#mz writes

[mrsalwayswrite]

What Words Can't Say - Masterlist

Summary: When Abby joined the war effort, her only purpose was to support her cousin and fix up the B-17 Fortresses so they could continue their missions. She had no intentions of getting close to the men who piloted them.

Yet when the 100th Bomb Group flew into Thorpe Abbotts, specifically a handsome blond Major, her carefully built walls began to crumble, one brick at a time.

Warnings: language, canon-typical violence, major character death, slow burn, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, historical & military inaccuracies, (more to be added)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

More to be added

Tag list: @beebeechaos @claireelizabeth85

[silverthepenguin]

Death Angels: Master-Post

Death Angels is a multimedia franchise that spans written stories, art, and games. Death Angels is split into *timelines,* Each timeline is connected somehow and tells its own story. Though rare, some timelines can overlap characters and powers.

⤷TIMELINE: Death Angels Legacy (#DeathAngels) (#DeathAngelsLegacy) (#DALRevival) Legacy is an action-packed, multi-arc written story. Yuki Yamada, The Okami God of Devils, Invaded Earth on Feb 14th of 2025. This same day was the 6th birthday of Shogo Katsuki, a young boy of the Katsuki Arcana. Yuki invaded Earth to kill off every Okami Warrior belonging to Earth. This way, when he destroyed the world, no one would fight against him. His planned was ultimately stopped by Shadow Katsuki, the older brother of Shogo. Knowing that the rouge God would come back, Shadow infused the power of the Chaos God into his younger brother, with the hope that when Yuki came back, Shogo would be strong enough to defeat him This power is both a blessing and a curse, however, as it slowly transforms Shogo into the new God of Chaos. All the while, entities of Chaos such as his sword, Yamada, manipulate him into giving up his humanity and morals and accepting the God of Chaos title. Shogo's humanity and will is tested as he goes through his teenage years, attempting to control the power of Chaos all while he and his revolutionary allies fight against the influence of the Chaos, The Gods, their fellow humans, and their corrupt government. Read Chapter 1 For Free Here

⤷TIMELINE: Death Angels Excalibur (#DAExcalibur) Excalibur is an action/adventure turned-based RPG currently in development using the RPG Maker engine. Zero is a young Aura Wielder from the nation of Atlus. The 22-year-old sword using Mercenary floats around the country of Atlus looking for any job that can pay for his needs. Though the merc doesn't kill, he gets praise for always getting the job down. One day, Zero gets contacted by Ai Asato, a Japanese businessman who recently purchased some warehouses in Nebula City, Atlus. The job is simple, protect the warehouses while Asato sets everything up and get paid. Unlucky for Zero, the job didn't go so easy. Trouble arises as he meets a mysterious girl who gives him a cryptic message. He ignores it until her words become reality. Zero suddenly awakens to a new power, and 4 different factions want him for their own use. He must choose between 4 powerful entities or death. Play the Demo Here

[pbabel]

Project Babel

So, Project Babel. A game I'm working on because I have either too much or too little time on my hands. Doing it in RPG Maker MZ because I gave up on Persona Maé (find that on my main blog). The name "Project Babel" is temporary until I think of something better.

The premise: A kitsune who's also an ultra-powerful time goddess has trapped 22 people in some form of the Library of Babel. Each person, or wanderer as she calls them, has been given a Mark (a codeword of sorts), a weapon, and a Condition that they must meet before she allows them to leave. In particular, the player character's Condition basically entails helping the other wanderers meet theirs. The story of the game is essentially the player helping the wanderers with their Conditions so they can all leave.

I'll post a list of the wanderers' names and their Marks, and I'll make posts for the characters themselves whenever.

[kiikiwaa]

About me 💋

I’m a just a french girl who need to react to every event of his life. And tumblr is the best to do it !!!

ps : I’m still learning English, so don't hesitate to correct me if I make mistakes !!! ☺️

🍓 My favorite artists

American artists :

Ariana Grande, SZA, Kali Uchis, Raye, Rhianna, Mélanie Martinez, Lady gaga, Drake, Childish Gambino,

French artists :

Damso, PNL, MZ, Luidji, Tsew the kid, Hellcat, Stromae

🍓 My favorite movies

- Hunger games, the best of all time, I’ve loved this movie since I was born !! ( TEAM PEETAAAA )

- White chicks, I can to die of laughter when I see this masterclass

- Mathilda, all children should watch it

🍓 Hobbies

- photography

- writing and reading

- football, I’m just watching

- clothes and snickers

- makeup and skincare

That’s it, I think I’ve been around !!! 🪩

If you have any questions don’t hesitate to come and talk to me !! 🩶

Love u guys and see you soon

Kiss kiss 🍓

[bookishjules]

top 5 books you've ever read???

coming right out the ringer with this one huh? jeez umm (not gonna think to hard about this, so the list may be similar to ones i've made before)

I am the Messenger by Markus Zusak

A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman

The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgeson Burnett

The Little Prince by Antoine De Saint-Exupércy

Lord of the Flies by William Golding

[ricksoo]

Tbh I really thought Amber is going to recall her memories after seeing that sunrise (or sunset idk) :P

What a way to start it, that's great!

Hello! Well I would like to introduce myself first of all.

I'm M4t Zrmak, I'm new to creating comics and I may not have the best structure or execution. I'm also not an English speaker so some things may be poorly written or lack drama.

Anyway, I want to introduce you to this universe that I have been working on for a year.

In this universe Amber is alive, she is still a clone and there are many things behind how she managed to survive unlike the other clones.

I want to say that this story also takes data from the Audio Drama, so yes, I did a lot of research so that the story could have coherence or at least I think so haha

Anyway, I apologize if the comic isn't very good or it's ugly.

[neil-gaiman]

Hello Mr. Gaiman,

I've always been curious about this kind of thing, so I thought I'd ask, if you're willing to share, how did you become friends with @dianeduane and the other writers around here? Was it before or after you both became authors, before or after you made it big? Through writing or through other things?

I'm a scientist (also a profession where networking is a Skill to be Learned) and aspiring writer - also a big fan of yours and Mz. Duane's work - and I've always wondered how people form these networks of professional/friendly contacts.

Thank you, and have a great day!

I met Diane and her husband Peter (also a writer) about 35 years ago at some convention or other (my brain suggests Liverpool but it might have been anywhere in the UK) with Terry Pratchett, who knew them already. We bonded over J.P. Martin's UNCLE books and ate enormous quantities of Chinese food. We have been friends ever since.

Also, Diane's tumblr handle is

[mrsalwayswrite]

What Words Can't Say - Chapter 5

a/n: hope the length makes up for the wait.

Warnings: swearing, unwanted physical contact, mild violence, Gale is a teddy bear

Words: 10k

Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

July 1943

Dusk painted the sky in colorful hues when the mechanics finally packed away their tools. Tonight, the small crew decided to go out to the local pub to celebrate Simon's birthday, and everyone was eager to get started. The consensus was the guys would come collect Abby from her hut once they were cleaned up and ready to go. 

Abby would never admit out loud how fast she ran to her hut so she would have even a smidgen more of time. She raced the clock to take the fastest shower of her life and even then she could still feel stubborn spots of oil and grease on her. With the lack of time, she was forced to towel dry her hair as best as she could and then let it fall naturally down her back, so her straight brunette locks ended just past her shoulder blades. She giggled at the mental image of the shocked faces of some of the nurses who painstakingly and religiously used curlers in their hair. 

Slipping into the only dress she brought to England with her, a fond smile arose with the memories attached to the dress. It was a simple navy blue dress with white polka dots all over, the hem dancing about her knees. Her Aunt Hassel gifted the handmade dress to Abby when she arrived to live with them. The first of many gifts and ways that her aunt and uncle showed they were happy she moved in with them. A decision she would never regret. 

Lastly, Abby swiped on Ada's Victory Red lipstick she left on her nightstand, thinking Ada would not mind. More likely, Ada would fuss and want to help her get ready. All the other nurses were off at the Club or doing their assigned rounds, so Abby had the hut to herself. A rarity but especially helpful tonight when she did not want to answer any questions about why she was dressing up. 

Steeling herself, she took a glance in Ada's small compact and fought the immediate urge to wipe the lipstick off and crawl into bed, claiming illness. Warring thoughts and voices buzzed like bees inside her mind. Their sting, an almost palpable thing, as she fought to control her breathing. She could do this. There was no one she was dressing up for, just herself. This was supposed to be fun. It would be fun. No one was going to berate her. She trusted the men she was with. She had promised Ken she would go. 

Despite her own mental encouragement, she knew it would be so easy to crawl into bed. To hide the dress in the bottom of her footlocker again. To erase the lipstick. To tie her hair back up. To return to the feeling of safety. She could do it…

Before she surrendered to the urge, she stalked out of the hut with her black Mary Janes clicking on the hard floor. 

Dusk transformed into darkness by the time she stepped out. Taking several deep breaths, she stared up at the stars as if silently seeking strength. The cool night air slid around her legs, only protected by the nylons she wore. She relished the shiver it shot through her, displacing the heat generated from her turbulent mind and insecurities. 

Luckily the rest of the mechanics came around the corner only a couple minutes after she stepped out. 

“Did you dress up for me, love?” Simon teased, after a long whistle. 

“Only because it's your birthday.” 

He chuckled. “Fair enough.”

Ken slung an arm around her shoulders, smelling much better than he did previously, as they followed the rest of the crew. “You look nice.”

“Nice?” Winks snorted from Ken's other side. He peeked over at her through the gloom. “Abby looks beautiful.”

“Thanks, John.” She smiled at him, a flush on her cheeks from all the attention. 

Conversations ebbed and flowed amongst their small group as they made the walk through the airbase and onward to the village. A renewed liveliness danced around them, the laughter and teasing increased the further they walked from base. As if a heavy cloak was dropped at the gate leading onto the base and now they could celebrate unimpeded. A warmth filled Abby as she watched and listened to the men around her. This was what they all needed, a temporary release from the weight of their work and all it entailed. A reminder that they were all still young and alive. 

Well, most of the crew. 

Simon was the oldest, turning twenty-eight today. When he signed up, he initially wanted to be a P-51 pilot but as he progressed in the training, decided he liked working on the planes more than flying them and was transferred to ground crew. He left a wife and toddler back home in Michigan. However much he joked that he joined the war effort to get a break from the wife and toddler, no one commented on the way he carried a photo of them in his pocket at all times. 

