#lighthouse kids company

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍

pairing: lighthouse keeper!joel miller x mermaid!reader

genre: mermaid AU, explicit, fluff, comfort, romance, minors dni

word count: 8.5k

summary: As the man responsible for operating the lighthouse, Joel lives a solitary life on the isolated coast. He has no complaints, enjoying the hauntingly beautiful songs that echo from the sea at night. One stormy night, he rescues a mysterious mermaid tangled in a fishing net. As you recover in the lighthouse, the two form an unlikely bond and find comfort in each other's company.

warnings: mention of joel from time to time visiting a brothel, loneliness, mermaid anatomy things, oral (fem receiving), piv, touch starved!joel and reader, mild breeding kink, squirting

a/n: full disclaimer I made up the mermaid lore, facts and anatomy, the only mermaid romance book I read was goddess of the sea by P.C. Cast and I read that all the way back in high school so I remember very little of it (I think I remember some of the steamy stuff but honestly it's all very vague so if there are any similarities that's why) 🧜‍♀️🌊

**stunning gif made by fanna aka @pedrorascal 💙

When in darkness look for the light. 

Joel heard this at different points in his life. His father, bless his soul, adamant about reminding him that there was always good to be found, even when it didn’t seem like it. When his father passed, Joel thought of the words endlessly. The more he thought about them, the more it made less and less sense to him. What was one supposed to do when the light that was sought didn’t exist? It would’ve made more sense to him if the message was about creating your own light, not depending on another. He would make sure to remember that if he ever had kids. 

The lantern in his hand groaned upon placing it on the nearby windowsill. It was a small window, the glass coated in thick dust. He smelled the sea. The salt of it burned his nostrils, the taste lingered on his tongue.

With a practiced hand, Joel reached for the oil lamp, its polished brass surface gleamed in the fading light. He carefully opened the reservoir cap and began pouring the clear, fragrant oil. The room filled with a faint scent. He listened to the waves as he lit the lantern, creating the sole light that guided him up the lighthouse. Joel imagined the violent waters hitting the bedrock. With time, they would all turn into sand. He looked up. The stairs were endless, going round and round. He spotted seaweed and mold in the same places, observed the humidity that darkened the underside of the stairs that barely hung onto the walls.

The small flame on the wick grew, casting an amber light that illuminated the inside. Joel's eyes focused on the growing flame, his gaze steady as he watched the light take hold.

“I’m home,” he said freely, his voice echoing. On the contrary belief, Joel actually had a regular home. He had a stove, a fridge, a bed. But this... this always felt like his true home. The smells, the sounds, the atmosphere, all of it was familiar, hugging him tight as soon as he stepped inside.

He climbed the stairs, his knees starting to ache when he was halfway to the light room. He didn’t stop, only slowed his steps. The air was fresher at the top. More breathable compared to where he was not moments ago.

He reached the top of the staircase, his breaths coming in steady rhythm as he pushed through the burn in his knees. The narrow corridor opened up into the lantern room, and he stepped into the circular chamber.

Joel reached for the mechanism that controlled the rotation. He gave it a gentle turn, feeling the gears engage beneath his touch. The light began to move, its beam sweeping across the darkening sea. The room filled with the rhythmic cadence of the light's rotation. 

But that wasn’t the only thing that reached his ears. 

A melody that flowed like the ebb and flow of the tides called out to him, guiding him to the clear, towering windows of the lighthouse. Every night he heard it, yet never managed to see the person—or thing—responsible for it. For years it had accompanied him. Another friend that the sea had gifted him to fight the loneliness he felt from time to time. His nose nearly brushed the glass, a chill settling in his bones. Sometimes he thought he heard lyrics as painful as the song itself. 

Joel’s brows furrowed when he noticed the thick fog settling above the water. No matter the light he put out into the world, it would be a hard night for captains and crew. 

The cadence still heavy in his ear, Joel stepped away from the panes. He picked up his log book and took a seat. He grimaced when the chair groaned under his weight. Joel had placed his desk so he would still have a view of the sea. The brine-laden air filled his lungs as he ruffled through the pages. 

Picking up his pen, Joel began to write. 

Lighthouse Keeper's Log: Joel M.  Date: October 22, 18XX Weather: Heavy fog blanketing the coastline, strong easterly wind, temperature 58°F. Lighting Operations:  Lit the lamp at 18:30 hours. Due to thick fog, visibility greatly reduced; light rotation pattern altered to emit one long white flash every 20 seconds. Despite challenging conditions, light remains steadfast in its duty. Vessel Sightings: Limited visibility makes it impossible to spot distant vessels. Unusually rough seas observed, even in the absence of a clear storm. Large waves breaking against the shore; powerful surges felt within the lighthouse. Remaining emergency supplies: Blankets, dry rations, and signal flares. Remarks and Notes: The fog is a thick shroud, obscuring the sea beyond the immediate coastline. The normally serene cove now a theater of restless energy, waves crashing against the rocks with an almost primal force. An eerie beauty to the fog and the untamed sea—a reminder of nature's might and mystery. Life at the Lighthouse: Dinner of canned beans and bread awaits. Appetite normal. 

Joel chewed the inside of his cheek. He tapped his pen against the worn paper before resuming taking his notes. 

Heard the song again. It always sounds like it’s in longing for something more. I’m starting to think I’m making it up from my own loneliness. But I can’t really complain much I picked this life. 

He let out a groan. There was some comfort in knowing no one would read these but he didn’t want to sound like a crazy person if someone did end up stumbling across the notes. 

Joel leaned back in his chair, extending his legs. His muscles hummed happily at the stretch. He still had to check and make sure what supplies he had left to put in the log, he also needed to make sure no additional repairs were needed. He dragged a heavy palm down his face. Why the hell didn’t he check when he entered the base? Now he had to go down all those stairs again. He loved the lighthouse but hell, he could do with less workout. 

With a sigh, he got up and left the room. He descended the narrow spiral staircase that wound its way down into the base of the lighthouse. He carried a lantern to light his way, its feeble glow dancing against the walls. The sound of the crashing waves outside gradually faded into a distant rumble. His unease grew as the melody disappeared completely. 

Joel knew the lighthouse like he did the back of his hand. But that didn’t mean the structure even spooked him from time to time. It wasn’t easy being alone in the dark, watching the endless horizon just wondering about life. Hearing the aria subdued those thoughts— the thoughts that made a convincing point that he’s lived an empty life.  

Reaching the bottom, Joel stepped into the dimly lit chamber that housed the mechanical workings of the lighthouse. Gears and mechanisms stood in silent vigil, their intricate interplay hidden beneath layers of metal and shadow. The steady tick-tock of the clockwork echoed softly in the confined space.

Setting the lantern on a nearby table, Joel approached the massive gear assembly responsible for the light's rotation. He ran his fingers along the metal surfaces, feeling the vibrations as the gears turned in precise harmony. His trained touch could detect even the slightest irregularity.

A toolbox lay open on the table, its contents glinting in the lantern light. Joel selected a wrench and began to carefully tighten bolts and adjust connections. He moved with the grace of a musician tuning an instrument.

As he worked, his thoughts shifted to his guitar at home. He wanted to play again. Perhaps accompany the song he heard every night. His fingers weren’t as they used to be. It took time to remember how to move them over the strings, the cords, it frustrated him, making it easier to give up as soon as he touched the instrument. 

The lantern's glow flickered as Joel adjusted the final cog, ensuring that the gears meshed flawlessly. Satisfied with his work, he stood back and observed the assembly for a moment, watching as the clockwork continued its patient dance.

Then. . . a sound. 

An unfamiliar sound. It was followed by a frustrated shout and some wild splashing. Joel stood still, his spine stiff as they came. He thought the sea was playing tricks on him, which was why he remained there. Listening. The sound repeated itself, some colorful curses flying out of the mouth of whoever lingered outside of the lighthouse’s walls. 

Joel promptly headed for the door. Whoever it was, it sounded like they needed help. His mind raced. It could’ve been a multitude of things; a shipwreck that led hald conscience crew to the shores, a kid playing past their curfew, a—

. . . a woman entangled in a net.

What?  

He stilled, eyes wide with shock. All air was expelled from his lungs, mouth incredibly dry despite the chill that quickly settled in his bones. He blinked over and over, his mind trying to comprehend the sight before him. Waves crashed around her, framing her while she fought against the stubborn net. It’d been a while since Joel was in close proximity to a woman. He wasn’t a hermit, but most of the time he kept to himself, and when he needed a release provided from something other than his hand. . . he earned enough a month to spend on certain services. 

She was beautiful. Her back bare and her front hidden, looking like a starfish washed a shore. She struggled again and with a snarl, she flipped over. 

Joel’s cheeks warmed, the night chill that settled in his bones quickly dissipated thanks to the sight before him. As if to accommodate the moment, a particularly large wave washed over her, drops of salty water wetting the cuffs of his pants. She only wore a bra—at least that was what Joel assumed it was. It was the same color of a brewing storm, silver that gradually softened as it disappeared into her skin. Stunning. 

He swallowed. Temptation fogged his mind, his cock becoming stiff under the thick fabric. He was only a man after all. Joel knew little that could resist someone like her, she was hypnotic. With another swallow, his gaze moved lower. He wondered if the rest of her was just as revealing. 

But the rest of her was hidden by the vastness of the sea. 

For the better, he thought, cock straining against the zipper. He wouldn’t have touched her, of course, but it would’ve made it harder to think. 

And to help her. 

Joel's gaze finally met her face, which was equally as beautiful as the rest of her, despite being the target of her unwavering glare.

“Ahoy,” he said, voice thick. His greeting did little in wiping away her untrusting stare. “Uh. . .seems like you’ve gotten yourself in a. . . bind.” 

“Funny,” she answered, her voice the complete opposite of the statement. Wrestling against the net, a hiss escaped her lips the moment she tried. “Are you going to help or just make puns, human?” 

Human? 

Joel raised an eyebrow, being caught in a net would be annoying for sure but it shouldn’t be hurting her. He tilted his head and came closer. She regarded him like a wild animal, her need to flee evident in her eyes. He sighed. “Don’t give me the coyote look, I’m not a canine.” 

“I’ll look at you however I want to.” 

She moved and when the net brushed against her skin, she winced in pain. Pulling her arms close to her chest, she made an effort to keep from touching it. This time the pain was evident over the contours of her face, prompting worry to cross over his. 

“Stop movin’,” he ignored her sharp tongue and knelt next to her. “Is that a barbed net? Shit. We need to cut you out.” 

Another wave. A scream. 

Panic flared under his skin, without telling her to wait, he jolted inside of the lighthouse. He rummaged through his toolbox and when he came back, Joel noticed the trickle of blood going down her cheek. “Don’t worry,” he said quickly, his body collapsed onto his throbbing knees. “I’ll get you out.” 

Her stare grew gentle as he meticulously severed the ropes. Joel's attention was drawn to the cuts and bruises that marred her. He didn’t even know her name but he knew that he hated seeing her like that. So hurt and vulnerable. Another wave washed over them. Joel snarled at the sea, his annoyance growing at the wickedness of his greatest love. 

