#The Daunt Rock Rescue

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in 1936 – The Daunt Rock Rescue.

The Ballycotton lifeboat ‘Mary Stanford’ returns to its home port in East Cork following probably the most famous sea rescue in Irish maritime history. Ballycotton fisherman Patrick Sliney was Coxswain of the life boat which spent over 60 hours at sea, in a successful attempt to save six men from the lightship that guarded the Daunt Rock. The Royal National Lifeboat Institute website states: ‘A…

[softevnstan]

*NSFW PROMPT*

Imagine Bucky masturbating to the thought of you.

pairing. bucky barnes x gender neutral!reader

summary. returning bucky's laundry to his room after owing him a favor, you're spooked at the abruptness of someone returning. taking shelter in the closet on impulse, you find yourself getting a front-row seat to bucky taking care of his pent-up frustrations.

warnings. voyeurism, unintentional exhibitionism, panty stealing, masturbation, soft!dark!bucky (he steals your underwear but he's not a creeper past that), panty sniffing, uncircumcised p (mentioned, not relevant past that), light dirty talk. SMUT - minors DNI. reader technically is breaking and entering but bucky took their underwear so they're even. reader wears thongs but nothing is ever gendered as men's or women's, just implies the reader wears similar things.

a.n. ok so not as long as my usual things but i wanna start finishing requests in general rather than making all of them super longer - it's daunting for me. so have some slightly pervy bucky and you caught him :) no beta, we die like men.

w.c. 5.3k

The sound of skin on skin is obscene; Flooding the quiet air alongside the labored pants and muted groans from Bucky. The slick slide of his fist is hypnotizing - working over the impressive length of his aching cock and twisting his wrist on the upstroke. Bucky moans low, and the sound reverberates to your core.

You hadn’t even intended to intrude on the moment. You’d brought him his laundry after taking the liberty to do it yourself since you knew Bucky suffered from rough days (anything to make it easier for him).  It was a relatively simple task in the grand scheme of things - Laundry. When did it so complicated?

Bucky wasn’t even supposed to have been back yet! How did you get yourself into this mess??

You owed Bucky his laundry due to a favor; he’d come to your aid one night in the rain when you’d run over a bottle and flattened your tire. Bucky had helped you on the side of the road, in the rain, changing your tire. To pay it forward, you insisted you’d help Bucky out with odds and ends given his schedule suffered from hectic changes from having to be on standby for Ross. You knew the help certainly couldn’t hurt and you’d feel better about having him come out to your rescue. After moments of bickering, Bucky agreed for you to help with his laundry; It was the only thing he’d been comfortable letting you do for him. Still learning to let people in.

And you were more than happy to help out a friend. But when you’d insisted to pay back Bucky, you didn’t expect it to bite you in the ass in the sweetest yet worst way possible. 

Admittedly, you were in the wrong to an extent here. Going into Bucky’s apartment while he wasn’t there? Big no-no, but leaving the basket outside the door wasn’t an option. Someone could steal it! Then what kind of friend would that make you?

Bucky lived above you in your shared building. You’d met at the laundromat around the corner one late evening and eventually weened yourself into his friend circle through tokens of affection - such as making plates for Bucky on nights when you had extra, or talking to him when you’d catch him on the fire escape overhead while watering your plants. Through persistence and patience, you were proud to say that you were one of Bucky’s friends. It especially elated you when Bucky would confirm such statements.

With becoming Bucky’s friend, you also eventually became aware of the rock that sat on the metal grates on the fire escape above yours. The first time you’d spotted it, it’d confused you - how did a rock get in a place like that? Your apartment was on the second floor, Bucky’s on the third! Was someone throwing rocks at Bucky’s windows? You never heard anything shattering or breaking, and as far you were aware, the window seemed well intact when you’d stretched out to sneak a glance at the casement. Nor had you recalled any mumbled gripes about the potential disturbance - therefore ruling out that as an option. You’d pondered it for a long while.

Eventually, you found the opportunity to inquire about the rock to Bucky one day a few weeks ago - ‘Spare key.’ was all he had told you.

It made sense; Bucky was an enhanced super soldier - scaling the side of the building to get his spare key (or just going out through your window - you’d let him if he asked) was a minimal feat at best. He wanted multiple fail-safes. 

That fail-safe had come to your aid earlier that day. After shakily climbing the flimsy metal ladder to the floor above you, you’d been relieved to come into contact with the flat landing of Bucky’s fire escape. You found safety in the more-so-stable steel grate that held your weight; The cool breeze of the afternoon served as a reminder that you were three stories above the ground and falling would be extremely inconvenient. 

Clambering with the rock was… Interesting. On the surface, it really did look like a simple rock. In your hands was only when you could tell it wasn’t; It was light in your palms and there was a line dividing the ‘rock’ into halves to anyone who was paying attention long enough to find it. Weighing in your palms, you took a moment to examine the rock and appreciate the ingenuity of the hiding place.

After attempting to pry it open with your fingers - trying to find the best means of opening it - the phony rock popped open into two pieces. Briefly, it sent a strike of fear wracking your body. The key clattered against the fire escape, stealing your breath with a shrill gasp. You quickly attempted to scoop the key up before it slipped between the slots in the steel and was lost on the ground. The last thing you needed to do was lose Bucky’s spare. Sure, you could go looking for it on the ground, but it’s about principle and responsibility.

With the brass clutched safely in your fingers, you breathed a sigh of relief before slumping against the brick wall of Bucky’s apartment behind you. Everything after that would be a piece of cake. The only thing left to do was head up to Bucky’s apartment and drop his laundry off. You’d give the key back in person when you caught up with him rather than taking your chances on the rickety metal that made your heart drop to your stomach with every creak.

After safely returning to the comfort of your apartment, you pocketed the key in your jeans for safekeeping. Then after gathering the blue, plastic laundry basket full of all of Bucky’s folded clothes, you left your apartment and climbed the stairs to the third floor. Eyes traveling the corridor, you’d scoured the orientational numbers on each beige door before halting at the door with golden numbers counting out ‘306.’ 

Rather than knock, you balanced the long basket on your hip and used your free hand to fish for the key and unlock Bucky’s apartment - telling yourself it’d be a simple in and out; Unbeknownst to you it was about to be anything but.

Bucky’s apartment was far drab compared to yours. Filled with the bare essentials, his walls didn’t hold photos or paintings of the things he loved. The coffee table he had was overwhelmed with stacks of books; A bookcase still in its box and unassembled sat perched against the living room wall. You didn’t help yourself to his home past entering, but it didn’t stop your eyes from searching curiously. His kitchen was so empty; The fridge only held a grocery list and the drainboard was full of clean dishes Bucky must’ve done recently after a build-up. Everything looked so untouched; So empty - it was disheartening to you. If Bucky were to take the time to actually personalize his space, maybe his bad days would take a little less of a toll on him without bare walls threatening to close in on him. 

That was for another day. In the meantime, you made quick work of carrying the basket to Bucky’s bedroom. Simply telling yourself you’d set the basket down and leave it before returning to your own apartment and getting a start on dinner. But when you pushed the door open to Bucky’s room, you were surprised by how lived in it seemed compared to the rest of the apartment.

There was an empty glass on Bucky’s nightstand, as well as two half-full water bottles and a digital alarm clock. Alongside the bottles sat a small, red pocket notebook with a pen next to it. The bed was half unmade; The queen size bed only being ruined on the right side, next to the nightstand. So much of his room appeared second-hand; The area was a mess of items and clutter but nothing too gaudy or expensive. You half wonder if this is a contributing factor/result of the man’s depression; Especially considering none of it looked dirty - simply unkempt. Mustering the energy must’ve been far few and in between when his priorities tend to lie with work. By the time Bucky returned to his apartment after a day’s work, perhaps he didn’t have the energy by then to keep the room maintained.

Maybe you could help him with that one day.

A desk nearby was lined with journals; Stood against the wall with their empty spines outward towards you. There had to be roughly ten to thirteen - you hadn’t counted out each one, simply guessed. A small lamp was left on at the desk; Casting the desk in a yellow light. Sticky notes and pens are scattered across the flat, wooden surface. There was a roll of tape, a bottle of paste, scissors, and the clippings of what looked like a newspaper detailing the refurnishing of the Captain America exhibit left out. A brown leather journal sat left out and untouched amongst the supplies, and you assumed it was Bucky’s most recent diary.

Setting the laundry basket on top of Bucky’s dresser, you took a closer look at Bucky’s desk. Temptation left your fingers to twitch curiously at what could be hiding in the drawers but knowing better than to help yourself. As many secrets this room no doubt had that could bring you closer to Bucky, you knew being any more invasive than you already were would deter him. Push him away. You wouldn’t want someone rifling through your things, either.

Bucky always held you at an arm’s distance. One day you hoped he no longer did; That you’d be welcomed into these spaces freely rather than technically intruding in on them. You could only hope Bucky wouldn’t be too upset; You had good intentions, you swear.

Though, as the saying goes, ‘curiosity killed the cat’. After abandoning the basket, you tentatively moved to Bucky’s desk. Crouching to peer into the round trash can that was full of crumbled and torn papers, and excess clippings that Bucky hadn’t needed for his journal. It was trash, yes, but you were curious. You’d only managed to search for a few seconds in shifting through the papers when you were suddenly jarred by the sound of the lock in the foyer sliding open. You heard the door opening next. The apartment was silent save for your breathing, which made it easy to hear, but it also made it easier for you to be heard. 

