#What do you mean you’re leaving Tatty alone on the island?

[epicrox]

As the eldest sibling and only the DAUGHTER in my family, the way the two oldest siblings sometimes acted in Swallows and Amazons actually made my jaw dropped.

[itsthemoofacewriting]

Potato peeling

I shared one of my head canons with Monkey-d-momo and then the next day it kind of spiralled out of control in my head, to the point where I had to leave my half-destroyed Animal Crossing island to come and write this out. So, this is for you, Momo!

Summary: Sanji's had never had an assistant before, but now, at least once a week, Nami's there to keep him company. Rating: K. 

This can also be found on AO3 and FFN. 

Enjoy.

Sanji made a point not to think too deeply about his childhood before Baratie, but now he’s racking his brain in search for a time, any time, that he could ever remember having an assistant in the kitchen. Not other chefs that were working around him on their own dishes or bus boys or dish washers, someone by his side just to help him. Although, when he thought about it, back then he would have refused the help, with his ego far too proud as a fledging chef.

He spent a lot of time alone cooking and there’s nothing wrong with that, it’s what he was trained to do, and he enjoyed it. Enjoyed creating dishes that’ll fill empty stomachs and watching as delight bloomed across his crewmates face when they took their first bite. But now, as Nami hummed next to him, eyebrows drawn together in concentration as she stirred the sauce in the pot, he realised how much he liked having an assistant. How much he liked having the company.

It also helped that it was fantastic company. Nothing gets better than Nami-san.

The first time she’d walked in to offer help, he’d tried to persuade her to relax instead, in the kitchen of course because he’d never turn her away, but she hadn’t listened. She’d fixed him with a hard stare as his words rolled over her and held her hand out, waiting for a knife to help him peel potatoes.

That was a few weeks ago now, and he’s glad she didn’t listen to him. His kitchen is now filled with humming, quiet conversations or peaceful silences- with someone. It’s nice. It’s not every day, after all she’s the navigator, not the cook and she does have other responsibilities. But those little moments together, at least once per week now, made him start to notice the difference. Nothing bad, he still loved to cook but there’s no one peering over his shoulder to see what he’s doing or how he’s doing it (or asking for food- Luffy) or shooting him wonderfully smart remarks that bring a smile to his face or… well, he could go on all day.

They get along very well in those small moments together, when they’re not fighting for their lives or surrounded by the rest of the crew and it makes him happy. He got to see her truly relaxed, walls down, and their actions are almost domestic, and it made his head spin slightly. He tried not to think too much about that though when he’s dealing with sharp objects or high temperatures.

But he does wonder what spurred this on, the thought lingered in the back of his head. Her offer came completely out of the blue and they’d already been sailing together for so long, so naturally he wondered why. She’d never offered any explanation and he hadn’t asked, because why would he? He was thrilled to have time alone with her and to pass on his knowledge to someone who was so interested.

She hadn’t helped him tonight though, not that she said she would, mind you. Sometimes she’d mention in passing that she’d be there but other times she’d just appear, and it kept him on his toes.

After dinner though, as she put her plate on the side (just before he could get it for her), she left him with a quick, “See you later” and was gone. Maybe he was becoming too predictable because whilst dinner may be finished with, she knew he would occasionally prep ingredients for the next day and apparently, he’d have her company for that tonight without even breathing a word of it.

He couldn’t wait.

.

.

.

As much as he’d like to wait for her, that’s never how this worked. Sometimes she’d come later, depending on whether she got held up with something, so he always started, and she’d join in.

Tonight, he went to the toilet after organising the potatoes he’d need for the next day but on his short trip he didn’t catch sight of her. That wasn’t necessarily bad, but it could mean she’d been distracted with something. It was foolish, because he knew how this worked and he shouldn’t expect this from her, but he was slightly disappointed. He shook his head; he was being ridiculous.

Despite giving himself a talking to in the toilet, it didn’t stop his eyes from drifting to see if the orange haired navigator was around. He was sorely tempted to knock on the library door to offer her a drink, just to confirm it but he stopped his feet from wondering off course.