“The name’s Joel,” he grunted and moved down her body, freeing her inch by inch. Her spine turned as rigid as a plank. “Am I hurtin’ you?” he asked, stopping momentarily. He looked up but she wasn’t facing him. 

“I-It’s not that,” she said. All of her bite from before had dissolved like foams upon the sea. “My. . .lower half got caught up badly when I tried to break free. It—It might be too gruesome to see, so just give me the cutters and  you can go.” 

Joel scoffed. As if he would let her do this by herself. “If you’re hurt that bad all the more reason to stay and help you, honey. Just stay still.” 

“But—” 

“Stay still,” he ordered. Joel spread his finger across her lower back. He was surprised to find her skin so cold. He needed to free her and wrap a blanket around her ASAP. 

One by one, he cut through the net, more of her exposed to him. It almost felt like he shouldn’t be seeing such a sight. It didn’t matter though, he’d help her no matter what— he’d decided on that the first moment he laid his eyes on her. His hand moved downward, pinning her to the spot, maintaining her still. She let out a gasp, one laced with fear. Joel didn’t understand why. 

He shook his head and pressed on. 

Only when he lowered his gaze back down did he feel it. The smooth, leathery texture of her skin. It was slippery, soft. . . scaled. It took his eyes a moment to process. Subtle around her waist, the color became more pronounced as it extended downward. Scales. Beautiful scales that shined under the moonlight. It was the same color as her bra, gray that cheated its way to a light shade of blue. Joel swore he saw some gold scattered in there as well. 

He stopped moving—hell, he stopped breathing. 

“You noticed,” she said simply. Joel’s head snapped towards the voice, the tips of his ears red. 

“What—” he shook his head. “Are you a fuckin’ mermaid?” 

Silence. 

“. . . maybe.” 

“Don’t pull my leg, girl,” he warned. The words didn’t match his tone. Joel was simply in awe, his mind more of a mess. “I can see your damn scales as clear as day.” 

“Then why are you asking?” she snapped. “Could you please just help me out? It hurts.” 

“I was just curious,” Joel grunted, voice barely above a whisper. He didn’t say anything else and continued in silence. When she was free, he threw the net toward the lighthouse. He would discard it later. “Now what?” 

“Now,” she answered, the first smile gracing her lips. “I leave. Thank you.” 

Joel couldn’t deny the selfish throb of his heart. He had so many questions he wanted to ask. He wanted her to stay—wanted her to want to stay. With him. Why was that he didn’t know. A cold gust of wind blew while he watched. The mermaid turned to swim away, and as she did Joel didn’t miss the small tell tales of pain. 

He saw blood. It turned the sea into a nasty color. The words clawed up to his throat, he pushed them back as much as he could. 

Stay. 

He wanted to shout but couldn’t. It wasn’t his place. 

Luckily, fate was on his side tonight. 

She couldn’t move her tail, every movement like knives into her meaty flesh. The waves slowly brought her back to shore, like a gift. 

Her, however, didn’t share his enthusiasm. Tears built in her eyes, again, Joel could swear he saw golden specks in them. 

“I have a place,” he said. “A secret place you can stay until you heal. I have supplies.” when she didn’t seem convinced, he added. “Let me take care of you. Please.” 

A male. A human male. 

A man. 

The notion still escaped you, his hands one of a gentle giant’s as he carried you down the treacherous steps. He didn’t attempt to steal your gaze no matter how long you stared at him. And no matter the pain, you couldn’t stop. There was a roughness to his features, his appearance rugged with lines deepened by time drawn over his face. You observed the grays in his hair, in his beard. Witnessed the divot in the middle of his bottom lip, so full for a man seemingly unbothered by what you were. 

No matter how strong or wise, to see a creature that was believed to be none other than myth must’ve come as a shock. 

But you remained silent. 

So did he. 

You settled on observing your surroundings. Nestled beneath the weathered stone foundation of the lighthouse, smooth walls resided, etched over centuries by the relentless caress of the sea, glistened as if adorned by a myriad of precious gems. The low ceiling, curved and worn, hinted at the gentle erosion that had sculpted this intimate haven.

The passage meandered downward, its narrowness opening into a grand expanse that drew a gasp from your numb lips. The chamber widened into an awe-inspiring grotto. Stalactites and stalagmites formed natural columns that reached toward each other as if yearning for an embrace. The rhythmic lullaby of waves filtered through unseen crevices.

At the heart of the chamber, a crystalline pool shimmered in shades of sapphire and emerald. Slender rays of moonlight, filtered through a labyrinth of underwater tunnels. An intricately woven nest of dried seaweed laid upon the surface, the smell of it reminiscent of home. 

However, you weren’t one to lower your guard so easily. No matter how pretty the prison was. 

Still in his arms, you shoot him a look of untrust. The fingers that gingerly held you tensed, blunt nails slightly digging into your wounded flesh. “Don’t give me that look,” he grumbled, averting his gaze. “It’s connected to the sea, you can leave whenever you want. . . or escape, if you would prefer to put it that way,” he walked to where the sea connected to the earth. “It’s completely closed off to the outside. If someone wants to find this place they’ll have to go into the lighthouse first and well,” he turned sheepish, red coloring his cheeks. “No one does.” 

“That’s kinda sad,” you remarked. You didn’t ignore the twinge of sadness coiling your heart. “You don’t have a family?” 

“No,” he answered. You didn’t expect to hear the rasp of his voice, the same tone when you dragged your finger through the rough gravel of the shores. He still refused to meet your gaze. “So. . . you’ll be safe. You don’t need to worry.” 

Joel gently lowered you into the sea, his legs half-submerged in the water. As salt touched the wounds, an incoming hiss grated against your throat, and pain bloomed, spreading through your tail.

You discerned the sound of his pulse racing beneath the cloak of his human flesh and bone. When you turned to look, you found him both mesmerized and distressed. 

“Can I bring you medicine?” he frowned when your gaze turned into one of amusement. “What? Don’t mermaids need medicine?” 

“Not for something like this,” you grinned. You thread your fingers in the water, careful not to move your tail as much as you moved to lay face first on the shore. “The sea will heal me. It hurts, but the wounds aren’t big enough that it would require external help.” 

Defeated, he shook his head, “If you say so, sweetheart.” 

You watched as he balled his hands into fists and released them. He repeated the motion over and over until he prepared to leave. Your eyebrows raised. He wanted to take care of you, ached for the companionship the close proximity would force upon them. Surprisingly, you felt bad. You’ve seen this lighthouse a million times, never once you thought such a sad man would be on the other side of cold walls. You sucked a sharp breath and decided to throw him a bone. 

“I will need food,” you called out, stopping him in his tracks. His shoulders raised, you swore if he were a dog his ears would be standing with attention. You swiped a tongue over your bottom lip, a bit of life in them now that you were in the water, he had a strong back, wide shoulders that any creature would admire. 

“What d’you eat?” 

You smiled, “Anything really. I’m not picky.” 

He turned then, he seemed so large in front of the narrow path that would lead up to the lighthouse. “What about fish?” 

“Unlike what your fairytales might entail, we do eat fish,” you answered with a burst of laughter. 

You laughed again when the crease between his brows deepened. He wrinkled his nose, “Feels wrong.” 

Despite his words, he looked lightened by your laughter, something like adoration swimming in his eyes. 

You shrugged and shuffled further into the water. It signaled the end of the conversation, prompting Joel to disappear back into the depressing labyrinth of the lighthouse. With a sigh, you turned your back, staring at the ceiling. You wondered how long you’d have to stay here. You had wrinkled your nose at the medicine that was offered, yet you knew it wouldn’t be a speedy recovery.  

You sighed again, disappearing into the water. You watched as the last of your oxygen formed bubbles that head to the surface, your gills starting to expand. The image of the stalactites became distorted, the moonlight that touched the soft waves bouncing around in the water. 

You really shouldn’t be complaining. At least the human who found you seemed to be a good one unlike the many you’ve seen during the centuries you lived. 

The ache in your tail growing tender, you closed your eyes. 

Joel, despite his imposing ruggedness, was quite nurturing. As the day passed, you noticed that he began to regard you with a sense of purpose. He went back home during the days, only to come back with heaping amounts of food and water. 

He never did bring you fish though, which made you giggle whenever you thought of it. 

“You don’t drink water.” Joel had said it as a statement rather than a question. You nodded and pushed a plump grape between your lips. The salt from your skin coated the fruit, highlighting the flavor. 

“I don’t.” 

“Is there somethin’ else that you drink? I can try to find it for you,” he said thoughtfully. His eyes met yours, your grin making him short of breath. He looked away, something that he commonly did whenever he was frustrated. And you noticed how easy it was to rile him up whenever you stretched, the sheer scales that covered your breasts almost sheer. You thoroughly enjoyed his gaping mouth and lustful gaze. You wondered when was the last time this man was touched. 

"Drinking water, as you know it on land, is quite different for me beneath the waves," you explained with a playful glint in your eyes. "You see, our world is a delicate balance of salt and currents, and our bodies have adapted to it."

You gestured gracefully to the shimmering water around you, your tail swaying gently with the motion of the still water. "When I need water, I don't sip from a cup or a stream. Instead, I have a connection with the sea itself. Just as your body knows how to breathe without thinking, my tail and skin allow water to flow through."

"Imagine this," you continued. "In the embrace of the ocean, my body senses the ebb and flow of the tides, the salt and minerals suspended in every drop. When I need hydration, my skin and scales absorb the sea's essence, drawing it into my very being."

You leaned closer, lips an inch away from his, your voice a mesmerizing cadence. Joel’s breath hitched, his chest expanding with each word whispered. He licked his lips, your eyes dropping to observe the movement. You imagined that same tongue sinking into your mouth, licking the salt. A shudder crawled up your spine, your breasts feeling tender and heavy. "So, you see, I drink in a way that's in tune with the rhythm of the sea, a silent conversation with the waves themselves. It's a connection, a dance of existence that ties me to the world I call home."

“Do you miss it?” 

The question took you by surprise and you blinked rapidly, “What?” 

“Your home?” 

“I—” Such a perceptive man. It surprised you. “The sea is my home. I’m never apart from it,” you said, shaking your head. A soft smile touched your lips. 

“What about where you were born?” he pressed. “Your family? Friends?” 

“So many questions,” you hummed. And, with a burst of confidence, you touched his cheek. Him leaning into the touch was something you hadn’t expected. “I’m not to go back.” 

“You were banished?” 

“I left.” it looked like he was about to ask more. Before he could, you pressed your thumb against his lips, feeling his warmth, his whole body grew rigid but didn’t pull away. “Too many rules,” you explained. “Not a very fun place to live.” 

With a graceful flick of your tail, you returned to the water, leaving a glistening trail of droplets in your wake. You vanished beneath the surface, you waited a moment and look up. There he was, leaning further into the water. Trying to capture a glimpse of the mythical creature he was nursing to health—

Propelling yourself with a force gentle enough that wouldn’t re-open the wounds, you broke through the surface and wrapped your arms around his neck. He let out a yelp as you pulled him under, bubbles caressing your bodies, rushing to escape the sea. Joel’s eyes went wide, panic lingering in the depths. You met his gaze and smiled, his heartbeat was muffled yet loud under the water. In order to calm him, you placed an open palm right above that frantically beating heart, closing your eyes, you willed your emotions over him. Calmness. Serenity. 