The abruptness of someone’s return shocked you; Jumping right up to your feet and eyes flickering for somewhere to hide - you were somewhere you shouldn’t be, after all. In retrospect, it was the wrong option. The only reasonable person it would be was Bucky, but you didn’t know that at that moment. And in a world where aliens and robots co-exist and the world has been on the brink of end countless times, you come to expect the worst of situations. Better not to take chances. So hiding out in the closet was instinct; Even if it was the wrong choice. And if you’d taken a moment to remember entirely where you were, you’d have been able to put together that it was Bucky returning but the thought was far from your mind in those short few seconds it took you to get to your feet. Without thought, you quickly advanced towards the closet that was a quarter of the way open; Hanging clothes peeking back at you. 

Sliding the door open, you hid inside the closet without a second thought - silently trying to slide the door back as you had found it and leave the room as untouched as you could manage. It was only then, standing on Bucky’s extra pair of shoes and attempting to not stumble over yourself, you thought to yourself: Genius idea - now what?

You didn’t have to ponder the next course of action for too long.

The heavy footfalls of Bucky’s boots on the wooden floor resounded through the empty apartment, drawing nearer and nearer. Your heart jumped into your throat, holding your breath as your mind scrambled for the next reasonable phase of action - springing out on Bucky would no doubt startle him, and lying in wait was hardly an option. Perhaps he’d leave again and a window of escape would open, even if it meant clambering down the fire escape and praying Bucky’s enhanced hearing didn’t catch your commotion. 

That meant getting to the window itself, though, which was going to be a monumental feat. Especially when you hear the click of Bucky’s heels entering the same room as you. Bucky comes to a halt somewhere around the entrance to the room; You hear no movement, no sound. Your heart pounds in your chest; Fearful he may somehow know you’re there. The last thing you wanted to do was shatter your trust in this man. It was a long moment before Bucky’s feet pick up again and he enters the bedroom. Great. Getting out undetected just became leagues more complicated.

A hollow sigh emitted from the man behind the door, and in the seconds following you could hear the springs of his bed whine under his weight. The shuffling of sheets, and still, you’d hardly breathed in that time. Body kept as stiff as possible in the cramped, dark space. 

It’s the sound of a zipper that surprises you.  Not daring to peek, you allow your mind to attempt to fill in the blanks. The long ‘ziiiiip’ leaves you to believe it’s Bucky shedding the layer of the coat he lives in - he runs cold easier. He explained it to you one time; His serum and all of its laced dysfunctions.

Bucky mumbles something to himself about the thermostat and what temperature it's on, and part of you realizes you missed his voice. Sure, Bucky was only going about his daily work while you both were apart, but hearing him and knowing you were in the same room with Bucky did bring about an odd sense of natural comfort. Just beyond this door, he was at arm’s length. What would it be like to welcome Bucky home after a long day of work?

Your thoughts are jarred when you hear the slide of a drawer. Tentatively, you lean towards the barely-there gap between the door in the wall to peek through. Bucky is sitting on the bed, one leg draped off the side and the other up with him. He’s tight up against the headboard, sat up as the soldier shuffles through his nightstand drawer. Bucky’s brown leather coat is abandoned on the edge of the bed, leaving him in his dark navy jeans and a black t-shirt that leaves little to the imagination in regard to miles and miles of muscle. It’s only then you notice the fact that Bucky’s fly is unzipped as well; The flaps of his jeans are pulled open to show his gray boxer briefs that hug his hips all too well.

The moment feels utterly invasive. You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be seeing any of this - this is Bucky’s private time, but there you are, with a front-row seat, helpless but to watch.

What Bucky produces from the drawer is a clear bottle of water-based lube and… Underwear. It only takes a few seconds for horror to creep up your spine and realization dawns. It’s your thong.  Specifically, a black pair that you’d thrown into your laundry the other day; You feel shame creep up your face and color your cheeks - a sense of violation but that would make the both of you even, wouldn’t it? You’re intruding on him after all. 

You follow Bucky’s hand holding the bottle of lube as he slots it between his legs and propped up on his inner thigh; Your glance moving further to acknowledge the semi-bulge in his underwear. The angle is perfect, his headboard facing the closet doors and providing you with the best view of his spread thick thighs. 

It makes your heart pound in your chest; Your guts swoop with something akin to excitement and guilt ebbs in your mind for the fact that this is bordering on arousing. For a moment you humor the thought of how thick Bucky must be fully erect; How the weight of his cock might feel on your tongue. It’s not the first time you’ve indulged yourself privately in such explicit thoughts of your friend, and part of you had always felt silently contrite for the sexualization, but now you had a direct show. It was like finally having food for thoughts; A burning in your chest. It can’t be real, can it?

Coming to your senses, you tear away from the display face a hot face and a dizzying mind. You take a deep breath, scrubbing hands down your face attempting to cool the flush. You can’t watch something like this - how did Bucky even get your thong? Did he go snooping in your apartment? Did he take anything else?? Confliction tugs in your chest, almost frustrated with yourself for finding a sense of arousal in the thought. 

Bucky going through your things when you’re not there, taking something so intimate like a trophy… It should disturb you - someone breaking into your apartment. But thinking about it longer makes your gut feel tight and arousal swell between your legs. Were there chances he’d watched you in other intimate moments? Moments where you cried his name, muffled by your pillows and impaled on your favorite toy? It was more than just a thong, it was all the implications that came with the gesture. Was this the first time? Were there others? Questions ran a hundred miles a minute through your mind. Grounded in reality for half a moment and reminding yourself this isn’t a fantasy. It’s real, it’s wrong, it’s— A low, husky groan stops your train of thought. Going stock still, you take a moment to actually listen to what’s happening. Paralyzed in the dark, you realize you could now hear the slick slide of what you assumed was Bucky’s hand on his cock. The short pants from Bucky hung in the air; “Aw, that’s it…” Bucky husks, arousal thick in his quiet tone. “Needed this so fuckin’ bad…”

Another burst of arousal rings from your core and makes your skin tingle. The sounds are so obscene…

Against your better judgment, you redirect your attention to the gap in the door. 

You’re greeted with the delicious sight of Bucky’s pants shimmied down his thick thighs, bunched up before his knees. His cock stands half erect, his flesh fingers wrapped around the length with fingers slick with lube. You can see his heavy sac, the curve of his cock, and the way the head of his cock is slick with pre-come when his foreskin is drawn down on the stroke. He has a pretty dick, all things considered; Bucky keeps himself well-groomed in regards to his pubic hair from what you can tell, and his cock looks thick - even he barely manages to wrap his fingers entirely around the base of his cock and pump.

The motion is hypnotizing, and as much as you’d love to continue to swallow the sight whole, you can’t help but be distracted by his vibranium arm. The one that’s holding your thong between sleek black and gold fingers, held to Bucky’s face as he breathes you in. Eyes closed in bliss.

Nose buried into the fabric while he fists the length of his cock, the pornographic act surprises you. The way Bucky is so enthralled and aroused at that moment, knowing that it’s because of you, and having the dirty little secret of watching Bucky jerk off. To watch him in one of his most intimate positions. 

You’re already stuck here. What more is there to lose? You can only sell your soul once. Your hands slink down between your legs, fingers slipping past the hem of your pants and into your underwear; Fingers getting to work at coaxing your arousal.

“F-Fuuuck,” Bucky huffed out, fingers tight around the base of his cock as he jerked himself off; Fucking up into his own fist with minute thrusts, his slit weeping copious amounts of pre-come. His face still buried in the fabric of your thong, the long draws of inhales through his nose making you squirm.

You could only imagine what was going through Bucky’s mind when it came to you. What he could possibly be thinking of to egg on his own arousal so deeply? He pumped to the thought of you, and you watched his angry red cock drool at the attention. You wanted to stay with Bucky through this. Feel good with him; Pretend you were part of the equation.

With your heart pounding in your chest and your head feeling airy, your circle your fingers around your needy hole before working them in. Working experimentally to loosen your aching hole and allow the penetration; Sinking to the first knuckle as you fucked your fingers in and out of your entrance. Nowhere near the same brutal pace Bucky maintains, working yourself gradually to take the intrusion. The slide is made easier when your wetness slicks the inside of your underwear and ruins another pair.

Your needy hole swallows your fingers easily; made simple by the arousing nature of the situation. The guttural sounds from Bucky’s throat as he inhaled your scent, sending shivers down your spine with the raw display. 

“Oh God, Y/N,” Bucky groans low in his throat, the sound of your name rolling off his tongue taking you off guard. "Mm, yeah, I love your hands…" his voice is breathy, the way it hits your ears makes it feel as though Bucky is right behind you and whispering it in your ear for half a moment - you clamp a hand over your lips to avoid squeaking out a noise you shouldn't as your fingers make progressively faster work fingering yourself open. 

Bucky is pretending it's you there.

You feel like butter, bracing against the wall of the closet as you became a victim to your own lust. Fucking yourself open in the rhythm of Bucky's tugs on his hard cock. 

"Ri-Right there," Bucky speaks to himself through labored pants. "God, mm, such a good baby… Yeah, y-you're my sweet little doll-baby..." The praise coaxes you on; A barely audible muffled whine vibrates along your palm. You freeze entirely and go stock-still upon the realization you’d made some sort of noise, but Bucky’s rhythm doesn’t falter. He hadn’t even heard you. 

Relief washes over you, tight shoulders going slack before you allow yourself to melt into the euphoria of the moment again.