So when he pushed open the door to the kitchen, he couldn’t stop his jaw from dropping to stare at the sight of Nami already sat down on one of the stools, knife carefully peeling the potato in her hands.

So, she’d beaten him here, huh?

He didn’t get the chance to compose himself before she was looking up and her lips curled upwards, like she could read his thoughts.

“You’re slacking, Sanji-kun. I thought you’d abandoned me to peel potatoes all by myself,” she teased.

He smiled then. “Never, Nami-san. The day that happens I’d forfeit my own hands.”

She smiled back at him and they settled into comfortable silence as he sat on the stool opposite her, taking the knife she’d left out for him and grabbing a potato. There’s something relaxing about doing this. The same sweeps of the knife almost sent him into a trance and all the stress of the day bleeds from him as his mind wondered. He’d never found potato peeling a chore. It anything, he looked forward to the monotony of it.

He’s not sure how long they peel in the quiet of the kitchen, but he almost jumped as Nami started to quietly talk.

“The first time I offered to help, it was because I missed Bell-mére,” she said it softly and it should sound sad, but she sounded soft instead. “She used to get me peeling the potatoes when I had nothing to do or thought I’d studied for too long.”

Ah. Well, that answered one of Sanji’s questions. There was something quite special about not having to ask after the reason but being told instead. She wasn’t always very forthcoming about her childhood and he’d never blamed her; he hadn’t been either. It’s why he never enquired.

“You should have seen the first time I’d ever done it; you’d have turned in your grave. There was almost nothing left by the time it’d been peeled and I’d somehow managed to cut myself multiple times,” she continued, chuckling to herself and dropped a perfectly peeled potato into the steel bucket before moving onto the next one. “She hadn’t been angry though. Well, she had at my cut fingers, but she stopped what she was doing to show me how to peel the carrots next.”

“I’m not surprised she wasn’t angry. I can’t imagine being angry with you now, let alone when you were younger.” It was the truth; it was no secret that he was soft around children and he’d seen first-hand a young Nami- she was adorable. He’d have stood no chance.

Still doesn’t.

“What about you?” She asked tentatively, eyes flickering up to his, unsure about whether this was a topic that she should broach. That she could breach.

Sanji smiled lightly and answered with ease, his voice filled with fondness at the memory. “My Mum thought the world of whatever I made. Some of it was truly horrible, Nami-san, I’d had no training whatsoever apart from some tatty books and the opinions of mice.”

“I find that hard to believe- about being a horrible cook, that is. Feeding mice I’m totally on board with.”

He picked up another potato before he responded, “It’s true! There were pieces of eggshells in it, it was overcooked, yet also undercooked because I hadn’t set the oven properly.” There was a firm smile on his face though, despite the description he was giving.

“I sense this didn’t deter her,” she guessed, pausing the potato peeling as she waited for his response.

He laughed. “Not at all. She still boasted to the nurses and handmaids whenever she had the chance and when I was leaving, she’d tell me to bring some more next time.”

“Ah. So that’s where you get your kind heart from.” She nodded to herself, like she’d solved a piece of her own puzzle.

He tried to keep his cool, but he couldn’t stop the blush that bloomed across his cheeks. Instead of responding to that, he decided to continue on.

“On the cruise ship I worked on before Baratie, I was passable at best, but definitely better than the rest of the chefs. The real wakeup call was when I got to Baratie. Zeff was horrified by the bad habits I’d picked up and spent all his time picking on me.”

“Like what?” At his blank look she clarified, “How did he pick on you?”

“Ragging on me in front of staff and customers. To be fair, I probably needed to be taken down a peg or too. I couldn’t be told back then. Oh, and that damned peg leg, hurt like hell,” he groaned, recalling the way Zeff had kicked him when he’d wanted to throw away fresh food. “The worst, though, was the nickname- little eggplant. That’ll haunt me to my dying day. He had no tact, the damn old man, and he’d call me it regardless of who was around. Even the regulars knew of it.”

“Fatherly love, then,” she summarised, an affectionate smile on her face.

Sanji laughed but nodded his head. “Unfortunately so.”