You’re safe with me, Joel. The only one of your kind that can say that.

He heard you. You watched the panic melt away from his gaze, replacing it with shock. Normally, if he was a merman himself, he’d be able to answer. Something tugged at your heartstrings, your gaze falling to the depths of the water.   

You felt his hands cup your waist, instinctively pulling you closer to him. He was firm, warm against your chest. To be touched. . . you missed it. Like he did when you cupped his cheek, you nuzzled closer to him. Your breasts flushed over the planes of his body, your nipples tight as they grazed against the fabric of his shirt. 

Warmth. 

You chased it. Ached for it. He seemed to be the same. His fingers denting your flesh, his arousal hard over your stomach. You would’ve allowed him anything in that moment. For him to kiss you, hold you, fuck you— you’d grant him anything, like a genie in a bottle. 

But, nonetheless, he was human. And humans needed air no matter how strongly they fought against it. 

His eyes became apologetic, brows furrowing. He gestured up and you shook your head, prompting confusion to cross his face. 

Mermaids were known to take human lovers. They would usually transform once a month to head for the shores. No one wanted to share more of themselves than they had to. Their world was a secret to be kept, an unspoken rule they all knew since birth. Looking at him, you knew he was at his last drops of oxygen. His cheeks were puffed up, eyes questioning your motives. 

Evolution had granted your kind one more gift—the gift of life. 

Your hands slid up his chest, your fingers bunched the collar of his shirt, you tugged the fabric. The sound of the currents flooded your ears. You felt your gills expand. Joel was unaware, he brushed your lips together, eyes coming to a close. 

A kiss. A simple kiss. 

His lips parted alongside yours, his tongue curious. You met him halfway and slanted your mouth over his, closing the gap entirely. 

You breathed air into him. Filling his lungs with oxygen. Your gills quivered at how much was needed for him to make this moment last. His chest dilated and Joel finally opened his eyes. With a smile, you pulled back, dragging your lips down to his neck instead. Slightly embarrassed of what he might think of it.   

His fingers curled under your chin, pulling you back up so you’d face him. You laughed when Joel attempted to ask his questions with nothing other than his eyes. 

You didn’t answer this time, only shrugged. His lips broke into an exasperated smile and despite the lack of it, you felt the air around you crackling, arousal pouring between your legs and mixing with the sea.  

Joel pulled you towards his lips once more. Eager for another taste. 

She was sleeping. 

Joel’s steps were feather-light as he approached her, his guitar in hand. He’d foolishly mentioned how he was trying to remember and her eyes had gone wide with excitement, asking him to bring it over. But since she was sleeping, he decided not to bother her with it and gently placed the instrument aside. 

He asked about it once, how her kind slept, apparently, they would drift to sleep underwater most of the time. That’s where they felt safest. He didn’t pry on the matter but could hear a hint of hurt lingering under her words. 

So, when he first saw her sleeping, his heart had warmed at the sight. 

Right now was no different. His gut felt oddly warm, his heart swelling in his chest, everything feeling a bit too tight. 

They hadn’t talked about the kiss—or the touches for that matter. 

Again, he hadn’t pressed for answers. He wasn’t sure what good they would do anyway. They were a part of different worlds, different species, how would it work? 

Joel tilted his head to the side. 

Seriously how would it work? She didn’t have. . . well. . . a vagina. At least not one he could see. 

Did she lay eggs? 

Joel blanked at the thought. They drank like fish so who was to say that they didn’t procreate like them too? 

He violently shook his head. He shouldn’t be thinking about that, it was none of his goddamn business. With his mind feeling clearer, his eyes roamed over her sleeping figure. She was a silent sleeper. Her hands were tucked under her head, most of her tail submerged beneath the water, flowing freely with the soft ripples of water. All he wanted to do was to kneel beside her and stroke her hair, her body that seemed soft and supple. 

Joel managed to do half of what he wanted. He took a seat near her, the gravel crunching under his weight, her breathing more audible now that he was close. 

It’d been almost a month since he found her entangled within the nasty fisher’s net. He didn’t know how long it took mermaids to heal but he had a sneaking suspicion that she had. His mouth dried, a sudden uncomfort riling his stomach. He was afraid she was staying here for his sake. To spare his feelings. That notion just didn’t sit right with him. It was unfair to her, and, in some ways, it was unfair to him. He didn’t believe a creature like her would want to stay with an old man like him. He had nothing to offer. No land, no money, no nothing. 

Only the lighthouse. 

The kiss had been one of convenience, he told himself almost every night, stroking himself while replaying the moment over and over. He hadn’t visited the brothel since. None of them could compare to how she made him feel, and he doubt he’d go even after she left. 

“You’re thinking loud,” a murmur came from next to him. She stirred and flipped to her back, eyes finding his a second later. Joel could see her dreams still glimmering in her eyes, adding a shine. Her brows furrowed when his gaze lingered longer than it should have. “What?” 

“Nothin’,” he answered. “I brought the guitar.” 

“Really?” she was suddenly wide away, her upper hand lifting and tail splashing as she came to a sitting position. “Will you play for me?” 

Despite himself, he grinned, “That’s why I brought it, sweetheart.” 

He reached out and picked it up. When he returned, he caught her eyes on the exposed skin of his stomach, her lips parted. Briefly, her gaze found his. 

“I—um—” she looked away, bottom lip sucked between her teeth. “I know some songs so maybe I can join your playing.” 

Something flickered inside of him—a familiarity he couldn’t quite place. 

“That sounds lovely,” he balanced the guitar over his lap and strummed a couple of strings, their sound filling the cave. His gaze expectant as he looked back at her. “Go on now, don’t be shy.” 

She puffed her cheeks, huffing with annoyance, “That’s not fair, I said I would join you, not the other way around.” 

“You’re breakin’ my heart,” with a fixed gaze, his eyes grew soft and he smiled. “Please?” 

With a sigh she shifted closer, her tail swaying with an elegant fluidity. Her voice, when it finally graced the air, was hauntingly beautiful—a melody that seemed to bridge the gap between the human world and the mysteries of the sea. The lyrics spoke of lost homes and forgotten dreams, of endless depths and aching hearts. It was a song of longing and solitude, a mournful tale that seemed to capture the very essence of her existence.

As she sang, Joel's fingers moved deftly across the strings of his guitar, weaving his own notes into the fabric of her song. The cave's quiet embrace amplified the sound of his guitar, each note resonating against the walls. The music swirled around them, an unspoken conversation between two souls who had found an unexpected connection.

He watched her, the soft glow of the cave reflecting in her eyes as she sang. Her voice carried a weight that tugged at his heart, stirring emotions he had long kept buried. 

Without thinking, Joel's voice joined hers, his rough yet tender tones intertwining with her song. As their voices merged, the cave seemed to come alive, the walls reverberating with the bittersweet harmony of their duet.

In the midst of the music, a memory began to surface—the melody she sang felt achingly familiar. He strummed the guitar with increasing fervor, his fingers dancing across the strings as he tried to match the rhythm of her song.

And then it hit him—the realization that sent a shiver down his spine.

It was her. 

The sound that accompanied him every night. 

The sound that kept him sane. 

The sound that made him feel less alone. Less broken.

The sound of an old friend. 

It was her. It had always been her. 

Joel suddenly stopped, his eyes wide and lips agape as he just. . .stared at her. She was lost in her song, only noticing the loss of the soulful sound of the guitar moments later. Joel watched her blink with confusion, on edge, thanks to his gaze. “It’s you,” he rasped, voice hoarse. “You’re the song.” 

“I’m. . .what?” 

Wanting her to understand as soon as possible, Joel began humming the melody every part of him had grown accustomed to. He went on until her features shifted from confusion to recognition, a hand coming to cover her mouth. 

“You heard me?” she whispered. 

“I did,” he swallowed. “Every night.” 

Joel didn’t waste any more time. He held her gently by the neck, feeling her pulse as he crashed their lips together. He licked himself deep into her mouth and tasted the sea on her tongue. Her hands limply pawed his chest, bunching his shirt between delicate fingers. 

Her moans were even more beautiful than her song. 

He couldn’t get enough of it. His mouth devoured her, eating her alive with every fat swipe of his tongue. Her moans were swallowed by him. She was pliant, body trembling against his, desperate in the way she allowed herself to be consumed. Her breath stuttered as he cupped her breasts, the scale that covered them slowly sinking into her skin, leaving her bare to his tongue. 

Joel wanted no time in lowering himself, sucking the pebbled flesh between his lips. He swirled his tongue and nipped her with sharp teeth. She thread her fingers through his hair, pulled him closer. Joel looked at her between heavy lashes. Her breathing was frantic, her heart like a hummingbird’s in her chest. He pushed her tits together, dragged his tongue quickly from one swollen nipple to the other, she threw her head back with a wanton moan, the sound bouncing off of the walls. 

He felt the sting of her nails on his shoulders. Her trails thrashed against the calm waters and his one hand slid down to where the scales began. Joel never felt them properly before. He cupped the area where her ass would be if she were human, the pads of his finger digging into her flesh. She seemed to enjoy that. Her body shuddered, her scales growing wetter by the second. 

Joel parted from her chest with a pop, his lips were damp and a string of saliva followed him. “How does this work?” he asked, voice nothing but gravel. 

Still in a haze, she blinked. Confused. A smug smile tugged at his lips, pride, and cock swelling simultaneously. Finally, when she understood, she took his hand and led it down to her front. Joel didn’t look. He wanted to memorize her face instead, engraving every part of her into memory. As he was preoccupied, he felt it, an opening similar to a human woman’s. She still held her wrist while he explored. He traced the lips, the wetness between them. 

Her eyes rolled back when he brushed against the crown of her cunt, a throbbing pearl hidden. “Joel,” she breathed. “Again, please.” 

He nuzzled her neck and laid a kiss. “You’re not that different from your human counterpart it seems,” he murmured, goosebumps rising where his lips touched. “I want to eat this pretty cunt out, sweetheart. Let me taste you.” 

She nodded hazily, eyes clouded by lust. Joel splayed her over the shore, the bottom half of her tail still lazily moving under the water. He didn’t care about getting wet. Moving down, he straddled her and looked down. 

The breath got knocked out of him. 

Her hands were on each side of her head above the gravel, her chest raising up and down heavily as she looked up at him, gaze half-lidded. Joel’s gaze traveled lower. Just like he imagined, there was an opening a bit lower from where her tail started. The gaps between the scales had become almost non-existing, accommodating the perfect cunt that’d blossomed for him. It was wet. Glistening. He went down on his elbows, his mouth watering at the sight of it trembling. 

“So pretty,” he rasped. “Gonna fuckin’ devour you, honey.” 

He pressed his lips hungrily, tongue delving between her folds and tasting her from within. He didn’t separate as he moved his jaw. Her cunt fluttered and squeezed his tongue, begging him for more. Joel obliged, dragging his mouth up and down and purposefully bumping her clit with the curve of his nose. 

She was so darn wet. Soaked. He heard whimpers of his name but he was too far gone to grace the pleas with a response. Joel closed his lips around her clit and sucked, applying pressure with a pointed tongue. His fingers joined in on the fun, he pushed them in knuckle deep, scissoring them as he drew circles over the throbbing bundle of nerves. 