Bucky creates such beautiful noises on his own, but part of you imagines he’d be too self-conscious to be nearly as vocal with a partner. When you peek out at him, his jaw fluctuates between slack and baring his teeth with a clenched jaw. His swollen lips curling into a perfect ‘o’ shape as he strokes his delicious cock before worrying the flesh between his teeth again. The sight burns into your memory; Forever immortalizing itself. You’ll never need to look at another man again, truly.

Still he holds your thong to his nose, breathing in the scent deeply until he changes things up. Bucky sits up just a little more, and you bite back a keen that the show has come to a pause. Bucky shifts his weight on the bed in what you assume is an attempt to get more comfortable. He rucks up the black t-shirt to reveal the pleasant happy trail that cascades over his navel and belly button - the star of the show and stealing the spotlight is his abdomen; The man looks chiseled from marble, even with the scars that are speckled throughout his physique. Bucky’s perfect.

Bucky, still holding your thong, alternates his hands. Wrapping the fabric around the length of his cock and resorted to quick flicks; Using something that touched your most intimate places to aid in his solo session. You watch Bucky’s cock jerk with interest, and he husks out a delighted chuckle that bleeds into a blissed moan. 

His eyes never shut. Steely blue gaze always peering open and aware, it just adds to the adrenaline of hiding for you. It excites you. Wondering what would happen if he peered towards the closet and caught your gaze; In an ideal world, he keeps jerking off to the thought of you - sharing the filthy moment together and shamelessly. 

“That’s it, sugar,” his voice rumbles, and if you close your eyes, you can pretend it's you and him, not your defiled thong. You screw your eyes shut and strain to listen, fingers still working meticulously between your slick wet inner thighs. “Y’take it so fuckin’ well, made for my cock…”

You imagine what it’d be like to feel him slide home in you. The way your walls would flutter around the stretch and how Bucky would stretch you open. You’d feel so full, you imagine. Taking inch after inch until he was buried in the hilt. Would he be a rough lover? Would he jackhammer your poor hole until it was simply stretched and dripping with his come? Would he hold you missionary so he could see your face when you came around his cock?

You squeeze your thighs together and exhale shakily into your palm - attempting to control yourself even as you still finger-fuck to the beat of Bucky’s strokes. Your legs tremble with want. After a moment, your eyes squint open to see what Bucky is doing now…

Bucky’s intent focus is fixed on soiling the material he holds. Smearing his pre-come into the fabric and staining it with traces of him. He ruts into the fabric before fucking into it all together. Fisting it around his aching girth and wrapping his dick with the cotton and treating it as if it were his own hole to fuck. Though you imagine it not nearly as gratifying.

His head falls back; The column of his throat is exposed and you imagine littering it with kisses and hickeys that wouldn’t last. He’s utterly lost in that moment, hips fucking subtly off the bed into your underwear that’s wrapped around his cock. You try to meet the pace with your fingers, thrusting into your slick channel and the arousal creeping into every last crevice. Your skin feels hot, mind fuzzy with desire. Your hand isn’t enough, you wish you had more, but it’ll have to do. Fingers thrusting in, you eventually manage a third alongside your two. Bucky’s fingers would be bigger, thicker. They could hit every best part of you, or perhaps they could fill your wanting mouth while his cock takes up every last inch and then some inside of you. 

“O-Ohh, oh fuck, doll, m’gonna come,” Bucky moans, and your heart jumps into your throat. “Yeah, m’gonna fill up your greedy little hole, gonna fill you up with my fuckin’ come ‘til you’re drippin’ with it…” 

You wish you could consider it a promise, the words egging you closer and closer to your own teetering edge. His voice is so rough, the words so sultry and filthy - you’d never heard Bucky speak in such an obscene way and it reached to your core.

His hand impossibly quickens as lube-covered fingers come to roll his balls between them. Watching Bucky play with his sac left you on the cusp of drooling; You could only imagine the lewd sound his balls would make clapping against your flesh in the haze of his animalistic fucking. He’d sink balls deep into you, making you take every last drop…

“Please, please, please,” you whisper a litany in barely a breath to yourself. Begging for a man that doesn’t even know you’re there; Reduced to such a needy and wanting thing as you draw on the cusp of your own orgasm. It’s only when you angle your fingers just right and curl against that sweet spot, you see stars. It drives you right over the brink of your orgasm, hand clutching over your mouth so hard it hurts.

It’s perfect timing. As you unravel in Bucky’s closet, knees nearly buckling under you, Bucky reaches his own climax. You can tell in the way the crease forms between his brows and his eyes finally screw shut; Groaning like an animal in rut out into the air as his hips stutter and falter. You watch the fabric dampen, and the slick seed trickle down to the seam of his balls and stain the sheets under himself.

“Fuck!” Bucky moans, and you tremble.

It’s an absolutely gorgeous sight. Watching the way his adam’s apple bobs when he swallows, the sweat glistening on his flushed skin, and the mess of come that Bucky unloads into your thong. You’ll never look at the pair of underwear the same if you ever even see them again.

You pant, feeling like jelly and rather defeated by being stuck in the closet. You long for nothing more than to pull that door open and crawl into bed with Bucky, or at the very least, find sanctuary in your own apartment. 

You nearly laugh when you remember the turn of events that even brought you to this moment.

Carefully, you coax your fingers from your used hole. Biting your lip to bite back the whine that nearly leaves you when you clench around nothing; Empty. The floor of the closet is littered with shoes, and without much thought, you brace your hand on the door in an attempt to steady yourself and find better footing before you go crashing to the floor. The door gives. The way you’re holding on with your palm flush to the cool surface, the door braces against the metal horizontal rig and leaves the door to shake. The applied pressure makes the door give, and slide open; before you could find leverage on anything to save you from the fall, you stumble harshly in Bucky’s closet - meeting the carpeted floor below. Your heart is suddenly pounding in your ears, pierced with a new sort of fear and a way less sexy one.

When you prop your arms under yourself to lift up, Bucky is already standing at the closet door. Your eyes nervously raise up the length of his legs, over his half-soft cock that’s eyes level with you, to the used thong in his hands. Further up, you find that piercing gaze looking down on you. Cast in Bucky’s shadow, you suddenly feel so small as he looms over you. A grin fixed on his lips and pupils blown; it looks like he wants to eat you alive.

“Well, well, well, what're we doin' in here…?” Bucky purrs, the opposite of the anger you expect. “B-Bucky!” You gasp, the ecstasy of your high gone and instead holding a prickling knot in your stomach. “I– I wasn’t— This—” “Oh, sugar, what’re you makin’ excuses for…?” Bucky asks, voice low and almost threatening. “You think I wouldn’t notice the basket when I came in with an unlocked door? How stupid you think I am, pretty thing…?” Bucky’s sultry and rough voice sends another jolt between your legs and straight to your core. Your face burns with shame and humiliation with the implications.

Bucky knew you were there the whole time.

“Aww, nothin’ to say for yourself, baby…?” The tone is almost condescending albeit with an underlying heat. “I-I’m sorry,” you stammer uselessly, voice quaking with a mix between arousal and fear.

Bucky holds up your defiled thong before tossing it into your lap.  You jump, lifting up the thong with your fingers and only then see the load stained on the inside of the underwear. You swallow around the tightness in your throat, tentatively looking back up at the hulking man.

“No, you’re not. But you will be.”

[theskzkiddo]

Hi! I hope that it is okay that I'm back 😊

You said you did headcannons right?

If you do could you maybe do one for skz with a shy and anxious little?

It is completely up to you how it is done! Like ot8 or just a few members or whatever you feel /pos

I loved the boards!!!!!! Pink and yellow are my favorites!

-littleracha

skz + shy/anxious little headcanons <3

an: i’m sorry this took a bit! but i hope you like it! :D

1. they always have at least one of your comfort items with them when you guys go outside!

2. jisung is the best at talking you down and getting you out of your head

3. having said that! chan stumbles a bit on his words, but his are the ones that comfort you the most!

4. changbin can and will pick you up and just rock you back and forth while one of the members sing you a lullaby

5. minho has a secret book of your favorite meals/snacks/desserts! whenever he knows that you’ve had a particularly anxious day, he’ll make you something (even if he’s busy because seeing all the tension flow out of your body and the small smile on your face, makes it’s 1000000x worth it)

6. seungmin and i.n will gang up on you and tease you! you’re just so cute when you’re shy! can ya blame em? hehe

7. they have so many fidget/sensory toys! chewerly? check! pop it? check! stress ball? check! sensory slug? check!

8. if you wake up feeling not so good about the day and you’re just already lost in your head thinking about all the what ifs, they have a special routine for that! seungmin will come in to pick out your outfit, felix will get your bath/shower ready, minho and jisung will make your favorite foods, hyunjin will get a little art station set up in the living room, chan is getting your playmat and setting it up in the living room along with your favorite toys/stuffies, i.n will be getting your blanket/pillows and making you a little nap area so you don’t have to be away from them when your have to nap! and changbin will be carrying you the entire day! :3

9. sometimes slipping into your headspace is hard because! brain dumb >:(, but if your mind just won’t s t o p, jisung is to the rescue! and any other member! because while jisung is the best to help get you out of your head, any member is the best at physical comfort! just depends on who you wanna be held by!

10. felix reads you bedtime stories!!! you know the ‘twas a night before christmas read out loud they did? (IT MAKES ME FEEL S O SMALL) yeah, him and chan are the best at story reading! but! the other members tend to be silly and act everything out! hehehe

11. hyunjin loves painting with you but! since you’re just so shy he’s made a little barrier thing so you guys can’t see each others art until after you’re finished! (it helps calms your nerves a lot!)