John “Winks” Herrmann was from Connecticut and Ken's best friend. He was a sweet guy that felt like an honorary ‘Lemmons’ with how quickly Ken and his friendship blossomed into a brotherhood. He hardly ever said a negative word about anybody and was always willing to help out. He was a bit naive in certain ways but mostly because he was young and this was his first time away from home. 

The rest of their group contained: Allen “Al” Hendricks from Missouri, Cricket Cox from Alabama, Paul Wilson from New Hampshire and Lincoln “Dog-Face” Miller from Montana. 

Without any outside light due to the blackout, it was hard to truly tell what the pub looked like. From what she could tell, it reminded Abby of the stereotypical English pub - small and quaint and lively. The only problem was a lot more noise drifted from behind the door as they walked up to it than she expected. 

“I thought you said no one would be here.” Abby quietly asked Ken. 

“Maybe it's locals?”

But something in her gut told her that was not the case, and when they opened the door, light and noise spilling out to encase them and drag them into its confines, like a spider into its web…Abby knew she had made a mistake. 

A handful of locals were scattered throughout the pub, some old men talking and grumbling and several young women either on the dance floor or drinking with the soldiers, but the pub was swarmed with uniforms boasting those of the 100th Bomb Group and RAF. 

As if sensing her urge to abandon the night, Ken snaked an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. He put his mouth close to her ear to be heard over the noise. “It's fine. We'll find somewhere in the back.” 

She nodded mutely. 

Al found a table off to the side, snagging it as the locals headed out, most likely wanting to retain the use of their hearing due to the sheer volume echoing in the place. Abby found herself sandwiched between Ken and Simon in mismatched chairs, but instead of feeling claustrophobic, she felt she could breathe again. She was surrounded by people she trusted and they were out of the main view of people. Not that she was hiding, per se, but she was not here to show off. 

Lincoln and Al came back with the first round of beers and whiskey, and without a second thought, she took a generous swallow of the whiskey placed in front of her, hoping the alcohol would settle her nerves. She wanted to enjoy her time out, she really did. So she resolved to ignore those around them and try to focus on the men at her table. 

She could do this…

*****

“So there I was naked, and hidin’ in the hay pile, prayin’ to God ‘imself that her daddy couldn't see me.” Al told his story, much to the amusement of those around the table. “I waited about two damn hours for the man to leave. I swear, he was like a coon-dog, tryin’ to find me. Well, that damn hay is itchin’ me somethin’ terrible but I don't dare move, right? Who knows if he could see the hay shiftin’?”

“You said it was night. I doubt he'd see you.” Paul countered, leaning back in his chair, as he twirled a screwdriver around his fingers. He never went anywhere without some sort of tool on his person, claiming you never knew when something needed to be fixed. Abby thought it had more to do with superstitions but kept that to herself. 

Al ran a hand down his face. “I was seventeen! And terrified! That man could make even the devil himself shit his pants.”

“What were you doing messing with his daughter then?” Simon countered, ever the voice of wisdom.

“Swear to God, she's the prettiest thing you'll ever see! Even puts Rita Hayworth to shame!” Al placed a hand over his heart, his brown eyes twinkling merrily. 

“No!” 

“I don't believe you!”

“Don't you blaspheme about Rita!”

“Fine, fine.” Al smirked, leaning forward as if to share a secret with his companions. “She had the biggest breasts I’d ever seen and said I could touch them. What dumbass would say no? Not me.”

“There it is!” Simon laughed. 

Abby giggled, playing with a strand of her hair. She was feeling good. Two whiskeys sloshed in her system while she nursed her first beer of the night sitting before her. She was not drunk, she knew that feeling and did not like it, but gloriously tipsy and everything felt light and easy and she wanted to revel in the feeling. Laughter spilled from her lips and she could not remember the last time she had so much fun. 

“So, what happened? Did he catch you?” Ken asked from beside her, a flush on his cheeks betraying his own intoxication. 

Al wagged a thick finger. “No. No. The bastard didn't catch me that day. No. It was worse.” He leaned forward again, a forearm on the table and tapping his finger on the table to punctuate his words. “No, turns out I'm allergic to hay. Who knew? Broke out in goddamn hives that lasted for days. It was awful! Don't laugh at me!” 

But the group laughed anyway at the turn of events in the story. With the embarrassing and hilarious stories being shared, all focused on their group, it felt like they were in a world of their own. The talking and laughter of the others in the pub was only white noise, drifting in and out with the music playing. 

“Alright, whose turn for the next round? Huh?” Paul asked, scratching his thin black beard.  

“I'll go.” Abby said, pushing back her chair to stand up. A wave of vertigo smacked into her and she gripped onto Ken's shoulder to steady herself. 

“You good?” Ken questioned. 

With a smile on her face, she shook her head, dislodging the strange sensation. “Yeah, just been sitting too long, that's all.” She reached out and ruffled his hair, causing him to smack her hand away with a grimace and whine like when they were younger. 

“I'll come with you.” Lincoln said, his thick jowls and thin lips highlighted by the lights. “Gotta step outside for a minute anyway.” 

A new conversation started up around the table as the two skirted away and methodically weaved through those filling the small pub. Abby appreciated Lincoln leading the way, his wide shoulders and thick frame cleared an easy path for her to follow. 

She felt like a fairy, moving around the dancing crowd and seeing the twinkling lights. With a stupid giggle, she spun in a circle, making her dress fan out around her knees. Unfortunately, she bumped into a soldier, but before he could say anything, Lincoln grabbed her hand and dragged her the rest of the way to the bar counter. 

She leaned against the wooden counter, sticky form spilled alcohol and decorated with dents and circle stains from years of use. “Sorry.” She giggled again, tipping her head back to look at the much taller man. “I haven't walked in heels in some time.” At least, she thought it was the Mary Janes that caused her to momentarily lose her balance. 

“It's fine.” He smiled down at her, something indiscernible in his dark eyes. 

She blinked for a long moment, wondering if she was missing something. Why was he still smiling at her? Unsure, she went to brush her hair behind her ear and realized his hand was still in hers. 

Oh. 

“Oh, I'm sorry. Sorry. I just–” 

He chuckled as he pulled back his hand. “It's fine, Abby.” He glanced towards the door and then shuffled from foot to foot next to her. “Is it– I mean, I can stay–”

“Go.” She awkwardly pushed his shoulder, probably looking like a kitten bothering a German Shepherd. “I'll wait for you here.”

“Oh-okay. I won't be long.” He waited for a moment as if she would change her mind, but after she pushed him once again, he quickly stepped out of the pub. 

Turning her back towards the pub, she idly traced the circle stains on the wood. The bartender was helping a group of patrons further down and she did not mind waiting. 

Her thoughts drifted towards her departed companion. She disliked the nickname ‘Dog-Face’ for Lincoln but unfortunately it held merit. He was incredibly kind and humble but his countenance resembled that of a bulldog. To his credit, Lincoln rolled with the nickname. He was a good mechanic and a good friend. Ken had confessed to her early on that Lincoln had a crush on her, although he had never acted upon it and she had never witnessed it herself. She figured it was just boy gossip and Ken trying to tease her. 

As she glanced down the bar counter again, her attention was caught by Captain Dye and Lil, the two coyly flirting with one other. She had met Lil once when traveling into the village to pick up something from the small, local store they had. Abby was fairly certain she had heard rumors that Lil and Major Egan were seen together. The nurses had plenty of thoughts about Lil and some of the other local women, but maybe that was just rumors? 

“I dare say, it's quite a shame to see a beautiful woman standing alone at a bar. A true disgrace.”

Abby turned back, a wave of surprise coursing through her and dissipating some of the clouds in her brain, as she noted the man standing quite close to her. Upon hearing his British accent and seeing the uniform he wore, her mind quickly put together that he must be RAF. 

“Who said I'm alone?” 

He was handsome enough, she guessed. The slicked-back dark hair, the mustache and the cocky grin he wore most likely made many women swoon. But it was the way his gaze appraised her, like he knew he had already caught her without even having to try…that immediately erected her walls and sobered her further. 

He made a show of looking around her. “I do not see anyone or am I mistaken?”

“I'm just getting the next round for the group I came with.”

“Ah.” His grin widened and with a half step, crowded her against the counter. “I'm positive they won't mind waiting a little longer as we get to know each other.”

���No, thank you.” 

“No? May I at least have the honor of knowing your name, love?”

“I don't think that's necessary right now.” She hissed, one of her hands against his chest to keep him from moving closer. 

“I promise to be a perfect gentleman. What do you say, love?”

Yet his actions sang their own tune. 

While he spoke, his hand hovered on her lower back, an unwanted weight to pin her in place. She almost missed his last statement, a final plea for her attention because his hand crossed into turbulent waters and unknowingly released a storm. 

His back faced outward, a shield, a barrier, from the eyes of those in the pub. An illusion of privacy. For residing in that illusion, his hands chose to wander. The left was firmly placed on her lower back, while the right gripped the fabric of her dress covering her thigh. 

“Care to dance?” He breathed into her ear, alcohol wafting like a fog over her face. His hand though, slippery as eel, slipped under the hem of her dress and slid up her inner thigh.

“Get your hands off me.” She quietly snarled, grabbing his hand to cease its further exploration. 

She could feel his sigh against her cheek, that hot exhale of breath. More importantly, she felt his hand on her lower back drift downward…and she saw red. 

On instinct, she stomped the heel of her Mary Jane into the top of his leather shoe, and used her hand still against his chest to shove him hard. 

He hissed, teetering for a moment but catching his balance with a hand on the countertop. 

Slowly, she turned to face him after brushing the hem of her dress back into place, warily watching him for retaliation. She would rather not make a scene but if he came at her again, she had no problem with showing him her infamous right hook. 

Thankfully, he had a few brain cells that still worked. Anger burned in his eyes but he kept his lips closed. His gaze scanned over her with unrestrained disgust. With a shake of his head and a snort, he turned and walked away without a word. 

Her heart raced like an engine being pressed to the max. Placing her elbows on the counter she covered her eyes with her hands and she focused on steadying her breathing. An alcohol-induced fog skittered at the edges of her brain, shoved away by the ugly encounter but easing back in to soften her heightened emotions. 

A minute later, the barman finally made his way to her, apologies pouring off his tongue. She ordered and waited as he filled the new glasses, hoping she appeared confident. The encounter with the RAF pilot had left her shaken. She knew logically she was unhurt and had handled the situation as best as she could. Yet her gaze darted around, perceptions high to make sure no one else snuck up on her. Her hand repeatedly brushed at the thigh that he touched as if she could wipe away his stain on her skin. 