“That’s it,” he hummed, his breath warm against her core. “Fall apart for me, sweet temptress.” 

It was too much, too fast. 

His tongue was merciless, his words like a honeyed poison. Your mind was nothing but a haze. The world around you is left spinning. You didn’t remember the last time someone had you like this, so hungry and desperate. All you could do was beg for more. His fingers were thick and long inside of you, pressing harder and harder until he reached the spot that made you see stars. 

It didn’t take you long after that. His tongue flat over your clit, you felt your muscles begin to tighten, your scales practically vibrating in answer to the strokes of his mouth. 

His hand moved to the side of your face as he increased the pressure with his tongue, making you moan and thrust your hips against him. Your body was his to control and it responded eagerly to each touch, kiss, and lick. As his lips pressed harder and deeper, his mouth moving sloppily, your breathing began to quicken, your heart pounding in your ears amidst the sound of the waves lapping against your tail. 

He moaned into your pussy, your ears narrowed on the sound, forgetting all else. Feeling your slick becoming heavy on his tongue, he repeated the sound and your chest heaved, beasts tingling. You could feel your entire body tensing up, your fingers gripping his wet hair for leverage as you shuddered and exploded in his arms.  Your muscles tightened and quaked against him as his jaw and tongue continued their wicked work until finally, mercifully, you were released and slipped off the edge into the depths of rapturous bliss. A squirt of wetness soaked them both, filling his mouth and making a mess of his plump lips. 

Your world stilled and your eyes rolled back in your head as you lay there in his arms, savoring every second of nirvana that his tongue had so generously gifted to you. He didn’t stop until you were tugging at his hair. Joel did so with a soft growl, his gaze dark as he faced you, a wicked hunger still clouding his eyes. His hair still tight between your fingers, he parted his lips, and a string of saliva fell in a vicious drip from his tongue. You shuddered. Never breaking his gaze, he delved his fingers between the delicate folds and spread the mess he made. Debouched, was the only this you were able to think about. 

This man was every bit of hungry as you were. 

“Joel,” you whined upon feeling your arousal rapidly building between your legs once more. “I want to feel you.” you swallowed. “Want your cock.”  

“Say that again, sweetheart,” he groaned. “Convince me how bad you want it.” 

You weren't sure what to do, but you humored him anyway. Crunching up, you met him halfway in a wet kiss. “I want you to split me into two, Joel,” you whispered into his lips. “Want to feel the stretch of your cock. Want to feel that it’s real. I want you to fuck me so good that you’ll be spilling out of me as you take me again,” you dragged your lips down his throat. He was shaking. “Again,” a kiss. “And again. . .” 

“Fuck,” he moaned. “So filthy for such a pretty thing.” 

“Joel,” you whispered, ignoring him. You cupped his cock through his jeans and began to stroke him. His forehead fell to your shoulder, hips canting shallowly into your wanting palm. “Prove to me that humans can fuck just as well.” 

You’re not sure what it was—Jealousy? Pride? Whatever you said that got under his skin, you were glad. 

Joel pinned you to the gravel, his rough hands sliding from your shoulders to your waist. He stroked where the scales began, sending tremors and tingles up your body. He freed himself of his belt with one skilled hand and pulled out his cock. The tip glistened, precome still oozing from the tip. Your mouth watered. For a human, he was rather blessed. He eagerly stroked himself over you, his cock jutting from his fist. You warmed at the sight, slick wetting the inside of your thighs and adding to the mess. You couldn’t help it. There was just something so incredibly erotic about a man fucking his fist. It felt so primal. So instinctive about it.  

He pushed into you with a clipped groan, the movement almost punishing. Your insides clenched and all the air in your lungs seemed to desert you by the force of the thrust. Looking down at you, Joel smiled. The curl of his lips menacing and taunting. He pulled back agonizingly slow before he was rutting back into your spasming hole. You let out a sound between a hiss and a moan. His glee only seemed to heighten when you held on to his biceps, grounding yourself against the rock of his hips. 

“What’d you say, sweetheart?” he said, tone laced with venom. You were in a thick haze of lust, your mind finding trouble understanding his words. When you couldn’t answer, he slammed harder into the tight fist of your cunt. Your body drooled all over him and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. “Can humans fuck?” he said cruelly. 

Your mind was scattered. Especially when he sucked a nipple into his mouth, teeth grazing over the sensitive flesh. His fingers began to move down your tail where the scales were most sensitive. Joel didn’t know this. As he skimmed a line back up with blunt nails, he was taken aback to feel you gripping him tight, slickness flowing from you like a broken fountain.

Your lungs burned. Your body nothing for of aflame. A strangled moan left him, the tightness of your cunt forcing him to slow. “Holy shit,” he moaned, jaw slack. “What the fuck—” His eyes went to meet yours only to find you hidden under your hands. An adorning smile grazed his face. “Hey, look at me,” he said and rolled his hips as an incentive. A short breath parted your lips. You lowered your hands, eyes tearing as you met his gaze. “Why so embarrassed darlin’? That was fuckin’ hot.” 

You didn’t answer. Not enjoying your silence, Joel again grazed your scales with his nails. He nearly came when you squeezed around him again, forcing the hitch of his breath. “You like when I do that?” he murmured. 

“Y-Yeah,” you answered. “They become sensitive during intercourse.” 

“Interestin’,” he hummed, looking down to where his cock was still buried deep. Keeping your hips pinned, he pulled out and grinded his cock over your tail instead. Your eyes grew wide from where it was glued. He made a delicious mess of the scales, slick and precome staining the vibrant blue and gray. Pleasure rippled across your tail and your brows furrowed, your expression melting in bliss. 

“I could stare at your face forever,” he muttered. “I don’t think I ever seen such a fucked out expression.” 

Heat gathered under your cheeks but honestly, you couldn’t really focus on it. Joel slipped back inside of you, despite how wet you were, you could still feel him stretching you wide. And with every wild thrust, he managed to get deeper and deeper. His cock pulsed, fingers now a constant pressure on your sensitive tail, “Gonna come,” he moaned, eyelids fluttering. You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him close until you felt the entirety of the man’s weight. 

You wanted to feel him dripping out of you and you made your message clear by holding him in place. He was vocal where his face was buried in your neck. Tongue and teeth abusing the skin. His movements were rapid, the sound of skin against skin echoed, cock pressing hard into your heat. He fucked you until he stole his third orgasm from you, it felt like a jolt of electricity, your slick coating his length and dripping down. It was so overwhelming that you bit where his neck met his shoulder. You ignored the fact that this marked him as yours, and that the mark of a mermaid would last for weeks. 

Joel didn’t mind the pain. In fact, it spurred him on. He whined into your skin, hammering until he spilled into you, filling you until it was spilling from where he was stretching you. The way you fluttered and clenched was too much for him, he fucked his come back into you, hearing it make those sloppy wet gushing noises against his hips. He drove his hips forward until there was nothing left of him. His moans bounced off of clenched teeth. 

And when your arms fell back to the gravel, limp with pleasure, he stopped. 

You sighed happily at the touch of his lips over your heated skin. He kissed a trail down to your breasts, kissing each one, his softening cock slipped out of you and he went lower. Kisses and licks on your stomach and lastly one placed on your trembling mound. 

Your hands hastily pulled him back up for a long, lazy kiss. It was full of emotion, each swipe of your tongue conveying something else. Gratitude, pleasure, love. 

“You’re healed aren’t you?” he murmured against your lips. 

“Yes.” 

A beat of silence. 

“Now what?” 

“Now,” you sigh. “I leave.” A humorless, bitter chuckle left your lips. “But I really don’t want to.” 

He answered almost immediately, “Then don’t.” 

Joel pulled back to look at you, his gaze warm like the sun dancing above waves. You let out a sigh. Just like the sun, the look was also blinding. “I can’t live in this cave forever.” 

His brows drew together with confusion and you worried that perhaps you accidentally said something else. He shook his head, “Who said anythin’ about livin’ in this cave?” Joel’s lips curled in amusement in answer to your shocked expression. “You were already livin’ close to the lighthouse, weren’t you? You can come and visit. And I can visit the shores more often, As long as you’re not on the other side of the sea, we can be together.” 

He looked at you expectantly, and when your silence grew, so did his doubts. “Right?” he asked. 

“Right,” you repeated. You giggled at his relieved expression and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “I don’t know why I just assumed I’d have to live here. Like some sort of weird prison.” 

“Hmmm,” Joel smiled dragging his nose down from your temple to your cheek. He pulled you close and you laid your head over the expanse of his chest. “I guess I just fucked you that good.” 

“Don’t get so full of yourself. I was just taken by surprise.” 

“Sure, honey,” he answered, smile widening into a grin. “Whatever you say so.” 

(i made this moodboard before fanna's stunning bday gift to me which is the gif above but I adore this mood board so I decided to put it here thank you for reading xx)

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x mermaid!reader #mermaid!reader #mermaid au #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #joel miller x fem!reader

[sargeantposting]

A Logan Sargeant Primer: Part I (2000 - 2015)

Logan grows up in a ritzy suburb of Fort Lauderdale called Lighthouse Point with his parents and his older brother, Dalton.

The Sargeants don't have a deep motorsport history. Dalton and Logan get their first go-karts for Christmas in 2006, a gift from their father after their mother refuses to let her children ride dirt bikes anymore. Logan tells the NYT that:

“No one in the family was really even that much into racing. We just picked it up as a hobby, something to do on the weekend.”

The two brothers get more serious as the years go by-- within a few years, they're racing competitively. They both do well. Logan finishes in third place in only his first year of racing, and wins two titles in his second. 

Unfortunately, they figure out fairly quickly that there isn’t much more room to advance in American karting:

My older brother, Dalton, and I had been racing for a few years, and it had gotten to the point where we were asking around about where the next best level of competition was, and everybody was saying the same thing…. It was always Europe, Europe, Europe, Europe. To the point where my parents really started to think about it. At first it was just this idea, like Maybe we’ll move to Europe, who knows. I was just a kid overhearing stuff, so I didn’t know how serious the conversation must have been until this day I’ll never forget.

The conversation gets serious in 2012, when Logan’s dad, Daniel, asks the two if they want to move to Switzerland:

It was summer, and we were out to lunch. It was me, my dad, and Dalton. [...] So we’re at this restaurant, right? Chowing down on burgers (my favorite), and my dad gets to asking us about racing. Finally, he’s like, “What do you guys think? Do you really want to race in Europe? Are you 100% sure about this?” Me being 11 and naive, I was like, “Yeah sure.”  Looking back on it, I think I was lucky I was that young and that I didn’t really know what I was signing up for. All the different ways it could change my life, the level of sacrifice it would require from my whole family. Because if I had known, I don’t know if I would’ve made the same decision so easily. It all happened fast, like in the movies. One minute, it’s Christmas, I’m six, and me and Dalton are yelling at the top of our lungs, excited about the two karts sitting in the driveway, pointed diagonally at each other like in a magazine. Next minute, I’m 11 and Dalton’s 14. We’re sitting at the table eating lunch with my dad, and it’s decided — our family’s moving to Europe.