12. i.n and chan will play peekaboo with you for hours! H O U R S, you’re just so sweet and your reactions are just t h e cutest (they love your smile)

13. whenever you guys go out to eat or anywhere really they will talk for you because they understand how daunting it can be to socialize with strangers :(((

14. they stim with you in public so you’re not the only one who’s doing it! (it helps bring the attention off of solely you and makes you feel more comfortable!)

[hughiecampbelle]

Dependence (Roy!Sibling x Kendall Roy)

((SUCCESSION SPOILERS))

Character/s: Kendall

Word Count: 1,583

Warning: addiction/addiction mention

A/N: Baby girl!!!! I love him so much!!! I love how this turned out too :) it's v angsty, v sad, and hopefully in character! I'm having a lot of fun writing for Succession! 💞 Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Dependence Pt. 2 / Dependence Pt. 3 / Dependence Pt. 4 /Dependence Pt. 5

Being The Youngest Roy Would Include: Pt. 1

Being The Youngest Roy Would Include: Pt. 2

He smelled rich, sharp, daunting. The kind of scent your father would have worn, the kind men like him always did. Bared their teeth to seem more intimidating. It wasn’t like him at all. You sniffled against his suit, knowing your tears sat damp within the fabric, ruining the press he’d probably had. Ruining everything, like always. His arms wrapped around you so fiercely, so violently, holding you in place. Keeping you from running. Escaping. You were trapped on the boat sure, but there were stairwells, closets, you’d swim back if it meant leaving the scene of the crime. Your mind ran with exits, those bright red signs a welcomed attraction. Anything to get away, to be alone, to self-destruct on your own accord. You rubbed your palms against your pants, itching out of his grip, your sleeves balled into your palms. Whatever this attempt at love was, it was beginning to suffocate. He refused to let go. Anger rose in your throat like bile. A fury you’ve tried to outrun began to settle in the middle of your chest. You wanted to throw the same tantrums your father forbid. Kick, and scream, and break everything in sight. Burn the whole world down if it meant feeling an ounce of relief. Break your own bones if it meant putting out this fire. Numb it all like you’ve been doing your entire life. Maybe your brother knew this. Maybe he didn’t want the scene, the mess, to have to pick up the pieces. Maybe not. Maybe he was just sad, needing someone to hug. You would never be sure.

You stifled a sob, shaking despite yourself. You could see your brother and sister, talking, crying, saying what they needed to. Whatever you said, whatever you told him or begged from him, it was already gone. Forgotten. Your lips moved rhythmically, asking the same thing, but you couldn’t hear it. You couldn’t hear anything, but this high pitch whine.. He rubbed your back, awkwardly at first, hesitant, and then comfortably. Soothingly. His throat vibrating, speaking, again going unheard. You squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting to be here anymore. Not wanting this moment to exist. The last time you’d seen your sister cry, your brother retreat into himself like that, decades ago. Before you knew any of what you knew now. Before you’d been at one another's throats long enough to forget why. The inky black of your world could only do enough. Their voices, muffled, coming back to you. Closer. The hurt dripping from their words like honey. Sticky. Sweet. The fear. You tried to pull away, get some space, air. Again he refused. 

Did I tell him I loved him? Y, yes- of, of course you did. Did I tell him I loved him? 

Your father didn’t love you. He couldn’t stand to look at you in your later years. It was your brothers, sister, coming to your rescue. Scheduling cars, calls, making space for you on their couches, spare rooms, while you picked yourself up from rock bottom. Detoxing in their bathrooms, their beds. All you knew was excess. Excess wealth, yes, but also booze, drugs, pills. Everything except love. Using since you were a child, too young to understand, old enough to know no matter what you did, it would never be what he wanted. Taking drinks of silver platters, mixing whatever you found in the bathroom cabinet, what you found in your brothers pockets, sick as a dog in the morning. He had to know. There were always eyes watching, ears listening, someone to leave clean clothes on your bed when you threw up on yours in the middle of the night or when blood ran from your nose down the front of your shirt. And yet, he never said a thing. He never thought you should see someone, talk it out, get help. The baby of the family. The most expendable. Con was already out by the time you came around, the rest following. An accident, they’d all joked as soon as you were old enough. There was some truth to it, though. A hard truth. Logan ignored Connor, he hit Roman, disregarded Shiv, he thought Ken was incompetent, but you? He loathed you for reasons you’d never get answers to. Too much like your mother, your sister thought. Too much like him, your brother said. Whatever it was, whatever reminder you were, it was enough for him. You weren’t trying to outrun him, his disappointment, his wrath, but rather your own. 

You’d always been an angry kid. Overcome, blinded, by rage. You couldn’t put it into words. You didn’t have the vocabulary. You shattered glasses. Slammed doors. Banged your head against walls. Screamed into pillows until your voice was coarse. When bruises showed, when tabloids dragged your name before you were twelve, you’d receive the only fatherly advice you’d ever get in your life. Summoned to his study, barely taller than the door handle. He didn’t even look up from his papers. When he was done, only two words spoken, the housekeeper led you out. Quiet down. As if you weren’t barely keeping yourself together as it was. You’d kicked a hole through the wall after that, your shoes dusty with plaster. You threw everything in your room like a tornado until, eventually, he took those things away. A bed, a dresser, that was all you were allotted. They tried to help. To understand. To give you advice. What was there to say? How could you defend yourself? He was so much bigger than you, so much more powerful. When your fork ended up in the table, he sent you to your room for days at a time. The door wasn’t locked, but it didn’t need to be. Every so often you could see him, in the crack between the floor, standing there, not saying a word. It wasn’t long after that that you had your first drink. Romans, you think, left unattended. Brown, thick, smelling of gasoline and tasting of fire. It wasn’t a lot, but enough. Enough to settle the fury. Turn the heat down. Take the edge off. Everything clicked. This is what he must have meant. Quiet down. Do what you needed to do without the allegations scorning his name. Do it in secret. 

They didn’t always know when you were drunk, high, both. You weren’t messy, you weren’t about to cause a scene or ruin your fathers reputation. The volume was turned down, that was all. It took them longer than any of them would like to admit to realize that you weren’t okay. That the occasional drink or sip was an everyday occurrence, that those long trips to the bathroom and bloody noses weren’t a coincidence. They had their own lives now, their own affairs. What their baby sibling did was not that the top of their priority list. You didn’t mind. It wasn’t their job to take care of you, it wasn’t your father or mothers, who moved away soon after your anger disappeared, sure you were finally okay. It was your job. Always had been. Now you saw her on holidays if you were lucky, once or twice a year. She thought you’d be better off with him. Leaving a baby in a wolfs den. No wonder you ended up the way you did: a complete disaster. You tried to get sober on you own. Stop cold turkey. That never lasted long. Not that he cared. The first time you overdosed, the second, third, he swept it under the rug. It was easier dealing with you now that you were sedated. A shell. You wouldn’t have gone to rehab if they hadn’t forced you, tricked you with an intervention. Again and again, they did this. For years. When you stayed with your mother, things were more bearable, but she didn’t want a child. She didn’t want to be a mother, so, when she grew tired, she’d ship you off to him again. 

Today, you were clean just over a year. From everything. You didn’t do chips or meetings, that would mean admitting to the public that you had a problem, and that wasn’t something you were allowed to do. This was an internal clock. Every day you wanted to cave in and every day you found a reason not to. Today you didn’t have one. Not a single reason came to mind. Because the man you spent your entire life being afraid of was dead and your family was falling apart at the seams. Con didn’t even know. No one had told him yet. Tom stayed on the phone, but no one was speaking. No one had anything to say.  Kendall never loosened his grip. He never let go. He wouldn’t not for a long time, not until he knew you’d be okay on your own. Too many times he’d failed you as an older brother. Every time he let Logan near you was a failure on his part. He was dead. He couldn’t hurt you anymore, but you could hurt yourself and sometimes that was more dangerous. Of course you’d told him you loved him. Of course you did. Even when you didn’t, even when you couldn’t, you did. He did, for the both of you. He wasn’t a perfect big brother, he wasn’t even a good one, but he could try now. He had to try now. For all the times he hadn’t been there. All those years.

[scotianostra]

On September 7th 1838 the paddle steamer SS Forfarshire floundered on rocks near the Farne Isles on it's way from Hull to Dundee and a Victorian heroine was “born”

The Forfarshire struck a rock known as the “Great Hercules” and immediately started to sink. Some of the crew abandoned the ship in a lifeboat, not thinking about the passengers and their fate, and they were picked up at North Shields. The rest of the passengers and crew were forced to cling to the wreckage and wait for help. The report from the Berwick Advertiser describes what happened next.....

“This was the situation of the survivors till daylight, when the ebbing of the tide enabled them to quit their lurking places and land on the rock. Here they remained for some time, when their situation was descried by the keeper of the outer lighthouse, whose only companion at this dreary place was his daughter, a girl about 19 years of age. To resist attempting to alleviate distress is with some persons utterly impossible; such seems to be the character of William Darling and his daughter Grace.

“The conduct of these two individuals on this occasion is worthy of the highest praise, and we feel assured will not be allowed to pass unrewarded. Although the sea was raging with a fury which might have daunted even a bold spirit, this man and his brave daughter, disdaining all selfish considerations for their own safety, no sooner perceived the perilous situation in which some of their fellow creatures were placed, than they launched their boat, without hesitation into the foaming element, and pulled vigorously to their relief, a distance of “300 yards; and having returned with them all safe to his dwelling, everything that it afforded was willingly placed at their disposal. Such behaviour affords a pleasing contrast to that displayed by the crew of the vessel, who, had they possessed a spark of that generosity and courage which dictated the conduct of Darling and his daughter, would have lingered about the wreck, and in this way, they might have been instrumental in saving their companions from a watery grave.”

