#these needed enough ginger to make 13 like them

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

i made enough for everyone please someone come help me eat these

[asarajaa]

Hiii, can i request for wally angst?? I want read some his angst buttt not because his gone ykwim, but because of love/romantic angst

Hii, yes Ofc! Sorry for all the time that I’ve spend without answering, I’ve been focused in academics and stuff 💗💗

Warnings: fem!reader, angst romance, forbidden love (?) Words: 1291 Disclaimer: English isn't my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

Wally and You, You and Wally, it meant the same thing. Since you were kids, you both have…developed an atraction towards each other, but not like everyone knew.

Wally, obviously, was an speedster like his uncle Barry, aka the Flash, and was an Speed Force user. You, on the other hand…well, all that I can say is that you have this peculiar gift.

You could steal someone’s or something’s cinetic energy. That was your gift. And you’ve been okay with that all your life, until your mentor introduced you to Barry and Wally when both of you were 13 years old.

Wally’s powers and yours were like if they almost repelled. When he got near you, your powers unconsciously saw his as an never ending buffet, taking and taking his energy even if you didn’t want to, which lead to Wally losing slowly but securely the speed of his Speed Force. You didn’t know how to stop taking and he didn’t know how to stop allowing you to take it.

It’s sure to say that this broke the two 13 years old kids hearts, having to stay away from each other even tho they knew they were soulmates, or as much of a soulmate would have a 13 year old.

With the pass of time, you both learned to control it but only a few moments. The record was 62 minutes, you tested it 3 month ago, but it ended with Wally almost passed out in your bed and you vibrating with a crazy hot temperature by all of the energy you received.

The logical decision would be to simply stop seeing each other, but they couldn’t do that, how could they? They knew each other from tip to toe, things about each other that no one else knew.

With that stubbornness, you’ve made thousands of FaceTimes and Calls that went for hours. No matter how many times Barry or your mentor tried to reduce your interactions for your own well being, they didn’t succeed in anything and always ended up with an overly tired Wally and an exaggerated energetic you.

At night, when Wally would come to your room to meet with you, you guys would forget about anything and anyone. He would just sit on your bed and wrap your stood up figure with his arms, around your waist while his forehead rested on your stomach, your hand running through his messy red hair.

Those nights, things would get complicated. But not because you would do things, no, but because you would learn about the others souls. You would talk about life crisis, you would cry, mourn, laugh and get angry at each other. But it didn’t matter how many times you tried to get a s/o, you just couldn’t. None of them had ginger hair, none of them had sparkly green eyes and none of them was Wally. At the end, you would always return towards the other, always close but never close enough.

Things didn’t need to be told between you two, you just knew.

I love you. You would spell on his back when you two where laid in your bed, his face on your neck as you scratched his back, writing all the thing you couldn’t dare to say out loud.

I love you. He would show, when his pupils dilated at the very less thought about you, his green pigment being less visible as you passed your finger tips through his forehead, taking his hair out the way in a try to see them better.

You would show always how much you love each other, but not the words, never the words. Neither of you could afford it, knowing that in some minutes, you’ll have to get apart for the good of your well being, knowing that it was a promise neither of you could afford to make, knowing that for the sake of the world, you needed to be away from each other.

But God, it hurts, so, so much. You would steal glances across the room whenever you were in a hero meeting, both of your mentors standing beside each one of you, with a big warning in their eyes, message clear.

You would receive gifts from him and him from you, you would want to cry your eyes out when you’d notice how the curfew was slowly approaching, Wally’s body exposing himself as he started to move and talk slower while yours would start to be more awake and energetic.

If you decide to just be happy and love each other, you’d regret it. It would only cause pain, both of you draining until the point there wasn’t no energy in his soul and yours had too much that you couldn’t resist it.

“I would recognize you in another lifetime.” Wally murmured one night, kneeled in front of you while you were sat on your bed, Wally helping you to put your shoes on before tangling the laces.

“All of me?” You would whisper back, locking eyes with him as you felt how your body was more energetic than usual and his speak more slower.

“Entirely.” He promised “You could have green or blue eyes, I think I’d recognize you in completely different bodies.”

You just stare back at him, believing every words because you know he means it.

5 more minutes. You would beg in your head to every type of gods or divine presence you knew about.

Being careful, you put your hand on his cheek and pressed gently your forehead against his.

“In another life.” You would state in a whisper, voice shaken and with a hint of a promise.

“In another life, yes.” He would answer with a raspy voice, his fingers brushing a tear that slide through your cheek before resting his hand on one of your lower rips, where a small W was tattooed in ink and matched the tattoo of your initial in his back.

Everyone knew that you two had something, but they didn’t knew nothing, they just scratched the surface, not knowing even in the slightest about the complications of their situation.

Weeks passed and when Wally came to you room at night with a simple paire of rings and a paper for you to sign, you would take it without a second though and signed the paper without hesitation.

You never told anyone, you couldn’t. You would have to keep it a secret that would be revealed only when one of you died. When it was time to read your testament and then, and only then, your silent promise would be revealed.

Maybe, but just maybe, you could be together in another life. You could have a true wedding ceremony, with a long, white and elegant dress. Maybe Wally would cry when he saw you walking down the altar. You could travel the toward, hold hands without a limited time and accepting him with all of your might. You could even have a mix of you and him walking around your house, you could have children.

But that wasn’t this life. In this life, your love story must be a secret and you know it. You won’t see each other in a long time only for you to be a maximum of one hour together if you can.

In this life, you would have to deny him progeny, deny him for eternity. In this one, your lifetime of love didn’t need to (or more so ever couldn’t) leave any evidence.

In this life, Wally West couldn’t be yours completely, he would be more of the world than yours. But at least your shared love is true, you loved each other, and true love isn’t real unless it’s returned.

So sorry for taking so long, I’ve been busy with personal problems buttt now I think I’m back (?).

I hope you enjoyed the reading, it didn’t convince me 100% but it’s currently 2:22am so it’s the best I got.

If you wanna get tagged everytime I post something, go to my pinned post>taglist>chose the fandom you want to get tagged in!

© asarajaa — Please, do not copy, translate or reuse my work without my permission.

[nyx-thedragon]

Newsies Novel Notes/Thoughts

hi hello howdy-do. I have finished reading the Newsies Novel PDF that I downloaded and I am here to share my notes/thoughts that I wrote down while reading. Once again, these are in order of when I thought of them

1- so Sarah is 16 and Davey is 15 canonically in the novel

2- Jack is Irish

3- the Jacobs family is Jewish (I think - I mean, why else would Davey mention the Irish boys and Jewish boys always fighting in his neighborhood if his family wasn't Jewish), that's cool!

4- Snyder's name is Nigel?? (throwing up ngl that does not fit him)

5- love that Kloppman is like a grandfather figure to the boys it's so sweet (Kloppman deserves the 'Best Adult in the Newsies Story' Award, right next to Denton)

6- Spot is ginger (scratching my head bc I never imagined him as ginger ever)

7- Davey is said to actually fight and hold his own when the mercenaries from the World show up (I like this better than him not being shown to fight in the movie - Davey can fight if he needs to, let the boy fight!!)

8- call me a hater, but once again the romance between Jack and Sarah is unneeded and feels kinda forced. the, what, second scene we see with them she's already kissing him? idk man it just feels forced and rushed, y'know?

9- okay I've never mentioned this before, but why was Sarah at the newsies rally??

10- Davey jumping on Snyder's back to distract him from grabbing Jack oh novel Davey I love you (why did they take away most of his fighting stuff in the movie??)

11- Les kicking a cop!!

12- Denton getting clubbed to protect Kid Blink (love you Denton)

13- a bunch of police falling through the trapdoor on the stage I wish that was in the movie

14- Jack using the fire curtain to get away from the police. very smart, shoutout to Race and Boots for that

15- Davey feeling guilty for not being arrested with the other newsies but also relieved that he wasn't ooh yeah I understand

16- objecting on the ground of "Brooklyn, yer honor" Spot Conlon the newsie that you are (that line is just so funny and iconic I love it so much I love that it's in the book and the movie)

17- the other newsies hearing Snyder's whole speech about Jack and his life instead of just Davey oooh why wasn't that in the movie what that would've been so interesting to see

18- "It's not fair" I love how Davey is vocal about his opinion instead of just looking at Jack with disappointment like in the movie

19- Les is not taken with to the Refuge to try to break Jack out. very smart, makes sense. so why was he taken with in the movie??

20- Davey watching the conversation between Jack and Pulitzer through the window

21- hate hate hate how Davey is spelled "Davy" in the book. it looks ugly without the "e"

22- "[Davey] felt as though someone he loved had died" in response to finding out Jack sold out to Pulitzer HELLO??? (my homo-alarm is going CRAZY)

23- WHO THE FUCK TORE UP JACK'S PICTURE OF HIS PARENTS!? I KNOW YOU'RE MAD BUT THAT'S TOO FAR, GUYS!! (also I forgot to note this down but I love that Jack has a picture of/with his parents it's so fucking cute. wanna explode whoever it is that tore it up though cuz what the fuck)

24- "You touch Davy and I'll..." oh? getting protective I see... (homo alert! homo alert!)

25- okay so Davey doesn't get beaten up by the Delanceys and instead Jack and the Jacobs siblings beat the two of them up with no issue. hmmm (why wasn't that in the movie? why did they have Sarah be a helpless girl who punched Oscar(?) once and then laid on the ground yelling? why was Davey not shown to fight well enough to not get beaten up by the Delanceys in the movie?? novel Davey and your fighting ability, I will avenge you)

26- Mayer giving Jack some of his old clothes and some food and telling him he'll always have a home with them oh don't make me cry that is so sweet

27- we lost that sweet scene with Mayer and Jack in the movie I can't believe this that would've been such a good scene! could've gotten rid of the rooftop scene with Sarah if there was worry about the runtime being too long, it would've been a much better scene imo (grgrgrggrrgr Mayer Jacobs and Jack Kelly father-son relationship I will avenge you!!) (this is also partially because I am still a hater of the Sarah/Jack relationship/romance because it was so not needed imo)

28- "I wanted to go to Santa Fe, but my real family was right here all along" (YES! GREAT WAY TO END THE STORY! oh my goodness the movie added the Sarah/Jack kiss instead of having this line??? bro I need to have a conversation with the scriptwriters or whoever it was that approved these changes oh my GOD) (i'm assuming the novel came before the movie when I say this)

There was at least one other thing that I didn't end up actually writing down but mentioned when I was annotating the PDF last night but then the annotations disappeared?? for some reason?? when I went to finish reading this morning so I don't know what it was. maybe I'll remember it later? probably not tbh :(

and something that I typed up while watching the movie last night before starting to read the PDF (it is, once again, about the romance subplot. please forgive me for being such a huge and vocal hater about it, it just pisses me off soooo much for some reason):

"dude genuinely the romance subplot was not needed. and the scene with Jack and Sarah on the roof could've been replaced with a scene of like, the newsies talking about the strike and maybe some of them bringing up concerns or something. or even Davey interacting with the newsies and getting to know them. or show how he's dealing with being the co-leader of a whole strike at fifteen years old. something like that.

sorry not sorry but I am very very adamant that not every fucking story needs a romance subplot. especially not this one. I would say if they absolutely had to have a romance subplot, have it be between Jack and Davey, but this movie was made in 1992 and that probably wouldn't have gone over super well, let's be honest."

okay, that's all for now. I might try writing a little newsies fic / one-shot at some point soon-ish? maybe. it will probably be Javey with a bit of background Sprace and Jack / Spot friendship if I ever do get around to it.

uhh have a good day everyone! stay cool :3

[11x13kyle]

kyle glasses progression

age 13: he is told that he needs glasses, and he kicks and screams and fights about it, convinced that he doesn’t need them and he can see just fine. he’s really concerned that the other boys will rip on him. he’s already jewish and ginger, he can’t add on a pair of dorky glasses to that!

age 14: he concedes to the glasses, deciding that it will make him look smarter. he gets a pair of thin, rectangular frames. he originally tries wire frames, but he gets called grandma broflovski so many times at school that within a week he trades them for a thicker frame. transition lenses, of course.

age 16: he decided the transition lenses are lame and don’t help with the current moody, philosophical vibe that he’s decided that he’s going to go for that year. he switches back to a wire framed rectangular shape and buys a gold glasses chain. he doesn’t wear the chain publicly because he chickens out every time from embarrassment, but he wears them at home, swearing it helps his productivity.

age 18: to celebrate his transition from high school student to college student, he gets a pair of buddy holly frames because he felt like he needed a big enough change. he decides he hates them pretty much right away, not liking the thickness of the frame, but he wears them for years because he doesn’t want to look like a quitter. notably, this is also around the time he gets contacts.

age 21: contacts full timer, but he replaces the buddy holly frames with a simple, lightly circular, almost octangular, frame. he finds out later that they’re technically “women’s glasses” and makes a big deal about how glasses shouldn’t be gendered and that it’s stupid, but he rarely wears them out because of this anyway.

age 25: he switches to a pair of black browline glasses. within this year he changes frames four times because he’s going through some kind of crisis, and he’s concerned about all the money he’s spending but he can’t stop. it doesn’t help that he’s still mostly a contacts guy, so he’s just blowing money on frames he wears like 2 hours a day at MOST.

age 30: he alternates between two frames, a pair of tortoise shell browline glasses and a pair of gold wire circle frames. he wears glasses chains with the former sometimes, and in public too, because he’s convinced they have finally become chic. he refuses to wear the chains with the latter, convinced that it is “gauche.”

[omies-odd-writing-spot]

Doom Prompt 13: Sentinels finding a pet bunny

A writing prompt from my Doom Discord, tied into the Garnets story. Short and chaos XD

. 13: “One of the sentinels finding a pet bunny”

“Commander Milla,” Vega's voice drew the Sentinel's attention, as well as a soft flickering light to the left of her helmet. “Look to your left please?” 

The Argenta woman turned her head, scanning for what might have caught the Fortress’ Atlan’s attention. It was still just the human refugees they had escorted to the docks and the ARC evacuation ship. Then there was a highlight of a group in the back and to the south. Out of the flow of the moving people. 

Even if Vega had not highlighted it, Captain Milla would have, and had noticed this group. Seeing someone with both a rifle and bow and arrows was odd enough, but the three animals for pulling were… odd. She heard before someone called them… jacks? Don-keys? Something about those quadruped animals can and had killed a few lesser demons. Dark browns and lighter bellies with big ears. 

Right now the two that owned the wagon had everything almost packed up, but… they had set up just to the side and were passing out packages to those passing. Simple things like a can of food, what looked like rolls of bread with something inside, and what looked like a pale amber colored candy all wrapped up in a colorful cloth. 

“I know them,” Vega said after he confirmed who he thought was seen from the corner of Milla’s visor, the Atlan sounded surprised and relieved. “I know we can not bring everyone to the Hidden City, Captain, but please, could you see if you can get them to stay and offer them to come?”

“Who are they?” Captain Milla asked softly, her voice too low for anyone else to hear as she kept a lookout. Scanning farther out just in case, but her scouts were showing no signs they had found any more demons near.

