Wizards hut through the symbols on the floor. You are now able to access the Witches Hut, the Shrines within it, as well as the Buildings in the Wizard tower.

Banana:

Bananas and mangos do not spawn in the fruit bat cave so if you picked that, you're SOL on collecting these fruits from your farm.

To obtain the banana sapling you will have to get the Island Trader for 10 Golden Walnuts on 'Island North' after purchasing the Island Farmhouse. Banana Saplings cost 5 dragon teeth.

You can also obtain the Banana Sapling through Golden Coconuts and completing the Large Animal Collection in the Island Field Office.

Golden Coconuts

These can be found by shaking palm trees that have a visible coconut on them. There is 10% chance the palm tree will drog a golden coconut. If you have a fish pond with Blue Discus there is a 4-5% daily chance for them to give you one. Their quests include 3 taro root then 10 taro root, which is a crop you can grow after buying them from the Island Trader for 2 Bone Fragment per Taro Tuber.

You can also trade 10 coconuts for 1 golden coconut.

You break the coconuts like you do with Geodes by using Clint, they cannot be broken with the Geode crusher. The first golden walnut you crack open will always produce a golden walnut. Afterwards the golden walnut will produce other items.

Golden Coconuts can produce Banana Saplings, Mango Saplings, Pineapple Seeds, Taro Tubers, Mahogany Seeds, Fossilized Skulls, Iridium Ore, and a Golden Helmet.

The probability is a bit weird on the wiki, and I don't fully understand it but I will provide it here: Banana Sapling: 1/7 Mango Sapling: 1/7 Pineapple Seeds: 1/7 Taro Tuber: 1/7 Mahogany Seed: 1/7 Fossilized Skull: 1/7 Iridium Ore: 1/7 Golden Helmet: 1/20 All of them have an asterislk next to them which leads to: "After getting the Golden Helmet the probability is set to 0. If the player does not have it yet, the probability of getting the other ite,s is actually 19/140 until it is obtained. If you can explain to me what this means, that would be a wonderful help! It is possible I am not understanding this as I am typing this all out at 5am after being up since 9am yesterday but as of right now that is just gibberish to me.

Large Animal Collection

Fossilized Leg (2): Breaking Bone Nodes at the Dig Site, 10% Chance

Fossilized Ribs (1): Digging Artifact Spots on the Southern side of the island, 25% chance, and breaking bone nodes at the dig site, 1.35% chance

Fossilized Skull (1): Golden Coconut

Fossilized Spine (1): Fishing in Dig Site River, 10% chance

Fossilized Tail (1): Panning in Dig Site River, 20% chance

Completing this collection awards you with 6 golden walnuts and 1 banana sapling.

Bare Minimum List Of Materials Needed

Hardwood: 205 (+ 5 for every extra warp totem: island crafted)

Iridium Bars: 15 (75 iridium ore, 15 coal)

Battery Packs: 5 (1 Iron Bar, 1 Refined Quartz, 5 Bat Wing Per Rod)

Copper Bars: 5 (25 copper ore, 15 coal. For Copper axe.)

Iron Bars: 5 (25 iron ore, 15 coal. For Steel axe.)

Dragon Teeth: 16 (+ 1 for every extra warp totem: island crafted. Not counting fish pond requests)

Ginger: 1 (+1 for every extra warp totem: island crafted.)

Bananas: 10

For the Gold amount:

Community Center Completed: 1,058,500g (+ 1,000g for every ginger island trip)

Joja Warehouse Completed: 1,156,000 (+ 1,000g for every ginger island trip)

I dunno about y'all but this seems like a lot of time, gold, and effort just to get a mushroom cave when you can get one upon earning 25,000g.

[lindseynicole1999]

5: Last time: Zug and Zorran going on their honeymoon while Zip is babysitting Angel. They must get to Their location before a very bad storm comes. But it was too late.

Zorran: ugh..this storm is too severe, we have to find land, to rest up for the night.*sighs*

Zug: what are you sure babe?

Zorran: yes love*still steering the wheel hard* hang on!

Zug: *hangs on to Zorran’s coat*

Zorran is trying through the storm and getting out of the storm as hard as he can. But Zorran spotted lights, but land too.

6:Zorran: well well, we found land and a motel too~

Zug: A MOTEL!? OOHHHH I HATE MOTELS BABE! THEIR BUNCH OF CREEPS!! *trembles*

Zorran: Now now~ Zuggy baby it’s not good for the baby you know~ *kisses Zug’s forehead*

Zug: I-I know…*trembles*

He lands the tugboat on the old dock and drops the Anchor.

7: Zug: here’s your umbrella babe

Zorran: thank you love*picks him up*

Zug: H-Hey! I can walk on my own!

Zorran: *smirks and chuckles* that won’t be necessary my love~

Both: *chu~*

Zug: *giggles* oh babe~ *smirking*

They arrived at the motel.

Zug: I-I d-don’t k-know z-zorran…t-this is..creepy..*rubs his baby bump and trembling*

As the two enter the motel office, they meet an ugly and old male Receptionist. A little buff, a little chubby, with hair all greasy and half-bald, hasn’t showered in months, eyebrow piercing on the right, a scar on the right bald spot, and a cigarette on his mouth.

Male Receptionist: Heh Well Welcome to this motel you two. It is quite the storm out there tonight.

Zorran: yes..

Male receptionist: alright, what can I help ye with?

Zorran: Me and my husband want a room please.

Male Receptionist: so yer married huh?