As news of her role in the rescue reached the public, her combination of bravery and simple virtue set her out as exemplary, and led to an uneasy role as the nation's heroine. Subscriptions and donations totalling over £700 were raised for her, including £50 from Queen Victoria; more than a dozen portrait painters sailed to her island home to capture her likeness, and hundreds of gifts, letters, and even marriage proposals were delivered to her.

Sadly Grace Darling died of tuberculosis in October 1842, aged 26. A Monument in St Aidan's churchyard, Bamburgh marks her grave, a very brave young lass and I hope you agree she deserves a mention on a predominantly Scottish page.

The pics include a memorial to her in St Aidan's, Bamburgh, Northumberland, it's near her grave and was deliberatley placed further away so as it is visible to passing sailors.

[blametheeditor]

Day 1 | Mirth

Gt July Prompt List

Next

When stranded on an uncharted underwater planet, alone and surrounded by hostile lifeforms, there are only two possible outcomes: adapt and survive, or die trying.

Spoilers: For the game Subnautica

Content Warnings: Mentions of death and violence. Mentions of drowning and suffocation.

Introducing the Subnautica AU

____________________________

Fritz finds himself laughing uncontrollably. 

In hindsight, it shouldn’t have been as funny as it was to him. But once he started to laugh, there was no stopping it.

Even though he’s positive he’s the only survivor of the ship that crashed on an undocumented and hostile planet. No hope of being rescued as he fights for his life using technology that might as well be magic to him. Nothing but certain death lying in wait for him at every corner. 

But maybe that’s why he had such a visceral reaction. To something as simple as a fish getting stuck in the rock and exploding out of sheer frustration. 

He hadn’t even been confident on how he should’ve reacted. The teenager thought he was a respectful distance from the sulfur plant inside the tunnel he was just outside of to collect materials. Apparently this particular crashfish didn’t appreciate it and decided to come after him. Seemingly attempted to be stealthy and decided to squeeze through a narrow hole. A move that, if it worked, would’ve left Fritz dazed and bleeding. 

Fortunately for Fritz, it hadn’t worked. Ended up with the territorial fish firmly stuck, unable to swim forward or backward. Went completely still for a full minute as the confused teenager watched before exploding. 

Not because anyone or anything got close enough to trigger the reaction. No, purely out of frustration. Decided that would be the best course of action. 

Fritz had stared for a good minute. Felt a smile tug on his lips when he realized what happened. Couldn’t hold back a small giggle after it bubbled in his throat. Unable to stop as his laughter grew louder, stronger, to the point there were tears in his eyes as he desperately tries to gasp for air. 

"Me too,” Fritz wheezes as he clutches his stomach, his body in pain but unable to stop, part of him not wanting to. “Me too.” 

How ironic the fish that tends to cause him the most grief is the one that makes him laugh for the first time in days. Most likely this will be the only time he finds a reason to, but he’ll take it. Hope that he can be treated to such a sight again in the future. Give him something to look forward to amidst the daunting task of surviving without any promise he’ll ever be rescued.

The flashing from his HUD warning he’s about to run out of oxygen jerks Fritz out of his daze. Takes a long and slow breath as he quickly swims up to the water’s surface. Sends fearful glances below him as his air replenishes. 

The last of his mirth vanishes when his eyes catch a blurry but unmistakenly large figure swimming in the distance. The Aurora stretching into the sky as smoke continues to bellow from the once magnificent ship. The reminder just how insignificant he is on a planet completely submerged in water. 

...if a fish half his size valiantly protects its home despite clearly being outsized and outmatched, then Fritz can too. It’s about time he finally looked at everything the Lifepod can make.

[chapelseed]

@alexoreality @q-ueen-potato

Dumb onset idea: what if Akainu is the bastard son of Xebec, while Dragon was the favorite

Well, one of OP's main aspects is found family, unrelated by blood.

So if Sakazuki was born first, he'd be notably significant as a D.

Except Sakazuki never smiled

Enter Dragon, the second son of Xebec, moody with smiles, and clearly the on daddy has the attention of.

Sakazuki doesn't like that, and after seeing the Rocks crew go at it again and again for petty reasons, it imbibed the mentality of pirates being nothing but scum.

Xebec doesn't even acknowledge Sakazuki's existence. Not even when he stabbed Dragon as a toddler.

This goes on into their adulthood and late teens, where Dragon sets off into the world

But, Sakazuki did something daunting: he informed slavers of Dragon's whereabouts, and was later informed that Dragon was purchased by the Celestial Dragons.

Finally, he proved he was worth notice!

But no, when Xebec learned of Dragon's situation, he enacted his plan to rescue him: an all-out assault on the WG.

Various high-profile targets were destroyed in the rampage, to the point of the God Valley Incident.

Sakazuki hid away on one of the Marine ships under Admiral Zephyr, later to become the Red Dog.

[samobservessonic]

Last time we left off, the comic had just wrapped up its biggest story arc so far. It’s only fitting that we give Sonic a bit of a break after that, with a standalone story from Kitching & Rodriguez called “The Sentinel”

Now, I feel like this story was reprinted in a later issue that I did read, because I remember the art. I don’t actually remember what happens in it beyond a nagging feeling that it somehow connects to a group of characters we’ll see in future called the Drakon Empire. But I might be misremembering that

For now, we’re introduced to an unknown figure rising out of the waters of the Aquatic Ruins Zone (more Sonic 2 zones from Kitching, we love to see it), which the text box tells us hasn’t been seen on Mobius for thousands of years

The figure (who we can assume is the titular Sentinel) doesn’t escape the notice of the Kintobor Computer, who passes the information onto Sonic, who decides to check it out. He’ll be doing this alone, as the other Freedom Fighters are all occupied. I like this, because they’re establishing that the group does other work outside of following Sonic. For Tails in particular, we’ll be seeing where he is later in this issue. Hooray for continuity!

Sonic uses a star post to warp over there and it’s hard to miss the Sentinel, which he confuses for a giant badnik. Given the wide range of badniks we’ve seen in the comic so far, I can’t blame him for coming to that conclusion

To add to this assumption, Sonic is immediately attacked by badniks, which he observes that Robotnik will station even in zones that he can’t use for his conquest. Given what we see the SEGA Robotnik go on to do, maybe Robotnik just likes to have a hand in any mysterious ruins, in case they turn up any ancient doomsday weapons further down the line

Sonic makes short work of the badniks and even promises to get all the animal batteries inside them back home once he’s wrapped up here. Once again, StC Sonic might be blunt towards his team, but he really, really cares about looking after the people he’s saving

But Sonic ends up falling into the water, which is rarely a good thing in the era of the early Sonic games. I included quite a few of these panels above, because I just like how this sequence looks - the scale of the ruins really does give a daunting feeling to how far Sonic’s fallen

Thankfully, before he can drown, the Sentinel comes to the rescue

I was actually a bit worried that a large part of this story would get taken up with the misunderstanding of Sonic thinking the Sentinel works for Robotnik, but thankfully this plot thread gets cut short by the Sentinel saying that it’s never heard of Robotnik and Sonic believing this

The Sentinel names itself and explains that it was left here when its masters left the planet two thousand years ago, leaving the Sentinel trapped in the lake. Now that there’s no one left here to protect, the Sentinel has no further purpose and collapses into pieces back into the lake. Honestly, that’s the kind of relief that I’ll probably feel when I finally finish that other project I’m procrastinating on

Sonic tries to appeal to the Sentinel, since having a giant walking rock statue on their side could really help in the fight against Robotnik, but the Sentinel doesn’t stick around to even hear his words and that’s that On its own, this would probably be a quite underwhelming story, but I have a feeling that Kitching uses it to expand on this lore later, so I’m content to let him cook

[weatherw1tch]

— drucilla’s character info sheet. (or a quick cheatsheet on relevant info regarding dru)

name: drucilla pritchard

name meaning: drucilla means “mighty, strong.”

alias/es: drucilla is an alias, adopted to hide herself from marines. it came from a book she liked as a kid. pritchard came later, to honor the woman that took her in as a teenager.

ethnicity: white (irish)

one picture you like: this in particular because i imagine it as one of her freer, happier moments. in a modern au, it was taken during college.

three hcs you never told anyone:

learned her forgery skills, not from any pirate or wayward character she met on her own, but her parents. her parents were not above forging signatures to keep a roof over their head while on the run. she picked up mimicking voices from people watching, and duplicating art through her natural predilection for painting. in her modern verse, it’s how she’s made extra money.

her first kill was through her devil fruit. ended up with her jaws around their lower torso, savaging the boy. she threw up for an hour afterward due to the taste of blood (and how much she liked it), and with how much she was regarded as a monster, and since then, puts her swordsmanship first and uses her power as backup. it’s worked better this way for the element of surprise.

despite her flighty, self-saving habits, she’s incredibly loyal. she’s someone who can pull stories from even the most curmudgeonly people. will honor debts even if it’s more work on her end. she loves hard after years of being afraid to.

three things your character likes doing in their free time:

art. she’s a painter primarily, but sketches too. she doesn’t have much room to paint while on the sea, but in times when she has a stable place on land, hanging up her own art helps it feel like home. when she paints, she'll get it in her hair and on her clothes. many times, she leaves the splotches, liking the way it looks.