Lincoln reappeared as the barman loaded up the drinks onto a tray. Before he could move the tray to their table, Abby snatched one of the glasses of whiskey and tossed it back. She hissed, eyes smarting as the liquor burned down her throat. Leaving the empty glass on the counter, she led the way this time back to their table, purposefully ignoring Lincoln's quizzical glances at her. 

Back with the group, she tried to embrace the same lightness as before, that feeling of being wholly relaxed and having fun. The shot of whiskey and being back with the mechanics alleviated some of her jitters but she could not entirely erase the twitching nerves or how her gaze frequently swept the pub for that RAF pilot. A vine of resentment twisted around her heart for that pilot, how he ruined her freedom for his own amusement. It was a painful reminder that no matter where she was, she always had to be on guard. 

After she finally finished her warm beer, the clouds were back in her mind and her nerves had dissipated somewhat. At this point, sleep called to her as if from a distance and she was ready to beckon its approach. 

“Ken–” She said in a hush, her head leaning on his shoulder and his arm behind her back. 

“Yeah, me too.” Her cousin replied quietly. “Ready?”

At her nod, the two carefully got up. Ken spoke to those at the table. “I'm going to take Abby back. I'll see you fellas in the morning.”

The chorus of farewells echoed from those remaining. The two mechanics meandered through the crowded pub, dodging the patrons both drunk and mildly sober. Ken led the way, cutting through like a schooner through the waves. With all of her attention focused on putting one foot in front of the other and not being knocked into, she barely noted when Ken took a detour away from the door, her feet faithfully following him. 

“Kenny!” 

“Hey ya, Ken!” 

The familiar cheers for her cousin erupted from the large table in front of them. She briefly wondered how he knew the majors were sitting over here, tucked away in the corner like they had been. The question flitted away from her mind almost as quickly as it emerged. 

“Hey fellas. Just poppin’ over to wish you a good night.” Ken explained, unnecessarily waving like a kid on a playground. 

Abby attempted to cover a giggle with her hand, hiding behind her cousin's back. Was he drunk? He appeared steady enough standing there. She decided to poke his back to make sure. 

“No! Sit down!”

“Yeah, join us! Where's that extra chair?”

“It's here! Sit down!”

Ken shrugged his shoulders, swatting away her hand like a fly. “That's ‘right. Thank you though.”

He did not tip so Abby concluded he was not drunk but she decided to poke him again for good measure. 

“Ouch!” Ken squirmed, turning around to grab her hands to prevent any more pokes. Mischief danced along her veins, so she stuck her tongue out at him. 

“Hey, who's that with ya?” 

By this point, Abby was feeling all three glasses of the whiskey flowing through her veins and the beer she had been sipping on. She would be the first to admit she was a lightweight, not drinking often did that to a person. Plus with her slimmer stature, alcohol raced through her faster than a fart through a fan. 

Hearing Biddick's voice, she shifted to the side to look around Ken. Directly in front of her at the large wooden table was seated someone from the 100th she recognized but could not figure out his name but thought he was a navigator. Beside him was Major Veal, then Major Egan, Major Cleven, Lieutenant Biddick and Major Kidd, while across from them sat three other men in uniforms but she could not see their faces easily. 

“Hey, boys.” She smiled at the familiar officers. That very smile lighting up her face at the looks of momentary shock crossing the faces of the men she knew. 

“Holy shit! Slugger, is that you?” Egan almost spit out his drink, wiping away what dribbled down his chin. 

Biddick let out a wolf whistle. “Lookin’ good, Abby!” 

“Alright, you're going to embarrass her.” Ken waved off any more rowdy compliments, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side.  

“Now you gotta sit with us!” Egan demanded. “Hey, Bubbles, go tell Croz to get something for Kenny and Sluggar here!” 

“Yes, sir.” The man she couldn't put a name with -apparently Bubbles- got up next to them and held out his chair. “You can have my seat. I'll sit on the other side with Croz.”

“Thanks, Bubbles.” Ken said. He bumped her with his hip, directing her towards the vacated seat while he slid into the empty chair between Bubbles’ chair and the unknown men. 

Once she finally seated between Veal and Ken, she was finally able to discern the faces of the other men at the table. All three were clearly RAF, but when she locked eyes with the one in the middle, seeing the familiar sleazy smirk on his face and his rakish gaze, she wondered if she might end up resorting to violence tonight after all. 

“What are you doing here? I thought you never left the hardstands.” Veal teased Ken. 

“Just out celebrating, sir. We're not allowed to have whiskey at the hut or hardstands.”

“That sounds terrible.” Egan dramatically lamented, then leaned forward and pointed a finger at Ken. “We should fix that! Can't have good work go without rewards!” 

“No, Bucky.” Kidd glared.

“Come on, Jack!”

Abby smiled at the one sided argument Egan was trying to put up. Her gaze slid around the table to land on Gale, and to her shock, locked on her already were his baby blue eyes. Once their eyes connected, the corner of his mouth lifted and he sent a cheeky wink her way. A giggle bubbled up within her, spilling out even as she tried to suppress it with her hand. The sound seemed to unlock something within him for a genuine smile rolled across his face, eyes softening as he continued to stare at her. 

Seemingly continuing an interrupted conversation, the RAF pilot in the middle began speaking, throwing a proverbial wet blanket over the jovial group. “I admire you Americans, you're up there in broad daylight, seemingly oblivious to the downsides.”

“I…I don't understand what you're saying, Captain.” Kidd slowly said. 

“Nevermind, old boy. It's one for the higher ups.”

“It's a question of philosophies.” The RAF on the left continued the train of thought of his comrade, not even trying to hide his patronizing tone. “We bomb at night because it doesn't matter what we hit as long as it's German. Bombing during the day is suicide. I could foresee in the future, American strategy adjusting due to the unfortunate losses you'll no doubt continue to suffer. Maths.”

Abby squinted her eyes at the Brits, wondering what kind of churlish conversation took place prior to Ken and her arrival. Even with her sluggish thoughts, she could feel the strife floating in the air like a cheap perfume. 

Egan inhaled sharply, gaze narrowed at the men across the table from him. “Maths?”

“I mean, maybe if you bombed during the day, you'd hit your targets.” Biddick snarked. 

“And why the hell do you Brits add an ‘s’ to the end of math?” 

The cocky RAF smirked, slowing his tone like he was talking to a child. “Because there's more than one of them.”

Biddick mocked. “There's more than one of them.”

“I can see more than one of you too.” Egan raised his hand, seemingly illustrating his point. “I could knock all of you out.” Veal smacked his hand down but the major kept going. “Probably in one punch. In one punch.”

Thankfully, the arrival of alcohol distracted from the rising violence. 

“This outta wet your whistles, boys!” Crosby announced carrying a tray of drinks over. 

The drinks were quickly passed around, slid along the tabletop or handed to its owner. Abby noted how Crosby specifically handed Gale his ginger beer, a hint of reverence in his action. Yet Gale never took his gaze off the RAF pilots, accepting the drink without looking at the apparent admirer behind him. 

“Here ya go.” Bubbles’ voice snagged Abby's attention away as he placed a whiskey in front of Abby and one for Ken. “I wasn't sure what you wanted.”

“Thank you.” She murmured to the soft spoken man. 

He nodded, then retreated to the opposite side of the table. She witnessed them elbowing each other out of the way and being a nuisance to one another as they settled in their seats. 

“Ken…”

Her cousin looked down at her, “hmmm?”

“We need to go.”

“Hold on, another minute.” His attention turning back to the Brits, sucked into the turbulent conversation. 

With a sigh, she leaned her head on Ken's shoulder. Without looking, he twitched his shoulder, making her head move. Giggling, she smacked his arm but laid her head against him again. She could feel him scoot closer and settle his arm against the back of her chair, before taking a sip of his new whiskey.  

“How about a song?” The youngest of the RAF eagerly changed the subject, directing his particular question to Egan. “I hear you sing, Major.”

Those that knew the major either cheered or grimaced, depending on their opinions of John Egan's vocal talents. 

“Pick one. What's your favorite?” The young Brit encouraged. 

Egan grinned like he had won some kind of award. “Good idea!” Even though many around the table loudly disagreed with this assumption. 

To her hazy recollection Abby had never heard Major Egan sing, she almost opened her mouth to add encouragement when Biddick broke through the ruckus of voices. 

“Hey! You want to get Major excited? Baseball!” 

Egan pointed a finger at Biddick. “Specifically Yankees.” He clarified because apparently the distinction was important. His attention slid to his best friend by his side, a silly grin steadily growing as he gazed at him. “Oh my buddy, Buck, here, he thinks they're a waste of time, don't you?” 

Leaning forward to slip into Gale's space, Biddick added. “It's not just sports he doesn't follow. I mean, you don't follow anyone, do you?”

Gale nodded, allowing a pregnant pause as he bit into a toothpick before casually stating, “I follow you, Curt.” 

“And he would still find a way to show off!” Biddick chuckled, further leaning over Gale, now invested in this strange conversation. “For example, you remember Walla Walla. We had a visit from wing Cleven here, slow-timing Hollenbeck's engines. Just so they remembered who he was. He buzzed the Tower, all engines feathered. I–”

“No. Three, three engines–” Major Veal interrupted, holding up three fingers. “He still had one.”

Bubbles agreed. “I remember he called you ‘One Engine Cleven’.”

Biddick hushed the interruption. “Hey. Hey, hey, hey, hey. I'm– I'm telling the story here, All right? It's my story. It's four engines. Next thing I see this fort sailing twenty-five feet over the runway. Yeah,” Biddick clicked his tongue, giving a dramatic pause, “silent as the grave.”

“Beautiful.” 

“Hmm.”

“Wanted to do that all my life.” Egan murmured, smiling at Gale. 

Those around the table collectively laughed or agreed, a comradery between those of the 100th and their experiences together. Gale shook his head, a hint of color on his cheeks from the attention. 

A barely heard laugh escaped Abby's lips as she watched Egan squeeze Gale's cheeks, further embarrassing the man. 

Kidd raised his whiskey. “I'll drink to that. No Engine Cleven.”

“No Engine Cleven. Here we go. Hear hear!” Those of the 100th tapped their drinks together, too caught up in their own merriment to see the side-eyes and mocking looks by the RAF pilots.  “And here's to Ken and Sluggar for being there to fix us up after!”