They continued on like that, trading stories back and forth from their childhood. Not always revolving around cooking in Nami’s case, but small things, like the time she’d convinced Nojiko to let her cut in a fringe and her sister had wound up with a mullet until it grew out or how Sanji had singed his hair trying to show off around the oven.

The pile of unpeeled potatoes started to dwindle as the bucket with peeled potatoes filled up. Sanji was so lost in conversation that he hadn’t noticed until they were both reaching in for the last potato and as they both look at each other and down to the last potato, he felt a competitive thrill go through him. He managed to snag the potato just before she could, but she didn’t look sour about it, so he took that as a sign to crack on.

There were no more potatoes to peel but Nami still stayed sitting with him.

“So, what made you stick around?” It was ballsy and he was risking scaring her off, but it’s the one thing she hadn’t freely given during their conversation and he really wanted to know. To finally scratch the itch of curiosity.

Nami doesn’t respond straight away, she fiddled with the knife in her hands and it’s only for a second, but it felt like a lifetime to Sanji. He was holding his breath, waiting for some form of reaction from her.

She breathed out and finally looked at him. “I realised I enjoyed spending time with you.”

That’s not the explanation he’d expected. At all.

He has to fight down the urge to sputter off nonsense, it would not win him her favour. “I enjoy spending time with you too.”

“I didn’t doubt that for a second,” she said, her voice playful.

There’s a clever smile on her face and as much as he enjoyed that, he wanted her to know he was serious. He enjoyed her company.

“I’m serious,” he hummed, not looking up from the final potato he’s peeling, and he might need to long this one out, just to keep himself busy, so he didn’t chicken out. “I’ve always enjoyed cooking, but you’ve only made it better with your company. I’ve never had an assistant before, but I’m glad it was you.”

Nami’s flushed and she looked like she was struggling on how to respond. He wondered if he’d gone too far. It’s not how he’d planned this evening to go and it’s clearly not what she’d intended either. Yet here they were.

“Because I’m a woman or…” She trailed off and the silent ‘because it’s me’ is left in the air, but they both know it’s there.  

She’s watching his face carefully and he doesn’t know what to make of that. It felt like he was balancing on a tight rope and any wrong answer will have him plummeting without a safety net to catch him. The last thing he wanted to do was make her uncomfortable or put an end to their occasional kitchen activities together.

It almost sounded like a confession when he finally spoke, and he supposed it was.

“Because it’s you,” he said, his voice sure and face even.

The tension in the room increased tenfold and it felt like he needed to use one of the knifes to cut at it. It’s diffused instantly when Nami smiled softly at him and it sent his heart racing.

The next second she’s up on her feet, leaving their potato peeling bubble, like nothing happened. “We need to put these in water and into the fridge, right?”

“Yeah,” he replied breathlessly, stunned by the sudden shift. What had even just happened?

She walked into the kitchen, pulling out a much smaller container and filling it with water. She turned and raised an eyebrow as he’s still sitting there. He realised a beat later that she’s waiting for him to follow after her with the potatoes. Who was the professional chef here? He was on his feet in seconds before he could be prompted any further and they fall back into their normal pace, like nothing had happened.

… Had anything happened? He’s going to need some time alone to replay this scene and figure it out.

As soon as he’s done putting the potatoes away safely in the bottom of the fridge, ready for tomorrow, Nami’s done washing up the knives they’d used and then it’s just them, alone in the kitchen.

Nami’s leaning against the kitchen unit, arms folded and looking at him expectantly, because she doesn’t look like she’s leaving anytime soon. It made him nervous and he resisted the urge to play with his hands.

“Thank you for your help, Nami-san,” he said gratefully, and he really meant it. He hoped she knew that, that it came across.

“Anytime, Sanji-kun.” She pushed away from the counter to walk towards him and he’s frozen, watching her get closer and closer until he had to tilt his head down to keep looking at her face.

Her hands are on his tie and he realised after a beat that she’s adjusting it. He’d loosened it earlier, like he always did this late at night and she knew that too. He wondered if this was an excuse to touch him, but he squashed that thought down as quickly as it appeared. Maybe it just looked weird.

Her hands are warm and as she played with his tie, they brush against his chest and it sent his heart into fits.