When Logan tells the same story in GQ in 2023, he says:

I was always just going with the flow. For me it was just: sure.

The Sergeant family leaves for Switzerland just as Logan finishes up fifth grade. While Logan always talks about the family move to Switzerland in the context of his parents making sacrifices for his career, it's a little more complicated than that.

 GQ’s profile steps around the subject, briefly mentioning that “in addition to the racing opportunities, [Logan’s] Dad had business there.” Unfortunately, business would be an understatement. 

At the time, Logan’s dad, Daniel, worked for the family business– an asphalt trading and shipping company named Sergeant Marine. One of the driving forces behind Sergeant Marine’s success would be Daniel’s older brother, Harry. 

When Logan’s detractors mention his family’s connections to Trump, they’re usually referencing Harry. The NYT describes his billionaire uncle as “a former [Top Gun] fighter pilot and onetime finance chair of Florida’s Republican Party who has been sued by the brother-in-law of King Abdullah II of Jordan and whose name turned up, tangentially, in the 2020 impeachment of former President Donald J. Trump. (Harry was not accused of any wrongdoing.)” 

Harry would leave the company around the time Daniel moved his family to Switzerland. According to The Florida Phoenix, “The entire family was embroiled in a long-running bitter series of lawsuits that ended with a 2015 bankruptcy settlement. Harry III walked away with a cool $56-million. In return he gave up any claim to ownership of Sargeant Marine and other family companies. There were 14 different lawsuits in several states in addition to the bankruptcy. The lawsuits produced salacious testimony that could only arise in a vicious dispute between millionaires. Harry III accused his brother Daniel of spending millions on his sons’ pursuits of race car driving and other ventures. Meanwhile, Daniel accused Sargeant III of being a spendthrift on things such as a $7.5-million mansion, private jets and exotic cars.”

Logan with his dad.

It would, somehow, get worse:

Oil and asphalt mogul Harry Sargeant III claims that industrial design plans along with recordings of "private consensual relations" were purloined from his private email account and traded off to a corporate intelligence agent as part of a years-long smear campaign against him spearheaded by his brother. Reigniting a long-running saga of brother-against-brother litigation, Harry Sargeant III claims that hundreds of pages of business records, personal discussions and "extremely sensitive videos and photographs" were illegally obtained from his email account. The material was used as currency for information-bartering between his brother Daniel Sargeant and a corporate intelligence chief at the nonparty legal service firm Burford, the lawsuit alleges. Harry is demanding damages for alleged invasion of privacy on the part of Daniel. The brothers had in years past worked together on managing the Sargeant family's global oil and asphalt empire, before intra-family disputes began to tear them apart. [...] The lawsuit claims the Burford investigator, a former corporate attorney, knows Harry well. According to the court documents, the investigator for years worked as an enforcement agent on a $28 million judgment secured against Harry by the king of Jordan's brother-in-law Mohammad Al-Saleh, who accused Harry of cutting him out of a deal to distribute oil to troops in the Iraq War. [...] Harry claims brother Daniel gave the corporate intelligence agent the treasure trove of Harry's emails  in exchange for inside information that would help the Sargeant family's asphalt company Latin American Investments in a separate multimillion-dollar legal dispute. Harry's underlying email account ran on a server of the family company Sargeant Marine. When he was ousted from the Sargeant empire, Harry had been told that the account was cut off at the root and all information in it had been destroyed, the lawsuit says. The lifted emails were instead provided to an "untold number of people" inside and outside of the family businesses in 2016, the lawsuit claims.

The information that Daniel traded his brother’s sex tape for would end up being useless. Daniel is currently out a $5 million bond and awaiting sentencing for the foreign bribery and money laundering charges he pled guilty to back in 2019. After bribing officials in three South American countries to secure asphalt contracts, the Department of Justice ended up making an example of the company– and Daniel– for violating the Foreign Corrupt Practices Act. 

While Logan cites his career as a big reason for the family move, it appears that Sargeant Marine had conveniently made shell companies in Switzerland to aid in their illegal business dealings that same year.

Logan, blissfully unaware of any drama, tries to make the most of the big move. They move to Lugano, Switzerland– Dalton and Logan go to the American School on weekdays and race on the weekends in the European junior circuit, bouncing them between Italy, Switzerland and Britain. In GQ, Logan says:

“I definitely felt like school was a lot more challenging than in Florida,” he recalled. “And we were missing a lot of school, for sure, but that’s part of it with racing. It is what it is.”

Logan loves Switzerland. In his Players’ Tribune article, he says:

We moved into a three-bedroom apartment. It was me, my parents, Dalton, and our dog Roxy, the world traveler. Big difference from Florida. We had a whole new life. I loved Switzerland. I had a lot of good friends at my school there. I can’t explain it, but I just felt more a part of things. Me and my friends were big Chelsea fans, and we’d be hanging out, playing soccer all the time. We played Call of Duty like every other kid in the world.

However… Logan is the only one. Daniel is out doing shady asphalt deals around the world and suing his brother. Dalton moves back to Florida after a year-and-a-half. Their mother follows soon after that. Logan ends up living alone at the school: 

Dalton was my older brother, so for as far back as I can remember, I was chasing him. Man, we fought all the time. Every race, we were up against all these other kids, but he was always the one I was really trying to beat. But the thing is, when you’re a kid you miss things. You just can’t see everything so clearly. Like, for instance, being a bit older than me, I think he felt the shift more strongly when we moved, but I didn’t know it. He stayed in Switzerland for a year and a half, did some European karting, and started testing Formula cars. Then one day he just decided he wanted to go home and race in America. I won’t lie, that was a shock at the time. But I get it more now. Making that big life change was hard on my mom, too. Just think, you’re living in this brand new place, don’t have many friends. Me and Dalton were at school all day. My dad was traveling all over the place with work, so he was hardly there. The reality is, she was on her own a lot. So she ended up going back to Florida, too. For about a year and a half after that, it was just me. I was living at the school during that time.

When talking about how his mom moved back to Florida while Logan was living alone in Europe as a teenager, he told the Players’ Tribune that:

Looking back on everything, I just see all the sacrifices they made, and it means so much. No matter what they were going through, my family always pushed me to keep going. I feel like that was probably the hardest for my mom, especially. She means the world to me. She’s a bit of a worrier too, and overthinks. I think I get that from her. She’s always been the person I could go to when I was doubting myself. So I can’t imagine how hard it must have been for her to encourage me to keep going, when I know she probably wanted our family to be together. I’m really grateful, not only that they believed in me that much, to move our entire family, but that they took my passion for driving seriously enough not to let me give it all up.

While Logan’s personal life may be troubled, his karting career is doing exceptionally well. In 2014, he wins the prestigious SuperNats18 in Vegas:

Infinity Sports Management, Facebook - SARGEANT DOMINATES IN LAS VEGAS. Logan Sargeant produced a stunning display last weekend in the TAG Junior category at the Supernationals race in Las Vegas. After finishing runner up in the race in 2013 Logan was eager to go one better this year and bring home the winners trophy. Although Logan got pipped in qualifying he still managed to win every heat ensuring he would start from pole position for the final on Sunday. From there he kept the lead and came home 5.6 seconds clear of the second driver. With this win in TAG Junior Logan become the first driver ever to win the TAG Cadet and TAG Junior categories at the Supernationals race.

2015 manages to be even more exceptional. Logan starts the season by being the first North American driver to win a WSK event by winning the WSK Champions Cup in La Conca, Italy.

Logan with his mother after winning the WSK Champions Cup.

The season reaches its peak with Logan becomes the first American to win an FIA Karting World Championship, the top junior series, since Lake Speed in 1978.

He gets to go to the FIA Awards:

Logan: And I couldn’t thank my mechanic enough. And also my parents, uh, they really helped me to be able to win the world championship and it’s just an amazing feeling. Interviewer: I mean, did you, did you, what did you do when you found out you won? Did you call your friends at home? Did you phone your grandpa? What did you get up to? Logan: Uh, no, I just gave my mom and dad a really big hug. Interviewer: Is it still sinking in now? Logan: Yeah, it’s, it’s a really emotional thing. [...] Interviewer: Tell me about when you were a little bit younger than you are now. You’re only 14 now. But why racing, why, why is this so important to you? Logan: Um, well, my dad bought me a, a racing kart when I was five years old and we started from there. We thought it would just be like a little hobby and, uh, it ended up becoming like a professional thing we did. So. Interviewer: So, so was there a moment when you, when you or your dad just thought ‘Wow, I’m quick. I can do this’? Logan: Um, well, not really. We just kept progressing and then, um, when we, when we decided to come to Europe to race, um, we moved to Switzerland and from then on we were just, uh, going to school, I started going to school in Switzerland. And, yeah, and then we just kept going and then ended up like this. Interviewer: Do you have any other hobbies? Can you fit anything else in? Logan: Um, well, other than school it’s really hard. But when I get my breaks and I go back to Florida for, um, I like to go fishing a lot and, yeah, that’s what I do. Mostly. 

When interviewed after his win, Logan tells kart360 that:

Moving away from home is a very hard thing in your own personal life. You lose all of your best friends. You don’t have your "home" and you have to adapt to a different culture. It is hard to move to a country that speaks a different language than what you know, but racing is so important to me that I stuck through it and kept on going.

Logan clearly struggles on a personal level. He discusses his feelings in his Players’ Tribune article, saying: 

Coming up racing as a kid isn’t easy. That’s the most honest way I can put it. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve said to myself, I’m done. I’m ready to come home. I’m glad I didn’t, but there were plenty of times when I wanted to. I remember one big time was the summer right after Dalton went back. We took this trip to the Bahamas with some of our extended family and friends. We were on the water, and everything was feeling like old times. And I think I just had this pit in the bottom of my stomach, like dreading going back. There was a night when I went to my mom, and I was like, “I’m just ready to come home.” I remember her asking me more questions about what I was feeling. I don’t even remember what I said, to be honest. I just remember that she didn’t tell me what to do. She left it completely up to me. My dad used to always say, “If you put in the work now, it’ll pay off eventually — it’ll be worth it.” And he kind of reminded me of that on that trip too. It’ll be worth it. Those four little words … that’s what kept me going. After that I sucked it up, went back to Switzerland, put my head down, and I went for it."

When Logan makes the jump to single seaters the next year, his parents rent him an apartment to live in by himself in London. The only time he’ll spend more than a few weeks in the US since he was a 12-year old would be during COVID.

But Logan’s time in single seaters will be for the next installment.

Logan through the years.

#logan sargeant #for dori who inspired me to post this <3 #i literally cant look at it anymore or add any more photos or videos or it crashes lol #but i reserve the right to go back and edit this tomorrow lmao

[profoundbondfanfic]

hi there just wondering what is the angstiest fics you guys have collectively read? I’m in search for the angstiest angst to ever angst

Hey there, sorry for the delay, but here are a few of our fav angstiest fics!