With the attention of them, Abby raised her head and grabbed her drink. After clinking her glass against those within reach, she took a sip and licked her lips. She stared at the amber liquid, wondering if she should be worried that it no longer burned when traveling down her throat. Maybe her body was used to it by now? For experimental reasons, she sipped again. What warmth filled her belly was dashed with an icy blast as her gaze locked with the RAF pilot-Byron she thought she heard his companion say. He raised his own glass to her, a mock salute, before taking a sip. Meanwhile his rakish gaze never left her. With a repressed shudder, she looked away and tossed the rest of her whiskey back. She could feel his hands on her again, even if it was only in her mind. 

As if summoned, her hazel eyes connected to the baby blues of Gale's. A slight furrow between his brows betrayed his relaxed posture. She saw his gaze shift to look at the Brits and then back at her. A question there but one she did not want to answer. Even if she tried, the words tangled on her tongue in knots. She leaned her head back against Ken's shoulder, lazily watching the lights around them. 

When Byron spoke up again, Abby wondered if the idiot liked confrontation, especially with his haunty, arrogant tone. “Would you have rather been a fighter pilot, major?” 

Egan snapped, clearly hearing the Brit's tone also. “Buck is a fighter pilot. A fighter pilot who happens to fly a bus.”

“And so are you, Bucky.” Bubbles added. 

Egan shook Bubbles’ hand. “And so are you.”

“So, let me get this straight.” The visibly confused younger RAF leaned forward, pointing a finger between the two majors across from him. “You're Buck and he's Bucky?”

“Yeah.”

“Is there a shortage of nicknames in the 100th?” Byron asked, causing laughter between himself and his two companions. 

Yet Egan's response instantly sobered the group, reminding everyone of the truth of war. 

“No. Just a shortage of crews.”

Bryon stated. “Hmm. Pity.”

Egan nodded along, head bouncing in a way that hinted at his lack of sobriety. “Pity. Pity. Yeah. Pity, pity, pity. What?”

“I said it's a pity.” The RAF explained. “You'd have more if you flew your missions at night.”

The underlying tension returned like a heavy cloud just above their heads. 

Abby watched, shocked the Brit would bring the topic back up again. When his gaze darted her way, everything clicked in her mind. Confrontation. The bastard liked the tension and arguments. She had hurt his ego or something else equally foolish and now he needed to feel…something. Her brain could not even fathom what at this point. Her hazy thoughts darted away like minnows in a pond, back and forth, but there was one she finally scooped up. Without a second thought to the legitimacy of it, she poured it out onto the table. 

“Ohhh I get it.” She sat up and tilted her head to the side, eyes narrowing to see past the fog in her mind. “You're just taking the piss outta them cause you're mad I wouldn't let you stick your hand up my dress.”

Byron barely looked her way as he sneered. “With the way you've portrayed yourself, it's clear you have a deficient lack of taste and standards.”

What tension hung over the table immediately redoubled at the scathing remark. What once had been a brewing storm cloud now transformed into a hurricane. 

“Sonofabitch.” Ken muttered, starting to rise from his chair. 

Abby narrowed her eyes and glared at the smug bastard. Yet in the back of her mind, the stinging thoughts from earlier hovered, as if the Brit's comment had unknowingly opened the door for their return. Stinging thoughts of inadequacy, of never being good enough…

To her surprise, Major Egan was the first to speak, breaking the shocked silence. “Why'd you have to go and say something like that? Especially about Slugger.” 

“Well, perhaps I was getting bored of all the heavy petting going on at your end of the table.”

Egan squinted his eyes. “I don't even know what that means. What's that mean?”

Veal echoed beside him. “What does that mean?”

The two men continued to question, seemingly conversing with only each other as everyone else remained silent.  

“What's that mean?”

“I don't know.”

“What's that mean?”  Egan finally turned back to the Brits, a hard glint in his eyes. 

Byron grinned, as if enjoying every moment of this. “Let's make a bit of sport ourselves. How about it? For the lady's honor.”

To Abby's further surprise, Gale was the first to reply, eyes like steel as he stared down the RAF pilot. “I think that's an excellent idea.”

Biddick's quiet, “Oh, here we go,” was lost as Egan started to stand only to be roughly shoved back into his seat by Gale. 

“Abby.” Ken got her attention, his own focus jumping between the Brits and herself. She could clearly see his want to protect her honor himself but also his concern for her wellbeing. “We can leave if you want…you-we don't have to watch.”

“No…no. I want to.”

“Okay.”

The two mechanics followed the crowd spilling out onto the dark street in front of the pub, only the full moon and stars illuminating them. Somehow word about the fight must have circulated since more members of the 100th emerged from the pub, drinks in hand and drunken cheers on their lips. 

“What does RAF mean?” Biddick called out as he finally stepped outside. 

“Riffraff.” Someone answered, much to the other's amusement. 

Abby was mildly stunned when she saw Biddick taking his jacket off and shaking his arms out. She thought Gale was the one to pick up the verbal gauntlet but she must have missed something. Perhaps he only meant he thought a fight was a good idea, not that he would be throwing the punches. From what gossip she heard, Gale was not much of a fighter, typically having to break up fights instead. But she could have sworn there was something in his eyes when he voiced his agreement….

Not that it mattered now. 

Her feet guided her to the edge of the impromptu boxing ring. A part of her envied Biddick, the foolish wish to trade places with him so she could defend her own honor and punch the asshole. Instead she crossed her arms over her chest, forcing herself to remain on for sidelines. However wonderful the retribution would feel, she could not risk the discipline. Not again. 

“You alright there, Abby?”

Caught up in her own swirling thoughts and wishes, she had not realized she placed herself between her cousin and Gale, the major standing within arm's reach. She glanced at him, noting his gaze focused on her. Warmth flooded her cheeks that was certainly a delayed reaction to all the alcohol she consumed. “I'm fine.” 

Before Gale could comment or refute her statement, Egan slung an arm around his shoulder, tugging him close. “Now why does this sport interest you?”

“Boxing?”

“Mm-mmm.”

Gale fiddled with the toothpick still in his mouth. “Test of manhood.”

“That so?”

“About as true a measure of your will to fight as any, and it's man-to-man.”

“Oh, so you just don't like team sports? How'd you end up commander of a plane leading a squadron in a war, where you don't want to be on the losing side, and still not like team sports?” Bucky nudged Gale's cheek with his fist. 

“I just don't lose sleep over whether the pinstripes beat the polka dots.”

Abby giggled to herself at Gale's response. 

Egan sighed, clearly not as amused at his best friend's humor. “Right. Well, we're all just uniforms anyway. You know that?”

Gale did not reply, his attention focused as the boxing ring solidified. Spectators, made up almost entirely of 100th Bomb Group, stood in a circle exchanging bets or holding onto their pints as they drunkenly cheered Biddick on. 

Cracking his knuckles, Byron stepped forward but instead of looking at his opponent, his gaze landed on Abby. She stilled under his brazen gaze, shocked by the audacity of him. 

“Hey, Curt!” She called out, holding the Brit's gaze. 

“Yeah, Abby?”

“Kick his ass.”

Biddick barked a laugh. “Yes, ma'am!”

If looks could kill, she would have been cremated twice over and that still would not satisfy the RAF pilot. His gaze had turned glacial cold and the corners of his mouth lifted in a sneer. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the company around her and the knowledge that the bastard could not hurt her with so many of the 100th surrounding her. With a shit-eating grin, she continued to hold his gaze until he looked away with a huff and roll of his shoulders. 

“Ya heard the lady, sounds like I've gotta kick your ass!” Biddick taunted, bringing his fists up. 

Byron scoffed. “I'll try not to step on you.” 

Biddick and the RAF pilot began circling each other, sizing one another up while those around threw out jeers of their own. 

“Now, seems like you like to do your fighting at night, Byron.” Biddick taunted. 

The Brit threw a swing that Biddick easily dodged. A few cheers sounded and as the Brit prepared to take another swing, but Biddick made his move. He lashed out with his own well-timed shot, knocking his opponent immediately to the dirty cobblestones.  

“Oof. Must have felt that, right?” Curt gloated, standing above his downed opponent. “Guess who can hit their target at night!”

The other RAF pilots call for space, pushing away spectators and gathering up their unconscious captain.

“How'd I do, dollface?” Biddick asked as he slid over between Egan and Gale, earning pats on the back from those around him. 

“You did good, Biddick.”

He wagged his finger at her. “No, no. You called me ‘Curt’, don't start this again.”

She giggled, despite herself. “Thank you, Curt.”

“As my lady commands.” Curt snagged her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. 

She laughed at the comical scene along with those standing around. After he released her hand, Egan lifted the victorious pilot and swung him around to the cheers of the men. 

“Never mess with the Irish!” Curt yelled with his hands up in the air. 

“It's a pity!”

“Oh, what a shame!”

Abby giggled as the merriment wandered down the dark road, with Egan almost dropping Biddick as he stumbled on the uneven cobblestones. She reached over and wrapped her arm around Ken's then leaned her head against his shoulder. By now she could feel the effects of the whiskey further, that loose tipsy feeling now held an strong undercurrent of tiredness. Her eyelids slipped closed for a moment as she sighed. 

“This was fun.” She murmured to her cousin. 

But the drawl that answered was most certainly not that of her cousin. “I'm glad you think so.” 

Her eyes snapped open and she wheeled back, stumbling on the cobblestones. Only the fast hands of Gale reaching out to steady her saved her from the embarrassment of falling onto her backside. 

“I'm so sorry…I thought you were Ken.”

“It's alright. Can you walk?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

He slowly released her forearms, as if worried she would slip to the ground without his touch. Which truthfully was not an irrational notion. Hyper aware of her body and how the ground seemed to shift ever so slightly under her feet, she took a cautious step forward and then another, arms held out for balance.  

“I did it!” 

He chuckled, taking the two steps to stand by her. “That's real good, Abby. Can you make it back to base?”

“Ohhh.” She glanced around. “Where's Ken?”

“I'm not certain. I think he left with the group.”

She sighed, eyes still looking around like Ken would pop out of the shadows. “He was next to me I thought…and we were going to walk back together…now I'm here alone.”

“I'll walk you back.” 

“You don't have too, I'm sure you want to walk with your Bucky and the others.”

He chuckled lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think they left me behind as well.”

She looked around their surroundings, truly realizing that the group was no longer in sight. Actually, no one was in sight. “Oh. Where did they go?” They could not have gotten far in this short of time, she figured, mostly likely hidden by the buildings further up the road.

“I would assume back to base.”

“Oh, yeah. That makes sense.”

“Shall we?”

She nodded, happy she would not have to make the trek alone. At this point she was unsure if she would even know where to go. Her thoughts were fuzzy like little caterpillars inching along, without direction or reason. But pretty at least. 