When she looked up at him, seemingly happy with the end result, and she’s so close that he could count the fair freckles that litter her nose if he wanted to. And he really wanted to, but he’s distracted by the way her eyes are searching his. She looked expectant and he didn’t know what to do with that. Or what she wanted.

Nami lingered, her hands still clasping his tie lightly but resting against his chest idly and he’s stopped breathing because it’s all slightly overwhelming and he didn’t want the moment to break before he figured out what he’s supposed to be doing. The voice in the back of his head is screaming at him to ‘make a move, you idiot’, but he can’t bring himself to act on it. What if he’s wrong? What if he’s building this up to be something bigger than it actually is?

There’s another long moment where he can practically feel her breath on his face before she’s pulling away and he’s instantly regretting not acting on what the voice had told him because he felt like he’d just missed his moment.

The smirk on her face made him wonder if that’s not the case at all.

She released his tie and patted his chest before taking a step back. He missed the closeness already.

“Goodnight, Sanji,” she said lowly and then she’s turning around, walking towards the door.

The door swung closed behind her and for the first time in hours, he’s left alone in the kitchen. The scent of her perfume is still under his nose and the skin under his shirt burned from where she’d touched him.

He’s not sure what’s just happened. From the atmosphere to her new behaviour, he’s left reeling trying to catch up. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but this seemed to be a new development… towards something.

But right now, it’s late and his brains just turned to mush, so he’s not figuring it out now. He just hoped he could get his mind to settle down enough that he’d be able to actually sleep.

He flicked the kitchen light off behind him.

------------------------------------------

So. The tiny little drabble this was supposed to be has now turned into a two part-er. I messaged Momo when I’d almost finished writing the first part and gave her two possible endings to choose from when this was originally a one-shot. Momo picked one and my brain betrayed me (and my other WIPs) by going ‘do both’. So here we are.

The second part is almost finished- I’m aiming for it to be up in a week max.

Please excuse any errors.

Thanks for reading.

[cherylsvixen]

I thought we were family: Part 3

Pairing: Reggie x reader, Twin!Andrews/Andrews!Reader, Betty x Jughead, Archie x Veronica Word count: 2,047 Warnings: Swearing, abuse references(?), drug mention (roofies) Description: Part three for ‘I thought we were family’. Angst and then fluff. (Y/N) wakes up in unfamiliar surroundings and gets to know the Serpent that took her in. What will she do when she returns to normality? A/N: Thank you so much for all the love!! I generally hate writing additional parts to a story because I don’t want to disappoint you guys. I really struggled with this one because I guess it could have done with another part but I’m busy writing another series for you! So please let me know what you think or if you want it to end a different way. x

Part 1 // Part 2 

The smell of toast and the light filtering in through the tatty curtains roused (Y/N) to some sense of awareness. She groaned and rolled over, her bare legs brushing against the sheets. She could have easily drifted back to sleep, if it weren’t for her brain spinning into overdrive. The panic couldn’t be stopped. It began as a buzz and then rippled through her whole body, settling heavily in her stomach. Her eyes snapped open and she felt herself go stiff. Her surroundings were foreign. This scent was foreign. Looking down she realised she was wearing someone else’s shirt, almost a dress on her. She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, trying to be as quiet as possible. Her eyes darted around this small trailer room, trying to source an escape route. The bedroom door was open and her eyes connected with tall guy sitting on a couch in the next room. He looked panicked. “Hey, you’re awake,” He finally spoke, getting up and coming to stand in the doorway. He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, bringing attention to the snake tattoo on his neck. (Y/N) just stared wide-eyed, taking in his leather jacket and overall punk look. The pieces of the puzzle clicked and (Y/N) knew she was in serpent country. The tall guy’s face fell slightly at (Y/N)’s fearful expression. However he quickly covered his disappointment, letting his face rest in an unreadable expression. “My name is Sweet Pea,” he spoke again. “(Y/N),” the girl whispered quietly, looking down to her bare legs uncomfortably. Usually she would have laughed at the ridiculous name, but she couldn’t remember anything and she couldn’t gage how much trouble she was currently in. “I um, made some toast?” It came out as more of a question. Sweet Pea didn’t even know this girl. Would she even stay for toast? He wouldn’t be surprised if she took one look at the place and legged it.   “That…. Would be nice.” (Y/N) spoke carefully. “But where are my clothes?”