“That is Richard Deegan, he was the husband of Commander Deegan of the Elite Guard on Mars. And their daughter Lana.” Vega explained, “I did not know their evacuation ship made it off the surface just as Hell invaded Mars.”

“Elite Guard… those are the warriors that pulled the Lord Slayer out of the Kadingir Sanctum in Hell?” The Captain asked, she had studied what she could around the recent history of humans. As well as what would be tied to the Slayer. 

“Yes, they are the ones that coordinated the attack in the Sanctum,” Vega spoke, watching through her helmet as Captain Milla signaled one of her Sentinels to come take her spot and climbed down to the street. Seeming to be checking on the humans and making sure they were staying orderly and had their things that could be carried. Making her way towards the back, where some of the Shadowed were stationed to guard there.

Captain Milla slowed, listening to the quiet thank yous to not just the Argenta, but realized once closer the three by the wagon. One of those… Don-Keys was eyeing her as if debating on how to fight the giant armored woman if need be. That was when Milla realized the creatures were not tied up at all but just stubbornly standing guard of their wagon and their people. There were other soft sounds of small animals in the big wagon, carefully covered for the most part and if Milla was not seven foot five she would not have seen the glimpses of the small birds and something…fuzzy?

She did not get too close once that bigger Don-Key pinned its long ears back in warning. But the blue-gray furred creature looked like… like… what was it. Little Heather had a stuffed ‘easter bunny’ that looked alike but not really like that creature. The Sentinel looked to the humans as the last group came to get their little gifts.

“I hope that helps,” One of the young women said as she waved at the last small family, at the kids.

“The ginger will at least help, Mary.” The man, Richard said in a tired, rough voice, “Come on girls, let's get ready to leave. I don’t think the ARC will let us take the donkeys, as their mammaths, let alone the other animals… hello?”

The man paused as he stood up and saw the taller armored figure standing near, watching his own family. The silver helmet tilted and then the Sentinel walked around the jack, giving the creature a good berth. 

“What are the creatures you have?” The voice that spoke was a deeper female tone, holding a sort of strength that Richared recognized from his late husband. Strong and that sort of even calm.

It made his heart hurt again.

“Quail, rabbits, some chickens.” Lana spoke as she came over to stand beside her Uncle, who had adopted her as a baby. She looked up at the armored Argenta with some wonder, not expecting the outline to be female at first but then there was no real way to tell who was who with these strangers that helped. “And the mammoth donkeys there, the big jack is Buck, the two jennies are Luna and Grace.”

“Impressive beasts,” The Sentinel noted, sounding a bit amused as she stopped beside the humans, looking at the few packaged gifts they had left. “What were you giving?” 

Mary motioned behind them at the other side of a parking lot to the dark mall, “We found food, and some supplies. We were baking last night so everyone could have some fresh bread rolls with a can of soup. Plastic spoon, a ginger candy to help with seasickness on the boat, and… well a note to remember to be kind to each other and help one another.”

“That’s very kind of you three.” The Captain said, looking at the boxes left over, each with neat, small writing to list what was inside. Then she recognized the feed bags that were found for the animals in the Fortress. She gestured inside the Wagon, “Can you show me what those are? I don’t know the names of those creatures, except for ‘chickens,’ I just found out about the birds.”

The three humans exchanged confused looks, but it was Lana that shrugged and headed to the back of the wagon. She carefully pulled two cages over and lifted the covers, the small birds making nervous sounds, but like the furry creature they at least recognized the young woman as a caretaker. “These are the quail, it's a mix of Valley and Coturnix in there for now. They’re used for eggs and meat. This here is one of the buck rabbits, he’s a rex. Their meat and fur rabbits, but also pets. That over there is a cat that someone couldn’t take on the ship.”

“It looks like you have more supplies for the creatures than yourselves.” The Sentinel noted, but she was very gentle touching the rabbit’s travel cage. Then tilted her head at several clear bins both in the wagon and out, pointing at them, “Those are… seeds?”

“Animals should be supported as much as my girls,” Richard said, and then nodded at the second question, “Yes, we’ve been saving any and all seeds we can find. Trying to save what we can of them.”

Captain Milla smiled, straightening as she looked back at the docks in the semi distance, then around at the small group. “You can’t take all of these on that ship.” 

“We know,” Mary spoke, smiling and then shaking her head, “We weren’t really planning on going on there, or to the Sea Platform offshore. We might set up in the mall for any other survivors and start some things growing.”

Captain Milla stooped a bit, offering a hand to Lana for her own. After a moment she studied the slimmer hand set in her palm. Soft as humans were but also showed signs of working and living. “Would you like to keep your animals, and be safe?”

Richard blinked, frowned and then tilted his head, “What do you mean?”

“You three were kind when you did not have to be, you shared what you found rather than hoard it. You’re willing to take in animals that others are forced to leave to give them reassurance.” Captain Milla let Lana take her hand back, “Those are good traits… and you are the surviving family of the warriors that found and freed my Lord Slayer. By either way as I see it, you deserve to be safe in the protection of the Sentinels. I am Captain Milla, I serve the Lord Slayer himself, and though the big creatures may not fit in his garden, there’s plenty of space in Taras Nabad.”

“...whoa.” Mary breathed as she shifted over and latched as hard onto her girlfriend as Lana did to her. The sudden shock of the offer hand heads, and hearts, spinning. Was this the same place the towering Argenta took the orphans earlier?

“The real Slayer?” Richard asked, in no small amount of shock. “You’re not lying to us?”

“Absolutely not.” Milla said firmly, and then a little softer added, “The Atlan, Vega, he asked me to see if you will come.”

Lana gasped, she remembered Vega when she was little and on Mars! She turned to her uncle, her only father figure left, “Vega’s alive?”

“What will this cost us?” Richard started to ask and then blinked in confusion as the Sentinel pointed to one of the rabbits.

“You will likely need to let the Slayer pet those. Or let him have a baby… puppy? Once they are born and ready to leave the dam.”

“Kittens,” Mary started to correct, paused and then stood up. “Wait, you mean we can have shelter for… a rabbit?”

“Maybe two-” Milla started, tensing at the almost united shout of:

“Deal!”

“If the god of war wants to have a rabbit pet for trade, for protection, he can have his pick of the litter- and I’ll them them breed all the time and he can have whatever one he wants and we’ll make sure that is the sweetest desensitized kitten ever,” Lana tossed her arms up and then waved them at the wagon before hugging tight to Mary. “Just not four of the adults, those are our babies.”

Milla grinned under her helmet.

[jordaninthevalley]

The Ginger Island Mushroom Cave Argument

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

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

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

Divider Credit

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

The Boat:

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

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

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

Hardwood:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Iridium:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shadow Shaman at 0.2%

Shadow Brute at 0.2%

Iridium Bat at 0.8%

Purple Slime at 0.9%

Iridium Golem at 3%

Battery Packs:

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

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

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

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

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

The Community Center / Joja Warehouse

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

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

Ginger Island

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

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

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

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

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

Ginger Island Mushroom Cave

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

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

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

Staying On Ginger Island?

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

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

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

Warp Totem: Island

Bought from the Volcano Dwarf for 10,000g.

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

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

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

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

Dragon Tooth:

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

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

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

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

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

Ginger:

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

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

Island Obelisk

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

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

Banana:

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

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

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

Golden Coconuts

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

You can also trade 10 coconuts for 1 golden coconut.

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

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

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

Large Animal Collection

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

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

Fossilized Skull (1): Golden Coconut

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

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

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

Bare Minimum List Of Materials Needed

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bananas: 10

For the Gold amount:

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

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

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

[soupedepates]

Bronya belongs to @noa-de-cajou

TW: Transphobia, mention of overdose

I took Bronya with me today because she was there this morning with me at the hospital when Adelajda called me

She came (I don't know why)

And she can shush the storm in my head

When she talks and talks and talks

She curses a lot

And she should pursue her studies

"But no, you want to be an artist"

"You're not my mother, Zuza. This is what I want. I can do what I want. I am an adult now and this is my life."

"I am just worried about your future"

"I know Zuz, that's why I tolerate your boomer talk."

She gives me a grin

I like this kid

"I am not even a boomer, I'm only 47."

"O-old."

I park my car down a block of council flats

Grey buildings with laundry on some balconies

"So now what?"

"We wait, Bronya, we wait"

But we don't have to wait for long

Something flies out of a window at the 4th story

It's a backpack

"I'll just go fetch it, sit on the bench, ok?"

They shout in Polish

A botched Polish

But only swear words

I know they have a difficult relationship

I retrieve the backpack and go back to Bronya

"She will go down in about a minute or two"

"I have a lot of questions."

"Go on"

"Why has she come here in the first place? She doesn't seem really welcome."

"It's her youngest brother's birthday

He wanted her to come"

"Like she cares about somebody other than her hellspawn of a son?"

She chuckles

"You don't really know her"

"I don't need to."

"You're misjudging her"

"Nah, I like her. Half of the time. She gives good advice. But I think we are the other half of the time."

A jacket flies out of the same window

"Called it. You really have an... interesting taste in women, Zuz."

Two ginger-haired persons

A man and my girlfriend

Are throwing fists on the balcony

A meek woman older than me is looking at them

She didn't try to separate them

She seems to talk

But they can't hear her I suppose

Two younger men step in and push them apart

And now we can hear them for they are shouting

"You two always making things difficult! For fuck's sake Lech, you're almost forty! And you, are you proud of you, Efrem, for ruining Aleksy's birthday?"

"For the last time..."

Oh no

"MY NAME IS IDALIA!"

She throws a plant out of the balcony

Almost killing the poor old man walking his dog nearby

"You think people called the cops?"

"They would be here by now if they did, Bronya"

(From what my girlfriend said to me

The neighbours are accustomed to frequent violent outbursts in the Lupsowiec's place

They once called the police on 13-year-old Idalia and 17-year-old Lech fighting

They just spent the afternoon at the station

What do you want to do when the parents won't raise their difficult child and let the oldest run the house?)

Now she is storming out off the place

You can almost hear the door being slammed

She is now in the street

She sees us

She sees me holding her backpack

"I'm sorry it went so bad"

"You're sorry? You really think I want your pity right now?!"

"I-" "It's YOU who encouraged me to go! I listen to YOU, and that's what happened! What was the plan? You're miserable 'cause your youngest doesn't want to see you so you want me to be miserable too?"

She angrily shouts

(I can't fight back I'm frozen)

But she stops and for a split second she looks horrified by what she is doing

And yet she continues

(I am biting my cheeks not to cry today is already difficult enough

But Idalia doesn't need to know I spent half of the day at the hospital

Since she left for work until she sent me a text about how bad it was going with her family

By the side of my son who almost killed himself at his aunt's

Adelajda was crying and I had to comfort her

She was looking after the kids and she was focused on the younglings

Agatka and Czcibor are almost major so I don't blame her

She told me Agatka came to her in tears because her twin brother was cold and unconscious

I don't hear my girlfriend anymore I just hear the sound of the respirator

"Fuck you Idalia, is Zuza your woman or your punchingball?"

Bronya brings me back to reality

"Fucking hell, she came aaaaall the way from the ER to fetch your shitface and you thank her like that? No wonder your baby mama left you. Damn girl, you can be a fucking great friend but why half of the time you're like, the lowest scum of the Earth? What's next? You're on your wifebeater era? Fuck, and Bazya thinks he can make you change? He is full of shit and you're like everyone's crazy ex."

Then she hits my leg lightly with her cane

"Dump her, Zuz, you def' can't fix her."

The face I love blanches

"I am so sorry Zuza I really didn't mean to I..."

"It's okay

I know you had a rough day"

"C'me on Zuz, you're... Oh fuck, I'll go wait in the car."

And away she goes

"You won't leave me, right?"

"I promise"

And we will talk in bed tonight

Her hand in my hair

And everything will be fine again

"Oh I made you cry I'm so sorry!"

She takes my face between her hands to erase the tears rolling down my cheeks

"I'm tired"

She seems worried

"When we're home I'll draw you a bath. I'll make up for... being an idiot, I suppose."

"A fucking asshole and a huge dick."

Bronya has heard you and she is quick to reply

"All that the kid says."

Bronya goes back in the car again

And she actives the headlights

She's getting impatient

Idalia listens to Bronya more than she does to the others

Perhaps because they're kind of alike

I head back to the car holding my lover's hand

I am so tired

[dragon-in-the-watery-bowl]

And here are the last batch of Danganronpa fankids, for the Celestia x Kyoko, Impostor x Ryota and Yamato x Tsurugi ships.

Info under the cut:

Name: Kanami Kirigiri (霧切 叶望). Age: 13. Parents: Kyoko Kirigiri and Celestia Ludenberg/Taeko Yasuhiro. Gender: Female. (Possible) Ultimate Title: Ultimate Detective. Birthdate: October 29 (Scorpio). Height: 149 cm. Weight: 32 kg. Chest Size: 69 cm. Blood Type: B. Likes: Jewelry. Dislikes: Ginger, spicy food.

In a world where things went different, and class 78 didn't became the victims of a killing game, Kyoko Kirigiri and Celestia Ludenberg ended up together and with a daughter. Having inherited both the deductive prowess and cunning ruthlessness of both her mothers, Kanami won easily the position of the Kirigiri family's heir, and was trained into the passed down role of a detective, solving her first case at 8 years old, the disappearance (and death) of her homeroom teacher, winning herself fame and glory, but at the cost of any meaningful friendship, something that she doesn't cares about, thanks to letting this fame, and her family legacy, go over her head, and giving her a massive ego problem, something that she will need to reign in before it end up crashing down on her, even if it ends up being easier saying it than doing it.

Name: Akito Kisaragi (如月 義士). Age: 8. Parents: Tsurugi Kinjo and Yamato Kisaragi. Gender: Male. (Possible) Ultimate Title: Ultimate Inventor. Birthdate: May 3 (Taurus). Height: 123 cm. Weight: 14 kg. Chest Size: 65 cm. Blood Type: B. Likes: Machines, justice. Dislikes: Destruction, violence.

In a world where the Tragedy never happened, and class 79 was able to have a normal school life in Hope's Peak, Tsurugi Kinjo and Yamato Kisaragi started a friendship that eventually evolved into something romantic, and ended up with the both of them becoming parents to a young boy. Quiet and shy, he spends almost all of his time between looking at what his fathers do while working and trying to imitate them (The latter usually never going well), thanks to having grown to admire them intensely in the short amount of time he has been alive.

By the time he would come to age, he would become a great inventor, enough to be admitted into Hope's Peak, but, at the same time, friendships would become hard for him to form, thanks to inheriting somewhat Tsurugi's black-and-white way of seeing the world, making him untrustfull of anyone who isn't his dads, something that he would take time to grow out of.

Name: Kyo Mitarai (御手洗 鏡). Age: 7. Parents: Ryota Mitarai and Ultimate Imposter. Gender: Female. (Possible) Ultimate Title: Unknown. Birthdate: January 5 (Capricorn). Height: 113 cm. Weight: 36 kg. Chest Size: 92 cm. Blood Type: O. Likes: Anime, manga, fast food. Dislikes: Abandonment.