After one last look at the dark exterior of the pub behind them, Abby fell into step beside Gale. A companionable silence drifted around them like the breeze. Her mind wandered with each step, admiring the stars to dodging the potholes to eyeing the landscape on either side of the road they walked. Memories of the time at the pub glided through occasionally, bringing a smile to her face. She hoped they could go out again soon. 

While her mind wandered, her body remained alert to the man beside her; whose hand barely caressed her lower back when she misstepped, whose hand tentatively held her forearm when they maneuvered around a pothole, whose body radiated a warmth that was addicting…

Time was an abstract thought, all that mattered was the current moment…and at the current moment, her feet hurt. With each step she took, it was becoming harder and harder to stay steady. The cobblestones kept gripping onto her Mary Janes like vines trying to wrap around her feet and yank her down. The heels pinched and rubbed along her feet, having been unused for so long, what calluses she once had softened. 

“Ugh.” She stopped, unable to take it any longer. Reaching a hand over to grip Gale's arm and steady herself, she started on the buckles. 

“Are you hurt?” 

She barely heard his question as she mumbled under breath about stupid shoes and uneven roads. Finally, with a triumphant grin, she held up both shoes in her free hand. “Ta da! Now my feet are safe!”

He shook his head. “You'll tear your feet up without shoes on this road.”

She waved away his concern. “It's fine. I did it all the time as a child.”

“Abby–”

Giggling, she hugged his arm against her body and gazed up at him. “Please, Gale? Please?” 

He stared down at her. The surrounding darkness shielding some of their features, masking their expressions. After a long moment, he murmured a quiet ‘shit’ followed by a slightly louder, “alright, Abby.”

She giggled, nuzzling into his arm for a brief moment, closing her eyes to allow her brain to stop suddenly spinning. 

“You alright there?” He softly asked. 

“Hmmm…my head hurts.”

“Yeah? Do you need to go to medical?”

She shook her head, face still pressed against his arm. “Just need to sleep.”

“Alright, let's get you back to base.”

They started walking again, Gale leading the way down the dark road. Her arms still contained his arm, like a ship's mast to cling to during a storm, her head sometimes bumping against his shoulder. Her heels dangled from her hand, tapping against her thigh with each step. 

A soothing warmth rolled off of him in waves, skating across her skin and drawing her in. A small rational part of her screamed that her actions were unbecoming and inappropriate, an echo of her mother from far away. Yet that small voice was drowned out by the alcohol blazing through her veins and the chill of the night air, forcing her body to seek warmth where it could. 

Her hazy mind recalled the pub, the angry pilot and the fight outside. The flickering lights of the inside. Blonde hair and blue eyes staring at her from across the table. Those soft blues burning when he stood up to fight the RAF pilot…

“Thank you.”

“Mmm?”

“For…for standing up for me against that bastard.” Abby explained. “He wasn't nice.”

“Did he hurt you?” 

She stumbled, more from the frostiness of his tone than the actual road, but quickly righted herself. “No, but he finally got the message when I stomped on his foot with my heel.”

She could hear the smile in his voice as he replied. “I wouldn't expect anything less from you, Sluggar.”

“He was an asshole.”

“Yeah, he was.”

“An assy-asshole. A big one.”

He chuckled quietly.  

They walked further down the road with only the moon and starlight to guide their step and the distant sound of their companions up ahead, talking loudly in the otherwise quiet countryside. 

Abby tripped, pitching forward and almost dragging her companion down with her, if he had not wrapped both arms around her. 

“Why's the road moving?” She giggled, closing her eyes as she leaned her head against his chest. “I almost dropped my heels…I like these heels!” 

“Hey, you with me, Abby?” 

She ignored Gale's question as she looked down to the offender beneath her bare feet. “Stop moving! You'll hurt my heels!” 

“Christ…” He sighed. “Hold onto your shoes.”

“Why?”

“I'm gonna carry you.”

She owlishly blinked up at him. “Why?”

“You can't walk.”

“...I can't?”

He snorted while shaking his head, mumbling under his breath but all she caught was something vaguely resembling ‘adorable’, still too caught up in why she could not walk. Which made no sense. Her feet were still on the ground…even if the ground rolled like waves and she was a ship being tossed about.  She had been walking. Why was she not walking now? 

“Climb onto my back.” He commanded, keeping a hold of her hands as he turned to crouch in front of her. 

“I can walk…”

He groaned, tugging on her hands to draw them around his neck. “Darling, you're killin’ me. Climb on.”

“Okay, okay.” She tried to gracefully hug his back, but what grace she possessed disappeared about the same time the road was no longer stationary. A flop more described her accession onto his back. Her mind was vaguely aware that she was in a dress and the inappropriateness of the situation. But it was dark and she was tired…

Once her hands were secure around his neck, heels still dangling from her fingers, he slipped his arms under her legs. With a grunt, he stood. The motion caused Abby to burrow her face against the side of his neck. 

“You alright?” His voice rumbled out of him, soaking into her chest as she was pressed against his back.

“Hmmm…you smell nice. Better than Ken.”

He snorted. “Thank you.”

It was now with her feet exposed to the cool night air she could feel the sting of the air against the bottom of her feet. “My feet hurt again.”

“I figured. You kept stumbling and whimpering. I don't think you realized.”

“Oh. I think…I think I'm a little drunk?”

“Perhaps a little.”

The rocking of Gale's gait was making her stomach roll, so she stuck her forehead against his neck, trying to focus on his warmth and his musky cologne. “I don't know why. I only had a few shots of whiskey.”

“Mmm.”

“You know…I bet you're a good dancer.” She was unsure in the muddied pond of her thoughts where that one came from or why it slipped off her tongue so easily. 

“I don't dance often.”

“Why? That's terrible. I bet you're wonderful.”

He shrugged his shoulders, stride never wavering. “Doesn't appeal to me much, I guess.”

“Well, I'll take you dancing. It'll be fun! Maybe under the stars. They're always so pretty.” 

He hummed after a moment. “Alright.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure.”

“Okay!” She squeezed his neck as she giggled. “Don't go dancing without me! It'll be fun! I mean–I guess unless you find someone really pretty who wants to dance. Then it makes sense. But you should dance. You'd be wonderful.”

“I don't think you need to worry about that, darling.” 

“But there's so many pretty nurses on base…and those radio operators! They're all so pretty…and they like to dance.” She tried to make him understand. It truly was silly he did not dance. 

“Yeah, but I'm not interested in any of them.” The words coated in his raspy drawl floated around her head, something in them trying to catch her notice like little beacons. But their lights went out before her muddled brain could understand. 

“That's terrible for them. A lot of them have a crush on you.”

“Mmm.”

“Don't tell Major Egan. He'll be jealous.”

Gale gave a bark of laughter. “Your secret is safe with me.”

She pressed her forehead back against his neck. His warmth and the repetitive feeling of his breathing against her chest was lulling her to sleep. “I love the stars. No matter where you are, they're always beautiful.” The thought rolled off her tongue unprovoked, even as her eyelids drifted shut. 

“Buck?!”

The loud shout startled her from the inviting blanket of sleep wrapping around her. She blinked for a moment but allowed her eyes to close once again, face still against Gale's neck. 

“Yeah, John. It's me.” Gale called back. 

Two sets of footsteps approached, disrupting the quiet English night. 

“Any chance that's Abby with you?” Kidd asked. 

“Yeah, I've got her.”

“Good.” Kidd stated, falling into step with Gale on his left. “Ken was looking for her. I told him I figured she was walking with you, but apparently not walking.”

“She hurt her feet.” Gale explained softly. 

Egan loudly scoffed from Gale's right side.“Uh huh. That's the excuse you're going with?”

“Bucky–” 

“I'm just saying–”

Kidd interrupted, genuine concern in his voice. “Does she need to go to medical?”

“I'm fine, sir.” Abby sleepily slurred, her words muffled since she refused to move her face from its current position. “Can you tell the other one to stop being a damn loud asshat or I'll kick his ass.”

Gale chuckled, the vibrations going through her chest making her almost purr like a cat. If she snuggled closer to him, hoping to prolong the sensation, no one needed to know. 

“Slugger has a mouth on her!” Egan laughed, poking her arm. 

She grunted at the annoying sensation, hoping the major took the wordless reprimand or she would definitely kick his ass. After a nap. 

“Only when drunk it seems.” Gale answered his best friend.

“I'm not drunk…just a little drunk.” She mumbled. 

“My apologies. Just a little.” Gale softly replied, leaning his head against hers for a brief moment. She sighed at the contact, something loosening in her chest at the sensation although she was too drunk to put it into words. 

“Did you see that swing Curt made! I bet even Dimaggio can't swing like that!” Egan exclaimed. With his volume and enthusiasm, Abby might have noticed his own drunken state if she was sober. “I'm surprised you didn't want to take a swing at him yourself, Slugger.”

“ ‘m not allowed.”

Silence hung heavy over the group for several moments as the men tried to process her muffled response. It was Egan who asked the looming question first. 

“Not allowed? What's that mean?”

She sighed, turning her head to face Egan so he could understand her better. “After last time, Huglin told me he'd kick me off the airbase if I hit anyone else. Said it was unbecoming or something.”

The shocked silence lasted for all of three seconds before Egan exploded like a firecracker. 

“That sonofabitch! I knew I disliked him before but…Jesus Christ! Jack, did you know about this?”

“No.”

“I can't believe–” 

“John, he's gone.” Gale spoke up, trying to soothe his friend's righteous temper. “Nothing to do about it now.” 

“Thank God! I can't believe he's would–”

The tirade of Egan became background noise when Gale turned his head slightly towards her. “Abby.” Slowly she turned her face back towards him. A spark shot through her as his lips skimmed her forehead, while his whisper sunk like a seed planted into fruitful soil. “Next time something like this happens, you give me a nod. I'll take care of him for you.”

“Like tonight? That RAF prick?”

“Yeah. Like tonight…but I'll knock his teeth in instead of Curt doing it.”

She giggled. “I wanna see that.”

The rising and falling of voices up ahead like waves called her attention, guessing it was the group that abandoned them at the pub. She could see they had entered the airbase, although she did not remember her and Gale passing by the gate. Sleep danced around her mind like fireflies, tempting and teasing but she knew she would not be able to catch them yet. 

“I can probably walk now.”

“Are you sure?” Gale questioned without breaking stride. 

She hummed. “I'll be fine. It's not too far from here.”