(Y/N) was surprised at the kindness this Serpent had shown her. From what she knew so far, he had found her covered in her own puke. So he’d brought her back to his trailer, cleaning her up and putting her in one of her shirts. Sweet Pea had smirked when he had recalled to her how tiny she looked in his shirt. It was like a dress on her. He had even cleaned her clothes, which surprised (Y/N). Even she wouldn’t be brave enough to deal with a stranger’s foul bodily fluids. “So… do I owe you?” She spoke quietly as both of them munched on their toast. Sweet Pea looked up and frowned at the girl. “No.” He shook his head. “No. God. I was just trying to do something nice.” “Oh I didn’t mean it like that-“ “What you think that because I’m in a gang I’m going to-“ he stopped, shaking his head. “I have decency you know. I don’t go around hurting random girls.” He was angry and (Y/N) couldn’t deny she was a little intimidated as he ran a hand tightly through his black hair. “Yeah you’re more into carrying them back to your place and looking after them.” (Y/N)’s sassy tone threw Sweet Pea and it took him a few moments before he registered what she’d said. (Y/N) grinned with him when he finally chuckled. “Yeah, you got me.” He smirked. (Y/N) was smiling to herself as she looked down at her piece of toast. Sweet Pea watched the way the light fell on her features, and the way her lip curled up cheekily. Quietly satisfied with herself. He didn’t want to know how she ended up in that state last night. He couldn’t stand the thought of anyone hurting or taking advantage of her – she seemed so small and innocent, he knew what happened to girls like her.   “I don’t even want to look at my phone.” (Y/N) sighed, brushing the crumbs off of her hands. “What do you mean?” Sweet Pea questioned. (Y/N) shrugged and distracted herself by tracing patterns in the crumbs on her plate. “Come on. Isn’t this morning already odd enough? How much worse could it get?” He tried to joke but his smile fell short when she looked up with tears in her eyes. “I’m just really good at messing things up.” She sighed again, seemingly frustrated with the tears that were ready to spill. She blinked them away as she looked up at a spot of mould on the wall opposite her. She managed to fill him in on the events of the last 24 hours, from her dad, to Archie and her mum, to getting drunk and finding herself at Reggie’s. She couldn’t recall anything after that point. Even the details towards the end were fuzzy. Sweet Pea didn’t push her when her emotions got the better of her. Instead he let her sit in silence so she could regain her composure before continuing. It was obvious she was trying so hard not to cry in front of him. It seemed ridiculous that he felt bad for her. Her problems were fixable in comparison. At least she didn’t live alone in a dump. Sweet Pea liked his trailer, but that’s what it was – a trailer. She was definitely used to better. 

“From what you’re saying, it honestly sounds like you were roofied…” Sweet Pea tried to be gentle, but how could he – he wasn’t used to situations like these. When did he become the agony aunt? (Y/N)’s head whipped up, her eyes frantically searching his for an answer. For him to smile and say, “just kidding”. It didn’t come though. Her eyes darted all around the room, anywhere but at him. She felt physically sick until she felt his warm hand envelop hers, squeezing tightly. She looked up at him again and realised she was crying. “Oh god I’m sorry. This is so embarrassing.” She tried to laugh through her sob, trying to downplay it. “Not at all. I think you probably just need to talk to Reggie. And your brother.” He gave her a sympathetic smile. “I can give you a ride home if you want?” She didn’t reply, just wiped hastily at her cheeks with her free hand. “Or I can call someone to come get you?” “You’ve already done enough for me.” (Y/N) shook her head. “I can walk.” “At least let me walk you to the other side of the train tracks? I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to walk alone.” Sweet Pea knew she would either become lost or run into trouble. He wasn’t going to let either of those things happen.