Zorran: yes.. how much is the room cost

Male receptionist: $2.00

8: Zorrangave to cash to him and he gave the key to Zorran.

Male receptionist: your room is upstairs, your room is number 9.

Zorran: *nods* thank you

He turns around and heads back outside.but Zug is staring at the male receptionist.

Male Receptionist: *made a creepy and evil gazing at Zug* *creep chuckle*

Zug: *gasp and huffs* *trembles* *his heart skipped a beat*.

⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️MPREG WARNING⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️

[swampstew]

𝔸𝕥 𝔽𝕚𝕣𝕤𝕥 𝕊𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 - 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟞

Welcome to Raven's Reading Nook - a small corner of this blog dedicated to cozy story times. Take a seat next to the log fireplace as we begin this in-progress, spicy/smutty reader insert story starring YOU (AFAB Reader) and the Kid Pirates. Powerade and snacks are provided! You can find links to the mini-series on Wattpad and AO3 at the end of the post.

Minors DNI you will be blocked - for mature audiences only. Hella angst and violence in this one - torture, execution, hostage situation aka just another Tuesday on the Victoria Punk.

“WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU!?!” Kid screamed at Y/N.

She was chained to the floor of his cabin, dragged back after he found her busting down the door of some dump with two people inside. Those two people were being interrogated separately in the cells as Kid interrogated Y/N.

Kid had been so fucking excited to see Y/N again. He wasn’t going to spend more than a night, he just wanted to discuss some new terms with her that could have benefited them both. He had been intrigued when he walked into the town as Y/N slipped out the backdoor of the bar to tail two losers. Figured he might get lucky and see another show from her, was even hopeful that he’d barge in on her slitting the throats of those men.

Instead he got a swift kick in the balls.

‘CAPTAIN Y/N!!’

“FUCKING SNEAKY BITCH! ARE YOU A PIRATE?! ARE YOU AFTER ONE PIECE?!?!?! IS THAT WHY YOU KEPT YOUR MOUTH SHUT? SO I DIDN’T STRING YOU UP??!! GETTING CLOSE TO ME SO YOU COULD GET INFORMATION THAT YOU CAN USE FOR YOURSELF?!”

Y/N flinched from his words. “No,” her voice was hoarse. “I already told you, I am not a pirate. I don’t have any interest in the One Piece aside from professional curiosity.”

“THEN YOU ARE A MARINE!!” his hand found her throat with a threatening grip.

“Definitely not, don’t be ridiculous,” she gasped, watery eyes threatening to spill over. Kid snarled at her and dropped her to the floor.

“IS THIS A GAME TO YOU? I’M EUSTASS FUCKING KID! I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU IF YOU DON’T ANSWER ME TRUTHFULLY!!” Kid grabbed a chair and threw Y/N in it, tightening the chains over her body to anchor her to it.

“DO YOU HAVE DEVIL FRUIT POWERS?!”

“No.”

“ARE YOU LYING ABOUT BEING IN THE MARINES?! THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE TO FESS UP AND YOU DON’T DIE AN EXCRUCIATING DEATH BY MY HAND!!!”

Y/N groaned in pain from the metal digging into her body. “No! The Marines killed my family, I fucking DESPISE THEM!”

Kid took a few deep breaths. Finally, new information.

“SO YOU’RE JUST SOME CUNNING WITCH WITH A BOAT?!”

She blinked sadly at him, “Not anymore.”

“EXPLAIN!”

Y/N looked conflicted and frightened, weighing her options on how to handle the enraged pirate.

“YOU HAVE 10 GODDAMN SECONDS. 9-8-7-6-5-4—”

“I WAS MUTINIED BY MY CREW DAMN YOU!”

Kid froze, not expecting to hear that as an answer.

Hot tears slowly flowed down her face as she tried to stifle the choked sobs ripping from her throat.

“I-I was an adventurer. Not a pirate, just a bitch with a ship! I did five years as a mercenary to pay off a debt to Gaston for breaking me out of prison for some…major larceny. When I was done, I got a pay package for my service and bought a boat. I stupidly trusted Gaston’s advice to meet up with a friend of his who was an experienced sailor that was itching to sail again. Things were good for a while. We had a decent size crew, we made good profit off the goods we would find or trade work when we ran into dry spells. I thought I,” Y/N’s face pinched and her lips curled, stopping to compose herself.

“Th-thought I found people I could depend on with my life,” she choked. “Three years ago, my first mate – Gaston’s friend – wanted me to go after some historical antiquities that I had no interest in. Then his suggestions for making profit got…unhinged. At first I went along with it because we needed money but then he was suggesting we start—” Y/N looked green — “Trading in people.”

Kid had stopped hovering over her and taken a seat on the bed behind her, listening intently to every word she said. Killer was sitting just off the side of the desk, hidden in the shadows almost entirely if not for the nearly out candelabra.

“I don’t care what you pirates think of me,” Y/N spit out through grit teeth. “People are not property.”

“A few weeks after I told him off, the crew turned on me. Drugged me and left me on an island not much bigger than the size of your ship’s deck. They took everything from me but the clothes on my back, a backpack with my art books, a few days of rations, and a gun with a single bullet. Then they laughed at me as they sailed away on my ship, telling me to not go anywhere in case they needed me.”

Y/N’s chin hit the chains on her chest as she silently cried from rehashing the traumatic memory. Kid tilted his head at Killer, who in turn tilted his head back at the Captain, giving him a small shrug.

“We’ll be verifying your story and gods help you if they tell us anything different,” Kid threatened with a raspy growl. He stomped out of the cabin and headed straight for the prisoner cells.