Gale stopped walking, but instead of setting her down right away, he hesitated. His grip on her thighs twitched, tightening fractionally as if reluctant to let go. With a sharp release of breath, he finally helped her slide down. The warmth and strength of his hands continued to hold her upright as she found her balance back on the hard-packed ground. With her heels in one hand, the other hand ran down her dress, attempting to smooth any wrinkles and to confirm she was in no way indecent. Alcohol was freely skipping through her veins but not enough for her to forget her modesty. Or what was left of it after riding piggyback on Major Gale Cleven…

“Good?” He softly asked, hovering over her like a guardian angel. 

She nodded with faux confidence, standing upright and attempting to brush her hair over her shoulder. Mindful of the lack of space between them, she raised her gaze to meet his, wanting to thank him for helping her. Something he certainly did not have to do. Even though it was dark, she could feel those baby blue eyes earnestly staring down at her. His warm hands still loosely rested just above her elbows, maintaining their connection. 

“Abby?”

Unconsciously, she found herself tipping closer towards him, drawn back into his aura, his presence, that lean, toned body that was safe. It would be so easy to press her head against his chest, to wrap her arms around him and just dive into to the abyss of sleep summoning her. 

“Thank you.” She murmured, closing her eyes and doing just that. Her forehead landed on his breastbone, an initial sting but quickly ignored. Why did he smell so good? 

“You're welcome, darling.” 

His whisper barely floated on the breeze, words she almost missed if she had not felt them in her chest. 

“Mmm…I wanna sleep with you.”

Gale choked. His chest rumbled and sputtered like he was trying desperately to catch his breath, making Abby's head jostle uncomfortably. Something she did not like as she was oh so close to giving into sleep again. 

A sharp bark of laughter sounded nearby but that was irrelevant to Abby at the moment. 

“You're so warm…ugh, I'm so sleepy. Why does alcohol make me sleepy? I don't like it.” 

“Let's get you to bed.” Gale finally said, wrapping an arm around her waist. 

“M'kay…”

Gale led her a few steps, her feet shuffling along. 

“KEN! SHE'S WITH US!” Major Egan shouted loudly. 

Less than a minute later, she could hear her cousin approach, an frantic undertone beneath his words. “Abigail Lemmons! Where'd you go? Shit! Is she hurt?” He directed that last question towards Gale. 

“Go away.” 

“She's fine, just drunk. The road was too rough on her feet.”

They answered at the same time, although her response might have been less words and more of a grunt. 

“Thank heavens.” Ken exhaled in relief, running his hand through his messy curls. “My family would have killed me if something happened to her.”

Ken reached out, attempting to take her hand. “Come on, let's get you back.”

“Nooo…” She swatted his hand away. 

“Abby.”

She swatted at him again, an irrational irritation bubbling up as he disturbed her almost sleep. “Go away, I'm sleeping with Gale.”

She missed the mixture of reactions of those who overheard her declaration, too focused on burrowing closer to the comfy warmth of the man holding her. God, she just needed to sleep! 

“For fuck's sake, Abigail!” Ken half groaned, half swore. 

Suddenly, Simon was there standing beside Ken. “Hey, Abby, I've got you. Let's get you to bed, yeah? You can sleep with the major tomorrow.”

Even as she felt her body being transferred from Gale's lithe form to Simon's muscular body, her mind refused to accept this and fought back with excuses. 

“Nooo…we're going dancin’ tomorrow. He's a good dancer.”

Simon chuckled, hauling her into his broad chest and carrying her bridal style. “I'm sure he is.”

“Wait…wait! Abigail?” Egan stumbled over, throwing his arm around his best friend's shoulders. “That's her real name?” 

“Yeah.”

“Where'd you think ‘Abby’ came from?”

The dark-haired major threw his head back laughing uproariously, “it's perfect!”

“You're drunk.” Gale tried, unsuccessfully, to corral his friend.

“What's perfect?” Ken asked. 

“Abigail! You get it? Abigail!” Egan drunkenly explained with all his sober confidence. “She's meant to have some 'Gale' inside her. Now all Buck has to do is make his move and stick–” 

But Egan did not get to finish explaining his epiphany as his best friend suddenly and viciously slapped a hand over Egan's mouth and pulled him into a headlock, growling something into his ear. 

“Goddamn children.” Kidd sighed from nearby. 

Abby blinked slowly, hearing the words but her fuzzy brain was unable to string it together to form a coherent thought. “I don't get it.”

“Don't worry about it. Let's get you to bed.” Simon chuckled. 

Ken called out, “night, majors!”

Abby glanced over, wanting to say her own goodbyes but with the way that Gale was attempting to suffocate Egan while Kidd watched on with his arms crossed, she guessed they were busy. 

She barely remembered Simon carrying her to her hut, only the night's cold nipping at her bare skin, and the muffled conversation between Ken, Simon and Winks. How she managed to get into bed will always be a mystery to her, somehow she must have been aware enough to fall onto her cot and not just curl up on the floor. Although in the morning she would wake up still in her dress with a hangover and a lot of explaining to do for those intrusive, inquisitive nurses she bunked with. 

All she did know as she drifted off, that night was the first time she had fallen asleep with a smile on her face in a long time. 

[clowngames]

I should signal boost this if for no other reason than this is the engine that literally every Pokemon fangame is made in. Pokemon Essentials is an add-on to RPG Maker XP that gives you every single tool you can imagine needing to make a Pokemon game.

If you want to make a Pokemon fangame, it is now easier than ever, and free.

oh shit rpg maker xp is completely free to own this week on steam??

[heaartzzforcupidzz]

hii!!! omg im so scared to reauest from someone so good at writing as you!!! please dont feel the need to respond!!

can you do a female!cat!reader thats in heat and catnap helps her??? that would be so hot!!!

“Heat.”

Relationship(s): catnap x cat!reader

Warning(s): smut, heat, degradation

You had been acting weird all week. Staying away from the kids, neglecting your duties , not talking for the most part. but you wouldn’t let catnap anywhere near you which pissed him off quite frankly. he was your partner. so what the fuck was so bad, you didn’t want him around you?

catnap had ignored this for the last couple days. just hanging around the children and going to his home, which he had been barely doing ever since you two had got together. one night, he couldn’t take it any longer. he got out of bed and headed to your home. almost immediately he was hit with a strong smell of your scent. not your natural one. the one where you were in heat. so that’s why you’ve been acting like that. why the fuck didn’t you just open your fucking mouth and tell him?

he stormed inside, a wave of pheromones hitting him in the face. he growled lowly as his animalistic instincts were getting harder and harder to suppress. first, he was angry that you didn’t come to him for help. what? did you not wanna have sex with him? did you think he couldn’t help it? or were you wanting to be a slut and wait for someone to find you this vulnerable?

He watched from the doorway. it was dark but he could see and you were too lost in your own pleasure to see him. he watched as you played with what was his. he watched as you fucked yourself with one of his themed dildos. he watched as your cunt squeezed the toy, oh so tightly. and how your hips rutted against the toy, trying to find some relief. he watched as you came, tears streamed down your face as it still wasn’t enough and you began your pace again.

“next time, open your mouth and tell me. or are you too dumb for even that?”

your heart stopped and you looked at the door. Catnap stood there, a grin on his face like the Cheshire Cat. “W—what are you doing here?” You asked, taking the toy and putting it behind your back. “oh, don’t mind me, continue.” you shook your head and looked up at him. You whimpered, pathetically as you sat up. “Please help me, master..”“see? was that so hard, Midnight?”

Catnap had put you in DoggyStyle, he knew you hated it since you couldn’t see his face. you whined as he placed his tip on your hole, pushing in slowly. agonizingly slow. you gritted your teeth as you yelled “god, master, please!” just then Catnap began to thrust his hips against you. his balls hitting the back of your thighs, making a harsh flapping sound as he fucked into you like a beast. “fuck, tell me how much of a good whore you are for me. you can do atleast that, can’t you, bitch?” “such a w—whore for you! make my cunt feel so good~!” “Damn right, I do.”

he pulled your hair and slammed against you harder as you came against his cock. he chuckled and kissed against your ear, biting and nipping. he let out a mix of a moan and whimper as his cum spilt into you, thickly. both your pheromones mixing. that scent was gonna be hard for higher ups to wash out. but you wouldn’t think of that right now<3.

A/N: request done! I know it’s abit short, I just didn’t really have any more idea or detail to say. hope you enjoyed! again, I’m not that good at details but I hope this was still up to standard.

TAGS: @2faced-fairy

[pbabel]

i know this is a Large Large undertaking for a first project, but i have the passion and i have the characters and i love them and i will see it through

[ziggymardust]

In honor of Across The Spider-Verse releasing last week & a new wave of Hobie Brown/Spider-Punk fans, here are some of @justinmasonart early designs (plus our 6-page mega spread from the final issue) for our Spider-Punk mini series that came out last April. Some characters changed pretty significantly from their first drafts (Mz Marvel & Daredevil), whiles others only had minor tweaks (Kraven & Riot Heart). Regardless, the amount of emails I sent to Justin that just said “this is sick!!!!” Is a lil embarrassing but what can ya do, just part of the creative process. Art by Justin Mason

Color by Jim Charalampidis

And check out the Official Spider-Punk Playlist if you’re looking for a nice intro to punk or a glimpse into what I was listening to while writing the book.

- Zig

[813ths]

mz alice. you magnificent b.

i know I've already read this some time last year. bitch only did this now lmfaooo. i know i felt all kinds of feelings that time. i definitely know i sobbed like a little bitch.. and i could still remember how i just sat in a corner silently, reflecting... rethinking my life choices. lol but seriously i admire you so much for stepping out of your usual genres and tropes (...and your usual comfort zone(?)) for awhile and tried something like this. which is, well, very unusual (i don't mean this in a bad way or anything, i just don't really know how to articulate it better I'm so sorry), way far from the ones we all get used to and boy did you ace it. you are so fucking amazing at this. you exceeded my expectations. i honestly avoided this for quite some time for the sole reason that i know it's going to break my heart into a million tiny pieces and then get stomped on a million more times. it is inevitable though. it's mark lee. YOU wrote it. it truly IS something else. and i love you so much for writing this pls let me give you a big big smooch and a hug.

ok. the first dance. the (sexual OFC) tension which made me sit on edge every. damn. time. despite their knowledge about each other already (or rather suspicions)... doesn't erase the fact that it's so heartbreaking and depressing when mark told her about his real name... and the inevitable happened. all fell apart. (just drive in the knife why don't u! >:'((((( ) of course when a bad guy like jaemin here have a character development it wouldn't end so well. i am still debating which makes me sad until NOW: the two's fate or jaemin's. idk idk it always changes but goddddd i really wished there was something else for jaemin something good or hopeful at least :((( but hey that one's still acceptable and very fitting. i just couldn't cope well lmaooo tell u a secret since i read this so late i totally scrolled thru your blog just to look for some asks that might have the answers i was hoping for and im okay i still managed to find it. :''))))) love lovelove the endingggg thank you so so so much for going this way. or else i wouldn't have survived the pain NSHDJEUDHSJSHSH i have some favorite lines here but ig the last one truly is undefeated. again. ilysm thank you so fucking much for writing this. what a hell of a ride. i cried. i smiled. my heart broke. then warmed up. it's a cycle.

meant to break

❝ why don’t you try going against us? see who ends up with lead pumped through their skull. ❞

PAIRING ▸ lee minhyung x fem!reader (ft. na jaemin)

GENRES ▸ smut, angst, fluff, historical, 1920s au, flapper au, mafia au, detective au

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, violence, mentions of character death, unprotected sex (wrap before u tap), lots of teasing, praise kink, lowkey dumbification, fingering

SUMMARY ▸ when the mafia’s members task you to distract a detective that’s hot on their trail, you have no choice to accept. there’s no place for love when you’re simply a trap for lee minhyung to walk into, but you still want to immerse yourself into everything he is.