(Y/N) slipped into the house through the back door, trying to be as quiet as she could. However Archie was already in the kitchen, leaning against the counter top. He crossed his arms when he saw his sister, trying to look stern. She noticed his greasy hair, and the purple bags under his eyes gave away his lack of sleep. “So I saw Reggie earlier.” His voice was monotone; he hadn’t even looked (Y/N) in the eyes. “He said you were drunk and that you took some guy up to his bedroom.” (Y/N) frowned at his words. “What? And you’re going to take his word and not even ask me what happened? Oh yeah I’m fine by the way Archie, thanks.” She snapped, moving past him to leave the room. He reached out and grabbed her by the arm, forcing her to turn back around and face him. For once she couldn’t read him. Archie had always been like an open book. One look at his expression and you knew everything. This time he was unreadable. “What happened?” He asked. His voice was quiet but she knew he wasn’t happy. She scoffed in response. “You’re only asking because I just made you feel guilty.” “No, I’m asking because I care about you. You disappeared and then I hear this shit about you and no one knows where you went.” Archie vented, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I stayed with a friend.” (Y/N) shrugged. “Who? We have the same friends.” He pointed out. He had already asked everyone that (Y/N) had ever spoken to. He was going to officially file a missing persons if he hadn’t heard from her by lunch. “He lives on the Southside,” It slipped out and (Y/N) wasn’t sure if she’d let it go on purpose. Although she felt a little smug when she saw his horrified expression.   “He? Southside?” He questioned, urgency in his voice. “(Y/N), come on. Don’t play games with me. Just tell me what happened.” She sighed and for the second time that day, she spilled everything she could remember. Including what Sweet Pea had said about her being possibly roofied. Her and Archie had taken a seat at the island about half way through and he distracted himself with a glass of water. He couldn’t bear to look at her, ashamed that he had let her down. It was silent for a few minutes before Archie finally spoke. “God. I’m so sorry.” He breathed out. (Y/N) gave him a small smile and reached for his hand. “I don’t want to fight with you.” “You’re forgiven Arch. As long as you don’t say shit like that to me again because I will hit you,” (Y/N) tried to joke. “How’s dad doing?” She quickly changed the subject as she saw Archie’s face fall. He felt guilty for starting the argument in the first place.   “Yeah, he’s fine. Mum left early this morning. She couldn’t miss any more work.” Archie sighed. “Wow. She took half a day off, God forbid she takes any more.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes, some people never changed. “I better message Reggie,” (Y/N) sighed, getting up from her seat. “If he’s an asshole about it just tell me and I’ll go beat him up for you. I’m going for a run anyway – I can always make a little pit stop.” He offered with a grin. (Y/N) shook her head, trying to hide her smile. “Thanks Arch.” She laughed softly to herself as she made her way upstairs. Flopping on her bed, she was halfway through writing a text to Reggie when a piece of scrap paper fell out of her jacket pocket. Confused, she sat up and unfolded it. Someone had scrawled their number and the initials ‘SP’ in the corner gave her an idea of who. She finished sending her text to Reggie before texting Sweet Pea.

Sent: Very smooth, although a little old school. She smirked at herself, not expecting a reply so quickly. Received: I know you have a boyfriend but when you realise he’s a douche, you know where to find me. (Y/N) was taken aback by such a blunt reply. She couldn’t deny that his upfront attitude excited her, Though he was right, she did have a boyfriend. This harmless flirting wasn’t so harmless to Sweet Pea, nor would it be to Reggie if he found out. Sent: What makes you so sure I’d come running for you? Received: I’m not. But girls like you love bad boys like me. (Y/N) smirked and shook her head before typing back. Sent: Dream on. Her phone buzzed again, but with a text from Reggie. Anxiety settled in her stomach as her eyes flicked over the lengthy text messages, scanning for any indication of a negative response. There was none. He was apologetic and wanted to meet her at Pop’s in ten minutes to talk and make it up to her. She was thankful this misunderstanding was over. At least now she could finally process and deal with her dad’s shooting, and focus on worrying about who shot him. At least she wasn’t alone. She had her brother, her boyfriend, and a new friend from the Southside. She had forgotten all about Sweet Pea as she gathered her things to go see Reggie. So she was a little startled when she received his response. She hated the feeling of butterflies that came with his reply.  Received: I’ll see you in my dreams, Red.