Killer remained seated and waited for Y/N to catch her breath. “I don’t think you’re lying. I also think you aren’t telling us the whole truth. Why did the Marines kill your family?”

Y/N flinched violently at that, “Do Marines need any reason to do awful shitty things?!” she snapped.

“No, you got me there. Ok, let’s try something different. Where are you from?”

“Technically the calm belt. My island wasn’t affiliated with the World Government.”

Killer hummed at that, “That’s not surprising. Neither was the island Kid and I came from. Your island didn’t want to or couldn’t pay a heavenly tribute?”

Y/N turned her head to the side, “Something like that.”

“Let me guess,” Killer clasped his hands together. “Your family was some type of royalty or high enough status that the Marines made an example of you all to get the rest of your island in line?”

He could swear for a second that her gaze turned hateful.

“Something like that,” she finally said in a hushed tone.

Killer watched her in silence for some time, waiting to see if she’d offer up anything else. She didn’t.

“I’m not getting anything more out of you am I?”

“Not now and never again,” Y/N hissed.

Well that sucked.

“…Friends my ass,” she bitterly muttered after some more time had passed.

Ouch.

Kid glared at the prisoners as they sat bloodied to pulps in their confinements. Wire and Heat sat on a bench in the room and waited for their Boss to say something, anything, to indicate where his head was at.

“Run it by me again,” Kid rasped to his subordinates.

“They were in her crew but not anyone of worth, both recruited by her and a man named Brian. They were adventurers who did just that under the command of Captain Y/N, however under the command of mutineer-turned-Captain-Brian, they became entrenched with the Underworld as brokers, dealing in human trafficking. They sailed with Y/N for about 5 years before they stabbed her in the back and left her on an island with a single bullet,” Heat spat at the cell nearest to him.

“So she’s not a pirate or marine,” Kid grumbled.

“Nope. Just a chick with a ship and terrible sense of judgment,” Wire stated.

“What do they know about her?”

“Boss, somehow they know less than us.”

“Tight lipped bitch ain’t she,” dryly choked out a laugh from the shorter of the two prisoners. Kid took a moment to rip the man's lips off his face. Spitting on the wretch who couldn’t give him more than a ragged scream from the pain, Kid returned to his original spot.

“Iii-it wasn’t…her fault,” gasped one of the bloody pulps. The three pirates snapped their eyes to the taller of the two prisoners. “Sh-she was a…ga-ga-good Captain. It was aa-all Brian. Whis-whispering in everyone’s ears th-that she was weak and un-unable to provide for the c-crew. That sheee wa-was a coward f’r’not trying to f-find priceless treasures, undermining her authority fo-for months behind her back. Sh-she didn’t share because shes’is scared. Fr-from what I don’t know.”

“None of you thought to speak up for your Captain? To report any of this to her?” Wire asked with a flat tone.

“I di-id! Tried to br-break up those groups, told her even! She j-just brushed me off. Said Brian wo-would fall in l-line or not, but sh-she wouldn’t bend to his demands,” the man’s head lolled down, no longer able to meet the angry glares that were pinning him down.

“Then Y/N of-offered me the po-position. First Mate. S-said that she was ssick off Brian’s attitude and wanted to du-ump him off at the next is-island. B-but, it was f-f-fucking tiny and barren! She wa-wa-snt cruel like he is” the man began to sob.

“Brian m-made his move that night when we moored the ship. Ev-everyone was in on it except me. They offered me a choice – j-join them…or…” he squeezed what remained of his eyes shut, “Be her only source of food.”

Kid slammed his metal fist against the cell bars so hard they bent under the pressure, groaning from the strain. “YOU SHOULD HAVE FUCKING DIED AS HER BREAKFAST, LUNCH, AND DINNER, AND EVEN THEN YOU STILL WOULDN’T BE WORTHY ENOUGH TO PASS THROUGH HER LIPS!”

Wire and Heat exchanged a glance.

The man said nothing else as he devolved into babbling whimpers. His fellow crewmate looked at the pirates coldly but said nothing at all save for ragged breathing.

Kid walked out of the holding room and leaned against the wall to sort his thoughts. His mind wandered to the terrified woman chained in his room and he felt a nauseating clenching in his gut. It felt like…ugh no, it couldn’t be…

It was guilt.

Each step he took towards the cabin weighed him down as anxiety coiled in his chest. Not quite yet ready to face the woman he had spent several hours screaming at. Threatening to hurt her. When just yesterday he was ready to…gods damn it all…discuss a long distance relationship with her.

Steeling his nerves, he pushed his cabin door open and walked inside. Killer immediately stood up and walked to Kid, and to Kid’s surprise, didn’t stop to talk to him but left the room entirely. Kid’s mouth was gaping as he looked between the empty hallway and the chained woman.

“What did you say to him?!”

“Absolutely nothing.”

A scowl found its way to his face but he bit back his tired and vicious tongue. Activating his power, he loosened the chains off her body until they were only wrapped around her wrists, giving her room to stretch. With a hesitant hand, Kid lifted Y/N to the bed.

“I need to check on him and then you and I need to have a talk.”

“I think we’re well past the point of talking.”

Kid huffed through his nose, trying to repress his inner asshole. “I…should have started with talking, yes.” He scratched his head before pushing Y/N to lay on her side, placing a pillow under her head. “I’ll be right back. I…owe you something.”

Finding Killer sitting on his bed, oddly stoic, made the anxiety in Kid’s chest spread to his gut. The masked man looked up at the redhead before letting out a defeated sigh.