PLAYLIST ▸ young and beautiful by lana del rey • am i blue? by billie holiday

WORD COUNT ▸ 10,019 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ wowowww me writing a historical au??? unheard of! but shoutout to my historical au queen @jenoentry for hyping me up to write this <3 i hope you guys like it !! 

NEW ORLEANS WASN’T THE SAME WITHOUT THE JAZZ MUSIC RESOUNDING THROUGH THE FRENCH QUARTER.

“Doyoung,” you complained to the owner of the jazz club, “I was supposed to be the closing act! Why’d you close early?”

Being a flapper wasn’t easy work, but you enjoyed your job all the same. You were a natural at it; all you needed to do was bat your lashes to get all the wealthy men to empty their wallets. Qian Kun, the bartender, pointed out that you had a unique charm that drew people in, so it was expected that all eyes were on you during your performances. Of course, you put in your full effort; it was the least you could do to repay the owner.

Keep reading

[dropthedemiurge]

Some language comments for Gray Shelter [Episode 5], just like I promised!

"Do whatever/however you want to. (literally: 'Do it the way your heart desires') You do things how you want to anyway."

"I'm sorry" - the translation is correct, it's just it's funny how Yoondae's level of apology to his friend he just lashed out at last time + he wants to ask him for HELP, and all he says is: 미안 (mian). The most informal and short way of apologizing possible. He's so teenager-minded still.

Even when he asks "Can I leave my stuff in your dad's warehouse?" it comes out grammatically more of a demand, like 'Let me do that'. Yoondae is talking like someone who has a lot of walls and doesn't reach out to people, he doesn't talk kindly but he's honest and straightforward and he cries easily but he's very angry about it.

I especially love his facial expression, even when he's at his most miserable, he'll make it everyone else's problem, as if being pitiful is the worst thing that could happen to him. "I have no one else I could ask for help but you >:(("

Fun fact about Korean's sentence structure, when you quote someone or express your thoughts, you put your sentence this way: "quoted phrase" and then + "that's what they said/what i thought/etc". So oftentimes, I see Kdramas use that trick when characters say a phrase... and then take it back with "that's someone else's thoughts" or "that's what you thought I'd say, right? LMAO". It's funny how the translators' way of transferring this was using the word "Sike!" xD

"It wasn't a mistake to me." "If it wasn't a mistake, then [what]? Since you started talking [about it], let me ask you. So what if it wasn't a mistake? What do you want to achieve with me?" "Can I do anything about it? In the past or now, you're the one who runs away and avoids me. I asked you, can I make a decision (do I have any choices)?" "You made the move but you want me to decide? Fine, then. Let sleep together once and end it once and for all. Go wash up first. I don't have time, I only left office for a short time."

The way they both care about each other but their dialogues and words are very sharp and bitter almost all the time, especially here, aaaah. That's the contrast that hooked me for all these 5 episodes. Soohyuk doesn't swear but he's talking to Yoondae very harshly and emotionless here, and for Yoondae harsh talk is the default, it's like Soohyuk is lowering his manners to talk on his level, to provoke him (or maybe that's also how he distances himself from the discovery that Yoondae has feelings for him).

And Yoondae is holding back his frustration and tears, but he understands the way such words were aimed to hurt him, so instead of lashing out back at Soohyuk, as he probably wants him to, he swallows and unusually calmly, almost softly says: "Let's talk when you can be honest. Because I will shut up and wait for you."

And it makes Soohyuk stand there in shock and contemplate.

I'll add next scenes in READ MORE since this post is getting long!

Here's the moment when the boss asks their youngest employee to write something more 'trendy' for their marketing text xD It's very true that trends in Korea come and go very quickly, they also love to invent new terms and phrases all the time. Like "MZ slang", there are many phrases, and the one trendy phrase the boss uses as the example is 킹받네 (king-pad-nae) which literally written as 'receive the king' but means "I got angry" - but with a teasing/playful subtext, like friends could say each other 'ah you're so cute, it makes me angry'.

If I'm not wrong, this phrase was widely used like 1-2 years ago and not really in its trendy peak as well right now but kudos to boss to even learning it xD And it's funny how translator chose to (I assume) use "[living in my head] rent-free" phrase as a substitute. Another fun fact, they ended up using some trendy lingo in their ad that translator gave us as "no cap!" but that part of phone msg was so blurry, I couldn't see which exact Korean phrase they ended up using x)

"Hyung, if you have any ask for help, say so. For you, 2 million... No, I'll try to give you until 3 million won in any way."

Can I just say that we had this character for one moment and I'm so not ready to let him go, I want Jeongwan to have his own storyline and everything and he's too sweet and also caring for strangers/his colleagues, and so he stole the spotlight for me xD

Yoondae said there's no food at home. But also, as you can see, there is: beer, water, rice that you can cook in the microwave, kimchi for a side dish and some other microwaved food. According to my Korean friends, typical Korean person (poor like student) can survive if they have rice, kimchi and also ramyeon. That's their the most basic food. Just a fun fact. xD

Also he was on his third can of beer, and he already made a drunken longing call on the verge of tears to Soohyuk, lying about being hurt and bringing trouble just so he'd return home. "Is that okay with you?" - just shoot me, please. :')

"I called [the cleaning service/you] to tell you to stop it [sleeping outside of home]" "Let's have that dinner [that I promised you] today. Wait for me."

After days, Yoondae was ready to give up, he "tricked" Soohyuk to return home just so he could tell him he'll move out and stop pushing any talk. And then, Soohyuk brought up the dinner (the feelings) that he kept avoiding. No wonder Yoondae looked so struck and confused. It just gave him his hopes back (and viewers too, but we probably should've known better with this kind of series haha)

Interesting cultural context: they are getting samgyeopsal - grilled meat, chosen by Soohyuk because Yoongdae said there wasn't anything he wanted to eat. And usually, the youngest one has to set the cutlery and grill meat, out of respect for the seniors. And here we see that Soohyuk is the one choosing the place, menu and even grilling the meat and pouring soju for Yoondae.

Once again, it shows that despite Yoondae's emotions and pleads, he is not mature enough, he is not ready to focus on other people. We know he can't plan his own future, he doesn't know what to do, and we see where their relationship stands now - Yoondae is still more of a burden than an equal partner to Soohyuk, and Soohyuk is more of a parent.

Even when they drink soju (in Korean drinking etiquette usually you don't drink alone, you toast together and drink together), notice how they don't even clink their glasses together, then Soohyuk is the only one drinking and Yoondae wants to follow him but puts the glass back. He's taking a shot later, when Soohyuk grills the meat again. They are totally unsynchronized at this point of their lives, and it's painful to watch.

"I said he [my father] was dead because that's the truth/reality for me. There was no other [hidden] meaning. I didn't plan to lie to you."

"I moved out completely. If I don't organize my life starting from doing this, then I don't think I'll be able to live like all the other [normal] people."

The fact that Yoondae started thinking about improving his life (the word 'organizing'), immediately made Soohyuk stop in surprise. So he started asking what does the normal life like others mean to him, hopeful to find that equal adult footing from Yoondae... but Yoondae's thoughts stopped there. And Soohyuk offered his own goal and life meaning: "to have a place to go back to, that's enough for me".

Here's when Yoondae thoughtfully agreed with him: "It's important to have a home", and took the meat tongs from Soohyuk, saying how high-maintenance he is. Yoondae embraced that realization, he took the responsibility (even a small cultural gesture) and even though Yoondae nagged him, Soohyuk smirked. Because it wasn't a completely hopeless situation. And Yoondae proved it, by saying how eating like this and going home together is his normal life as well. (and yet they were still unsynchronized until the very end! we can't have happy ending yet)

AND HERE IS WHERE I HAVE TO MAKE A SECOND POST! Because tumblr only allows 30 images in one, and I can't stop screenshotting the last conversation so I'm going to make another post that you can find in 'gray shelter comments' or 'dropthemeta' tags (upd. or here's the link to the post!)^^

[plscallmeeren]

V E N U S

Hermione Jean Granger x Luna Lovegood x Reader

Request: yes

Summary: you and Hermione study one night in Luna's part of the forest... there's flirting, teasing and well... one thing leads to another (see warnings)

Warnings: Swearing, pillow princess Luna, top Hermione, top reader, humping, scissoring, fingering, fondling, unedited

Word Count: 1.8K+

Leaves rustled at the caress of cool wind, falling to the ground in tribute to the changing seasons. Autumn had already tainted fields of them vibrant oranges and yellows, occasional red specks blossoming on the horizon.

Hagrid's hut cast long shadows across the fields, pumpkins ripe and enormous. Hermione shivered beside you, pulling her jacket closer. You offered your own, but she wouldn't let you freeze in her stead.

The two of you passed the dark lake, and by the time you had reached edge of the forest nearly the same blackness had hastily descended upon the sky. You pointed out Orion. She thought of Sirius, and you were silent once more.

"This is as good a spot as any," she announced some steps amidst the looming trees.

You nodded. "It's so quiet. I think I could almost get sick of the constant throng in that castle." You smiled at each other. She knew you didn't mean it. After all...

"You're just as much a diligent student as me. Neither of us would ever leave Hogwarts if we could choose."

"True. It's amazing, really, how pretty you are for a nerd."