Tag: @kelly27crickett

[danramzrandom]

Village Story + Choices

Main Body:

After much consideration, or not much at all, I don't know, you decide to venture towards the Village in the distance. After roughly two hours of travel, or so you guess, you arrive at the village gates. Two conversations and one inventory check later, you're allowed entry into the place you now know as Pen Island. The island part doesn't really make sense considering you're about 35 miles inland, but you go with it anyway. Rather disturbed by the fact that, so far, the village seems to only be inhabited by men, and rather scantily dressed men at that, you look around for some kind of sign pointing you in the direction of some privacy. Choose Wisely:

Choices:

(There’s 2 options in the game, with each option randomly flipping between 2 of the 4 choices each time you open the widget)

The Stick-It Inn:

Curious as to why this inn has such a suspect sounding name, you decide to head towards it as, at the end of the day, it's an inn, so you must be able to find some kind of shelter there. Upon arrival, the name just makes even less sense to you, as the inn is very clearly just what it is, an inn. You enter the establishment to find a rather normal looking man standing behind the desk. He seems pretty surprised to have an actual client in the building, which does make you wonder why he seems so surprised, but you brush it off and ask for the best room available. Once you've gotten to where you're going to be sleeping, and you've set down your things, you realise that for being the best room, it's pretty mediocre looking. Tatty and uncomfortable bedsheets, the walls are peeling, the floorboards are beginning to mould. It seems kinda obvious now why the guy behind the desk seemed to be taken aback by the fact you've decided to stay a night. Well, you have to make do with what you've got. It's pretty late at this point, you arrived in the village at sundown so it's probably around midnight, and your surroundings are dead silent. Not even a noise from over in Shaft Park, which is really surprising, that place is usually booming.

As you're fading into unconciousness, a faint pattering noise starts coming from the hallway outside of your room. Then, a squeak from the lock on your door. A head peers around the corner to check to see if you're sleeping, which you pretend to be doing, just to see what this intruder is up to. A few seconds later, seeming to believe you're actually asleep, multiple people enter the room dressed in large, conspicuous, dark cloaks with their hoods raised. Before you know it, blades of all shapes and sizes are being thrust into your body while the cloaked people are chanting in a forgotten language. The language of the Stick-It Cult. See, now the name makes sense. It wasn't even a dirty thing at the end of the day you crude minded so and so. Alas, your poor mortal soul unknowingly walked right into what is considered by the locals as the Inn of Sacrifice. The nickname is pretty self-explanatory really, people go there to put themselves forth to take part in rituals and sacrifices performed by the Stick-It Cult. It also just passes as a rather suspect sounding inn for weary travellers though, weary, and unfortunate, travellers like yourself. Your journey has come to an end.

Alleyway: 

Desperate to find some space to be alone and rest, you resort to the only nearby shelter you see; a trash-filled alleyway that reeks of faeces, lined with homeless people on either side, each one set up with their own little camp of sorts. Bit of a bad decision to make in my opinion, but I mean you're about to collapse and need to rest somewhere asap, so I respect it nonetheless. After finding a currently unoccupied area in the alleyway, you drop what little you have on the ground and curl up in the most comfortable way possible with the space and items you have. You only really get to sleep for an hour or so, as you happen to have taken the space in the alleyway that's usually occupied by Dick Richard, one of the higher ups in the local homeless mafia. Angered by your ignorance and carelessness, he calls for a few close-by homeless folk to come over to hold you down while he kicks the crap out of you. Still half-asleep and tired as hell, you can't resist the surprisingly strong but god-awful smelling hobos also now joining in on the battering of you, the ignorant home invader. You hear a name muttered amongst the chaos, "Tom", but it doesn't really mean much right now, you're just trying to fight back both the kicking and the smell that they're all giving off. About 10 minutes later, they all finally give up on trying to kill you, but goddamn you are in a bad way. With not much idea of where you are, what to do, or even who you are right now (the severe concussion you contracted from the assault might have something to do with that part), you just lay in the street, bleeding, struggling to breathe, dying. Your ribs are broken and bruised, arms and legs cut up and dislocated and your face is unidentifiable. No-one is coming to help you, nothing can help you at this point. You crossed the wrong group of homeless people, and you paid the price.