A Complete Kingdom by komodobits [Explicit, 85k words] #major character death

The sea; it swallows me. It comes up to my knees and it swallows me. The boys owe Jody a few dozen favours, and so when her niece goes missing near an old fishing village on the coast of Maine, Dean, Sam, and a newly human Castiel agree to take the case on. They settle into an old abandoned lighthouse-keepers' cottage, and slowly the tide comes in. (post-s8)

Angels Don't Fear the Reaper by you-cant-spell-subtext-without (ayreisha) [Mature, 144k words] #angst with a happy ending

"When his eyes first open, there is nothing but darkness. Not the velvety, deep black of night, but the steely, thin murk of nothingness. Of cold. Of death. Of Death. Somehow, it feels like coming home."

Every Part of the Animal by Askance (doomcountry), komodobits [Mature, 47k words] #major character death

It’s their first case after the Trials, after Heaven has collapsed: playing back-up to another team of hunters taking out some werewolves in the mountains. It's a routine job, an easy job - at least until the radio goes silent. Sam, Dean, and Cas follow after, but the caves into which the hunters have vanished wind deeper and darker than they could have expected, and something is wrong. Cas can feel it. The Winchesters may not believe what he’s hearing, but there's something down here with them—and it's not the people they came here to find, and it's not the werewolves they've been tracking. It's something else, something older, something violent, and it knows they're here.

Grey by Valinde (Valyria) [Explicit, 65k words] #angst with a happy ending

In a world where people don't see in color until they find their true mate, the first thing Dean sees when he pulls himself out of his grave is the blue sky. When Castiel raised him from the Pit, he inadvertently claimed Dean as his mate.

Man in the Wilderness by OneHundredSuns [Explicit, 68k words] #angst with a happy ending

Dean Winchester is fresh out of Purgatory along with every other Tom, Dick and Wendigo that called the cesspool home. As the monsters lay waste to the Earth and eat anything they can get their hands on, Dean sets out to find his only remaining family so that they can hunker down and fight the assholes head on. He doesn’t mean to stumble upon Castiel Novak and his adorable twins in the middle of the apocalypse and he sure as hell doesn’t mean to offer them a ride to wherever they are trying to get to. But the world is a dangerous place now and he’s always been a sucker for blue eyes and cute kids. So he’ll help them out and just hope it doesn’t get him or them killed in the process.

Ninety One Whiskey by komodobits [Explicit, 401k words] #angst with a happy ending

In the spring of 1944, the 104th Medical Battalion of the United States Army is disbanded, and its men reassigned to various infantry companies in preparation for their invasion of occupied France. For First Lieutenant Novak, this is less than helpful, as he has so far met his platoon’s designated medic a grand total of twice, and has both times found Sergeant Winchester to be the optimum combination of reckless, arrogant, and downright insufferable so as to make cohesive platoon function near impossible. When the time comes to move out, however, Castiel has to reconcile himself to the fact that men are going to go down and trust that Dean Winchester may well be the only person who can put them back together again. WW2 ETO infantry AU.

Right Where You Left Me by outdean [Explicit, 93k words] #angst with a happy ending

Ten years after the empty swallows Cas up, it spits him right back out—but a lot can change in a decade. OR The "Cas comes back from the empty to find that Dean is married" fic.

The Benjamin Franklin Key-and-Kite Experiment by beerenee [Explicit, 122k words] #angst with a happy ending

“Thank you for stopping by, Dean,” Emmanuel says, holding out the jacket. “I hope to see you in church on Sunday.” The tips of Dean’s fingers accidentally brush over the back of Emmanuel’s hand when he reaches for the jacket. “Probably not,” Dean laughs as he pulls Dad’s jacket around him. “Like I said before, I’m not exactly a believer. You?” Emmanuel doesn’t answer immediately. Then, without really looking at Dean (more like looking through him,) he whispers, “I will be.” Or 1.12 but Dean's faith healer is Emmanuel!Cas

the inexhaustible silence of houses by Askance (doomcountry) [Teen, 31k words] #unhappy ending

Almost two years after the world doesn't end, Castiel falls from grace—and loses his voice in the process. It is the impetus for confession and change; before long, he is settling into a loving relationship with Dean, the Winchesters are tired, and hunting for a place to land has taken precedence to hunting anything else. Dean and Castiel fall in love with the strange little house on the end of Swallowtail Drive, and for a little while life is as it should be—sweet, affectionate, and beginning afresh. But more and more Castiel sees and hears things in the house that beg the question of whether or not a place itself can be alive. The walls and rooms seem to shift and grow and breathe, and one night, Dean comes home from a hunt changed in a way that Castiel cannot explain. In the months that follow, their domestic bliss takes turns for the dark and sour, and the confusion of their circumstances will ultimately test everything Castiel knows about the man he loves, and everything he believes to be true.

The walk by Persephoneshadow [Explicit, 196k words] #angst with a happy ending

Dean's been living on the streets and turning tricks for a while. Most of the time clients just find him. After a job goes wrong he goes looking for work and finds more than he expected with a married man of faith with blue eyes and a trench coat.

To build a Home by intothesilentland [Mature, 383k words] #angst with a happy ending

Twenty-three years of head-over-heels, devastating devotion and love, love, love for the man with bright eyes and dark hair. Fourteen years of friends, best friends, of always together. One moment of rejection. Nine years of apart. Nine years of heartbreak, nine years of continents away, of not speaking, of no acknowledgement, no interaction, no closure, no peace. No happiness. Nine years of Dean’s life entering motions, going through them, constant, cold and mechanic, like clockwork. Nine years of alone. God. Nine years. A lot has changed. And yet Dean still loves Cas just the same. Even if his heart hurts all kinds of different. On the day of Jimmy Novak’s funeral, Dean sees Cas for the first time in nine years. He adored Castiel the moment he met him, at only four years old. But after fourteen years of friendship destroyed by one moment of heartbreak, and after nine years of silence, Dean is convinced Cas will want nothing to do with him. And it’s killing him.

Twist and Shout by gabriel, standbyme [Explicit, 97k words] #major character death

What begins as a transforming love between Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak in the summer of 1965 quickly derails into something far more tumultuous when Dean is drafted in the Vietnam War. Though the two both voice their relationship is one where saying goodbye is never a real truth, their story becomes fraught with the tragedy of circumstance. In an era where homosexuality was especially vulnerable, Twist and Shout is the story of the love transcending time, returning over and over in its many forms, as faithful as the sea.

What Is Tomorrow Without You by sobsicles [Explicit, 93k words] #angst with a happy ending

Cas is dead, and Dean is living through hell all over again. Experiencing hell as he'd first lived it, Dean aches for peace. When Jack enters his life, it only brings him a purpose. A mission for revenge sends Dean spiraling out of control as Jack does everything in his power to help Dean, going as far as to using his power to let Dean visit Cas where he resides after death. But when Dean depends on these visits and learns a few things about how he truly feels for Cas, the line between what's real and what's not starts to blur. Dealing with grief and his need for revenge, Dean struggles to find a way to get his family back together while also coming to grips that he might have to find a place in a world without Cas in it. Fortunately, Cas comes back, and Dean has to learn to navigate through the life he'd been wanting. But things aren't quite what they seem as their relationship blooms, and Dean realizes he's the reason Cas is slowly changing, and not for the better.

What Used to be Mine by someonetoanyone [Explicit, 48k words] #angst with a happy ending

“There is…” he starts; he licks his lips and glances away; his fingers twitch and fiddle, “... there is one thing she's afraid of. There's one thing strong enough to stop her.” That sounds too good to be true, so Dean waits for the other shoe to drop. It doesn’t take long. Cas at least has the wherewithal to look Dean in the eyes when he says, “when Jack was dying, I made a deal to save him.” ___ a terrible, evil AU that posits; what if the divorce arc was even worse, what if Dean never apologized in Purgatory, and what if Cas internalized all of that, making his ultimate confession less confident, though no less heartfelt, and he died thinking Dean hated him?

You Can Keep Holding On by NorthernSparrow [Explicit, 352k words] #angst with a happy ending

Hiatus fic set after the S11 finale. Dean's alive, Sam's alive, they're going to get Cas from wherever he got zapped to, and everything's finally gonna be all right. Dean's on top of the world. A little voice in the back of his head is whispering "It's never that easy," but Dean ignores it.

#asks #group rec #angst with a happy ending #unhappy ending #major character death

[thehistoriangirl]

Until Our Secrets Drift Us Apart [8]

Y'all this is horny

I don't sorry but still, fair warning!

Viktor x Fem!Reader---Modern AU/Marriage of Convenience--- 4.9K ---NSFW

> MASTERLIST <- Previous // Next ->

Summary: Upon the surprising death of the CEO of Daxer Corp., the battle for the presidential chair began with unexpected violence. Threaten to lose everything you’ve been working on during your entire life; it’s time you must find a desperate solution to grasp the control over your part of the emporium, and even your own freedom. Which better idea than solidifying your subsidiary's future than ally with the rising tech company, HexTech? And oh, what a special type of alliance it would be…  

Tags: Not-So-Forced Proximity| Marriage of Convenience| Strangers to Lovers| Domestic Fluff| Post-Wedding|  Crushes | Fake Dating| NSFW Tags: Nipple Play, Grinding, Semi-Public Sex |

Chapter Summary: With winter arrives new blooming feelings that complicate the situation.

What is real, and what is an act?

8: Lover or Stranger

Cold wind flew across the boulevard carrying the winter, which made the living room window mist when Viktor stayed too late at night scribbling away at the coffee table. This time of the year was always rather grim, with dirty snow and the lead sky with no signs of sunlight—it made his bones ache, all his energy drained.

A pain resonated deep within his chest at passing by the one-level houses back to the apartment, with their porches lit gold by the streetlamps like a lighthouse guiding the family home.

While they sat idly on their couches, eyes crinkling with smiles and sounds of laughter echoing by, so fleeting Viktor couldn't even dream about grasping them between his freezing fingers.

Loneliness was a norm by now, as kids didn’t like a child that couldn’t run just like teenagers were too poignant with their words for Viktor to try. He became a boy—a man—between machines.

No matter how hard they beeped and hissed, with their wires breathing life, there was still a void where the sound of an interrupted conversation ought to be.

Thick as the shell was, it started to crack by the time he met Jayce Talis, which made it easier to let the walls down once he got himself in the middle of your life without much of an afterthought.

He started to turn on the AC and closed the door of his bedroom to envelop himself in the warmth that would be stolen once he got inside his car toward work.

This year would’ve been the same, lethargic season it had always been; with the same faded shades of grey and blue he sometimes felt being knitted inside his chest like a blanket too heavy to hold, to even stand up too much.

And yet, he found flashes of colors peeking beneath the enormous layer of grey, black, white, and blue of his everyday heating shirts and robust jackets. Bold pinks and bright oranges beneath your coats, red scarfs that matched the color of your lipstick.

He even started to wear those matching, colorful gloves and hats Jayce not-so-jokingly had bought for last winter’s festival Viktor couldn’t assist due to the ache in his leg.

The living room was decorated in vibrant greens from all the plants you have moved inside since the first snowfall.

Viktor had been at a loss for words once he entered the house earlier than usual—a custom he was taking slowly, unconsciously gazing at the clock once the sun started to dip between the skyscrapers.

Rio was perched in one of the swings Viktor hung from the ceiling, swaying side to side while you were humming, hands busy with the honeysuckle you were trying to perch by the window.

"What are you doing?" he asked, worried that your precarious stance on the stool faded once your head turned toward his voice.