After the end of the Tragedy, and with the members of class 77-B resigning themselves to live outside of civilization as penance for their crimes, some of them had kids with each other, with Ryota Mitarai and the person known just as "The Ultimate Imposter" being two of them. Really skittish and shy, she is following her fairer-headed dad's steps of becoming an animator to a T, thanks to terribly crushing feelings of loneliness and wistfulness born from the bad hand fate gave to his parents, and their class, forcing her to live in a island lost in the mind of the common passerby until she's of age, feelings that not even the kids of his parents' classmates can't alleviate, no matter how strong their friendships with her became.

Thanks to this, her biggest dream became to become famous, maybe through creating a new manga series, once she's an adult, just to feel that warmth that her family tried, but failed, to give her.

[girlfriendline]

15 People 15 Questions

ty for the tag @babygirlboberrey 💛

1. are you named after anyone?

no, but i was very almost named after perdita from in 101 dalmations until my dad stepped in and said absolutely not to the pregnancy hormones. ftr my mother maintains to this day it wouldn't have been a bad name. can you imagine. perdy.

2. when was the last time you cried?

within the last week for sure. it's just such a wonderful time of the year.

3. do you have kids?

nope, and that's never going to change. i neither want kids, nor would be a good mother, and i have a hard enough time looking after myself lmao.

4. what sports do you play/have you played?

i used to competitively swim through high school (although not in the way i think that equates to in the us), and i played football (soccer) on and off. the big one was show jumping, i made it all the way up to competing internationally for gbr. i used to wake up and ride at 5am before school and then again after school which, looking back, was quite frankly insane. i took being the weird horse girl Very Seriously.

5. do you use sarcasm?

more than other people probably appreciate.

6. what’s the first thing you notice about people?

i've honestly never considered this before this question but i think maybe clothes??? or colours of clothes? i'm not sure why either, i never remember them.

7. what’s your eye color?

blue ish

8. scary movies or happy endings?

if i'm alone, happy endings. if i'm with a bunch of people, scary movies. i'm a baby. i need emotional support.

9. any talents?

i'm very good at horses. i've never lost anything when i've been drunk. i can type much faster than i should physically be able to considering i use three fingers total. i can water ski (fairly useless tbh). i'm also very good at bringing animals home from the streets (my family would argue this is not a talent but a curse). i can sing, sort of.

10. where were you born?

uk

11. what are your hobbies?

watching hockey. suffering through f1. reading. running. hiking. swimming. playing guitar (badly). apparently lately building my own furniture. rewatching the same three tv shows over and over again. making gifs when the divine inspiration strikes. playing sims. baking.

12. do you have any pets?

four cats: a grumpy ginger and white old aged pensioner called spike (actually. maybe this is just claude giroux in cat form); loulou, who looks way too posh to have come from the streets; mishka, the love of my life my sweet angel baby darling who never does any wrong; and pasha, demon void cat who followed me home 3 months before i moved countries (and wasn't that a headache and a half) and who's probably going to send someone (me) to an early grave.

two dogs: indy, looks exactly like a fox, found her in the desert outside the rescue centre and they refused to take her in. she's my little mountain dog. and alfie, who we rescued 6 months ago, and who is best described as 'imagine there's a velociraptor in your home but the velociraptor is on fire and also your home is on fire and also you are on fire and also'. he's majority german shorthaired pointer. iykyk.

13. how tall are you?

between 5'8 and 5'9

14. favorite subject in school?

i used to love maths because it required a lot less brain power and subjective answers than everything else. in uni, my forensic science classes, or the only enjoyable thing from my first time round at uni, some fake ass course to build up credits called 'the universe as an art' which consisted of going outside to look at the stars and writing a poem about the moon.

15. dream job.

training horses. which sort of was my job that i had to give up when i moved here :)

i think a lot of people have already been tagged but @yabagofmilfs @amandaleveille @girldewar @tblueger @masonshaws @babygirlspurgeon

[cheesybadgers]

Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 18)

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

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 10,316

Summary: As Javier and Horacio make a fresh start in Madrid, they attempt to come to terms with their past, present and future with some unexpected help.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Romantic/emotional sex, edging, PTSD symptoms, grief and parental loss, brief discussions of sexuality/coming out, brief mentions of canon-typical violence, smoking, drinking, swearing.

Notes: Ok, so I know I said I wasn't going to be posting for a while, but after some lovely comments I've had on Tumblr this past week, I thought I would show my appreciation by sharing this a bit earlier than anticipated ❤️

Chapter 19 is ready to go, so hopefully I can post that soon, as it's the second half of their Madrid adventures (I had to split it because it got too big for one chapter, oops).

Thank you once again to anyone still following this fic - old or new - I can't believe it's been over two years since I first started it. Never in a million years did I expect it to become, well, this lol. But we are very nearly there now!

I’ve also added to my OHDH trivia post to cover this chapter if anyone is interested. 

Whilst obviously I do not own Narcos or its characters, please do not copy, re-post, or plagiarize this fic in any capacity on this or other platforms. If you wish to create any fan works inspired by it, please provide a credit or send me a message if in doubt.

Chapter 18: One Day at a Time

It was the stillest part of the day, the city suspended somewhere between the dying embers of night and the cusp of dawn. The streets below saw parallel worlds collide as overindulgent revellers staggered alongside coffee-carrying workers who had drawn the short straw.

Neither Javier nor Horacio was a stranger to witnessing sunrise from both sides. But there was comfort in waking up to it rather than being caught unawares when sleep never came.

A raucous catfight had woken them, although the sparring partners had since gone their separate ways and restored calm to the neighbourhood.

Javier surveyed the aftermath from the French doors of the balcony, a pair of arms smoothly securing themselves around his waist, their fingers entwining over his stomach.

“Did I miss anything?” Horacio croaked, grogginess still heavy in his throat, his bare chest radiating welcomed warmth against Javier’s chilled back.

“Just the usual suspects. I know the ginger one lives opposite, but I think the black one must be a stray.”

“The same one that was out here the other day?” Horacio nodded towards their balcony, equipped with a table, two chairs, and a few hanging baskets and potted plants.

“Looked like it.”

“Maybe we should put some food out if it stops by again.” Memories of the stray he and Alejandra played their part in looking after sprung to Horacio's mind. Strangely enough, that had been a black cat too.

“Should I tell Luna she’s been replaced already?”

“Don’t you dare.” At least the teasing took Horacio’s mind off the fact he missed all two-legged and four-legged residents of the ranch tremendously, and according to reports from Chucho, the feeling was mutual.

It had only been weeks since they left Laredo, but the days stretched out longer now. It wasn’t that time dragged, but their pace of life had slowed again. The ranch was a vacation compared to Colombia, but jobs still needed to be done. Here though, they had no commitments.

The first week involved sorting out their apartment. It came fully furnished, but they needed basics like bedding, groceries and warmer clothes. Arriving in Madrid during the winter months was a shock to the system after their balmy Texan Christmas, a fact Horacio probably should have warned Javier about before they stepped off the plane in their short-sleeved shirts.

Not that Javier minded whenever the temperature dropped in the evening, and they would huddle on the couch in front of the electric fire, limbs draped over one another. There was no scent of mesquite wood this time, but that didn’t matter when shared body heat and tactility were more than enough to satisfy as they christened the furniture in their shared home.

The décor was all neutral colours but vibrant paintings of local landmarks and rural Spain hung on the bright white walls. A long corridor stretched from the entrance, with a bedroom, bathroom, kitchen and separate living area branching off it. Despite the modest square footage, the high ceilings and large windows along the external wall made the space light and airy.

The apartment was still dark enough to protect them at this time of day, and semi-closed blinds covered the balcony doors from top to bottom. They could see out the hangings, especially if they were prised apart. But Javier had ensured on the first day they arrived that there was no chance of anyone from outside nosing in. He wasn’t taking any chances, even though that threat was left back in Colombia.

Now the commotion outside had died down, they basked in the peace of their embrace.

“It was the cats that woke you, wasn’t it?” Horacio asked after a contented silence. He had to check, even though there had been a marked improvement in their sleeping patterns lately.

“Yeah, it was. I slept well last night, actually.”

“Me too. Better now I’m getting used to the traffic again.”

“The ranch really makes you forget how fucking loud the city is.” Or maybe, now Javier thought about it, it was the ranch that was so fucking quiet. “I’m still waking up through the night sometimes, cats or no cats. But I guess that might just be getting used to this place.”

“You like it here, though?”

“Yeah, I do. I can see why you wanted to come back.”

“I only wanted to come back with you.” Horacio’s fingers traced idle patterns across the soft curve of Javier’s stomach.

A light shiver ran through Javier as he lolled his head back into the pillow of Horacio’s shoulder. “So you could do this, huh?”

Horacio hummed in agreement against Javier’s neck, his mouth working methodically back and forth as a hand wandered south in search of a trail of dark hair, skirting through the wiry strands.

“Well, it wasn’t for the sangria,” he scathed, his teeth scraping over Javier as though he would rather devour the man in his arms than a glass of that stuff. Maybe it was because they hadn’t drunk much alcohol since Javier returned from Colombia, but neither had taken to it. “And you don’t seem to be complaining.”

“There are worse ways to start the day.” Javier relaxed into Horacio’s hold, allowing himself to be manhandled because there was no rush. There never was anymore.

Plenty of early mornings had begun similarly. Sometimes one man would wake up to the calid pressure of a mouth around his cock, gradually allowing the slow burn of arousal to build whilst they were half-asleep. Other times they would spoon with one held inside the other, barely moving, vaguely dreaming but always on the brink of release.

Then there were times when slow and gentle weren't enough. They had mastered the art of keeping each other quiet, for their apartment walls weren’t the thickest. Not too much, though, because the rhythmic slapping of skin-on-skin or the crisp echo of a palm across the ass was part of the appeal.

But teasing strokes and languorous rolls of the hips were in order now. One hand pumped at an unhurried pace, Javier’s length fitting in Horacio’s grip as though they were made for each other. As though Horacio had every nerve ending and sweet spot memorised as he expertly massaged Javier’s frenulum, extracting a guttural moan that reverberated through their chests in tandem.

Horacio’s free hand mapped Javier’s skin, chasing goosebumps with the calloused pads of his fingers as he found friction at the cleft of Javier’s ass. Each touch and motion a tangible reminder he wasn’t here alone this time, that the solid form in his hold and the stubbled cheek grazing against his were real. That they belonged to each other, not as possessions but as mutual choices made again and again.

Javier luxuriated in a delirious limbo, teetering on the verge but never quite there, the need for release visceral in the pit of his stomach. Yet as he trembled and writhed, alternating between pouting his bottom lip and biting it, a part of him was willing to beg to be kept hanging. Because this was what he had wanted when they were separated by oceans and a misplaced sense of duty, and now he had it, he didn’t want to let it go.

Each twitch or convulsion only made Horacio pull Javier closer, gaining extra purchase with the firm grasp at his hip bone, grinding harder but not faster, lost in dragging the head of his cock in agonising circles, from side to side, then up and down, pausing to let it throb in time with their panting. Knowing he could probe further and give them what they needed, but then it would be game over.

So, they resisted, turning shallow breaths into deeper ones, Horacio ceasing movement whenever they neared the point of no return, reeling them back in like a wound-up coil, forcing them to admire the view below as they fought against every instinct in their bodies.

Javier allowed the balcony door to bear some of their weight with one hand splayed across the clinking blinds, pushing back a fraction just to make Horacio groan in his ear and seize the cross dangling from his neck. His other hand clutched Horacio’s arm, neck, shoulder, whichever part of him he could reach, grounding and anchoring them together.

Whenever they almost succumbed, memories of their time apart would re-focus them in the present; where their legs shook, and their toes curled at every new sensation rippling through their joined form, the anticipation of relief battling with remaining in equilibrium, daring each other to prolong the exquisite agony for as long as possible.

But resistance was inevitably futile. With several final jerks of the wrist and hips, they surrendered control, painting Javier with their release from both sides as they gave themselves over to the white-hot bliss cascading through their synapses, each spasm igniting and stoking flame after flame, consuming and burning until they almost blacked out.

Neither moved as the pink haze of the skyline broached the gaps in the blinds and blushed their fevered skin; the dawn air a perfect tonic to the blazing heat between them. A greeting from the light rather than a reluctant acknowledgement after outstaying their welcome in the dark.

Strong arms encased Javier at his front while a rhythmic beat drummed against his back, catching and soothing him in surroundings that were still relatively new. Steady, grounding, home.

“Good morning, by the way,” Horacio said between tender kisses along Javier’s shoulder.

“Hmm, certainly is a good morning.” Javier shifted to face Horacio, sweeping him up with an open-mouthed kiss as addictive as the first one they ever shared, and oh, how far they had come since then. “Is it too early for breakfast?”

“Not when we’ve built up an appetite.” Horacio nibbled at Javier’s lip to emphasise his hunger. “Although, maybe a shower before I make us some coffee?”

Javier nipped back before instigating another searing kiss, barely breaking it to speak again. “Sounds good to me.”

Nothing was particularly extraordinary about the idyllic scene they had started the morning off with. And yet that in itself was extraordinary. Not so long ago, all of this felt out of reach, something to aspire to or hope for, but not something feasible. But here they were, in their shared apartment, embarking on a new chapter together, taking another leap of faith. Not running away from the past but trying to break free from its shackles, one day at a time. 

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Once they had got their bearings in the first few weeks, they began to venture out bit by bit. First, it was walking around the city’s vast green parks, starting with the nearest and working further away from their apartment each time. Then cooking or takeaway turned into dining in a secluded bistro. And watching TV in the apartment became a leisurely stroll around a museum.

Horacio hadn’t felt much like sightseeing when he was here by himself. But things were different now. Everything was different now, even the city itself, from how the early morning light fell on the buildings to the hustle and bustle of Gran Vía. The crowds were still there in their droves. The shoppers and tourists, who would stop in the middle of the pavement with a street map sprawling across their arms, still needed to be sidestepped at the last second. But it was easier to ignore when Javier was by his side.

It was at this point that Horacio knew there was something he was going to have to do. Something he had been putting off, despite it being something he wanted to do. But that didn’t calm the nerves bubbling in his stomach as he took the familiar walk around the corner from their apartment building and down a cobbled side street. Javier had offered to come with him for moral support, but playing it safe seemed the best option, at least this time, just in case.

As he approached the glass door with its seasonal flower arrangements hanging below the red and gold calligraphic Café Romero lettering, it hit him how much his life had changed since he last visited, how much he and Javier had been through. So how reasonable was it to expect everything to be the same here? He swallowed hard as he turned the handle, the bell above the door jangling as it opened.

The interior looked the same as always. Caramel and beige walls complemented the variety of coffees on the menu and the lush green of potted plants decorating the shelves, in between photos of past and present generations of the Romero family. A large window ran along the front, providing extra lighting and an opportunity to people-watch on busier days.