“I feel like an asshole.”

Kid sat beside him, “Yeah me too.”

“She’s so fucking mad. I think…I think we might be out of goodwill with her.”

“That’s not,” Kid pinched the bridge of his nose. “Too bad for her. She’s not leaving. Not now.”

“Why? What’s the point of keeping her?”

Kid did not have an answer for him. Not one that didn’t sound so…blehhh.

“What did she say to you?”

Killer tilted his head, “I tried to pry into her past again and she gave me very little to work with. Told me she wouldn’t give up anything else to me…ever again,” he chuckled bitterly. “Told you we should have waited for her at the rental.”

“Yeah yeah,” Kid nodded, “Nothing to be done about it now. Let’s moor the ship for the night. I’m gonna try and…salvage whatever goodwill I can.”

“Good luck with that, though I suppose she was getting pretty sweet on you recently so maybe you’ll fair better.”

Kid let that hope give him the strength to face her again. Nearly flinching when her eyes snapped to his face as he re-entered the room and released the chains. Taking long strides to kneel in front of her as she warily sat up, eying him suspiciously.

The words died on Kid’s lips. He wasn’t used to…things like this. He knew he wronged this woman and he knew he should suck it the fuck up and apologize…and yet…

“D-you…want me to run you a bath or shower?”

“Shower. Alone.”

Nodding numbly, he ran the water and pulled out a towel for her. Kid waited on the bed as she showered, hoping that inspiration would strike him like lightning and he could…smooth things over somehow!

The water shut off and Kid quickly grabbed a shirt and boxers for her, holding it in his flesh hand as he waited by the door. She took it with a near-silent thank you before retreating in the bathroom. Kid was borderline pacing by the time she finally walked out.

He nervously stood in front of her when an idea struck him, “Let’s have a drink. The good stuff from my private collection. Sit,” he pointed to the couch in the corner of the cabin. Y/N did as he said, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at him while he pulled out two glasses and a bottle of scotch.

Y/N did not move to hold the drink when Kid came back. He tried to ignore the rising panic in his chest, “When I came back to the island, I was prepared to offer you something. Hearing that you were a Captain threw me off my shit. We’d been…you’d been opening up more and I thought you were finally letting me in...” he took a long drink.

“You were totally willing to never see me again, not having shared anything beyond surface level. Hearing them call you Captain…was like a knife to the liver. I barely know you. And that drives me fucking crazy.”

“So, you were hurt and your first instinct was to imprison and yell at me?”

Kid did flinch at that, “Habits…die hard…?”

Y/N huffed through her nose and rolled her eyes, “What now?”

“We beat the shit out of those losers, they’re still breathing if you want a go at them. We took all your stuff from the rental and brought it back here. We left the island last night while you were passed out.”

At that, Y/N grabbed the glass of scotch and drank it all in one sitting. Eyes shut tightly to let the burning course through her body, she cleared her throat. “Am I your prisoner too?”

He paled, opting to take another drink instead of answering right away. He wasn’t entirely sure for himself.

“You don’t have to sleep in the same bed as me if it’s too weird for you right now. You still have your bed in the women’s cab—” Y/N left the room before he could finish speaking.

“…in,” his head dropped to his hand.

Y/N closed to the door to the women’s cabin and was relieved to find it empty. Throwing herself down on the bed, she smothered a frustrated scream into the pillow. Breathing heavily into the heated material, she didn’t hear the door open.

“Y/N?” a soft voice spoke out.

Lifting her head, she saw the women of the crew had filtered into the room.

“Boss did a really fucked up thing. How are you doing?” Quincy asked.

“Not great,” Y/N replied hoarsely.

“I’d be more concerned if you were doing ok after that,” House gently spoke. “Let me take a look at the bruises. Emma can you grab my medical kit from the infirmary? Dive bring Y/N some water and bread.”

Hip rubbed soothing circles on Y/N’s back as Hop helped House apply a salve to the bruises. Y/N was amazed at the gentleness displayed by the women of the crew.

If I don’t go solo, maybe my next crew will be all women, she mused, If I make it out this situation alive.

At some point the women convinced Y/N to join them on the floor for a ‘slumber party,’ which was just all the mattresses being pushed together and blankets thrown over the bedpost to create a massive tent like structure. A proper pillow fort.

As nice as it was, it did little to soothe the pit in Y/N’s stomach at the idea of being a prisoner to their Captain. The very last thing she wanted. Unable to achieve her goals because some punk who was too used to getting his way thought he could make her submit. Not on his life.

Morning came and Kid was at the door, knocking – of all things, to be let in. When no one answered, he assumed his crew was out doing their damn work. Not in a giant cuddle pile on the fucking floor with the person he was trying to convince to get back in his bed. Traitors.

Before he could even verbalize his annoyance—

“YOU CAN’T JUST COME IN HERE BOSS! THAT’S SO INAPPROPRIATE!!!”

“HOW MANY TIMES DO WE HAVE TO TEACH YOU THIS LESSON?!?!”

“GEEEEEETTTTT OOOOOOOOUUUUUUUTTTTTT!”

“I’M TELLING HEAT!”

He was thrown out of the room and left on his ass in the hallway. Fuck. Heat was in charge of settling crew disputes and he was especially vicious in his rulings. Lodged against anyone. Fuck fuck fuck.

By the time he was finally able to see Y/N again, it was late in the afternoon and he was thousands of berris poorer from fines, several chores heavier, and in a pissy mood. Willing himself to calm down, he drank ale to relax before he did something even stupider. Maybe he would anyways, it was a tossup.