rock climbing. she’s always been fond of being out in nature, but after ten years of climbing ropes aboard pirate ships, she’s come to enjoy the familiarity and feel of being able to pull herself out of anything.

thrifting/antique shopping. she’s a great haggler with a good eye for special finds, but she also takes great appreciation in the history and make of items.

three four people your character loves (or important people mentioned in her canon):

iona pritchard. adoptive mother of sorts, village fortune teller that would never tell her if her powers were real or not. drucilla regrets keeping up a misguided wall between them, in holding tight to the memory of her birth parents. she took iona’s last name after her death.

isabela rivaini. captain and greatest friend. when drucilla found herself alone again and struggling, she met isabela and, after swapping similar stories, joined her crew. isabela taught her how to wield a sword, how to fight, how to sail. in return, drucilla gave her her utmost loyalty and use of her devil fruit powers.

dracule mihawk. this can be switched out if she ever interacts with another mihawk, but as i’ve used mine to flesh out her character, he’s become quite important to her story. he does her the greatest favor of aiding her in rescuing isabela, which cements her loyalty and affection, and in doing so, they find a kindred soul in each other. he calls out her bullshit, and she never lets his attitude daunt her.

rob lucci. this can be switched out if she ever interacts with another lucci, but as i've used mine to flesh out her character, he's become important to her story. they were childhood friends, both being orphans, before he was taken to guanhao. the loss hurt her deeply, until many years later when they reunited on opposite sides of the government / pirate divide.

two things your character regrets:

packing up and leaving after a fight with iona without letting her or the friends drucilla had made know. when drucilla came back to the village later, iona had died, and she was too guilt-ridden to check in with anyone else.

looking the other way when others were in life or death moments because she was more focused on saving her own skin.

two phobias your character has:

thunderstorms make her uneasy because she nearly drowned during one. she’s had a few close calls, but this one in particular was by far the closest. she felt her body start to shut down as she watched her crew get pulled under the water too.

the conflicting ideas that there’s either nothing after death or instead of heaven waiting for her, it’ll be hell, for all the horrible things she’s done.

extra headcanons:

can sing very well. in her band au with @a11sunday, she's a singer-songwriter tired of writing for other people who strikes out on her own at open mic nights.

knowledgeable about plants and flowers to an unexpected degree that comes from the brief period she was on her own. she usually has flower detailing on her clothes that she sews herself.

her first wanted poster doesn’t show all of her face, instead showing only her scarred eye and lower ¼th of her face peeking out from under the brim of her hat, like this. her updated poster after marineford shows the entirety of her face.

while she’s the type to be slow to rise in argument, usually having not necessarily a good head, but can pick and choose when she lets go of her anger, she has been banned from at least two bars across the four quadrants for threatening to bite someone and making good on it once.

[kylowritten]

If the Slipper Fits

Pairing: Kylo Ren x ForceSensitive!Reader

Summary: Nobody wants to be the woman whose foot fits that slipper.

Warnings: Mentions of being abandoned, mentions of death

Word Count: 3k

A/N: At the bottom. Don’t read first unless you want spoilers.

Part Five

“You’re a terrible actress.”

The voice stirs you from your thoughts. You lock eyes with Rey, the hint of a smile on her lips.

“I’m not acting,” you say.

You weren’t trying to be deceptive by closing your eyes, if anything it was to avoid staring at your two sleeping companions.

“Well, you’re certainly not asleep,” she remarks. “Why don’t you come up here? I could use the company.”

Awkwardly, you untangle yourself from your position besides Finn and climb to the front of the ship. Rey has one knee folded and resting against the wheel, not at all daunted by the ever expanding universe beyond her.

“I was like you, you know,” she says.

“Like me?”

Her gaze turns towards the windows, stars streaking past. “One of the brides.”

“You were?” You straighten in your seat, both confused and somewhat delighted all at once. “What? How? I thought —”

“I know,” Rey cuts in with a grin. “I thought they were all killed too.”

You fall back in your seat, properly stunned

“What happens then? These women…you, they’re never seen again.”

“Well, that’s partially true. We don’t go back to the districts. After the ceremony, if we don’t have whatever he’s looking for — stars if I know — he releases us at the edge of the Wilds.”

The Winter Wilds lurk outside the border of the kingdom. Your district lays hundreds of miles from it, so you’ve never seen it in person. Supposedly, it’s a large, icy wasteland that separates your kingdom from the next, flush with viscous animals and plant life.

You frown. “He left you there?”

“He said it was best for me to never return,” Rey replies wearily.

“What did you do?” You ask, enraptured by this new development. Kylo didn’t kill the brides?

“I was relieved, at first,” she says with a laugh. “I thought it was a small mercy that he didn’t strike me down. The marriage didn’t count anymore, is what he told me, and that I was free and I should get out as soon as I can.

“My plan was to make it across the Wilds and to Renrek. But I quickly discovered how stupid of an idea that was. The Wilds is a terrible place. Luckily, I was only on my own for a few hours before they found me.”

“Who?” Your brows knit together. “The rebels?”

Rey nods. “They rescue every woman they can find that he leaves there. We either offer them a place in the resistance or someplace safe to go. It took awhile to put a system in place, but now we know when to expect the next one.”

You’re not sure how to process this information.

“I just don’t get it. Why does he leave you…us…at the edge? Why not just kill us?”

“I’ve asked myself that a lot,” Rey confesses. “I don’t know if we’ll ever know for sure.”

You were never in mortal peril, although he lead you to believe that was the case. Why? You couldn’t wrap your head around it. Leaving the brides at the edge of the Wilds wasn’t exactly noble, but it gave them a shot at survival.

“Does he know what they do?” You ask. “Kylo?”

“It’s hard to tell. He just keeps doing it. Leia says that he didn’t always use to be malicious, so maybe he’s grateful in some aspect.”

“Grateful?”

Rey smiles, this time ruefully. “Well, he’s not exactly saving us, but it’s no longer up to him to decide if we live or die. Kind of like he can wash his hands of us.”

This troubled you, but it made sense.

“Better wake up the boys,” Rey says suddenly. She shifts from her relaxed position to one of alertness. “We’re almost there.”

You’re not sure what to expect from the rebel base. The ship dips as it lowers, bringing you eye level with your mountainous surroundings. At night, you don’t know how Rey can navigate the ship throughout the staggering valley of rock cliffs, but she executes it flawlessly.

Breath catching in your throat, you watch as Rey takes a final turn and barrels the ship directly into the mountainside — and through it. A cleverly disguised holoscreen.

Blinking, you gradually adjust to the darkness inside of the mountain. The ship lands with a metallic thud, signaling to a handful of workers to appear and get the ship stable. Poe laughs as he catches you still death-gripping your seat.

“Freaky, right? It takes some getting used to.” He keeps talking as the four of you exit the ship. “It’s an elaborate cave system. Right now we’re at the mouth of it, but it snakes it’s way throughout almost the whole mountain. It’s disorienting at first, but you’ll get the hang of it.”

“Don’t go off by yourself, though,” Rey adds.

“Why?”

“We’re the latest tenants in the tunnels,” Poe explains with a cringe. “There used to be these things we call stonebadgers. We think they’re the ones who made the tunnels, and they aren’t super happy about being evicted.”

“Noted,” you say. As you venture further into the system of tunnels, it frightens you to think about what could’ve possibly made them.

The four of you can walk comfortably side by side, along with passing room. It appears to you that you were walking the main tunnel, which eventually branched into several others. Smaller caves were scattered throughout, peering in, you saw an array of different purposes — one cave was used as an infirmary, another a mess hall of sorts. You finally happen upon a tunnel that splits off from the rest, a dark blue curtain obscuring whatever lays behind it.

Finn pulls the curtain back. “After you.”

Not unlike the rest of the system, the curtain hides another rounded out room. This one was crammed with people, however, and shelves and displays of technology lined the walls. A steady hum of chatter greets your ears.

“This way,” Finn says.

To the side, a long table rests. Standing at the head of it, her back turned to you, was Leia.

Despite not being able to see her face, the former queen isn’t hard to place. She holds herself with the importance and self-assured qualities of royalty. As she turns, though, her face shows nothing but compassion, leading you to search for any traces of Kylo. It proves difficult to reconcile that the man you met, armored and barbed with anger, could be related to this woman.

“Oh, I’m so grateful to see that you’re okay,” she says, addressing your companions. Her brown eyes flicker to you. “And you must be our latest addition.”

Your cheeks burn slightly. “I suppose I am.”

“We appreciate your help in our endeavors,” Leia says. She looks to Finn, who hands her the tome.

“What is it?” You ask. Realizing the bluntness of your question, you rephrase. “I mean, I’m not sure how it’s going to help.”

Leia nods. “Follow me.”

You crowd around a more discreet section of the room. Laying the tome down on the table, she begins flipping through the pages. After a moment of fervent page turning, she finally finds what she’s looking for.

“This. Here.” Leia taps the page with her index finger. “It’s confirmation, more than anything. This is how we’re going to get our kingdom, and my son back.”

You peer at the page. The writing is almost ineligible.

“How?” Rey asks.

Leia’s eyes darken significantly. “Palpatine has a hold on Ben. If I’m correct, he’s been invading his mind and manipulating him since he was a child. It’s an ancient dark magic. I…I believe that Ben was so young, so vulnerable, it made it quite easy for Palpatine to do.” She pauses, her throat bobbing with suppressed emotion. “I should’ve done something. I didn’t know…all I can do now is get him back. And our kingdom.”

Finn, Poe, and Rey are obviously uncomfortable with Leia’s emotional confession. You jump to fill the awkward silence.