Horacio could see no staff and only customers, but it was early, so the place hadn't filled up yet. In fact, his usual window seat in the corner was still free. Waves of nostalgia layered with relief rolled over him as he sat down facing the counter.

But it didn’t take long for the face he was looking for to appear from the kitchen carrying a fresh batch of napolitanas de chocolate.

A shriek of delight quickly followed once Señora Romero put down her baking tray and raised her head. She brought her hands to her face in surprise, gathering up her apron at the same time as it caught on her fingers. “Horacio?!”

The intonation of her voice suggested it was a question. But she was already crossing the floor of the café with her arms outstretched.

Horacio rose from his table, making it easier for her to scoop him into a hug reminiscent of the ones his Abuela Margarita gave him as a child.

“It’s good to see you, Señora Romero. I hope you’re well.”

She looked well, her silver hair still tied in a messy bun and her rounded figure and freshly stained apron a sign her passion for food hadn’t waned.

“All the better for seeing you.” She lightly squeezed his cheek as she took in his appearance. “Although you might have warned me, I’d have baked more of those milhojas you liked so much last time.”

“Sorry. I’ve not been back long. I’m still sorting out the apartment and trying to remember my way around.”

“Of course, of course. Rest your feet, and I’ll bring you something over. Your usual coffee?”

Horacio smiled at the fact she had remembered his order. “That’d be lovely, thank you.”

The coffee was as delicious as ever, much like the freshly made churros and accompanying hot chocolate, which Señora Romero gave him on the house despite his protests.

She updated Horacio on her family and how Luisa and her husband, Julián, had become parents since their wedding. Their new arrival, Tomás, meant Señora Romero still ran the café, with Luisa helping out occasionally until Tomás was at school.

Señora Romero rushed to grab some photos from behind the counter, showing off her latest grandson. She was in her element and every bit the doting Abuelita.

“Congratulations, I can see the family resemblance,” Horacio said, passing the photos back.

“I said the same to Luisa! He’s definitely got the Romero nose.” She gazed at the picture before shifting her attention back to Horacio. “So, what did I do to deserve the pleasure of your company?”

Horacio scoffed into his cup, creating ripples across the surface of his coffee as he took a sip. “I don’t know where to start.”

“How about from where we left off?”

Horacio hadn't been looking for sympathy, but naturally, Señora Romero supplied plenty of it, gasping, tutting, and consoling in all the appropriate places when he gave an abridged and redacted version of events since their last meeting.

He spoke more than was ideal about his injury and retirement from the CNP because, by comparison, it was safer ground than the inverted commas silently hugging every use of "friend" a mention of Javier brought.

“Oh, Horacio, my dear. You have been through the wars. How’s your shoulder doing now?”

“Okay, mostly. I still get twinges, but I know I’m lucky.”

“Lucky to have someone like Javier around as well, by the sounds of it.”

“Yeah, you could say that.” Even if he had wanted to stop it, the reflexive smile spreading across Horacio’s face was irrepressible.

Señora Romero studied his features intently, beaming in return once she had finished. “And how was life on a ranch?”

“It was…good, actually. I know it’s not the CNP, but I liked the peace and quiet. And the routine. Something always needed doing or fixing.”

“It might not be the CNP, but that sounds much safer and simpler to me.”

“It was. It was good to feel useful again. Like I was making a difference, even if it wasn’t life or death.” Especially if it wasn’t, more like.

“I know you never talked much about it, but I could see how restless you were trapped behind a desk. You’re a man of action, Horacio. I don’t see that changing no matter which path you take.”

The café was busier now, meaning Horacio was left to finish his churros whilst Señora Romero dealt with the start of the breakfast rush.

As he dipped his last churro in the remnants of hot chocolate, it occurred to him that, once upon a time, his father would have been the central focus of this conversation. And, of course, he had wondered what his Papá would have made of his son living and working on a ranch in Texas, of all places. But it was also a moot point. It was an answer he would never get, regardless of how much he wrung his hands about the hypothetical possibility of disappointing his father.

This was about what was best for him and Javier now. The ranch had been their escape from the madness that was slowly killing them. Although Horacio never knew with absolute certainty what caused his Papá’s heart to fail, it was a plausible theory he overworked himself. And that irony sat more comfortably with Horacio these days. Because as much as his Papá had been a role model since Horacio was old enough to understand the word police, he was also a cautionary tale.

When the rush died down, Horacio helped clear some tables. It was the least he could do in exchange for words of wisdom and a complimentary breakfast.

But Señora Romero didn’t stop there and scuttled off behind the counter. She filled a box with an assortment of pastries and cakes, sealed the lid and handed it to Horacio as he moved towards the door.

“Here, my dear. Some more to keep you going. Enough for two, in fact.”

Horacio fumbled for a response beyond thank you as he accepted the box, wishing he could hide inside it as he sensed her eyes still on him.

Señora Romero’s hand lingered on his for a fraction longer than was customary for a simple goodbye.

He looked up to find the same head tilt and gentle smile he was met with in the apartment upstairs almost two years ago. When he was indirectly talking about Javier.

“I meant it when I said don’t be a stranger. You and Javier will always be welcome here.”

The sincerity in her eyes grew sharper, and she gripped his hand. In sympathy? Solidarity? Horacio wasn't sure.

But it put him at ease enough to reciprocate and ask a question now lodged in his throat with no option to swallow it back down. “How did you know?”

“Because there’s a glow about you, Horacio. A glow I remember from a long, long time ago. I might’ve forgotten a lot in my old age, but never that. Not even now it’s just me rattling around upstairs. It doesn’t have to fade, you know. Not if you don’t let it.”

It was a running theme for Horacio’s elders to leave him speechless like this. And it was all he could do to bob his head in acknowledgement, hoping he might be capable of such sage insights one day.

The bell above the door chimed again, signalling the end of their reunion as Señora Romero greeted her new customers, inviting them to sit wherever they liked.

“I think that’s my cue. But thank you, Señora Romero. For everything.”

“Any time. Take care, Horacio. And remember, my door’s always open.”

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Horacio dropped the box of delights on the kitchen counter, the fresh breeze and murmur of traffic revealing that Javier had moved from the bedroom to the balcony since he left.

Javier put the book he was reading down in favour of craning his neck over his shoulder to watch Horacio potter about the kitchen before biting the bullet. “So, how did it go?”

Horacio didn’t speak whilst he concentrated on transferring a couple of ensaimadas onto plates. He then joined Javier, sitting in the empty seat next to him as he offered a plate. “Better than I thought it would. She guessed about us. I didn’t tell her. Somehow she just…knew.”

“How did she take it?”

“I think we’ve got a free supply of these for life.”

They couldn’t help but laugh in unison, more from relief than anything else.

“See, I told you it’d be fine.”

“Yeah. It’s never gonna stop, though, is it?”

“How d’you mean?”

“Every time we meet someone.”

“I say it's nobody’s fucking business unless we decide it is.”

“I spoke to Alejandra yesterday. While you were in the shower.” Horacio paused at his announcement that might have appeared unconnected to their conversation, but Javier knew better. “I let her know I’m back here for now. I couldn’t tell her the rest, though.”

He focused on his plate, poking a fork at the crumbly layers of pastry, hoping to find his courage buried somewhere between them. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no, stop that.” Javier forfeited his plate for leaning closer to Horacio, palm caressing his thigh. “Before Laredo, you said I should only tell Pops if I’m ready. So, there’s no rush, Horacio. Take all the time you need.”

Horacio entwined their fingers on his leg because if anyone understood his apprehension, it was Javier. “I know. I just hate keeping it from her after everything we’ve been through. She would always make me soup if I was sick. And she looked out for me after Papá was gone. She taught me Mamá’s sudado de pollo recipe because it was one of Papá’s favourites. I liked to think I was the man of the house, but she loved reminding me she was my older sister.”

“I bet she did. I saw that a lot with my parents and my Tías and Tíos. Never could decide if I’d have preferred brothers and sisters after they all got together.”

“That’s siblings for you. I didn’t want to shut her – or Mamá – out. But when things got crazy back home, I had no choice.”

“Same with Pops. The worse it got, the more I shut down. But he understood. And…I know I haven’t met them.” Yet, Javier wanted to add but thought better of it. “But they might too.”

“I know.”

“We’ll be okay whatever happens, you know that, right?”

“Yeah. I do.” Horacio finally let go of Javier’s hand, knowing if he held on any longer, he’d have given their neighbours something to gossip about.

Instead, he took another bite of his pastry and a swig of the half-drunk coffee from the table where Javier’s abandoned book lay. “What are you reading, anyway?”

“Oh, just this.” Javier reached for his Mamá’s poetry book, the pages fluttering in the breeze, the superstitious remnants from his upbringing wanting to believe it was a sign of something other than the weather. “Before we left, I told Pops I wished she’d met you. I don’t know if she ever suspected anything about me, but…I guess it doesn’t matter now.”

“Maybe not. But for what it’s worth, I wish I’d met her too.”

It had always been a relief for Horacio that his father and Javier never crossed paths, but that was mostly a projection of his own fears. The truth was, he would never know if his Papá suspected anything about him, either.

Once they had finished their ensaimadas, Horacio washed up the plates and a few items waiting by the sink, a routine he performed countless times with Alejandra when they were just about tall enough to reach the taps; before any expectations of who or what he was supposed to be were placed on his shoulders. Memories flooded back of how they would squabble over who got to wash and dry. Although, of course, more often than not, his big sister would pull rank, and in hindsight, he smiled at the possibility that, all those years later, she, rather than their Papá, was what had made his job so appealing.

As he left the clean plates, cups, and cutlery to dry on the draining board, it dawned on him that Alejandra and his Mamá didn’t have to be the same story as his Papá. They didn’t need to be another unfinished, half-written story in which the ending would always elude him, haunt him, or hold him back. Not if Horacio didn’t leave it too late this time.

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Whilst Horacio resumed his early morning runs, they were more like gentle jogs these days. It wasn’t that he had lost his stamina after being put through his paces back on the ranch, but he didn’t feel the need to charge ahead at full pelt anymore. He was more likely to go through a routine of strengthening exercises, to keep his right shoulder from seizing up, and for whenever they decided to head back to Laredo. If that was to become his full-time job, he couldn’t afford to be out of shape.

He left Javier in bed, with plans to meet him at Café Romero for breakfast. It was to be Javier’s first time meeting Señora Romero, which they were confident they had nothing to worry about, but that didn’t quell the butterflies dancing in their stomachs the night before.

It was why Horacio had gone for a run instead of lying awake restless, counting down the hours until he could get up. His muscle memory, rather than his wristwatch, estimated that by the time he jogged one of his usual routes that took him to the outskirts of Casa de Campo park and walked a few blocks to cool down, he would be ready for breakfast.

About three-quarters of the way through his run, having just exited the park, he heard the call of his name. He willed there to be another Horacio jogging passed at the same time, but when his eyes fell upon the source of the voice, he knew he was out of luck.

“Álvaro?” He didn’t know why he asked; he’d spent enough time with Álvaro Molina to recognise his voice anywhere.

Álvaro was a chief inspector in the Spanish CNP. Not a direct parallel to Horacio’s role in Colombia, but close enough. Although Álvaro was never based at the Consulate when Horacio was, they spent plenty of time in the same cross-departmental meetings.

He was a couple of inches taller than Horacio with hazel eyes and unruly dark brown curls that were more mottled with grey than their last meeting. At one time, Álvaro carried almost as much muscle as Horacio, but he had visibly lost weight, his face now gaunt and rough with days’ old stubble.

“How the hell are you?” A hand shook Horacio’s with vigour. “Better than last time, I bet, now that motherfucker’s in the ground.”

“You could say that.”

“What brings you back? They didn’t exile you again, did they?” Álvaro winked, knowing he was on friendly enough terms with Horacio to get away with it.

A scoff and roll of the eyes was Horacio’s response. “No. Actually, it was the other way round this time.”

“Oh? You are a dark horse. Always thought they’d have to force you into retirement when you’re old and grey.”

“Yeah, me too. But I guess things change.”

“Hmm, some more than others.”

“I take it there’s been no let-up in seizures after Medellín folded?”

“Not with Cali waiting in the wings, no.” There was a brittle laugh followed by a shift in Álvaro’s facial expression, the joviality from moments ago now gone and replaced with traces of sleep deprivation.

“That’s the trouble. You cut off one serpent’s head, and two more of the fuckers grow straight back.” Horacio’s words were loaded with a sting of venom at the mention of Cali, closely followed by thoughts of Los Pepes, Stechner and the CIA’s protection of Cali. How could they possibly win when the whole system was corrupt to the core?

“Tell me about it. Listen, I don’t suppose you’ve got time to grab a quick coffee? Hell knows I need one.”

Horacio calculated he had about 15 minutes maximum spare, so, it was doable if he drank fast and didn’t get too involved in shop talk that was no longer his remit.

“Okay, there’s a place just inside Casa de Campo. But you’re buying.”

“Always the cheapskate.”

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Javier glanced up from his newspaper to the clock on the wall. Horacio was technically late; by his own standards, that was. Javier wouldn’t even have noticed if it was anyone else.

He followed Horacio’s instructions on how to get here, even down to picking the window seat in the far corner of the café. It was empty when Javier arrived – five minutes early, which must be a first – so he sat and waited.

Not long after he took a seat, a lady too young to be Señora Romero came to greet him with a friendly smile, ready to take his order.

Javier went with a café solo for each of them, saving the food order for when Horacio arrived.

Even when speaking in short sentences, Javier was self-conscious of his accent here, sometimes forgetting to adjust his pronunciation or pick a different word than he was used to. Of course, it had been the same when he arrived in Colombia and Horacio in Texas. A cultural exchange that led to many late-night conversations – and the occasional argument – about dialect differences. But that was the versatility of the Spanish language.

The same waitress brought the drinks over, although an older woman had joined her who was now clearing the adjacent table. The family resemblance between the two women was undeniable, so Javier assumed this must be Señora Romero and…Luisa, did Horacio say? He kept quiet for now, just in case he was wrong. Nor did he want to steal Horacio’s thunder with introductions.

As Javier thanked Luisa and explained the second cup was for someone meeting him shortly, Señora Romero ceased wiping a cloth across the emptied table, her ears pricking up at an accent she didn’t hear too often.

Not that Javier noticed as his eyes darted to the door, up to the clock and down to the paper with a heavy sigh.

He got through one and a half news stories when Señora Romero made her move from watching Javier curiously from behind the counter to standing by his table.

“It’s not like him to be late, is it?”

Javier was startled out of his newspaper and looked up, where rich shades of chestnut and cinnamon collided for the first time. “How—?” was about all he managed to stutter out.

Señora Romero sat opposite Javier, where Horacio should have been sitting. “Ever since his first visit, he went straight for this table. It is a nice spot, though. He always read his papers and ordered a café solo every time.” She smiled affectionately at the coffee cups on the table like they were an old friend. “Plus, he told me about Laredo. So, I wasn’t expecting another Colombian accent.”

“I’m impressed. We could’ve done with more people like you in Colombia. And I was under strict instructions to pick this table. But you’re right; it’s not like him to be late.”