“Y/N, c’mere,” Kid called out from the bow.

With great reluctance, she followed his order biting back bitter words.

“Yes Captain Kid?”

Kid’s eyes narrowed, “Captain Y/N. Are you…doing better?”

“Does it matter?”

“…Yes,” he did his best to unclench his jaw.

“I’m doing better. Still mad at you.”

“I figured.” A few uncomfortable beats later, “I-did you figure out where you need to go next from the prisoners?”

Y/N’s gaze turned suspicious, “Yes. Does it matter?”

“O’course it does. We had a deal, you pay me for passage and I take you along my journey as you try and find whatever the fuck it is you’re looking for. It’s been working well so far, wouldn’t you say?”

“Until recently,” she replied flatly.

Kid’s tooth cracked from the clenching. Luckily for him, Emma used to be a dental hygienist and could fix him up easily.

“I. ADMIT. I…went a little overboard. MY bad.”

“Oh my gods.”

“WHAT?” Kid’s grip on his drink was nearing the breaking point.

“You don’t know how to say you’re sorry do you?”

“I brought you here to tell you that you’re not a prisoner. If you want me to reverse that decision…”

Y/N’s face went from shocked to angry to annoyed, mouth gaping a bit like a fish as she tried to respond to him and failing to do so. Settling for a huffy grunt and nod of her head, she closed her eyes and leaned against the rail next to him.

“So what now?” he slowly sipped the ale.

“That is the million berri question.”

“I’m serious. What do you want to do now?”

Y/N looked him over, “What do you want me to say? That we can just move on and have things go back to the way they were? Not happening. You turned on me so fast, and I get being wary and shit of me but RIGHT to imprisonment?” she looked angry again. “I thought we were getting closer too. That you would be capable of simply asking me why they called me Captain in that house. You don’t need to know my entire life story to see my character right here and now. I thought I understood you but I think I was dead wrong.”

“…I meant about your prisoners…but noted,” Kid responded, feeling like he swallowed a brick of sea stone.

Y/N turned red like a tomato. “I’m done with them. I know where to go next and if I’m lucky, the rest of my targets will all be in one place.”

“D’you…want to finish them off below deck?”

Y/N shook her head, “No, it’s a really nice day out. I could do with an outdoor execution.”

Kid and Killer brought out Y/N’s prisoners, chains dragging along the wooden floor as they walked across the deck. The Kid Pirates formed a semi-circle around them, intrigued to see what would become of the prisoners. Some of the crew were betting on drowning, some were betting on sword through the heart. All eagerly waiting in anticipation at what the enigmatic woman would do.

Y/N looked at the taller prisoner, “Thanks for putting my artbooks and rations in the backpack, Luciano. If I could turn back time, I would have listened to you sooner…”

Kid froze – Luciano, that was the name in Y/N’s book that had the word ‘Innocent(?)’ written next to it. Killer’s hidden expression was the same shock and realization that Kid had.

“You still betrayed me though, and I will never forgive you for that,” she sighed. In a split second, Y/N turned around and snatched Kid’s pistol from his holster and shot Luciano clear through the forehead. His body crumpled to the ground and bled out as the pirates stared in shock at the smooth maneuver.

“Crazy bitch,” the remaining prisoner spat out.

“Donnie, Donnie, Donnie. You always had terrible manners.”

“You can hunt us all down one by one—” the battered man rasped out.

“I already am but do carry on,” Y/N replied boredly.

“By the time you catch up to Brian, you’ll have lost it all for good. Your family’s precious legacy gone forever,” the prisoner attempted a wicked sneer as best he could from what remained of his face.

It was like a dark cloud had suddenly formed around Y/N with how much tension rolled off her. The anger palpable as it flashed like lightning in her eyes as the man spit out the last venom he could muster.

“I think death by fire is appropriate for scum like you,” Y/N hissed.

Heat stepped up without prompting but before he could do what he did best, Y/N stopped him.

“Not yet Heat,” Y/N put Kid’s pistol back in his holster in exchange for his purple hilted dagger, “I want him to feel excruciating pain first.”

She walked forward until she was right in front of Donnie, and then her face lit up like she had an idea.

“House, Hip, Hop, Quincy, Emma, Dive – help me? Stab him while I carve into his forehead but make sure it doesn’t kill him. I want Heat’s fire to do him in.”

All six women eagerly stepped forward with their weapons drawn before they faltered – risking a look at their Captain. Kid nodded, choosing to busy himself with chugging his ale, not at all annoyed that Y/N asked his crew for help instead of him.

The women on the ship restrained the flailing man as they drove their swords and daggers into his body repeatedly. Unhinged giggling could be heard over the sounds of gargled screaming as blood filled Donnie’s mouth, his body thrashed violently as Y/N held his head between her knees as she meticulously dragged Kid’s dagger over his face.

Nope, not jealous one bit. Kid tried to ground the side of his jaw that didn’t have a cracked molar.

Blood flowing from his wounds and his screams reduced to whimpers, Y/N sat Donnie up as best she could to show off her handiwork. His forehead was engraved with the word: dick

“Donnie the dickhead, everyone!” Y/N laughed and the Kid Pirates laughed with her.

“Let him burn, Heat,” her smile was cold as she stepped away from the prisoners.