"Oh, come off it." She chuckled, sitting down before a thick pine. You sat cross-legged, leaning back against an opposite hazel.

"Fine... where do you want to start?"

"Potions. I feel a bit insecure about that exam. Especially the last couple," Hermione admitted, pulling out her textbook already.

"So Draught of Peace, Felix Felicis?"

"And Amortentia."

"Mmh, I bet you just wanna talk about how much you love me. Y'know, say it always has my scent... why could that be?" you jested, grinning as she rolled her eyes.

"You wish. You probably draw me in your margins. Or do you write Mz Granger, surrounded by little hearts?" She pouted.

You only shook your head, flipping pages until you spotted Felix. "So, what are the ingredients for liquid luck?"

"Evading, I see. Well, alright, pretend you don't fancy me. Let's see. Ingredients include..." She listed them all perfectly and for some time you could study without incident, more and more of your reading depending on wand-light.

You both perked up, however, when the sound of sticks crunching reached you. Had you been spotted? It was well after dusk and no teacher would appreciate you being out around this time.

Emerging from the woods, however, was none other than Luna. "Hello," she hummed. "You've found my favourite spot. I was just feeding the thestrals."

You beamed. "Come, sit down. We were just about to start on Astronomy. Isn't that one of your best subjects?"

Luna agreed quietly, sitting down beside you. "More the stories. I love reading about Venus and Neptune and those other beauties... much like you two."

Hermione flushed red, quite grateful for the dark. "You're the moon goddess, Luna. I mean, your name."

"It suits you," you chided. "Even now, seeing the moonlight reflect on your hair, your eyes, lips..." You gulped. She was staring at your mouth now. You thought of Amortentia.

"Thank you," she whispered, drawing herself closer to you. Her coat wasn't as thick as yours or Hermione's.

"Maybe I should sketch Luna in my margins. Or little 'Mrs. Lovegood's or something like that," Hermione smiled.

"I certainly would," you agreed. Luna's cheeks were tinged pink, more visible because the attention of your lights were on her. "Are you blushing, love?"

"Can't help it," she breathed, nestling her face into your neck out of embarrassment. A strong part of her, however, only wanted to be closer. Her whole body edged imperceptibly toward you. Hermione repositioned herself also, almost closing the gap between the three of you to 'talk better'. Your hand drifted to Luna's thigh, smoothing over the wool of her dress. You resisted the sudden urge to slip beneath it, along the brown tights, up to where the fragile fabric merged...

Hermione's knees were touching yours. Even through your jeans it was electric. Your mind jerked awake, albeit the late hour.

"I was going to ask...," Hermione began cautiously, "is there still something going on between you and Neville?"

"There never was," Luna replied happily. "We went on one date and decided we were stronger friends."

Hermione glanced at you, hardly a moment, hardly a look. Luna's leg shifted and your fingers found themselves at the hem of her dress.

"Does that mean I can kiss you?" you asked before thinking it through. You could have slapped a hand over your mouth. It was the lateness, surely - surely she would understand - but instead she stood. You cursed at yourself. Humiliating.

Except then she sat down again, back to Hermione, seated on your lap. You gaped. "Well?" she prompted innocently.

Your hand captured the nape of her neck, pulling her gently closer, teasing at the soft rose curve of her Cupid's bow, the plumper flesh of her lower lip. Finally, your teeth grazed her cheek and your mouths met. She let you lead, and you forced yourself to be patient, lingering after rushed tides of kisses. Torturous.

What is happening? Your books were long forgotten beside you. Hermione leaned closer still, breath tickling the blonde’s neck. This has to be a dream. Too surreal; just like these two beautiful women. But you were too afraid to stop, lest someone change their mind.

“It’s now or never,” you thought Luna whispered, but it was mostly lost in the wind, in the distraction of her braided her brushing against your shoulder. Hermione’s lips finally reached her skin, timidly venturing along the slant of her throat. Luna pulled back for air, your mouths disconnecting for the first time, lips dark against the pale of her face.

You allowed your fingers to wander; beneath the dress, along the tights, against the pool of damp between her legs. Your eyes met her crazed ones, and amongst whines - accolades for Hermione, who had now reached fingers around her chest - you elicited a nod, maybe two, three. How much of it was just her moving in accordance with Hermione’s sloppy kisses, the rhythm of her desperate grasps at Luna’s breasts, you would never know.

Yet with hardly any hesitance, your nails pinched the fabric, pulled it down, digits exploring her folds, disoriented. You ran your thumb over her pussy, curled it once inside her, searched along her for her clit. Your index and middle finger clasped around it, almost exasperated, and she rewarded you with a breathy moan that made you shudder.

Hermione groaned, slipping her hands further under layers of clothes so that she could reach Luna’s flesh properly, her front to the other girl’s back so that she could grind herself against Luna’s ass.

You caught her lips again, less stable this time, as she was pushing back and forth between you and Hermione, hoping for more friction. Your free hand grasped her jaw to hold her face still, meeting her with all the vigour you could translate.

Hermione discarded her coat, you following suit, leaving your moon goddess momentarily untouched and dazzling as she writhed on your lap. Her thin jacket was long gone and her dress, long-sleeved top underneath, stockings - were rumpled, scrunched in various places. Before you could worry about the cold she pulled the dress over her head, then the white top. Her tights remained bunched around her ankles, panties pushed to the side.

You wished, in retrospect, you had taken a moment to just look at her, admire her, but patience was a virtue and within seconds you were all over her, tongue tracing the smooth descent of her skin, running over the stretch marks at her belly, teasing the line of her underwear. Your fingers jerked into her, curling after every quick thrust within her cunt. She moaned wildly, out of breath, hair splayed behind her head like a halo.

Hermione had lowered Luna’s torso onto her own legs, kneading at her breasts with tender defiance.

“Harder,” Luna whispered into the night, face gleaming before the brightness of Lumos. “Please.”

“Are you sure, love?” you managed.

“Yes. Please.”

You could see Hermione’s grip on Luna’s body fasten, one of her hands migrating to her mouth, where Luna greedily sucked on her digits, grunting around them. Your speed picked up, fingers slamming with more force into her pussy as you toyed with her clit. Her back arched, the bones of her shoulders digging into Hermione’s thigh while her hips gyrated faster than you could have fingered her. Moans came in gasping lungfuls, your grunts accompanying her at the effort.

“Oh, Merlyn,” Hermione whined, pulling back her hands as if she was over-stimulated herself.

Luna threw her head back fully then, coming to an abrupt standstill, but you rode her through her orgasm, cunt clenching around your fingers as you felt her cum leak onto your hand. You smeared it across her inner thighs, leaning back, watching her pant.

She slumped to the ground. You and Hermione haphazardly leaned down on either side of her, hands lazily dragging over her body. You gravitated towards Hermione, pushing past her skirt tiredly, rubbing up and down her slit, arm slung over Luna. Hermione couldn’t help but react, grinding against you. She humped your hand with increasing vigour until she was jerking on the ground, looking like she was having a fit. Pathetic noises sounded from her, desperation clear on her face.

Luna rolled over somewhat, interrupting your connection to Hermione, instead guiding their legs together. Her pussy began moving against Hermione’s and very quickly they were scissoring, both of them humping the other so fast they looked desperate. “Sluts,” you cursed, feeling yourself grow hot with want. The sound of their slick loud.

You rolled over also, positioning your groin at Luna’s ass, started thrusting yourself against the plush of her backside.

All three of you were groaning (you), moaning (Luna), whining (Hermione), a sinful orchestra with the sound of slapping skin as base.

“Oh, Merlyn, oh God, oh God-“ Hermione started to chant, and you could feel Luna’s body tense simultaneously, the two of them coming with pornographic finales. Now hurried, you gripped Luna’s waist with considerable force, pushed yourself even harder into her. Luna groaned as you worked toward your own orgasm, body being pushed back and forward with every movement.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-“ you gasped, finally coming through your clothes, the rush of it almost making your eyes roll back into your skull. “Fuck!”

Luna backed into you (for the warmth), and you carefully wrapped your coat around her sore and bare figure.

“Which subject was that?” Hermione chuckled, brown curls cascading across the leaf-covered ground to the tip of her wand.

“I just hope it isn’t taught by Professor Snape,” Luna replied drearily. You couldn’t help but laugh.

[artbyblastweave]

hey! recently I read marvel zombies 1 and 2 because of your posts, and I loved them! as a quasi-recent walking dead fan (I read it until the end of the governor arc back then and stopped, only recently I was able to reread it all and actually finish it, what a great book) it was a lot of fun, I love Robert Kirkman's work. however, now that I know the other marvel zombies are not written by him, I just wanna know, are the other ones worth reading? thank you for your time :3

Marvel Zombies 3 By Fred Van Lente is really really good; it's set in the interquel between 1 and 2 and mostly consists of the mainline universe Machine Man killing the shit out of all the zombies that weren't explicitly shown to be killed in the Silver Surfer sequence. Marvel Zombies 4, also by Van Lente, is also a lot of fun, features a multi-faction battle on Earth-616 over the control of the severed head of Deadpool so it can be used as a bioweapon.

Marvel Zombies Return is the one that's technically meant to wrap up what happened to the surviving zombies after MZ2 and I will be honest with you, it's not that good because it's simultaneously an anthology thing and a pastiche of different eras of Marvel, and as a result it loses the unity of tone that the Kirkman stuff had; there's also some serious characterization inconsistancies, I get the impression that they might not have actually read the two minis they were writing a sequel to. I have a carve-out for issue 3, written by Jonathan Maberry, which has really excellent art. There's one more Kirkman-penned thing, the Dead Days Oneshot, which is really good. I also like the Mark Millar/Greg Land issues of Ultimate Fantastic 4 (issues 21-23) where the zombies were originally introduced, although Kirkman took the concept and ran much further with it.

Marvel zombies 5 is not good. Ignore that one. There was also a 5-issue crossover with The Evil Dead franchise, Marvel Zombies vs Army of Darkness, which is set during the outbreak and features Ash Williams fighting for his life against the superzombies. It was written by John Layman, the guy who wrote Chew, which is a comic I really enjoyed. Outside of the original MZ continuity, The semi-recent miniseries Marvel Zombies: Resurrection by Phillip Kennedy Johnson was really good. It features Peter Parker leading a small band of survivors in search of... I don't really remember, but Peter Parker-as-Rick-Grimes is a pitch that stands on its own merits I think. Important to note that for some asinine reason the first issue was released as a One-shot about a year before the other four and isn't packaged with them on a lot of the completely reputable websites where we all go to read these things, so that can be a pain in the ass.