There was no doubt a logical explanation for Horacio’s absence. But Javier couldn’t stop his fingers from fidgeting around the handle of his cup or his knee from bouncing under the table and causing an earthquake.

“Oh, I’m sure he’s on his way, dear. Did he go for one of his pre-breakfast runs?”

There was something comforting about Señora Romero’s familiarity with Horacio’s routines, even though Javier had never met her before. It gave them a mutual talking point and a connection beyond the usual dry small talk. “Bingo.”

“Of course! He was one of my most loyal regulars. I did miss seeing him in here after he left.”

“He’s talked about you and this place a lot. So, I’d say the feeling’s mutual.”

“Bless you, my dear. I’m glad our paths crossed. But I’ve no doubt he ended up where he belonged.”

Heat bloomed in Javier’s face and chest as Señora Romero gave him a pointed look followed by a flash of a wink. And he couldn’t help but feel sheepish that he and Horacio had ever worried about her reaction in the first place.

It took his mind off things until his gaze fell back on the clock, and he saw another five minutes had passed. Where the fuck was he? No, Javier couldn’t think like that. It was stupid and unnecessary at this stage. He just needed to focus on the pleasant conversation he was having now. So, he tried again.

This time, he asked questions about Señora Romero’s family and, during a lull in the breakfast rush, was introduced to Luisa as a friend of Horacio’s. If Luisa suspected anything, she took it in the same stride as her mother.

Next came the family photos, including plenty of Tomás, naturally. An album's worth of photos was scattered across the table, allowing Señora Romero to guide Javier through each one as though she was delivering a presentation. But as someone with a large extended family, Javier didn’t mind and even interjected with anecdotes about his own relatives.

After a tilt of his head and a sip of his coffee, Javier brought the cup down to the photo-covered table with a sense of déjà vu. It took him out of the moment and forced him to close his eyes, trying to blink away his sudden change in mood. But then, a wave of cheap perfume filled his senses. And Señora Romero’s finger pointing at the pictures was younger and manicured. The photo she placed in his hand wasn’t the many generations of the Romero family posing in front of the café; it was one of the long-lens photos of Javier and Horacio.

He blinked hard enough to see spots, allowing his vision to gradually re-focus on the safety of the photo in his hand rather than the violating one burnt into his memory. He tried not to think about those images, and for the most part, he succeeded these days. But occasionally, his brain would taunt him, reminding him how paralysed he was by the possible consequences. By the fact he put Horacio in so much danger and couldn’t even tell him about it or be with him. By the fact he and Steve were glorified puppets to the likes of Stechner whilst the CIA was up to its neck in corruption.

“These, er, these are all beautiful,” he managed to get out, hoping that the last few seconds had gone unnoticed, as unlikely as that was.

“Are you sure I can’t get you anything else while you wait, dear?”

That was the next question Javier heard, but he couldn’t be sure if he had zoned out and missed a whole chunk of conversation.

"Er, no, thanks, I'm good."

Without meaning to, his eyes scanned between the clock and the door again, an irrational hope taking hold that if he stared at either long enough, he could make Horacio appear by sheer willpower alone. However, as the second hand on the clock ticked and ticked, he was back in that damn hospital bed. Waiting, waiting, waiting. That was all he could do, unable to get comfortable as each movement was a red-hot poker jabbing in his ribs. But he would take that any day over the crushing, suffocating, nauseating dread that weighed on his chest like a foreshadowing of death. Not his death, although it would have been in all but name if the pendulum of fate had swung the other way.

“Javier? Are you alright, my dear?”

Javier was back in the café, a light sheen of sweat gathering on his skin as he tried to shove whatever the fuck that was back in its box. “Er, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry.”

“Why don’t I pour us some lemonade upstairs once you’ve finished your coffee? I’ll ask Luisa to send Horacio up when he gets here.”

Javier expected his instincts to push him towards the door and back to the apartment, but they didn’t. Instead, they saw the genuine concern on Señora Romero’s face and the kindness in her gesture. They saw the glimmer of faded memories of his Mamá taking care of him, knowing this wasn’t the same, but also that it didn’t need to be. And so he did the only thing he could.

“That’d be good, thanks.”

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Álvaro brought over two coffees from the kiosk by the park entrance to a nearby seating area of tables and chairs. The previous day’s rain still clung to the stainless steel furniture and explained why there weren’t as many people around them as on a scorching hot day. But that worked in their favour.

They sat opposite each other across a table suffering from a wobbly leg, Horacio in his jogging pants and a somewhat sweaty t-shirt, and Álvaro apparently in yesterday's suit, shirt and skewwhiff tie, if their crumpled appearance and less than fresh aroma were anything to go by. A far cry from the pristine CNP-issued uniforms and tailored suits picked out by Álvaro’s wife their last meeting saw them wearing.

As Horacio took a sip of coffee, he noticed Álvaro reach into the inside pocket of his jacket and pull out a hip flask.

Álvaro lifted the plastic lid from his cup, poured a generous measure from the flask and offered the same to Horacio.

Horacio raised his hand and shook his head. “Bit early for me.”

They made small talk, Horacio managing to be as vague as possible regarding his reasons for living here again. “Taking a break in a beautiful city” and “Catching up with old friends” were about the gist of it. But he wasn’t exactly forthcoming with information the first time, so his stunted replies weren’t out of character.

Álvaro was equally brief about the details of his life, which was out of character now Horacio thought about it. Álvaro used to talk about his family as much as his work. His wife was his rock, his kids were his pride and joy, and his brother was progressing at pace through the military ranks. But this time, he confirmed they were doing well and left it at that before getting down to business.

“An anonymous tip-off recently fell into the DEA’s lap. Lots of juicy details about Cali. The gringos are working their way through the intel, and it flagged up more links to our old friends in Galicia. There were sightings of Pacho Herrera up there, plus some of his associates are based in Madrid. So that’s opened a huge fucking can of worms.”

Horacio had a terrible time trying to stifle a reaction to the mention of a tip-off. There was nothing 'anonymous' about it from the DEA’s point of view, not even when it came to the intel's delivery.

The last time he was here, the Galician traffickers were working with Escobar. And whilst Horacio’s redeployment was conducted from behind a desk for the majority, his colleagues had chewed his ear off about various Colombian names that came up in reports or wiretaps. It didn’t surprise him in the slightest that the Spanish clans had moved on to Cali.

Álvaro lit a cigarette as he talked, offering up a second one from his almost-empty carton.

But Horacio declined, instead taking another sip of his drink. “Sounds promising. But Álvaro, Cali is a different beast to Medellín. They’re more discreet, professional, and they have powerful friends in high places.”

“I know. But we have to try, right? Look at Operación Nécora. Sooner or later, someone gets sloppy, drops the ball, turns on one of their own, or kills the wrong person. And then we win.”

Watching Álvaro chug back his Irish coffee in one hand with a smouldering cigarette perched in his other was like looking in a mirror to the past. And it wasn’t a pretty sight.

When Horacio was in the fray, it had been too easy to focus solely on the case in front of him, convincing himself it would all be over soon if he just shut down one more lab and seized one more kilo or wad of cash. Or tortured one more suspect. But it was never enough and never would be. He had been fighting a losing battle that had no likely ending in sight, even if the individuals and locations were a perpetual revolving door.

“I’m not sure there are winners in any of this,” he said, the resignation heavy in his tone.

“Shit, you really have changed.”

“Maybe.”

“Last time I saw you, you were raining fire and brimstone upon the narcos. What the fuck happened?”

“Do you know how many funerals I’ve been to, Álvaro? Or how many people I’ve killed? Because I don’t. I stopped counting. Then Escobar tried to have me killed – and nearly succeeded.”

“Woah, woah, what?”

“I took a bullet here,” Horacio gestured to his right shoulder, “and nearly bled out. The doctors said I was lucky I was brought in so fast.” Although Horacio knew a lot more than luck was involved.

“Shit, Horacio.”

“Yeah. So, it’s easy for you to keep fighting when you haven’t lost as many times as I have.”

“Because no one else could possibly have lost anything as well, right?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Sounded like it to me. And you’ve got no fucking idea.” Álvaro slammed his cup down on the table, the force of its impact splashing coffee droplets in all directions.

Horacio opted not to make a fuss but he could have sworn he saw the reflection of tears in Álvaro’s eyes as they focused on their drinks in silence. “Did something happen?”

“What gave it away?” Álvaro gestured towards himself, acknowledging his worse-for-wear state. He leaned his elbow on the table, head held in his hands, and ran his fingers through his hair. “There was another bombing. Last June. An army transporter was targeted by 40 kilos of explosives left in a parked car. My brother, Jaime, was...he was there…and didn’t make it.”

“Fuck, Álvaro. I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” Except, in a roundabout way, he did have some idea. Because back in Colombia, it was Horacio who delivered such news to countless families like the Molinas.

“No, well, you wouldn’t.” He took out the hip flask again, draining whatever was left into his coffee cup and knocking it back. “Not least of all because I lied about him earlier. Sorry about that, by the way. Still not very good at this sort of thing.”

“No, of course. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“Your dad was a cop too, right? Before he…passed away.”

“Yeah, he was.”

“I remember you telling me. It was about the only thing I got out of you, come to think of it.”

Half a rebellious smile broke through Horacio’s tightly pursed lips. “Yeah, well, I guess I wasn’t very good at this sort of thing either.”

“But you are now?”

“Better than I was. Better now I’m not trying to be him. Now I realise he was as flawed as the rest of us.”

“Yeah, trying to follow in the footsteps of a high-achiever in the family will fuck you up for life. Or so I’ve heard.”

Horacio didn’t know a lot about Jaime but was aware he was 10 years older than Álvaro. From the way Álvaro talked, it was clear how much he hero-worshipped his big brother. And if anyone knew the pitfalls of such high pedestals, it was Horacio.

“Sounds familiar. As much as I’ve always missed him, I was glad he never saw me at my worst.”

“All I wanted was for Jaime to be proud of me, and I think he was.” Álvaro’s eyes lit up, and for the first time during their conversation, the wrinkles of his smile reached them. “But I’m not sure he’d even recognise me if he saw me now.”

“The paradox of grief.”

“What?”

Another smile crept over Horacio’s face. “Just something someone once said to me. Whatever you do, it’ll never feel enough now he’s gone.”

“Never thought of it like that. But it’s not just a dead man I’m letting down. My wife tried so hard with me; she really did. But…the nightmares started. They were always about trying to save Jaime, but I couldn’t. So I drank ‘til I was comatose. Then work got crazy and things spiralled. She didn’t think it was good for me to be around the kids, and well, I can’t argue with that.”

Álvaro unloaded a jumble of words in one fell swoop, catching Horacio off guard as he tried to take it all in. But it wasn’t as though it was unfamiliar territory for him. It wasn’t as though he had no experiences of his own to share, experiences he had only ever opened up to Javier about until now.

“That was my life, for a long time, without the wife and kids, obviously. But the nightmares and the drinking got bad after I...I accidentally killed someone I was sent to rescue.”

“Shit, Horacio. You never said anything when you were – wait a minute – is that why you were here in the first place?”

“Surprisingly, no.” Horacio let out a hollow laugh at the fact the death of Diana Turbay wasn’t his superiors’ red line. “I’m sure it didn’t help my cause, but the final straw came when I led a raid on a nightclub. We took down some high-level sicarios, but a bystander got caught in the crossfire.”

“Fuck. There were so many rumours about you, no one knew what to believe. I heard you took out Escobar’s cousin, but surely they wouldn’t exile a hero.”

“I’m not a fucking hero, Álvaro.”

“Ha! So, it was true.”

Horacio said nothing, his silence giving Álvaro the answer he was looking for.

“You can’t tell me you’re sorry about that.”

“I’m not. And I don’t regret everything I did.” It was the truth. He wasn’t trying to atone for some of those fuckers getting what they deserved. They weren’t why he walked away. “But you know what they say…old sins cast long shadows. These things stay with you, whether you’re the one killing or it’s the people around you being killed.”

“So, what are you saying? That it’s too late for damaged goods like us?” There was a desperate crack in Álvaro’s voice as though he was looking to Horacio to confirm his fears and put him out of his misery once and for all.

“You probably don’t want to hear it right now, but…it doesn’t always have to be like this. It’s not easy, and it takes time, but it can get better.”

“You’re right. I didn’t want to hear that.” Álvaro kept his features neutral until he caught Horacio’s eye and they both laughed, because what else could they do?

“Neither did I, for years. Because it felt impossible. But no amount of punishing yourself will bring him back or change the past.”

“There’s quite a team set up now,” Álvaro continued after a long silence, as though he hadn’t heard a single word Horacio had said. “From your end, our end, the DEA, Interpol, the SVA. You name it, we’ve got fingers in the pie. And there’s always room for more.”

Álvaro looked at Horacio with great expectation, waiting for an answer to an unspoken question until he could wait no more. “Horacio, you know what it’s like more than most dealing with these people. And you remember how it was last time. Couldn’t so much as talk about the weather without it getting back to someone up there.”

That much was true. The situation in Galicia was eerily reminiscent of Medellín. Homegrown police taking bribes left, right and centre and passing on intel to the trafficking clans. Politicians’ and judges’ integrity in tatters because they, too, turned a blind eye. The Colombian cartels made Galicia their gateway into Europe. And their success was thanks to the layer upon layer of corruption that was allowed to exist.

“No.”

“Come on, at least think about it. There’d be none of that pen-pushing bullshit this time. You could be out in the field again, it’d be just like the old days back in—”

“Álvaro, I said no.” Horacio didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to with how his steely glare and steadfast jaw framed his face. “I’m done with it for good. End of story.”

Álvaro raised his arms in surrender, his second cigarette of their meeting now burning between his fingers. “Alright, alright, I get the message. Can’t blame me for asking now I know you’re back.” He raised the cigarette to his lips, regarding Horacio with increasing intrigue through the wisps of smoke hanging between them. “So, who is it, then?”

“What?”

“Whoever’s convinced you to quit and move here. Must be serious. And don’t lie because I know there’s someone.”

“Your interrogation skills need more work, Molina. And on that note, I better be going. You’re making me late for an appointment.”

“Nice deflection there, Carrillo. I’m just saying; they must be the love of your fucking life to give it all up.”

There was a scrape of metal against the floor as Horacio rose from his chair, not dignifying Álvaro’s prying with a response, even though it was the naked truth.

“Alright, fine, fine! I can take a hint. I’ll keep my mouth shut from now on.” Álvaro brought a hand to his lips, ‘zipping’ them closed with his thumb and forefinger.

Horacio sat back down with a roll of his eyes. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it. Good for you, in fact. It’s hard enough to find someone like that in the first place, but to hold onto them and make it work? Nothing short of a fucking miracle. But you know where I am if you ever change your mind.”

“Thanks, but I won’t.”

“Thought you might say that.”

“If you ever change your mind, please think about what I said. You can’t run away from this. No matter how much you bury your head in your job. It doesn’t work like that.”

“I can’t make any promises, Horacio. You know how it is.”

Of course, he knew; that was precisely why he was saying it in the first place. But he also knew there was no point pushing it any further. “It was good to see you, Álvaro. And I am sorry about Jaime.”