Heat let out an excited whoop before he let out streams of fire. Both bodies erupted in flames; Donnie’s screams were short-lived as he succumbed to his injuries. The gleam in Y/N’s eyes was borderline sadistic, and Kid found himself aching in want and…definitely not fucking jealous that he had to sit on the sidelines for torture.

Jaw clenched tightly again, another crack formed on a different tooth. “EMMA! WASH UP AND FIX MY FUCKING TEETH!” Kid yelled, seizing his dagger back from Y/N, and stomping back inside his ship.

Read on Wattpad | Read on AO3

[yujo-nishimura]

The Escape - Part 40

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - Part 16 - Part 17 - Part 18 - Part 19 - Part 20 - Part 21 - Part 22 - Part 23 - Part 24 - Part 25 - Part 26 - Part 27 - Part 28 - Part 29 - Part 30 - Part 31 - Part 32 - Part 33 - Part 34 - Part 35 - Part 36 - Part 37 - Part 38 - Part 39

Warning: Buggy x fem reader, not proof-read - I am not so happy with the last chapters of this story, but I will still share it with you guys, since you all have kept on reading until now. Thanks. <3

His confession left you stunned. In his embrace, you felt a surge of emotions, and all your anger, disbelief, and disappointment seemed to dissipate with those three words. Perhaps there was a chance he wasn't being entirely honest, maybe he was only trying to console you. But the longing for his touch had consumed you so profoundly that you were more than willing to embrace him now.

Turning to face him, you saw his body fully reattached, standing before you. His arms remained around you, but not too tight, ready to release you if that was your wish. Love radiated from his eyes. Gone were the desires, lust, and fears that had plagued him before—now, he simply wanted you to know that he supported you and your decisions.

Closing your eyes, you leaned in and kissed him. His red nose gently pressed against your cheek, and he immediately reciprocated, holding you more firmly in his embrace.

As you broke the kiss, you gazed into his green eyes, posing the question with a hint of hesitation, "What do we do now?"

He grinned and planted another kiss on your lips before responding, "You tell me. You have the freedom to choose...!"

Both exhausted from the weight of longing and anger, you and Buggy spent the night on the beach, finding solace in each other's presence. Lying side by side in the sand, you listened to the soothing rhythm of the waves, gradually succumbing to sleep. Buggy held you tenderly throughout the night, as if trying to make amends for his absence in the preceding weeks.

With the arrival of morning, you reluctantly rose from your slumber and informed Buggy to wait, deciding to thank Luffy and bid farewell to the Straw Hat crew. As you turned towards the other end of the beach, expecting to see the Going Merry still anchored, your heart sank as you realized the ship was already gone. Disbelief washed over you as you approached the spot where the Merry had been just the night before, only to discover the same small piece of paper you had dropped in Alabasta under a stone—a note that Nami had undoubtedly held onto all this time.

Beneath your desperate plea, "Please help me!" were the words, "You're welcome. See you in the New World!" In an instant, you understood that Luffy had chosen to depart, making the decision easier for you. He knew you wanted to stay with Buggy, but he also recognized the weight of indebtedness you would have felt towards the Straw Hat crew. Once again, Luffy had made a decision on your behalf, trusting that your decision was to be with the clown pirate.

Returning to Buggy's side, you noticed him brushing off sand from his pants as he stood up. "Looks like I'm back with the Buggy Pirates!" you exclaimed, a smile gracing your lips. In a sudden, spontaneous, and childlike gesture, you leaped into his arms.

"Good for me," Buggy grinned, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "But it's also good for the Straw Hats to leave. The next time we meet, we won't be friends anymore."

As you settle back into the embrace of Buggy's arms, you find comfort in the knowledge that you are now truly by his side. The realization that the Straw Hat crew has departed weighs on your heart. It's a bittersweet moment, as you had grown fond of them during your time together, yet your desire to be with Buggy is undeniably strong. During all this time you already knew that you wanted to stay with him. And you knew you were strong enough to forgive him and try to trust him again. 

As you step foot onto Buggy's pirate ship, a sense of familiarity and excitement fills your being. Here you are again. As if you had never left. The crew members welcome you warmly, Mohji not approaching you directly seeing you with the captain so close, but his face showing sincere happiness that you have come back on board. The crew's cheers echo through the air, but your attention is quickly drawn to Buggy, who leads you to his personal quarters. With each step, anticipation builds within you, wondering what awaits in the room where you last had spent a night in together. 

As the door swings open, you immediately see it. What captures your attention, causing your heart to skip a beat, is a familiar garment hanging delicately on a hook.

There it is, your favorite green dress, the one you thought you had left behind long ago. Its vibrant colors and intricate patterns evoke memories of your days with Buggy. You reach out, tracing the fabric with your fingertips, feeling a rush of emotions flood over you.

Buggy watches you intently, a mix of anticipation and vulnerability etched across his features. He clears his throat, his voice filled with a tenderness that catches you off guard. "I kept it," he confesses softly, his eyes never leaving your face. "I thought of you often, and this dress... it reminded me of the light you brought into my life."

A profound warmth spreads through your chest, and tears of gratitude well up in your eyes. In that moment, you realize the depth of Buggy's feelings for you, the lengths he has gone to preserve a piece of your shared history.

You turn to face him, the dress held gently in your hands. A smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you speak, your voice filled with emotion. "Thank you, Buggy.. this means more to me than words can express."

Buggy's eyes soften, his own smile mirroring yours. "I couldn't bear to part with it, knowing that it held such significance in your heart," he admits "It's a reminder of the person you are and the love we've found amidst this chaotic pirate life."