“I met Lyssa. She told me about the prophecy. Could it involve that?”

“Possibly. There were rumors of it, after he was born, that Ben would have unfathomable powers, fully unleashed once he met someone of equal strength. I wasn’t sure if I ever believed it. It’s hard to look at your small child and think that they could ever be capable of such things.” Leia shakes her head. “Although, if it’s true, it makes sense that Palpatine would want control of him. He would have the most powerful Force user in the kingdom under his influence.”

With your present company, you didn’t want to divulge just how true the prophecy was. You were having trouble coming to terms with it yourself. How else could you describe the tether that formed between you and Kylo?

Leia clears her throat. “Go rest, you three. You’ve done good. I would like to talk to our new arrival alone.”

Rey pats your arm as she leaves. Finn and Poe follow her, their heads ducked in conversation. You swing your gaze back to Leia to find her already staring at you, studying you.

“I could sense that you wanted to talk alone,” she remarks. She smiles, and the maternal nature of it makes your stomach twist. “You can trust me.”

Slowly, you tell her everything you know — the bond snapping into place, the possibility of your ability to control magic, Kylo’s proposal to teach you. To have you rule with him.

She listens very carefully the whole time, without disrupting you once. When you finish, she takes a moment before replying.

“Perhaps the prophecy is true after all,” she mumbles.

You blink in rapid succession. Hearing the confirmation of your suspicions is both rewarding and daunting.

“Your Highness?”

“You know my intentions,” Leia says. “I want to save my kingdom from Palpatine’s cruelty, and hopefully my son in the process. I knew I needed someone who could counter the damage that Palpatine had done.”

“You think I can?”

“I do. Walk with me.” Leia crosses the busy room and back into the tunnels. Her explanation is interrupted ever so often as she says hello to rebels going by. “You see, Ben feels that he can no longer trust anyone but Palpatine, who has been whispering in his ear the possibliltiies the prophecy poses. Now that I know that it holds some truth, it leads me to believe we have a chance at getting him back. You have a connection with him — you can corrode the dark magic that Palpatine has inflicted.”

“But how?” It doesn’t seem entirely possible to you that you could ever do such a thing. “I don’t even know if I actually have magic.”

Leia’s voice contains a heightened level of enthusiasm. “You must, or else the bond never would’ve happened. The Force is special in that aspect, a dyad can only be created between two individuals with equal power. I’m afraid Ben was right when he said you just haven’t had adequate training.”

She takes a deep breath, then stops so that you’re face to face.

“I want you to go back to him.”

“What?” A surge of disbelief overcomes you. “I just escaped! I can’t go back.”

She grimaces slightly. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but I wouldn’t if I didn’t think it was absolutely necessary. You’re the only one Ben will let close enough to try and reverse the dark magic.”

“Even if I can, I don’t know how,” you protest.

“That’s okay,” she says, quick to reassure you. “For the foreseeable future, my brother Luke can provide you with supplemental lessons to whatever Ben teaches you. Like can help you learn about the dark magic in order to destroy it.”

Your knees suddenly feel as if they might give out. “I don’t know.”

“Just…just think about it.” Leia squeezes your shoulder. “This could be our kingdom’s only hope for redemption.”

With those — not at all burdensome — parting words, she leaves you standing in the middle of a tunnel, dumbstruck. From the next room, you hear her firing out instructions to rebels, resuming her duties as general after presenting her plan to you. A mixture of dread and trepidation consumes you, and you blindly stumble back from where you came. Only, you haven’t at all mastered the system of tunnels, and end up happening upon a large room.

Wafting with steam, a hot spring resides in the center. Humidity presses against your skin. As you try to remove your shoes, thinking that a quick dip would feel lovely, you realize that you’re still wearing your dress from the ball. It’s muddied, torn from your excursions through the servants hallway, the forest, and now the tunnels.

You abandon all dignity. Shimmying out of the dress, you walk in your underclothes to the hot springs and sit down at the edge. You look down at your hand, resting on your palm is Kylo’s ring. When you exited the ship, you snuck it into your bodice, and had been careful not to lose it as you shed your clothes.

Could you really do everything Leia wanted?

She said you were the only one who could possibly save him from the dark magic invading his mind. The thought of someone slipping into your conscious chilled you despite the warmth coming from the hot spring. You flicked your toes in the water. How could you save him? You didn’t even know if you had magic, much less use it.

And lessons with Prince Luke? The brother of the queen had more or less become a myth, never to be seen besides the occasional adventurer claiming to have caught a glimpse.

Despite the magical component of it all, you weren’t sure you could get close to Kylo. You discount your initial, primal reaction to him — that was a fluke, something inside you unbidden. How would you gain his trust? It wouldn’t be easy, especially after you just fled his a palace along with the rebels who attacked it.

You doubted you had much time before Leia came to you with an answer.

The spring bubbles and gurgles from its source, a sheet of water rushing over a flat, horizontal piece of rock and splashing into the basin.

You knew the pain of losing a mother, and you had witnessed the grief in Leia’s eyes when she spoke about losing Ben.

How could you deny her the chance to reunite with her son?

You weren’t sure you could.

Then, a movement, deep within you, like a snake slipping through the grass. Him.

Should I be flattered you’re thinking of me while wearing such little clothing?

A/N: Comment how you feel about this chapter! What do you think about Kylo not actually killing the brides? And are we due for some smut next time?👀

Also, I’m dying to make a playlist for this story and I would love some new songs to inspire me. Drop some ideas!

Part Six

[mov1ngparts]

— drucilla’s character info sheet. (or a quick cheatsheet on relevant info regarding dru)

name: drucilla pritchard

name meaning: drucilla means “mighty, strong.”

alias/es: drucilla is an alias, adopted to hide herself from marines. it came from a book she liked as a kid. pritchard came later, to honor the woman that took her in as a teenager.

ethnicity: white (irish)

one picture you like: this in particular because i imagine it as one of her freer, happier moments. in a modern au, it was taken during college.

three hcs you never told anyone:

she’s skilled in forgery, whether it’s forging signatures or creating copies of famous art. in her modern verse, it’s how she’s made extra money.

her first kill was through her devil fruit. ended up with her jaws around their throat. she threw up for an hour afterward due to the taste of blood, and since then, puts her swordsmanship first and uses her power as backup. it’s worked better this way for the element of surprise.

despite her flighty, self-saving habits, she’s incredibly loyal. she’s someone who can pull stories from even the most curmudgeonly people. will honor debts even if it’s more work on her end. she loves hard after years of being afraid to.

three things your character likes doing in their free time:

art. she’s a painter primarily, but sketches too. she doesn’t have much room to paint while on the sea, but in times when she has a stable place on land, hanging up her own art helps it feel like home.

rock climbing. she’s always been fond of being out in nature, but after ten years of climbing ropes aboard pirate ships, she’s come to enjoy the familiarity and feel of being able to pull herself out of anything.

thrifting/antique shopping. she’s a great haggler with a good eye for special finds, but she also takes great appreciation in the history and make of items.

three people your character loves (or important people mentioned in her canon):

iona pritchard. adoptive mother of sorts, village fortune teller that would never tell her if her powers were real or not. drucilla regrets keeping up a misguided wall between them, in holding tight to the memory of her birth parents. she took iona’s last name after her death.

isabela rivaini. captain and greatest friend. when drucilla found herself alone again and struggling, she met isabela and, after swapping similar stories, joined her crew. isabela taught her how to wield a sword, how to fight, how to sail. in return, drucilla gave her her utmost loyalty and use of her devil fruit powers.

dracule mihawk. this can be switched out if she ever interacts with another mihawk, but as i’ve used mine to flesh out her character, he’s become quite important to her story. he does her the greatest favor of aiding her in rescuing isabela, which cements her loyalty and affection, and in doing so, they find a kindred soul in each other. he calls out her bullshit, and she never lets his attitude daunt her.

two things your character regrets:

packing up and leaving after a fight with iona without letting her or the friends drucilla had made know. when drucilla came back to the village later, iona had died, and she was too guilt-ridden to check in with anyone else.

looking the other way with some things because she was more focused on saving her own skin.

two phobias your character has:

thunderstorms make her uneasy because she nearly drowned during one. she’s had a few close calls, but this one in particular was by far the closest. she felt her body start to shut down as she watched her crew get pulled under the water too.

the conflicting ideas that there’s either nothing after death or instead of heaven waiting for her, it’ll be hell, for all the horrible things she’s done.

extra headcanons:

she can dance, but she can't sing. singing is relegating to humming while working or while drunk.

knowledgeable about plants and flowers to an unexpected degree that comes from the brief period she was on her own. she usually has flower detailing on her clothes that she sews herself.

her first wanted poster doesn’t show all of her face, instead showing only her scarred eye and lower 1/4th of her face peeking out from under the brim of her hat, like this. her updated poster after marineford shows the entirety of her face.

while she's the type to be slow to rise in argument, usually having not necessarily a good head, but can pick and choose when she lets go of her anger, she has been banned from at least two bars across the four quadrants for threatening to bite someone and making good on it once.

[writermuses]

closed starter for @xwhiskeymuses based on #16 - A kiss in the rain for the kissing prompt meme

The call came in at the end of his shift, a hiker hadn't called her family to let them know she'd made it back to her car. It was smart to let people know when and where to expect you, but Volero also thought it was stupid to hike alone. Worse still, Volo could feel the ache in his knees that a storm was brewing. Any hope of Anakin seeking the hiker out would be short lived. Pinging back on the walkie to verify where she'd parked, he called back, "I'll go over with Ani and we'll move up to Glacier Gorge and back down." Time was of the essence and he and his search and rescue dog were on a timer now. With his pack clipped around his chest and his boots laced tight, they got to work.