“Me too. And er, thanks. For listening and everything. I really appreciate it. Although, I gotta ask, when did you get so fucking wise?”

Horacio laughed, assured there was no malice in Álvaro’s teasing, and because he had apparently accomplished what he was expecting to wait years, if not decades to do. “I’m afraid I can’t take all the credit.”

“Should’ve known. Good to see you, Horacio. Don’t leave it so long next time. And I hate to say it, but retirement already suits you.”

“Thanks, I think. Take care of yourself.”

They stood up from the table, deposited their empty cups in a nearby bin and walked back to the entrance that took them onto the main road.

After shaking hands, they went their separate ways, Horacio in one direction and Álvaro in the opposite.

It wasn’t long ago that Horacio lamented turning his back on the CNP. But as he broke into a run to mitigate his uncharacteristic lateness, he caught glimpses of familiar church spires towering over every other building. They had been a comforting backdrop to his guilt and shame, and whilst he would always carry them around for certain deeds, it wasn’t a place he ever wanted to revisit. And the next time his lapel pins found themselves between his fingers, or Trujillo still called him Colonel out of habit, he would be reminded it was okay to miss something but never want it back.

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

Javier sat stiffly on Señora Romero’s floral sofa, clenching and unclenching his fists to distract himself from the creeping sense of embarrassment setting in.

Señora Romero joined him in the neighbouring chair, a tray of lemonade and a selection of pastries from downstairs placed between them on the table.

“Have you eaten anything this morning, dear?”

“Not really, no.”

“Well, that won’t do. Here, take some. Don’t be shy.” She practically shoved the plate at Javier, stopping short of placing one of the pastries in his mouth.

“Thanks. And sorry, I don’t know where that came from.”

“From what Horacio told me, I’d say it’s understandable. For both of you.” Señora Romero gave the tall jug of lemonade a final stir, then poured it into two ice-filled tumblers, handing one to Javier and settling back in her chair.

Javier thanked her as he accepted a glass, wasting no time quenching his dry mouth.

“And it’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” Señora Romero continued. “My country went from the Civil War to Franco for over three decades. Not to mention the violence in the Basque region, and the bombings here, of course. People don’t like to talk about it much, but the scars are still as plain as day.”

Javier wasn’t exactly an expert in Spanish history, but he knew the basics. And hearing them listed together suddenly made his experiences seem tame by comparison. Not that he thought for a second that was Señora Romero’s intention, but it gave him a large dose of perspective.

“I never talked to anyone before Horacio, to be honest. Same for him with me, but it took me longer to get there.”

“My husband rarely told me what he’d seen and done in the war. He thought I wouldn’t understand, and maybe I didn’t. Maybe I couldn’t. But we survived the same storm in the end, even though we were sometimes in different boats.”

“It was a while ‘til we were in the same boat. Even now, sometimes we’re not,” Javier said as his mind drifted with a smile to their conflicting views and priorities over the years.

In theory, it shouldn’t have gone the way it did. They may have shared the same broad goal in Colombia, but they came at it from different angles. They weren’t supposed to trust and understand each other more than anyone else. They weren’t supposed to walk away from their all-consuming careers for each other, and they certainly weren’t supposed to fall in love. But life had a funny way of working out.

As for their current situation, they were dealing with things in their own way and in their own time. It was never going to be something they could coordinate. But even so, it frustrated Javier when he spiralled seemingly out of nowhere. Except, was it really out of nowhere? It was all a blur now.

“In my experience, sometimes you can’t be,” Señora Romero said. “And sometimes, you won’t want to be. Sometimes, you float alongside each other in your own boats. And sometimes, it’s good enough just to sail in the same direction at different paces.”

“He’s never late. And I guess it’s force of habit to assume the worst.” Javier wasn’t expecting to say that, but it was like someone had just removed their foot from his chest. It was an admission to himself as much as Señora Romero, confirmation that it hadn’t been out of nowhere at all.

Señora Romero merely nodded, giving Javier the space to continue if he wanted to.

“On the night of the ambush, Steve – my partner – and I weren’t supposed to be there. I’m not sure we were ever supposed to be in Colombia, to be honest.”

Javier stopped to let out a sceptical sneer as snippets of his encounters with Stechner replayed in his head. For all he knew, Stechner could have orchestrated his entire career, manoeuvring him around like a pawn on a chessboard.

“But we disobeyed orders and followed Horacio anyway. And then we, er…we heard gunfire and screaming over the radio. It was the longest car journey of my life.” He took another sip of his drink and a deep breath, determined to finish now he’d started. “It was the same at the hospital and after the bombing here. Always waiting, but never knowing where he was or if he was okay.”

“Oh, Javier, my dear, it makes complete sense you would think the worst. I would be the same in your shoes. But you have to remember, he’s a civilian now. He’s not a target anymore. The ETA bombings here have been directed at the Spanish authorities.”

Señora Romero leaned forwards until her hand met Javier’s. Shades of chestnut connected with cinnamon again as he squeezed as a gesture of thanks. Neither appeared fazed by this being their first meeting, perhaps finding it easier because they simultaneously didn’t know much about each other but enough to no longer be strangers.

“And for what it’s worth,” she continued, “regardless of the rights or wrongs of your government’s involvement in foreign affairs, it seems you were exactly where you were supposed to be that night.”

Touché. He couldn’t argue with that, the irony apparent of Steve previously framing Javier’s need to follow Horacio as a warning rather than a calling.

“I may have only just met you, Javier, but I know what you did for Horacio that night was a brave act of love. Wanting to help is an honourable trait, don’t ever forget that. But you might find you’re not worrying yourself sick so much once you’re focused on helping others again. And someone out there will always need it, wherever life takes you next.”

Javier scoffed before gulping down the rest of his lemonade. “I think that’s the problem.”

Señora Romero’s hosting instincts kicked in as she re-filled Javier’s glass.

“Thanks. Horacio got out a year before me and settled in working on my Pop’s ranch. Way more than I ever did.” Javier cringed at some of the memories of him in his pre-police days attempting various jobs that Horacio took to like a duck to water, whereas he had floundered.

“Is that what he wants to do?”

“I think so. Which is great; he’s a natural. It suits him.”

“But you don’t know what’s next for you?”

“Not a clue.” Not a fucking clue was more accurate, but he caught himself just in time.

“Do you need to have it figured out yet?”

“Well, no, not yet. We’re okay financially for now. But I know it can’t last forever.”

“There’s plenty of time between now and forever, Javier.” Señora Romero lowered her voice as though she was letting him in on a coveted secret. “At your age, anyway. Less so at mine, but I take each day as it comes.”

“What’s that like?”

“There are good days and bad days. And bad weeks, months and years, come to think of it. Days when my body doesn’t do what my mind tells it to do. Days when my mind is frail, and my heart is sore. But on other days, I’ll spend time with the family. Or my piononos will come out better than they did last time. Or I’ll make new friends in unusual circumstances.” She winked in Javier’s direction. “I think the bad days are just part of life’s rich tapestry. Especially where healing wounds are concerned.”

Occasional reminders of the past – or bad days – scattered amongst the simple pleasures sounded suspiciously like their time in Madrid so far. But maybe that was okay. Maybe, that was part of the process of moving on with their lives. Maybe, progress was supposed to be subtle and non-linear, almost imperceptible unless you knew what you were looking for.

No sooner had Javier got his head around that prospect than there was a knock at the door followed by a heartfelt apology, given and accepted with a look as much as words.

Of course, Señora Romero had been right, and there was no life-or-death emergency to attend to. But any embarrassment on Javier’s part was overridden by the relief his fears were unfounded, and he would gladly take an anxious mind rather than the alternative.

Pulses returned to baseline as the trio talked, albeit Horacio’s for a different reason than Javier's.

Whilst Madrid wasn’t Laredo, they couldn’t take acceptance for granted wherever they were. But as they returned downstairs, where Señora Romero removed the ‘Reserved’ sign from their corner table and offered them yet another breakfast on the house, a weight lifted from Horacio’s shoulders. Because the first real friend he made here had welcomed him and Javier into her home and business with open arms.

[callsignbaphomet]

Warm & Cozy Asks

Loke (Oracle version)

Do they get cold easily?

Nope. Just puts on a hoodie and he's out the door.

How do they warm up when cold?

If he thinks it's gonna get freakishly cold he bundles up as much as he can. Will drink his weight in coffee.

Do they wear jumpers (sweaters)? If so do they fit perfectly or are they baggy?

Absolutely not. He's more of a hoodies type of person.

Do they have a favourite hot drink? Tea? Coffee? Hot chocolate? Hot cider? If so, how do they take it?

Yeah, coffee. Black, two sugars, and cream. Loves hot chocolate. He didn't drink tea until he met Uthorim and he started to actually drink it. He prefers if the tea is sweetened. Even then it's a once in a while thing. If he could he'd shot coffee directly into his veins lol.

It's cold and wet outside, your OC has just come in the front door. What do they do to get warm?

Steaming hot shower. Like hot enough to turn the damn bathroom into a sauna kind of hot. This is assuming he's in his own apartment or any of his friends's or family. If not he'll just grin and put up with it till he can shower.

What's your OC's idea of a cozy night in?

Him and Uthorim snuggling up to each other on the sofa, snacks at the ready, Lyn (Loke's GSD) curled up next to them and watching a movie.

Does your OC have a particular trick to get them asleep at night?

Just puts his head on the pillow. That's it. The second he says he's going to sleep it's done, he's going to sleep.

Does your OC wear pyjamas to bed? Do they have a favourite set?

Just a t-shirt. That's it. Just a t-shirt. An old worn out Hellfest shirt he got when he, Jelani, Trevor, Angelus, Abigail, Ginger, Varg, Thor and some others went a few years ago. It has a small patched up hole where he got shot. Woohoo, 13 weeks with a shattered collarbone.

What side of the bed does your OC sleep on? Why is that?

He doesn't care, he'll sleep in whatever side he can get.

Does your OC nap easily?

More than a lazy ol' Basset Hound.

Does your OC enjoy a cuddle?

Yes! He loves to cuddle! He'll cuddle up to anyone willing to let him. Especially when he's sick. Extra especially if he's feeling some type of way, when he's like that he cuddles up a lot to the person he wants to fuck/get fucked by.

Does your OC enjoy a particular gesture of affection? Does it calm them?

Cuddling is one. Hugging will melt him. His very favorite is kissing though. He could be absolutely devastated, pissed the fuck off or scared out of his mind but if Uthorim gently grabs him and kisses him that guarantees he'll calm down.

There's another gesture but it's one shared by him and Jelani. They've been doing it since for-fucking-ever. If Loke or Jelani are feeling off, either depressed or scared or sometimes angry being reason they'll grab onto each other's shirt, jacket or sleeve. They don't even have to say anything to each other, they'll just know something's off and without words or even looking at each other the other will grab the other one's hand until the one grabbing on is ready to talk.

What makes your OC feel safe and secure?

Glossing over the separation anxiety he has that's only comforted and at ease as long as Jelani is close by and feels safe with him around or at the very least being able to talk to him (phone or chat). Hugs actually make him feel safe and secure. Hell, Uthorim's presence alone makes him feel at ease, comfy and secure.

What are some of your OC's comfort foods?

Grilled cheese sandwich or sweets and candy.

How much does your OC wrap up when they go outside? Hat, scarf, gloves and multi-layers or is the cold anything to them?

If we're talking freakishly cold temperatures he'll use scarves, gloves and heavy coats.

How light of a sleeper is your OC?

He's not. At all. He has 10 alarms and he won't hear the first 5 alarms. A grenade could go off in his room and he won't hear that. You literally have to shake him awake.

Can they fall asleep anywhere? Or are do they need an optimum condition to sleep in?

Loke can and will sleep anywhere and through anything. When that guy says he's going to sleep he means that shit. Weather, situation, place--doesn't matter, he's going to sleep.

What does a lazy morning consist of?

Bold of you to assume he gets up in the morning. Unless he has to he ain't waking up any earlier than 12:30. Mornings? lol no. But if he has to get up in the morning he moves at a snail's pace to get out of the bed, brushes teeth and showers, drinks coffee, gets dressed, makes breakfast for him and Uthorim or anyone else that came over in the morning, gets his pets their meals, eats breakfast and drinks more coffee, takes the dog out, comes back and drinks more coffee and then heads out to do whatever he has to do while internally cussing out society for functioning before 1:00 pm.

Does your OC prefer early nights or late mornings?

Late morning and by late mornings I mean early afternoon.

Do they hog the blankets?

No. He doesn't move around much when sleeping. In fact, he tends to scare people. Anyone that's shared a bed with him tends to freak out 'cause he barely moves, doesn't make a sound and is such a heavy sleeper that nothing wakes him up unless you shake him. Once he goes to sleep he cuddles up to whoever he's sleeping with and kinda doesn't really move much after that.

Does your OC have a favourite pillow? A favourite duvet set? A favourite cuddling toy? Blanket?

There's a sable fox stuffie his grandparents got him some years ago and Angelus and Ginger put a calming enchantment on it. If he's not feeling right he'll hold on to it and cuddle it. Enchantment activates with a squeeze and lasts for a while.

How would they solve the one bed and two people scenario? Could they share a bed?

IF the other person says they don't mind sharing a bed he'll share. If the other person isn't comfortable or is sick or injured he'll be okay with sleeping on a chair or sofa, hell, even the floor as long as he has a pillow. Most often though he'll offer the other person the bed.

Does your character have a favourite place to chill?

His brother's apartment. To be fair that's sorta where everyone kinda meets up but yeah, he likes to hang out with him there.

Where does your OC sit of there's not enough chairs at a gathering?

He'll take the floor, he doesn't really care. Or Uthorim's lap.

What's something your OC does to wind down after a long day?

Depends on how tired he is. If he's not too tired he'll shower and if he has nothing else he needs to do he'll spend a few hours playing video games. If he's too tired and Uthorim isn't home yet he'll shower and lay down on the sofa flipping between Twitch and YouTube. If Uthorim's home he'll shower, find his husband and cuddle up to him for as long as Uthorim can stand it.

Is your OC the one who receives the jacket or gives the jacket in their relationship?

Gives the jacket but let's be real Uthorim also gives the jacket even though Loke is super at ease with the cold. Both are caregivers so they tend to cancel each other out but Loke is gonna keep insisting if he sees Uthorim is cold. Please, the man was born and bred in a subarctic part of Norway. He didn't know what heat was until he was nearing his 50s.

Does your OC get any winter illnesses? If so, how badly do they get ill?

Not really, berserkers can get sick but he's mostly accompanied by non-humans who can't actually get sick and the few humans and other non-humans that can get sick all get vaccinated as well as him. But when he does get sick he gets hit with whatever is ailing him pretty hard.

Your OC has the sniffles. How do they handle it?

Anything that compromises the lungs will royally fuck him up because of the asthma. He doesn't handle fevers well, they fuck him up as well to the point of not being able to keep any solids down at all. He's super on point with meds and drinks twice as much water and get very, very needy.