You approach Buggy, your hands tenderly framing his face. A mixture of emotions swirl within you—affection, frustration, and a hint of playfulness. With a teasing smile on your lips, you speak, your voice carrying a blend of fondness and reproach.

"You sentimental, foolish clown," you say, your tone laced with a hint of mock anger. "Why didn't you express all these feelings before? Where were you when I needed you the most?" The words hang in the air, even as forgiveness has already taken root in your heart.

Buggy's eyes widen in a momentary flicker of fear, but before his worry can fully take hold, you lean forward and kiss him once more. The kiss is both a reassurance and a reminder that while you may still be a little angry, your love for him prevails. His body pressed against yours, his warmth enveloping you, and the taste of his lips sparked a familiar longing within you, causing a delightful dizziness to sweep over you. You wanted him. You wanted him still so badly. 

But just as the intensity of the moment begins to build, Buggy interrupts the kiss, gently pulling away. You can see desire shimmering in his eyes, yet a firm resolve, befitting a pirate captain of a pirate crew. 

"We can't," Buggy interjects, his voice filled with a mixture of longing and self-discipline. "We've just returned, and I need to address the crew. They believe I single-handedly defeated the Straw Hat crew to claim you back..."

"I understand," you reply, your voice conveying a mix of admiration and acceptance. "Go, Buggy. Address your crew, set their minds at ease. We have time."

With a final lingering gaze, you both acknowledge the unspoken promise that lingers in the air—the promise of a future filled with stolen moments and shared intimacies. Buggy straightens himself, his resolve firm, and with a gentle touch, he brushes his fingers against your cheek before turning to leave the room.

As the door closes behind him, you take a moment to collect yourself, your heart still fluttering from the intensity of the exchange. 

[teecupangel]

hello I have a very chaotic and open ended scenario for you:

imagine a scenario where Desmond gets the power to bounce around to different time periods at will after the solar flare. There might be a bit of a learning curve to it, but ultimately it's not a one way trip and he can direct where he goes. The only limitation is that he has to arrive somewhere with a direct ancestor nearby. He can hide from them once he's arrived if he wants, but they're sort of like his landing target, the thing that lets him actually travel and not just careen off into the infinite.

The problem: he doesn't know if the PoE letting him do this is broken in the weirdest possible way or if for some insane reason it was *made* to do this. But wherever he goes, the ancestor he uses as an anchor de-ages as long as he's there.

So say he randomly pops in on Brotherhood!Ezio? Congratulations, there is now a squalling baby in the middle of a pile of robes and armor and no one knows what the fuck just happened.

Eventually, Desmond figures out that--again, this is the weirdest fucking glitch or the Isu who made this is straight up evil--it's not exactly that his ancestor instantly Becomes Baby. It's that somehow Desmond is like, hooking into his Ancestor's presence in this time to also exist in this time, but something about Desmond being 25 when he touched the Eye, is maybe still touching the Eye? how does he know if he died, if he traveled, or if he's existing in multiple places, multiple states, at the same time?

Whatever the reasoning, Desmond and his anchor ancestor's combined age can never exceed 25yrs, 9 months and 8 days.

Which makes it kind of hard to 1) be incognito or 2) work WITH his ancestors in the past. Like sure he could split the difference, but they'd both be twelve, and that's next to useless. Five and twenty seem like the sort of optimal split inasmuch as five is at least old enough to communicate, but it's still just, insanely awkward. "Hi I'm here to warn you about the Borgia, sorry you're a toddler right now" or "Hi, I know I look like a child but actually I'm a descendant of yours from the future and--hey, put me down!"

Okay, so I’m going to assume that Desmond and his ancestors retain their memories and personalities up to that point even as they deage and it’s only their body’s limitation that hinders them. (for example: deaging AC2!Ezio to 8 will let him keep his memories of AC2 plot BUT not AC Brotherhood or Revelations)

But we need to remember:

Desmond’s ancestors are already menaces as teenagers.

Altaïr:

While Altaïr’s teenage years are a bit ‘???’ at the moment, he had been training as an Assassin since he was 11 so Desmond splitting 18-7 or even 16-9 with Altaïr would work physically. He’d be a bit young, sure, but a 7/9-year-old body is developed enough that he could talk without any problem and Altaïr’s teenage body would probably lack the muscles and maybe have a shorter stamina but Altaïr was built for speed, not brute force so he’d manage. He’d be looked at weirdly because he won’t act like a child or they’d think he’s a child trying to act like an adult but, you know what? Fuck them. Desmond has bigger fishes to think about.

So, really, the problem with Altaïr is where in his character development Desmond drops by. If this was before AC1, he’d have to deal with a confused Altaïr who may or may not believe him. If he dropped by during Altaïr’s Chronicles to before AC1 timeframe, he’d have to deal with an Altaïr who already has a huge ego and that makes things complicated. If it was during AC1, Desmond has to deal with an arrogant Altaïr who has something to prove and has a lot of repressed anger and guilt that, really, would only be aggravated by Desmond’s presence. So after AC1 would be his best bet and maybe even make his life a bit more easier by dropping in when Altaïr had ‘settled down’ in his role as the mentor. But then… that would be an Altaïr who will absolutely be curious about so many things concerning Desmond and how this time traveling thing works that Desmond would need to satisfy.

Ezio:

At 18-7, Ezio would be able to handle whatever Desmond throws at him since he had been shown as having a teenage body adept in freerunning at 18 anyway. Wherever Desmond dropped by, Ezio could probably take whatever weirdness this brings. Leonardo would probably ask to sketch them though.