"I'm putting them inside," you huffed, jumping out of the seat. Your fingers were covered with black earth, and the living room was a concoction of at least six different essences of plants mixed with newly made dinner. “They will die in the cold, you know.” You went toward him with a small wisteria whose leaves were starting to get yellow after being in contact with the snow.

Viktor blinked. He barely had the energy to walk from work back to the house, and you were bothering to move all his plants inside the living room.

“I didn’t know you like plants.”

You shrugged, one of the sides of your sweater falling from your shoulder.

"I prefer trees, but these are cute too," you chuckled, putting the wisteria on a coffee table near the balcony. “Trees are more resilient than flowers, but they grow slower.”

“Hmm, yes, that’s true. I’d say that resilience comes from patience,” Viktor said, standing next to you while helping you thread a money plant in the wall over the TV. "Everything that makes you wait is worth for.”

He gazed at you, memories recounting the sensation of your lips against his, how his hands found purchase in the soft skin of your waist.

Yes. Albeit Viktor wasn’t sure if he had the privilege of patience in the actual circumstances.

The least he could do was seize the time presented in front of him before it would slip away alongside those rudimentary sketches of prototypes and hurriedly written to-do lists Viktor ended up locking in a bottom drawer, fearing that Jayce or you could discover it otherwise—could discover it before he’d solved his problem.

Thus take his chances he did, even when he didn't wish to assist this snobby soirée, knowing there would be barely any seats for him to rest, without considering prickling pride of you discovering his diminishing health.

He wished many things from you; pity wasn’t one of them.

It wasn’t like he didn’t catastrophize every once in a silent night, but rather that his mind had started to create a sanctuary, a small pocket of possibilities in which you wouldn’t mind—that you’d be one, maybe the one, not to commiserated him for who he was.

An outsider.

“Vikky!” you called him, fighting among the crowd to make your way next to him. “I found you!” You beamed, looking so breathtaking with your olive dress outlined in golden details, like a nature goddess he could worship any day.

Focus, Viktor.

“I, eh, apologize for vanishing," he mumbled, feeling his cheeks red once your fingers touched his while taking the delicate steam off the glass. "I didn't wish to interrupt your conversation.”

It wasn't that, but the sensation of staying at the edge of a precipice, where a false step and then someone else would push him into oblivion only because he couldn't stand on such treacherous ground—not like you. Or like Jayce.

He watched how you both climbed further and further away that at some point you wouldn’t hear his voice anymore.

“Could you talk with Jayce?”

Between his grim thoughts, Viktor smiled despite himself.

“I did,” he lied. The chargeable air conditioners they were developing to donate to orphanages, shelters, and other organizations could have been discussed with an email.

Part of him was ready to justify. That he was there because he’s your husband, and his job was to back you up. Thought Viktor couldn’t lie to himself so blatantly, he was too curious to see you out in an ambient familiar for you, as he couldn't think of many opportunities he had to get closer to you, fear still pouring out his heart, nerves on edge just waiting for your backtrack. For your regret.

It was a known feeling by now—so many nights looking at the ceiling inside his bedroom while a thousand possibilities passed by, almost any of them auspicious.

What did you think about him? Why did you kiss him that day, when nobody was watching?

“Are you alright?” you muttered, your voice driving him away from the endless spiral of allegations. "I'll give you a taste of my wine to ease you if you want."

“I don’t think getting intoxicated would be the best option if we wished to walk out of this with our reputation intact.”

Especially with all the dirty looks you both were receiving; if it was because of Viktor’s presence in the very selective party or because you've made more enemies in the last few weeks of your last public appearance, he wasn’t sure.

Especially with how he would react once his shame was washed away by the liquor. As now, Viktor found it incredibly difficult to tear his gaze away from how the soft fabric of your dress hugged and fell around all the right places from a tailored piece, something like relief flooding his chest once he saw the golden ring on your left hand glimmering against the light of the chandelier.

You were addictive, he dared to say, the same way he had grown needy of discovery and mastery of his craft. He wished to memorize the sensation of your pliant lips molded against his, how you tasted after snacking on fruit from the bowl while he was working in the living room, that the texture of your hair against his palm could get engraved in his memory just like the smell of your shampoo no matter how long you take to return home.

There was a longing under his touch so hard to contain, an ache that soared and reverberated ever since he looked at you waving him in a hurried goodbye as you were being taken away to chat with some guests, only the outline of your backless dress visible before being devoured by the crowd, terse skin glowing against the hue of the chandelier.

He was embarrassed by how much he wished to touch the delicate curve of your back, theorizing already if you'd shivered once his fingers traced along your spine to then dig in the supple skin of your hips.

Your finger was warm against his cold brow for staying too close to the window when you poked the crest between his eyebrows.

“Easy there,” you muttered, standing right in front of him. “You’ll get  wrinkles here if you keep frowning.”

Viktor chuckled despite himself. “We’re all going to have wrinkles, my dear. I don’t mind.”

You faked a pout, he was already familiar with the shape of your mouth to notice it; how your bottom lip puffed out and quivered, your eyes widening like those of a puppy—all dramatic flair.

A dramatic scene he didn’t mind one bit. Rather…

“Hmmm,” he hummed, looking around the room for any curious guests stealing glances at you. There wasn’t any, and yet Viktor leaned closer to you to steal a kiss from those pouty lips.

Just like a doting husband shall do.

You smiled against him, the hand that wasn’t grabbing the glass of wine against his chest.

Could you feel how his heartbeat scrambled around because of you?

"You're cold," Viktor said once you had parted, the aftertaste of the pastries you'd been eating still clinging to his tongue like a temptation to challenge him to go for another kiss. And another one, and another. His hand ran up and down the curve of your bare shoulders. "Take this."

His coat was too long and too narrow on the chest for you, albeit in his mind the mere thought of the cloth smelling like you made him brace himself against the chilly current of air filtering through the ajar door of the balcony.

"Thank you," you beamed, rolling up the sleeves to fit the size of your arms. "But I think we can go home now. I've talked with Mel already, and that's the only reason why I came, so…"

“Is that so?” Viktor arched an eyebrow. For some reason, he had always imagined you enjoyed yourself in these kinds of events.

After all, he had seen you in a myriad of them during his years of university assisting galas and banquets as one of late Mrs. Daxer's protégé, in a way.

Even if he was just a piece to show off that wealth's compassion was a thing, Viktor got his eyes trained on your figure navigating through the tide of people surrounding you like an amorph halo as if they were sunflowers and you were the sun.

He never thought he could have a chance to stand so close to your rays, for the world had always taught him he was but an ugly, moribund flower that didn’t have a chance to be part of a bouquet.

So Viktor watched, taking as much as he could—from a distance.

Even now, he could compare the images of the young bachelor student you used to be back then and the businesswoman you had become.

Though your world tried to make you endure, the shine in your eyes persisted yet slightly muted, though now Viktor could observe glimpses of that unrestrained delight every once and then.

Just like when Rio dropped that seed on the bar for you.

Ever so insignificant for others, and yet you had the little seed in a pot inside your room, all protected from the harshness of the season.

 How much time had he dedicated to thinking about you in the last few months?

Viktor was afraid of answering because, for the first time in so long, work wasn't the only priority posing on his mind.

“We can go now if you want,” you said, leaning closer to his chest so nobody in the vicinity could hear you. “Besides, it seems it’s about to snow at any moment. Driving could get dangerous.”

Viktor shivered when your hand slid down his arm until stopping in the crook of his elbow with a gentle pat. He wasn't sure if the culpable was the chilly wind blowing at his back from his place tucked between a pillar and the entrance of the lonely balcony.

Before you could pull away, his fingers brushed the reverse of your palm, with him enjoying how your eyes sought his.

“Perhaps you could concede me a dance first?” he heard himself saying, almost deluding himself he just did it in his mind. “Could warm me up before getting out into the cold.”

“I didn’t consider you like to dance. I would’ve asked you to dance first before I went away to talk with potential investors.”

With small steps, Viktor guided you to a corner of the ballroom, the handle of his cane locked in the crook of his elbow so both his hands were free to take you in between his arms.

“I’m not a good dancer,” he said, loathing how his cheeks felt hot after the confession. “But I have great company I wish to spend a moment with.”

“You don’t have to impress me, Viktor.” You put your hand over his left shoulder, feeling the soft patch of his back brace underneath. “I’m not one of those sponsors you need to convince.”

It wasn’t a need, but rather a childish desire.

He cleared his throat, not wishing any kind of improper thoughts to get ahold of his mind.

“Sometimes I forget it. Because you’re still part of this world.”

Your chuckle reverberates against his chest when you lay your cheek over his shoulder, steps matching in a slow and intimate melody.

“I’m not. Not really,” you mumbled, face looking away from his seeking eyes. “A fish being dragged inland is forced to grow legs to walk or else it’ll die. Would you say it belongs on the surface then?"

Viktor swallowed, words slipping out of his brain as he tried to roll them out his tongue. He had never been great at eloquence, which was why Jayce is the face of HexTech and not him.

This wasn’t a pitch sell, though, so he wanted to believe you didn’t expect a well-rehearsed line filled with bland and dishonest words.

“Where do you think you belong?” Where do you think I belong?

“I don’t have many options where to choose from, do I?” You raised your head to lock eyes with him. “The orphanage, without a family name, or with a stolen one? I don’t think either of those are especially welcomed.”

Viktor smiled. "And what about creating your own?" he muttered, his body adjusting to the new rhythm of the song starting to play.

“I don’t know if I can do that,” you admitted, defeat and shame tinting your voice from being heard too loud. “It’s been so long since I’ve lived under someone else’s name that…” you sighed, trying to form a smile that wasn’t lacking in sourness. “I shouldn’t be saying this out in the open.”

Viktor nodded. “You’d never know if you don’t try, hmm?” he offered, extending his arm for you to twirl, your skirt hitting his legs.

“Do you speak for experience?”

He tended to forget about your background, that perhaps at the beginning you weren’t as different as sometimes his mind obliged him to consider albeit it could give him hope that maybe the differences weren’t too grand for you two to try.

He didn’t like to be considered a fool carried away by feelings. Viktor was an engineer for a reason—leaving high hopes out of the equation, where they couldn’t enter through the polarized glass doors of the lab.

“I do,” Viktor said, patting the small of your back before retreating his hands. “Let’s go home, shall we?”

The windows of the car were fogged once you slipped inside, freezing air cutting at your face in the open parking lot.

Viktor groaned when he sat against the driver’s seat, the joints of his legs creaking after being standing up for quite a while.

“Do you want me to drive?” you said, your gaze burnt into his side profile as he took the seat belt with frozen fingers.

“I’ll get warmer soon. Don’t worry.” While the engine purred alive, Viktor took the steering wheel and decided to give you some answers about his life, in the remote case you’d be willing to do the same.

“I decided to leave my hometown and chase my chances in the city of progress when I was around sixteen years old." He tried to gesture away, but his hands were too numb from walking out of the building down to the basement, so he only got them hit against the windshield with a mumbled curse and his cheeks embarrassingly red. “I had your mother to thank for giving me a chance to enroll in such a prestigious university. She gave me a chance when many others just gazed past me.”