Your OC has a sick day off. How do they spend it?

In bed. He doesn't go anywhere unless it's an emergency or to grab more snacks if he doesn't have a fever. He'll spend the entire day watching movies and sleeping.

Does your OC play with the thermostat/heating constantly or are they rigid about it's use?

Depends on the weather/season. If it's winter and really cold he'll keep it comfortably warm but not too hot. If it's 80 or above outside that thermostat is staying between 66 and 70 and gods help you if you dare to touch that thermostat.

[canyouimaginethatstory]

Wrongfully Accused Part 14 (Lucifer X Reader)

PART 1: Here  PART 2: Here PART 3: Here PART 4: Here PART 5: Here PART 6: Here PART 7: Here PART 8: Here PART 9: Here PART 10: Here PART 11: Here  PART 12: Here  PART 13: Here  PART 15: Here

Things went smoothly for the next two months. You and Lucifer were happy. He passed every random drug test and visit Billie threw at him. Lucifer got his license renewed. As you predicted Bobby did end up liking him enough to give him his own car to keep and fix up. An old 1985 black Porsche. That's how you knew Bobby considered him a hard worker. He only gave the really good old cars to the employees who did the best and most work. Jessica and Sam were getting more anxious as Jessica just entered her eighth month mark. You were standing in your kitchen. Today was the day you were finally gonna tell your brothers about you and Lucifer. You were especially worried about how Dean would react. You know your oldest brother. It was more than likely not gonna end well. You grabbed a ginger ale from the fridge as Lucifer walked out of the bathroom ready for work. Your stomach always acted up when you were nervous. "You sure you wanna do this?" he asked as he walked over and gently rubbed your back.

"It's time they knew," you told him, "especially if we decide to go to your dad's book thing,". He nodded

"Ok, well call me if you need me," he said kissing your forehead "Bobby will let me go early if he knows you're upset,". You grabbed your bag and keys. Bobby was the only one who knew you were together and though he didn't like it he promised to keep it between you three.

"Have a good day my sexy mechanic," you said giving him a kiss. He softly patted your butt as you left. You got settled in your car and tried to calm your nerves. You hated feeling so nervous. "I can do this" you chanted to yourself as you headed off to the restaurant you decided to meet your brothers at. You decided on a public place so hopefully, your brothers wouldn't make a scene. You pulled up to the restaurant and cut off your engine. "You can do this," you told yourself again. You grabbed your bag and threw your keys in it before getting out of the car. You scanned the parking lot and spotted Dean's Impala so you knew they were already here. You walked in and up to the hostess.

"Can I help you?" she asked

"Yes, I'm looking for a table under the name of Winchester?" you told her.

"Yes, right over here," she said walking you to a corner booth where your brothers waited. She handed you a menu and went back to her podium.

"Hey Y/N," Dean said getting up and hugging you.

"Hey little one," Sam greeted pulling out your chair for you.

"Hey guys," you said sitting down, "have you ordered yet?".

"Not yet," Dean said, "what's this news?". You wanted to tell them but not too soon.

"Later," you told him, "let's just talk for a bit,". So you and your brothers enjoyed your lunch and talked. You listened intently as Dean bragged about taking down a killer who proudly called himself Hitler So now Dean goes around saying he killed Hitler. Which is completely something his goofball self would say. Sam went on about his worries over being a dad soon. You knew he could do it.

"Come on Y/N, we've finished eating," Dean said, "tell us what you need to tell us,". You took a calming breath as your stomach started to feel queasy again.

"Ok, but before I do I want you two to remember I am a smart woman and I am fully grown got it?" you asked and they nodded. "Sam you remember that pin pal project you started for your law class?" you asked. He nodded. "well one of the guys caught my eye," you admitted.

"Y/N did you enter the program?" Sam asked.

"Not exactly," you said.

"What does that mean?" Dean asked confused.

"I snuck a file out of the folder," you admitted, "the guy just caught my attention and we started writing each other and now we're in love,".

"Y/N most of these guys could be dangerous" Sam pointed out.

"He's not," you said.

"Who is he?" Sam asked. This was the moment you knew they'd freak out, but like you told Lucifer you were tired of hiding him. You looked your brother straight in the eye and confidently answered.

"Lucifer Shurley," you said.

"No, absolutely not Y/N," Dean said.

"Dean you are not dad," you pointed out, "and we've been dating for a while and it's been the best relationship I've ever had,".

"He's a criminal Y/N!" Dean said raising his voice causing people to look over at your table. You didn't care.

"No he's not," you said, "He was accused wrongly of a crime,".

"Oh come on Y/N," Dean argued, "did you really fall for whatever sob story he sold you?".

"It's not a sob story!" you spoke a little louder than you meant to, "Lucifer's story has never not once changed Dean,".

"He ripped his own father off Y/N," he pointed out, "stole from his own parent,".

"Oh please Dean," you said, "everyone knows how shady Father Shurley is,".

"He's always done the best for the town," Dean pointed out.

"No Dean he kisses up to the biggest names to keep funding for his lame ass books," you corrected.

"His books aren't that bad," Dean said.

"Seriously Dean?" you asked raising your eyebrow, "have you even read any of them?"

"Well, no," he said, "but people talk about them all the time,".

"Yeah and do the stories sound at all familiar?" you asked.

"What?" he asked confused.

"Like his novel A Fated Hunt. It's literally about dad accidentally killing Jo's dad during a deer hunt,". you pointed out, "and how her mom never fully got over it,".   "So he wrote a story matching a real life event doesn't mean anything," Dean said.

"Or the story of Sam's tiny drug use in college," he asked, "which he cheesily titled Demon Blood,".

"I guess that was bad," he agreed.

"And what about his book about you?" you asked.

"Me?" he asked back confused.

"Heart Throb," you said, "he talked about how you were the lady's man of the high school and how you had that daddy scare with Lisa Brady,".

"Oh yeah, I still don't see how he knew about Ben," he admitted.

"He probably paid Lisa to tell him," you pointed out.

"Look it doesn't matter," he said standing up, "he isn't good enough for you Y/N".

"He is beyond good for me Dean!" you said getting up, "You don't have to like it Dean. But you will not big brother your way into breaking us up and you will not tell me who I can and can not date! I love him and he loves me," you grabbed your stuff and hurried out of the restaurant. Dean started to head after you but Sam stopped him.

"Dean, she's right," Sam said, "it's her life,".

"He's an ex con Sam!" he argued.

"I know and yeah I'm worried too, but she's not a little girl anymore,".

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[desos-records]

Chapter 13: They Help Keep You Sane

First | Prev / Next

Ghost possession doesn't happen often, but fatality rates are high. Even if an agent does survive, there are the aftereffects to worry about.

After surviving a possession, Lucy Carlyle struggles with recovery, delving ever deeper into the memories of Visitors and, in the process, stumbling into the world of blackmarket Sources.

Meanwhile, George Karim races to learn the truth behind ghost possession in order to protect Lucy and save future agents.

And Anthony Lockwood must face his own past with the London underworld if he wants to save his friends and himself.

-

In George's professional opinion, they were going to die in this house. Not that Lockwood would listen to him, paying little heed to his research or the simple facts of the matter—like the dozens of confirmed deaths and potential hauntings waiting for them inside Combe Carey. And those were just the ones they knew about. Clients asking for discretion, in his experience, had a nasty habit of practicing that discretion on unsuspecting agents.

A fact that particularly worried him since they now suspected John Fairfax was connected to the death of Annabel Ward.

"Even if he knew Annabel," Lockwood had said the night before, pacing the length of the kitchen. "And we don't know for sure that he did. What reason would he have to kill her?"

"The man who killed her was jealous," Lucy said. She stared down at George's research spread about the table, her tea growing cold. "Everyone thought she was involved with Hugo Blake, maybe that did it."

"That doesn't prove it was him."

George picked up the cufflink. "These initials say J.W.F. As in John William Fairfax. And think of the timing. We were investigating Annabel, very publically—"

Lockwood winced.

"And suddenly one of the richest men in London wants us to clear a mansion haunted six ways from Sunday? Come on, Lockwood. This is a death trap."

He stopped pacing and grabbed a ginger beer from the fridge instead. He stared at the floor as he cracked it open, took a swig, and sighed. Then he looked up, expression dark and determined, ready for a fight.

"What are we going to do about it then?" he said evenly. "This isn't enough evidence for DEPRAC to arrest him. And if we suddenly back out from this job, he'll be suspicious. He'll just come after us another way."

Lucy shrugged. "Then we take the job, gather more evidence, and then go to DEPRAC."

George tugged his glasses off and cleaned them roughly on the edge of his shirt. "You are both mad," he said.

And now, the next day, standing in front of Combe Carey Hall, cold wind nudging him forward, he knew he was mad too for going along with them.

He worried the most about Lucy. She was clearly still connected to Annabel, and as helpful as that connection had been for their investigation, who could say how far the ghost's influence reached. She seemed distant and nervous as they went inside, pausing in the doorway as no agent in their right mind ever would. She said nothing of it, but he couldn't shake the sense that something was wrong.

And a good agent trusted their senses.

"Doesn't look very red."

Every nerve ending vibrated under George's skin as they entered the Red Room, only worsening when he touched one of the walls. Sometimes he hated that his strength mainly lied in Touch, making it easy to identify Sources and the emotions trapped inside them, but little else. He often felt useless in comparison to Lucy and Lockwood's Talents—how he lacked all the gory details of death. Instead, George felt needles digging into his skin, chills at the back of his neck, and the overwhelming sense that something stood just behind him, out of sight. 

A lot of people had died gruesomely in this room, he didn't need to See or Hear anything to know that. Still, he couldn't help feeling annoyed that his Sense provided no more specifics beyond the horror threatening to choke him.

He was grateful, just then, for Lockwood's brash confidence and near-unfailing ability to pull them all together, away from fear. He kept them focused, grounded, the chief of their little triumvirate. They laid chains and took measurements and waited, steeling their nerves.

Then, any doubt that Fairfax had no ulterior motive died when the door slammed shut and locked behind them. Fear tried to turn him to rock, but George hadn't once worked at Fittes for nothing—he pushed through the sharp panic and malaise and set about searching for a way out, all the while keeping one eye on the temperature.

"Stop that tapping."

It soon became very clear how the Red Room got its name as thick waves of blood slid down the walls, dripping from the chandelier—its crystals now glowing red—pooling onto the floor and creeping towards them. He suddenly felt like he was drowning, blood filling his lungs. It could not truly be blood. It had to be plasm.

But Lucy was right, the cloying metallic smell of fresh blood nearly suffocated him.

Then suddenly, they broke through the wall into the older, built-over layer of the house and slammed the iron door shut behind them, heaving air in and out of their lungs as they tried to get their bearings.

"Believe me… about Fairfax… now?" George huffed.

Lockwood stood bent over, hands on his knees. "Yes, yes, you were right," he said, sounding far more put together than he looked, as covered in gypsum dust as he was. He looked up, flashed a grin. "Happy now?"

"No," George said. "Not until we get out of here and I've had a doughnut and at least three cups of tea."

"Lucy?"

She stood, leaning against the stone wall of the little tunnel they found themselves in, eyes glazed over.

"I can't… breathe," she said faintly. He half expected her ribs to crack for the force of her breathing.

"It's alright, Luce. We're going to find a way out of here," Lockwood said and reached to lay a hand on her shoulder.

She flinched away from him, staring wide and unfocused, hand going to her neck. Lockwood looked hurt and surprised, like she'd slapped him.

"Lucy," George managed, coughing a little. "Can you tell me where you are?"

Her head snapped around to find him. "I…" She faltered, then seemed to rally something inside herself. "Combe Carey… Combe Carey Hall."

"And who are you with? What are our names?"

"George…" She took an even breath, less frantic than before. "George Karim. Anthony Lockwood."

"Do you know who you are?"

Then her eyes cleared, light returning to her. She met his gaze steadily.

"I'm Lucy Carlyle."

"Too right." George took his glasses off and did what he could to clear the dust from the lenses.

A corner of her mouth lifted in the theory of a smile and she nodded to him, which he took as thanks, then she pushed off the wall and led the way through the spiderwebs, down the tunnel.

As they followed her, Lockwood bent his head towards George and quietly asked, "How'd you know to do that?"

"In the interviews with possession survivors, they all talked about how their teammates pulled them out of the Visitor's grip. For every case, they had strong bonds with their teams, agents who'd worked together for years, siblings, or partners. See, it wasn't chance or Talent that saved them from the dead." He leveled a firm look at Lockwood, glasses glinting in the dim light of their torches. "It was their connection to the living."

"And those questions…"

George shrugged. "She's a Listener, isn't she? She needs something real to listen to."

Lockwood didn't exactly scowl, but his face drew itself in close as he looked at something George couldn't see, something inside himself.

"Right. Of course. Something real," he muttered.

[barelyconventional]

Welcome to my Kinkblr!

Kinks You'll Find Here:

Stuffing

Stomachaches

Belly rubs

Tummy noises

Burping

Liquid bloats

Soft feedism

Mild weight gain/fat admiration

Kinks You Won't Find Here:

Scat/Eprocto

Pregnancy/Breeding

Nonconsensual force feeding

My Writing

I cycle sporadically between various WIPs, mostly about original characters. On the happy occasion I actually finish a story, I usually post it to my Pillowfort and AO3 and share links here.

Speaking of Pillowfort…

I can't recommend Pillowfort.social enough if you're in the market for an independent, user-funded, NSFW-welcoming social media site. They just came out with a rolling wait list a la AO3, but if you don't wanna wait, you can send me an ask off anon or message me for an account key. 🗝️

My Sideblogs

t-kiss is my sideblog project for tummy kink self-ship; check it out if that's your jam and maybe submit something for you and your F/Os!

unconventionalselfships is my personal t-kiss blog for gushing about my obscure F/Os.

unconventionalafterdark is where I put steamier content and real-life kink. (Basically it's a catch-all for anything that feels like "too much" for my main blog. 😅)

Current Projects (indexes coming soon!)

Whiskey And Ice Cream/WAIC: An ongoing series of self-indulgent stories centered around charming sugar daddy feeder Dustin, his adorable sugar baby-turned-boyfriend feedee Adam, and their glamorous feeder FWB Angel.

A Meeting of Minds/AMOM (WIP): A plotty kink series exploring my original urban fantasy universe and the queerplatonic found family that inhabits it. If you like the fantastic stories by @ginger-and-mint and @tiny-loves-rubs then this will be right up your alley.

The Tummy Date, aka Dirk & Vanessa (WIP): An experimental story of intentional kink that started out as a love letter to my favorite fic of the same name on StomachacheCafe (may it rest in peace). I love the OCs that came from it enough that I'll probably end up writing more for them. Set in the same universe as WAIC.

Wild Mountain Honey (WIP): More self-indulgent goodness centered around a bear shifter named Orson, the small mountain town he calls home, and his love interest Jia, a burnt out big city lawyer who's inexplicably attracted to Orson's big appetite. This is still in its early development stages, but the eventual goal is more or less kinky supernatural romance meets Hallmark movie. Set in the same universe as AMOM.