Shaft Park:

While it doesn't exactly seem like the best place for privacy, or even rest, you decide to head over to where a sign is saying the local park is. Or more specifically, where the aptly named "Shaft Park" is. As it happens, it's actually one of the largest areas of land on the continent, spanning a massive 750,000 acres. That's like, 3/5 the size of the Crand Ganyon Reserve, one of the largest natural parks known to exist. Learning of this gives you some confidence that this might actually be a good place to get some rest and maybe camp out. Provided there's wildlife nearby to your camp, you could probably find something to eat pretty easily too. / Hours pass, the sun sets, and the only visible light left is that which is emanating from the rather sizeable fire you've managed to put together. You also came across and caught a small hare while finding your spot too, (even though you did kind of steal it from someone else's trap). Cooking it doesn't take too long either, but it was only roasted to medium rare (as it should be), so I'm not surprised. / After finishing your meal, you decide to do a quick inventory check of what little supplies you have. It turns out you were carrying a bit more than you thought. Initially, all you were aware of was the bed-roll, flask of 3 day old water and a change of clothes, but there now seems to be some sweet smelling, edible looking, pill-shaped objects scattered at the bottom of your bag. With no idea where they came from, you think about what to do.

(Subsequent Choices):

Eat the Pills:

Deciding to eat what look to be pills of some kind, curious as to what effect they might have on you, you end up overdosing on, and consequently dying from, what you now know were unordinarily powerful opioids. Better luck next time, you lowkey druggie you.

Go to Sleep:

Deciding to leave the pills as they are, for further inspection another day, you go to sleep to get some rest, much needed rest at that. The next day, you gather your things, and head on your way out of Shaft Park, back out of Pen Island and onwards towards the rest of your very odd life on this very odd continent. Somehow, you actually survived.

Throw Away the Pills:

You grab all of the pills from the bottom of the bag, and cast them out into the wilderness, not wanting anything to do with some sweet smelling drugs that randomly appeared in your bag. You fall into a deep sleep, and man was it a deep sleep. Deep enough to not realise that those pills and their scent had attracted some pretty vicious wildlife to your camp during the night. You wake up to find some incredibly dozy looking wolves, pretty much drugged out of their minds, acting surprisingly docile towards you. In remembering a book you read a couple years back, you jump at the opportunity to tame these already submissive feeling wolves, ready to live out your fantasy of being in control of your very own wolf pack. Congrats player, you got one of the best endings I've written. You're a fucking wolf-man!

The Chain and Balls:

You notice a sign pointing towards an establishment named "The Chain and Balls", which to you may just sound like a pub or a bar type place, but oh boy are you wrong. Bear in mind, this is your first time visiting Pen Island, so you have no idea what this village is all about, or why all of the places in said village are named so oddly. Upon entering The Chain and Balls, you very quickly realise just how mistaken you were when assuming it was just your average pub. / People dressed in pure leather outfits roam the main floor, chains and whips and the like are displayed on the walls, screams echo through the corridor on the opposite end of the floor, and a form of music you've never heard before is being played by a stark nude quartet in a dimly light corner of the room. Hell even the instruments they're using look menacing, one of them is producing sounds with the help of magic too. What the fuck have you gotten yourself into, honestly. / Before you can really process what's going on around you, a busty, latex covered, elderly woman with what look to be cat ears on her head, approaches you and asks what your poison is. Innocently confused by what she meant, you ask simply for some water. Unfortunately for you though, no-one comes to The Chain and Balls for water. The only people who ask for water know what they're getting into, and that would be the incredibly infamous cock-smuggling ring. You see, Pen Island itself is actually just a front for one of the biggest cock trafficking groups the continent has ever seen. Cocks bring in the gold, what can I say. / Nevertheless, before you know it, you're in the back rooms of The Chain and Balls bullshitting your way through a conversation with some of the most important men around. You have no idea what you're doing, but the men can see your "clear" passion for cock smuggling, and are interested in hiring you for a couple of jobs. In need of rest, money, and a job to be honest, you just go along with things and end up becoming a world class cock smuggler. Congratulations, you somehow managed to get an ending where you don't die!