As the minutes turned to hours and the dark gray clouds ate away at what should have been the last bit of daylight, the other rangers and a search and rescue team repeatedly checked in, clearing out Rocky Mountain National Park trail by trail working from those at the place she parked and outward. When the rain started all he could do was curse and keep moving. "Chaos checking in, no sign, going to keep searching." They tried to argue on the other end, hold the search until the rain stopped, but he was confident in his training as a soldier and in Ani, so he ignored them and kept moving.

The rain didn't relent and mud clung to him, coating his pants up to his knees after he'd bent down to pull out his headlamp and flashlight. The temperature was dropping the longer it rained, but he kept moving along the path, slow and scanning for anything out of place. It was Anakin that saw the gap where rocks had seemingly slipped over the edge of the trail. Looking over, he saw her clinging to a small ledge a few feet down, too far to reach for her and on a ledge too small for the both of them. Calling out her name twice, he was relieved to find her conscious and that she wasn't hurt too badly to follow instructions. "I've got you, I'm going to throw down a rope with a loop, you're going to put around you so I can pull you up."

"Chaos checking in, found her and she's in a harness for me to pull up. Pinging my location for exfil." Wasting no more time, he began the daunting task of rescuing her alone, pulling in a steady but adrenaline laced cadence. When she was arms length he pulled her, falling back with the woman on his chest as the rain poured over them. Maybe it was adrenaline but as they laid there breathing heavily and staring into each other's eyes, something just snapped and their mouths came together in a heated kiss, tongues tangled until they both came up for air. He carefully rolled her over and sat next to her, hanging his head. "We probably shouldn't do that again. You okay? Where are you hurt? How'd you get down there?"

[fordecree7]

THE BIBLE BOOK OF GOD

Isaiah 31

Woe to Those Who Go Down to Egypt

31 Woe to those who go down to Egypt for help     and rely on horses, who trust in chariots because they are many     and in horsemen because they are very strong, but do not look to the Holy One of Israel     or consult the Lord! 2 And yet he is wise and brings disaster;     he does not call back his words, but will arise against the house of the evildoers     and against the helpers of those who work iniquity. 3 The Egyptians are man, and not God,     and their horses are flesh, and not spirit. When the Lord stretches out his hand,     the helper will stumble, and he who is helped will fall,     and they will all perish together.

4 For thus the Lord said to me, “As a lion or a young lion growls over his prey,     and when a band of shepherds is called out against him he is not terrified by their shouting     or daunted at their noise, so the Lord of hosts will come down     to fight on Mount Zion and on its hill. 5 Like birds hovering, so the Lord of hosts     will protect Jerusalem; he will protect and deliver it;     he will spare and rescue it.”

6 Turn to him from whom people have deeply revolted, O children of Israel. 7 For in that day everyone shall cast away his idols of silver and his idols of gold, which your hands have sinfully made for you.

8 “And the Assyrian shall fall by a sword, not of man;     and a sword, not of man, shall devour him; and he shall flee from the sword,     and his young men shall be put to forced labor. 9 His rock shall pass away in terror,     and his officers desert the standard in panic,” declares the Lord, whose fire is in Zion,     and whose furnace is in Jerusalem.

Isaiah 31 Diane Beauford

[soap-opera-daily]

The Young and The Restless Spoilers: Kyle and Nikki's Bold Strategy Rocks Genoa City

he Kidnapping Drama Unfolds: Once a seemingly perfect couple, Summer and Kyle find themselves entangled in relationship woes. Matters worsen when Claire, previously Jordan's accomplice, becomes a victim of his latest criminal act – kidnapping Harrison and Claire from the secure Abbott Mansion.

Kyle's Heroic Rescue Mission

With Jordan's demands escalating, Kyle faces the daunting task of rescuing his son. Despite doubts about Jordan's trustworthiness, Kyle must take action to ensure Harrison's safety. Nikki, skeptical of Jordan's intentions, joins forces with Kyle in a bid to save Claire and Harrison from Jordan's clutches.

Sparks Fly in the Aftermath

As Kyle and his allies execute the rescue plan, the aftermath holds potential for unexpected developments. Could Claire see Kyle as her hero, igniting a romantic spark between them? The possibility of a Kyle-Claire pairing adds a twist to their journey, leaving fans eager for what's to come on The Young and The Restless. Share your thoughts on this potential pairing and stay tuned to Soap Opera Daily for more spoilers.

[spandexcostume]

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Best alternative for Affordable high-waisted leggings in 2024

How to Find and Choose the Right Affordable High-Waisted Leggings on Amazon

1. Read Reviews: One of crucial issues to do when wanting for reasonably priced high-waisted leggings on Amazon is to learn opinions from different clients. This will provide you with perception into the general high quality, match, and sturdiness of the leggings. Look for leggings with optimistic opinions and a excessive common ranking. 2. Check the Size Chart: Leggings can differ in sizing, so it is important to verify the scale chart supplied by the vendor. This will provide help to decide the right dimension to order and guarantee a correct match. Measure your waist and hips and examine them to the scale chart to seek out one of the best dimension for you. 3. Material: Pay consideration to the fabric composition of the leggings. Look for a mix that features a excessive share of polyester, nylon, or spandex. These supplies present stretch, consolation, and sturdiness. Avoid leggings with a excessive share of cotton as they is probably not as stretchy or sturdy. 4. Compression: If you are wanting for leggings that present some degree of compression or shaping, verify the product description for particulars on the extent of compression supplied. Leggings with increased compression may help easy and form your legs and waist, giving a extra flattering look. 5. High-Waisted Design: Look for leggings particularly labeled as "high-waisted" to make sure they'll sit above your stomach button, offering ample protection and help. This type is just not solely fashionable but additionally helps to flatter the waistline and maintain the leggings in place throughout exercises or day by day actions. 6. Price: Set a finances for your self and look for reasonably priced choices inside that vary. While pricing can differ, you'll be able to usually discover high-quality, reasonably priced leggings on Amazon. Don't be afraid to check costs, but additionally contemplate the general worth and high quality of the product. Common Issues and Solutions: 1. Sheerness: Some cheaper leggings could also be sheer or clear, particularly when stretched. To keep away from this challenge, look for leggings with a better share of nylon or spandex, as these supplies have a tendency to supply higher opacity and protection. Additionally, studying opinions from different clients can present insights into whether or not the leggings are see-through or not. 2. Pilling and Fading: Cheaper leggings could also be extra vulnerable to pilling or fading after frequent use and washes. To decrease these points, decide for leggings with bolstered stitching and a better share of polyester, as this tends to be extra sturdy. Follow the care directions supplied by the vendor to take care of the leggings' high quality. 3. Waistband Rolling Down: One widespread challenge with leggings is the waistband rolling down throughout actions. Look for leggings with a large and elasticized waistband particularly designed to remain in place. Reading opinions may offer you a way of whether or not clients have skilled this challenge with the actual leggings you are considering.

Cheapest options for Affordable high-waisted leggings

FAQ

What are the advantages of carrying high-waisted leggings? High-waisted leggings supply a number of advantages in comparison with common leggings. They present higher protection and help for the midsection, making a slimming impact. The excessive waistband additionally helps to stop the leggings from sliding down throughout bodily actions, guaranteeing a cushty match. Additionally, high-waisted leggings may be flattering by emphasizing the pure curves of the physique. Are reasonably priced high-waisted leggings of excellent high quality? Affordable high-waisted leggings can certainly supply good high quality. While the worth could also be decrease in comparison with high-end manufacturers, many reasonably priced choices are created from sturdy and stretchy supplies that present wonderful consolation and longevity. It is necessary to learn product opinions, verify the material composition, and select dependable manufacturers to make sure you are getting the highest quality for your cash. Are high-waisted leggings appropriate for totally different physique varieties? High-waisted leggings are designed to be versatile and appropriate for numerous physique varieties. The excessive waistband helps to create a easy silhouette and may present further help to people with totally different sizes and styles. Whether you've gotten a curvy determine or a straight physique sort, there are high-waisted leggings out there in numerous sizes and types to suit and flatter your distinctive form. Can I train and interact in high-intensity exercises with high-waisted leggings? Read the full article

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A new protective helmet design has emerged in recent years, carrying the daunting name of an “impaler” helmet. The intimidating look of this headgear is no coincidence — it was designed to keep you safe in a variety of hazardous conditions, from dirt biking to rock climbing.

The main feature of these helmets is their iconic spiky surface, which serves an practical purpose in deterring and deflecting debris from striking the wearer. When such debris is launched at high speed, it can cause serious damage. That’s why any individual engaging in extreme sports would benefit from using an impaler helmet to guard themselves from harm.

The material used to create these helmets is incredibly strong and durable. Often made from specialized reinforced plastic or steel, the spiky surface is not only beautiful in its own right, but is designed to remain secure and resist damage under heavy contact.

This new design has proven to be extremely popular for athletes who require a high degree of safety protection. It is also useful for activities such as motorcycling, horse riding, rescue operations, and even some industries require that employees use such a helmet.

In the industries where helmets are required, most of them have a spiky surface. In the case of rescue operations, the spikes of an impaler helmet can be used to provide a better grip when climbing or pulling someone out from a difficult and hazardous environment. All in all, this headgear is clearly suitable for a broad range of activities, offering the ultimate head protection with a unique appeal.