Kinky Blorbo Micro Manifestos

Ask me about any of these if you want exuberant infodumps and hyperspecific headcanons. Pretty much all of these have at least one back-burner plot bunny attached to them.

John Pope and Sara from Falling Skies: Pope is my blorbo to end all blorbos, the bright star on my horizon, my #1 t-kiss F/O. Sara is his kick-ass girlfriend, one of my favorite female characters ever, and someone I'm working up the courage to also make my t-kiss F/O. He's a trigger-happy berserker who's also a chef and eats more times on-camera than anyone else on the show, she's a plucky former graphic designer who asked him for Pringles at gunpoint—need I say more?

Nick Burkhardt and Sean Renard from Grimm (TV): The stars of the first kinky fanfic I ever felt brave enough to actually post online (which I will continue Someday™). I low-key ship them and Adalind in a kinky OT3. Sean x Cheesecake 4ever (based on an outtake that would've been memed in a larger fandom).

Pete Latimer and Myka Bering from Warehouse 13: This show is best known for its amazing and tragically non-canon femslash ship, Bering and Wells, but y'all, we are sleeping on Pete. He had as much kinky canon material (proportionally at least) as a certain gruff-voiced monster-hunter, right down to a signature favorite dessert, and he may have his flaws but his masculinity is a hell of a lot healthier overall. Meanwhile, Myka is a canonical stress eater with a canonical sweet tooth and a canonical best friend/partner (Pete) who's always trying to get her to relax. Pyka was queerplatonic and I will die on that hill.

Batman/Bruce Wayne and Catwoman/Selina Kyle from Batman: The Animated Series: I've had a long-time crush on TAS Batman, and tummying him is the inevitable result of that. It's practically canon that BatCat is some flavor of kinky, so Selina talking Bruce into self-care via feedism doesn't seem like much of a stretch to me. I'm also 100% down for kinky WonderBat and/or WonderBatCat.

The Leverage OT3 (Eliot Spencer, Alec Hardison, and Parker): I'm still working my way past season one, but I have already made it my life's sidequest to believably tummy these three in various ways. Eliot's a hobbyist chef in desperate need of R&R, Hardison's hacker snacking provides endless windows of opportunity, and Parker has a major sweet tooth and zero inhibitions.

Flip from Slumberland (2022): Y'all. Y'all. I am feral over this man. A goofy outlaw and reluctant father played by Jason Momoa with fangs and a clingy T-shirt who carries snacks in his pockets and spends half the movie touching his belly is illegally tailored to my interests. Also the movie was hilarious and adorable and gave me feels and you should watch it. 

[silvaswiftcast]

FFxivWrite2023 Prompt #13: Check

Characters: Silva Cataracta, Ricmorn Cataracta, and Hien Rijin

Rating: Explicit

Notes: Words contained in [brackets] are in another language, in this case, it's Doman.

Content Warnings/Additional Tags: Polyamory Relationship (V Relationship), M/F/M relationship, Kissing, Nudity, Biting/Marking, Groping, Suggestive/Sexual Themes, Foreplay, Praise Kink, Hair Pulling/Tugging, Dom/Sub Tones, Light Bondage, Vaginal Fingering, Leading up to Sex, Threesome.

Dark. Everything was dark. Wait, no— That wasn’t right, and Silva knew that.

What word was she looking for?

Hazy. That’s the word she was looking for. 

Everything around her was hazy through her half-lidded eyes, almost as if fog blanketed the bedroom, but it was just her brain playing tricks on her. Black shadows danced on the cream-colored walls from lit candles scattered about. She could make out some of the objects they belonged to in her daze. Books, shelves lined with knick-knacks, and decorative dividers the owner used to separate the more intimate parts of the room from the rest.

And the figures of the two men looming over her, whispering sweet praises of how good she was being for them. Their heartfelt words never failed to make her heart flutter as they washed over her.

The soft warm orange-gold glow the tall sticks of wax gave off heightened the faint mist clinging to the air. Even though the candles were away from the bed and the smooth silk sheets she laid on, the Au Ra could have sworn she felt the heat they gave off. But perhaps that was the heat of desire rushing through her veins — painting her light blue-gray skin a pretty shade of lilac.

Because she felt warm everywhere, burning even from the inside out. By the gods and kami, it felt amazing.

“Breathe for us, Silv,” someone murmured beside her ivory horn. A quiet whimper escaped her lips when they trailed their fingers against the flat edge of it, wanting them to do it again. Wanting to feel how the tender touch made sparks of levin jump along her frayed nerves. “It won’t do us any good should you faint before the real fun begins because that pretty head of yours is elsewhere.”

Silva listened, taking a deep breath of air. Scents of fresh lavender, lemongrass, and cedar filled her senses, followed by hints of bright citrus, ginger, and sandalwood. Aromas belonging to each of her lovers, respectively. But were the smells coming from them, the candles, or the oil they rubbed into her skin and scales? Or a combination of all three?

It didn’t matter. They were scents she loved and drove her wild in moments like this.

The sound of pleased hums at her shaky exhale bounced around in her horns. Her eyes flicked toward the source of the closest one, vibrant sea-green pools melting into bright blue ones. Ricmorn gave her a blinding smile full of white teeth and fangs, and she felt her heart stop for a moment.

“Again,” he teased.

She took another long breath as he suggested, feeling her lungs expand as her chest rose and fell. A low growl of approval rumbled in his throat, and the deep noise went straight to her core.

Gods—

His face hovered over hers, and the raw look of want in his gaze threatened to drown her. “Good girl,” he whispered against her lips.

She whined at the praise, her long tail swishing against the silk sheets. “Ricmorn—”

Whatever else Silva wanted to say after her husband’s name died on her tongue the second his mouth found hers, hot and hungry. His beige-scaled tail wrapped around her long ivory one. She was more than happy to surrender herself to his fervent kisses. For their lips to meld over and over until it wasn’t enough, and he needed to have the taste of her on his tongue — to steal the air from her lungs himself. 

He always did.

It wasn’t long before he became greedy. She parted her lips for him at the faintest swipe of his tongue, moaning into his mouth when the wet, malleable muscle found hers to tangle and dance with. One of his hands tenderly cupped her face, tilting her head more in his direction. The other large palm sought her short purple and magenta waves. Another groan escaped the Auri woman when his digits weaved into the soft strands. 

How unfair. She wanted to bury her fingers in his snow-white hair. To graze the tips of them against the rough scales along his jawline and his forward-curved horns. Or even better, reach behind and wrap a hand around his weeping cock, wanting to hear how he would growl and moan with desire as she pumped him. 

But her hands were bound behind her back with midnight blue silk ropes. A blessing and a curse, she quickly realized. She didn’t regret it, though.

So deep, long, wet kisses would have to do for now. She knew if she tried to pull away from Ricmorn too soon, he would tug on the strands to keep her in place until he had his fill of her. The thought alone was almost enough to make her squeeze her thighs together as liquid pleasure simmered in her lower belly — almost.

The other man in the room wouldn’t let her keep her legs closed for too long.

Silva was vaguely aware of another set of strong hands roaming over her nude body, leaving no patch of oil-slick skin and scale untouched, as Ricmorn continued to kiss her. They grazed along her sides and breasts, playfully plucked at stiff nipples before rolling the buds between fingers, pulling all sorts of small noises from her. She could feel her husband grin wickedly against her mouth as he swallowed all her cries.

Soft chuckles sounded in her horns over the rush of blood circling in them. If her mouth wasn’t already busy, she would have a retort lined up for them.

“Look at you, [wildflower,] being so good for us — behaving so well.”

A happy hum, though muffled, rumbled in her chest at another round of praise. She heard the quiet "pop" of a vial opening — the one with the warm oil in it — and grew curious. Wasn’t her body already covered in it? Her cunt was slick enough as it was to easily allow penetration.

The answer to her question soon arrived, and it left her utterly breathless.

Long fingers slick with oil found her wet sex, teasing along her outer folds. The feeling of light tingles dancing along the sensitive area gave her pause, letting herself explore the strange but not unwelcome sensation. It wasn’t something she’d experienced before. Finding that she didn’t mind it, she returned her focus on returning her husband’s kisses — but not before wiggling her hips to let her other lover know he could continue touching her.

The wandering digits soon moved deeper into her slick slit, probing at her entrance but not going all the way inside. Keeping the Au Ra on the fine line of being teased as they toyed with her. It wasn’t long before Silva was whining and whimpering with need, forcing herself to tear her mouth away from Ricmorn’s when the electrifying tingles grew stronger. Heavy pants left her as she tried to catch her breath. But it was hard to do when her mind grew hazy letting her husband decorate her neck and throat with marks of teeth as he pleased while trying to find a moment of lucidity.

And when the fingers pressed circles to her swollen clit, the stimulating oil sending bright specks of levin up her spine, she couldn’t help but yelp and buck her hips.

“Seven fucking—” she rasped, squeezing her eyes shut. “Fuck!”

Gods and kami be good, she wanted more of whatever that was.

Both of her partners stopped what they were doing immediately, giving her a chance to find herself again.

“Shit— Silva, are you okay?”

When Silva opened her eyes again, she found Hien looming over her now along with Ricmorn. The sight of his pretty peridot orbs filled with concern instead of lust broke her heart.

She tried dismissing his worry, wetting her lips. “I’m fine! I’m— Why’d you stop?”

Her question erased some of the tension in his shoulders. “I would be a horrible partner if I didn’t check in with you to make sure you’re alright, silly girl,” he said, smiling at her. “Especially if we’re trying something new.” 

“We both would be horrible partners if we didn’t,” Ricmorn agreed, brushing some of her damp hair out of her face.

“I promise I’m okay!” she laughed. “No need to fret and worry over me. I just wasn’t expecting… whatever that was, is all.”

“It felt good then, yes?”

Shyness washed over her at the curious glint in the young lord’s gaze and she forced herself to look away. “I— Y-yes, it felt very nice,” she mumbled, the point of her tail twitching.

If she had continued to look at him, she would have noticed the spark of playfulness in his eyes. “So… does that mean this feels good?”

Her breath caught in her throat when his fingers returned to her clit, teasing the swollen bundle of nerves. He repeated the slow circles until her parted thighs shook, savoring the whimpers coming from her.

“Y-yes!” she bit out, pleasure rushing through her.

“What about this, hm?”

A long string of curses spilled from her lips when he inserted not one or two, but three fingers into her leaking cunt ever so slowly. Her curses quickly dissolved into breathy sighs and moans when he lazily thrust them into her, pressing his thumb to her clit for more stimulation. And when he curled them—

“A-ahhh— Fuck!”

“That’s it, [wildflower,]” Hien hummed in approval. “Sing for us.”

[garbagefarm]

Garbage Farm (#45)

2023-05-07, Garbage Farm session number #45, spanning Year 4, Fall 7 through Fall 17

cast:

me (@mothmute​)

E.B. (@salamand3rin​)

Kimi (@2kimi2furious​)

Experimenting with the format and listing them by day this time!

Fall 7:

Starting off with keg day!

The ducks still refuse to do the thing.

Liquidating my wine reserves

Coffee chest by the greenhouse!

Kimi will redecorate her house even if it kills her (it does)

died looking at the ikea catalog

E.B. hits level 10 fishing! angler or pirate? doesn’t matter, gonna respec for crab pots

(the first day of a session is always a little slow)

Fall 8:

Cranb day!

Elliott tells Kimi to come visit him if she ever needs a break, and that he’s usually at home

Kimi knows where you live, Elliott.

(also ... are you flirting with my farmhand?? I approve, get it 😘)

I make a brief excursion to the Skull Caverns

E.B. pays the weird looking dog statue to respec for crab pots

“ginger, or bones?” BONES BONES BONES B O N E S

Fall 9:

Bait-free crabbing!

Elliott “fed the animals” (meaning, the horrid ducks)

after I’m done with my chores, I go boning in the mines

Kimi collects the Frog’s nuts

(E.B. points out that it was the day of Boning and Nutting)

Fall 10:

They don’t deserve it, but I deluxe the ducks.

then I go boning again!

E.B. shows up, and kills enough skeletons that the valley feels a little safer (derogatory)

E.B. goes down the stairs into an unavoidable explosion, oops

We got the bones!!

New crystalariums set up in the mushroom cave, gotta make those coffee diamonds

Kimi wants matching bone shirts

rip E.B., died in her bedroom

New cow named Pumbo! their parent was named Jumbus or something but I didn’t write it down

Fall 11:

Jam day!

The walnut room is open (and the challenges suck)

Kimi gets a bone shirt!

Kimi wants to focus on the Skulls to try and get autopetters

(I spend a little time in the volcano and get a couple teeth)

Fall 12:

every time Kimi wakes up, her children are waiting for her

TWO BIG PUMPKINS! Screenshot is slightly delayed until E.B. can make a matching bone shirt (the cloth was in the cheese shed)

Screenshot at the big pumpkins!! (see gallery)

Managed to buy two ducks before Marnie clocked out— Mistake and Disappointing.

Kimi DIES dies, and Harvey charges her for it despite being a garbage-in-law

Fall 13:

Cranb day again!

E.B. replants the pumpkins

I make it to floor 72 while Skull Mining

(Kimi ran into me somewhere on the way down)

rip me, dead on my floor

rip E.B., too

Fall 14:

Bone mill recipe!

Jam day and keg day!

(Alex never skips keg day, he lifts them to stay fit)

Looks like only E.B. can make cheap copper crab pots?

Garbage Farm passes 10,000,000g!

Fall 15:

Elliott looks forward to the fair! (see gallery)

(These walnut room challenges suck, too)

I spend all day in the volcano and barely make it home after unlocking the caldera

Fall 16:

George mailed me some rocks. Thanks, George!

Fair day!

I don’t dare bring the forbidden shards for the grange, but, the normal kind should be fine

Kimi delayed due to cheese chores

We win the grange display! —and for once, we didn’t blackmail Lewis!

(at this point, they’re our lucky purple shorts, anyway)

INFINITE BURG (see gallery)

Jam day! (at night)

Fall 17 (non-canon):

We storm the mayor’s mansion and proceed to BOMB LEWIS REPEATEDLY

including hitting him with explosive ammo

while rubbing our grubby little hands all over the forbidden shards

TO-DO:

Add even more good-for-nothing ducks, in hopes that one of them will do the thing and make the horrid creatures halfway worth it

Continue ramping up Garb-ucks Coffee project

SKULLS! SKULLS! SKULLS!

auto-petters may be rare, but that won’t stop us

I need to keep adding kegs and preserves jars

Still thinkin’ about those tapped trees

Island Obelisk requires TEETH

(continue long-term self-supply and chef projects...)

make friends

Walnut room is open...... (but the current challenges suck)

Gallery:

Big pumpkins and matching skelly shirts! (screenshot credit to E.B.)

this man can’t say anything like an actual person would (and I love him for it)

INFINITE BURGERS (E.B.’s eyes might be closed, but I assure you she is also eating infinite burgers)

Hey Lewis! We’ve decided to start the “bomb Lewis” event! And you can’t stop us! (non-canon)