Also…

Claudia and Machiavelli(Brotherhood)/Mario(AC2)/Yusuf(Revelations) would have to know what happened because they need allies who can help them and they’d stare at the deaged Desmond and deaged Ezio and would be like…

“Soooooo… Ezio’s gone out for a bit, something hush hush for the Brotherhood and all that, and these are Desmond and uuuhhh Ezio Junior.”

“JUNIO- (Desmond covers his mouth) muffledindignantshouting”

“They’re Ezio’s children from… different mothers and they’re staying here for now.”

Cue shenanigans of Ezio and Desmond being treated as Ezio’s own love children.

Bonus points if the rumors are Ezio (Junior) is the son of Cristina Vespucci while Desmond is the son of Rosa.

Ratonhnhaké:ton:

This is the one where Desmond found a certain loophole.

Because the limitation is always Desmond and his anchor ancestor's combined age can never exceed 25yrs, 9 months and 8 days, that means any combination of the two ages is possible.

So say…

Desmond was to have a 7-18 ratio with Ratonhnhaké:ton on…

November 2, 1760…

The day Charles Lee came to the village.

So, in this scenario, the child that Charles Lee tried to beat up suddenly becomes even younger and there’s suddenly a teenager that seemed to have split off from the child, everyone would be surprised.

Desmond’s 18-year-old body isn’t that great, yeah, but he’s still fit enough to take Charles Lee and his men out thanks to the skills and techniques he learned from the Bleeding Effect. By the end of it, he manages to save the village before it could be burned and no one has to know.

Except for Ratonhnhaké:ton who stares at Desmond with wide eyes and loses consciousness soon after.

And that’s how Ratonhnhaké:ton starts to believe there is another person inside him.

So the next time Desmond pops into Ratonhnhaké:ton’s timeline, Desmond is utterly confused to why Ratonhnhaké:ton believes he is another part of him, a spirit that guards him and that this whole ‘deaging’ thing is because Ratonhnhaké:ton’s mortal body cannot contain Desmond’s spirit.

You know what?

Yeah.

Desmond would go with that explanation.

Screw it.

[littleeyesofpallas]

Dumb bit of comic nerd shenaniganary I get my knickers in a twist about is how often people try to complain about that one time Batman and Batgirl had an awkward fling. And it's not like I ship it, it was half baked, with zero chemistry, and poorly written. But people will get all uppity about there being a problematic "age gap", which, for one, just is an immaterial thing in a work of fiction. But also it's just flat out wrong.

Bat canon is wonky at the very best of times, but there are a few anchoring events we are kind of expected to take for granted in any timeline that doesn't explicitly state otherwise:

Bruce starts Batman'ing at 25

Dick's parents die when he is 8, and in Year 2

It's not clear when Dick forms the Teen Titans, but the earliest it could be is 13, obviously.

When Barbara is introduced the Teen Titans already exist

When Barbara is introduced she works at the Gotham Libtary

Other than the 1966 TV show, this fact is extended to her having a MLIS; that's a 3 year degree, minimum.

90s continuity had her graduate high school at 16, this doesn't apply retroactively, but could be assumed of later iterations

part of her origin includes being inspired by Batman after overhearing a phonecall between Batman and Comissioner Gordon as a "teenager"

Dick drops the Robin moniker to go to college, implicitly around 17-18

Shortly after he dons the Nightwing moniker for the first time

(I'm not counting the nu52 timeline where she starts as a college undergrad because that one doesn't gel with any of the other versions and has to be its own standalone thing.)

Conveniently there is an overlap of constraints: if she is 13 in year one, the earliest she could overhear the phone conversation, and she graduates highschool early, then with 7 years of secondary education, the earliest she could debut at batgirl would be 22-23, which lines up with Dick being 16-17, nearly the latest time she can debut while he is still Robin. If she graduates HS at 18 she overshoots Dick's tenure as Robin entirely. This puts one cap on this.

But on the other hand, she can only get older than Dick if we try to nudge her timeline around. The other end of this is that if she overhears the phone call at 19, the latest she can, then she would have to spend a number of years between graduation and debut as Batgirl in order to give Dick time to form the Teen Titans at, at the earliest, 13yo. And that pushes her debut age to 25.

In either case, she is 6-12 years younger than Bruce, and conversely 12-6 year older than Dick. The split on Bruce:Dick:Babs ranging from 34:16:22 to 31:13:25. But, again, I don't think people who try to scrutinize the ""morality"" of fictional scenarios, least of all romantic age gaps, are in touch enough with reality to even warrant arguing with, but you see the problem with just the basic math, right?

She's a grown ass woman by the time she starts Bat"girl"ing and people just have this obnoxious hangup about infantilizing her all the damn time for seemingly no real reason, fans and actual creators alike. Is it because the name has "girl" in it? Is it because of some residual thing from Bette Kane being an obvious parallel to Dick? Or just the fact that they date at all? Is it just the general history sexism in superhero comics as a genre?

Also I didn't mention it because it's kinda firmly outside of consideration for this, but she even has a golden age story where part of her origins being inspired to be a superhero includes meeting Superboy as a teenager. They even dated for a hot second.

Seriously, people need to remember that she is decidedly not the same generation of heroes as the Teen Titans or even her seeming brand parallels like Super Girl or Wonder Girl --I won't try to nail down the Superfam and Batfam timelines, because they just do not play nice together, not enough to get a hard number on anyway, but Kara lands on Earth as a 17yo, vs Babs' aforementioned debut as a 20-something.