You parted your lips with a muffled ‘pop’ in the charged silence, windows blocking the blows of wind from a desert highway.

“Did you accept my offer because you feel like you owed my mother?” you asked quietly.

Viktor observed the bleak landscape outside, the night black with snow starting to fall out of the sky like small ghosts haunting the darkness.

“I did not,” Viktor said simply, not daring to gaze upon you.

It was a half-truth, but he didn’t dare to say it whole.

Not yet.

"I did it for HexTech," he ended up saying, closing his eyes with regret for a moment once the car stopped at a red light. It was too late to backtrack now. “It’s part of our dream, as you may know. It’s an opportunity we couldn’t pass.”

You chuckled, facing toward the window. "Of course. I thank you for accepting, nevertheless. I think you’re the only one who would do something like that.”

“Thank you, I assume?” he replied, voice filled with faux offense, which made you giggle.

“It was a compliment.”

He shrugged. “Sure sounded like one.”

"I want to thank you for accompanying me tonight," your voice flew softly inside the vehicle, as if time had stopped and you were inside one snow globe. “I enjoyed it, unexpectedly. And… it was because of you.”

“Did youenjoy it because of me?”

You crossed your legs, trying to appear easy-going though Viktor could see your hands fidgeting with the edge of your dress. “I usually don’t enjoy going to parties like those—I always have to be mingling and smiling and making chit-chat you won’t remember tomorrow. But alas, it’s work, too.” You shrugged, your finger drawing faces on the window. “But today was different.”

He arched an eyebrow.

“Different how?”

“I felt at ease,” you chuckled, looking at the looming apartment complex approaching. “I do when I’m with you. So… thank you.”

He couldn’t know if it was the alcohol you had drank, or if the special circumstances had driven you so to speak so comfortably in his presence; maybe it was the many weeks passing by in each other's company inside the apartment, how you were more than existing together in the same space.

“It is my pleasure,” Viktor said, extending his arm so you could give him his coat as your body leaned toward the back, grabbing all the jackets and sweaters before heading outside. "I enjoy your company, too." Much more than just enjoying it, but it was a step closer to admission.

“That’s good,” you chuckled. “Or else it’ll be a rather awkward marriage.”

“And you’re just saying it now?” Viktor teased, hands brushing each other’s when you passed him his long, heavy brown coat. You rolled your eyes, though the corner of your mouth raised in a sheepish smile. “We should head inside before the car grows colder.”

You smiled at him from the copilot seat, so close he could take a whiff of the special perfume you wore for these types of occasions; with jasmines and sandalwood, a touch of lavender to calm down your nerves. “Wait a little. I want to stay here for a bit. It feels… good.”

Viktor had counted his drinks with diligence tonight. Two glasses of red wine and half a flute of champagne, which to him wasn’t much, accustomed to stronger drinks from back home, and yet… he couldn’t restrain himself this time.

The small locks of hair tickled your forehead when he leaned toward you, eyes locked into the other in a silent spell that seemed to envelop the quiet ambiance inside the car half-tucked between the shadows of the parking lot and the nearest streetlight, making your eyes shine like stars.

“Jsi krásná,” he muttered, your eyes widening slightly as his hand cupped your cheek.

By now, he was getting used to the way you felt against him every time you kissed, though it was always a marvel trying to guess where your hands would be this time, either in his hair or cupping his cheeks, maybe over his chest, seeking his accelerated heartbeat.

But it was never enough. And it was oh so terrifying.

You dipped your head so he could take the lead, slipping his tongue inside your mouth to taste the sweetness of the dark chocolate with strawberries that still clung to you, so deliciously mixed with the sour essence of the wine you had cheered with all night.

A little moan escaped your lips, his fingers sliding down the outline of your jaw, barely brushing the soft skin of your neck and the halter of your dress, a piece of silk and jewelry that felt so easy to unclip beneath his gifted, crafty hands.

It was a rather selfish desire, the one to take you in so much that he ended up engraved in your memory once this contract arrived at its end, wishing that perhaps that way he could make you stay.

You sighed his name between kisses, your nails gently scratching his skull, fingers tangled in his hair. He replied the only way he could, breathing your name like a prayer once he tugged you closer, defying the separation between the two seats.

It was the first time he felt your weight atop his; such a blissful sight of you gazing down toward him, hair framing them away from the outer world as your hands kneaded at his shoulders. Even in dreams, he could've never matched how it felt to truly have you between his arms.

You were bold tonight, too, stumbling across your seat to settle on his lap. Even if your pulse was too agitated to unbutton his vest and shirt as fast as he did to unclip the ends of your halter dress.

“Mmmm,” you hummed, Viktor’s eyes growing a burnt amber hue at taking in the sight of your skin covered in goosebumps against the cold air, nipples hard and small. “Viktor.”

He hovered his lips over the right one, his hot breath making it grow softer and bigger. It was your opportunity to turn away, to tug the ends of your dress from your waist upwards, and call it all a mistake.

And yet, you only arched your back at him, your nipple brushing against his ajar lips before he sucked it inside his mouth, drawing it around his teasing tongue as his hand sought the warmth of your skin, pinching the other small bud in rhythm with his licks.

“… Vikky…” Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling gently as your lips repeated his name in keen sights and lewd moans matching his.

The hand grabbing your hips caught the movement of your grinding against his lap now that he had woken up and gone hard at the taste of your body lotion, of your skin in his mouth, and the way you were leaning so needily against him.

“Call me Vitya, moje láska. Please.”

Your pants mixed with his made the windows of the car fog up so much Viktor was surprised there was still oxygen inside the closed space.

You looked down at him, hands gently cradling his cheeks. “Vitya?”

He flicked your nipple between his fingers. “Mmmhmm.” His voice was gentle, merely above a whisper while praising you in his natal Czech. He had no other choice—he mumbled all the loving words he didn’t dare to speak in English, too afraid still of your rejection as he passed from one pampered nipple to the other, enjoying how it had changed color thanks to all his attentions, the scientific, always-curious part of him thinking how much your skin would change in tone under his bites and kisses.

Between the hot coil starting to pour down between his legs and pressing uncomfortably against his pants, he saw the yellow headlights of an upcoming car.

Sure, the windows were all fogged up by now, but he couldn’t assure whoever was going to enter the parking lot couldn’t notice them in such a… compromising position. Married couple or not.

He called your name, though as soon as he did Viktor was sure you did not hear it, too lost in the repetitive motion of your hips buckling against the hardness in his pants.

Then, he bit your nipple, teeth pulling it harsher than he had done.

Hissing you tugged his head away, your eyes dark with lust and brows furrowed, both aroused and confused.

“Vik… Vitya?”

He felt his cheeks hot red, and Viktor knew the blush crept up his ears and down his chest. “E-eh… someone’s coming.”

You blinked through your passion. Once. Twice.

Before your brain could wire the information, the sound of the car’s engine echoed in the underground parking lot, and you jumped, scrambling toward your seat while covering your breasts with your hands.

“Oh, shit! Sorry, sorry!” you exclaimed, jumping out from him into the copilot seat, hands hurriedly taking your dress upwards to cover your hard nipples. “I’m sorry. We… um, we should get inside now,” you muttered, your hand wiping down the fog layered in the window of the car. “Well, maybe once the other people get down their vehicle.”

“I… I suppose so,” he said, shaky fingers buttoning up his shirt.

Perhaps it was for the best, that the cold air would calm down the lustful thoughts running through his mind enough that you wouldn’t notice the bulge in his pants once you entered the well-lit apartment.

“Viktor?” you said once he opened the entrance door with shaky hands, and after had dropped the keys at least twice before the victory.

“I… eh, I’ll take a quick shower,” he excused, passing next to you as fast as his cramped leg would permit him. Because your close presence and the recurring thoughts of you weren’t helping him to calm down.

The freezing air only made him fantasize how warm the bedroom would turn out if he dared to invite you to his bed tonight.

But you both had taken alcohol and perhaps it was just a spur of the moment—a defeated sigh and annoyed grunt in the morning once the events of last night had sunk in completely.

He didn’t want to be a mistake for you, because you wouldn’t be one for him.

So Viktor preferred to wait. He’d been patient for almost eight months now, he could wait a little bit more, too.

In the meantime, he would try to win your heart.

#arcane viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #arcane viktor #viktor arcane #viktor x you #arcane viktor x you #viktor arcane x you #arcane x female reader

[wildflowercryptid]

For the last/surnames for your mjv pieces, is there any specific meanings/symbolism when you give them those surnames? Like “Hinoki” for Kieran & Carmine, since Hinoki means “cypress” and it’s a real life tree.

(Sorry if this is a specific question. This is my autistic brain and curiosity of fictional name symbolism)

YES, THERE IS!! i'm also an autistic person who's obsessed with name etymology so i love giving characters ( original or otherwise ) names that symbolizes something about them or something they're associated with.

since i didn't do this before, i'm gonna use this as an excuse to explain the etymology behind the full names i gave the SV kids! some of them are more interesting than others, fair warning.

putting it under a cut since this may get a little long.

CRATER CREW + KITAKAMI KIDS

FLORIAN RUSSEL CAVALLARI & JULIANA SIGAL CAVALLARI

> cavallari ( spanish, from "caballero" meaning knight, cavalier, or rider ) — referencing their connection to koraidon, the designated ride pokémon of scarlet. > russel ( french, little red ) — meant to signify his role as the protagonist of scarlet. > sigal ( hebrew, viola ) — meant to signify her role as the protagonist of violet.

NEMONA CAMINO VALIENTE

> camino ( spanish, road ) — references her role as the main companion of the victory road storyline. > valiente ( spanish, brave or bold ) — meant to signify her forward and adventurous nature.

ARVEN MITO ALFARO

> mito ( spanish, myth or legend ) — references his role as the main companion of the path or legends storyline. > alfaro ( spanish, the lighthouse ) — references the poco path lighthouse, the professor's old lab and his childhood home.

PEONELOPE " PENNY " CASSANDRA ESPINOSA

> peonelope ( peony + penelope ) — there's no real significance to this name choice, i just thought it'd be funny if peony continued the trend of shoehorning his own name into his kids' in increasingly ridiculous ways. > cassandra ( greek, to shine or excel ) — meant to sound similar to cassiopeia. it also made me think of shining like a bright star. > espinosa ( spanish, thorn ) — meant to reference penny's relation to chairman rose through her father, peony. this is actually her mother's maiden name, peony took her surname to distance himself from rose and kept it even after getting divorced.

CARMINE & KIERAN HINOKI

> hinoki ( japanese, species of cypress native to central japan ) — references their family's craft of mask making, as hinoki wood is commonly used to make noh masks.

TEAM STAR CAPTAINS

GIACOMO LAUREANO MORENA

> laureano ( spanish, laurel ) — larry's name from the spanish translation of sv. meant to reference my headcanon that larry is giacomo's father. > morena ( spanish, dark-haired ) — a loose reference to his dark type specialization.

MELA CANDELLA LUCERO

> candella ( spanish, candle ) — a loose reference to her fire type specialization. > lucero ( spanish, derivative of " luz " meaning light or morning star ) — also meant to reference her fire type specialization, along with her role as team star captain.

ORTEGA ÁLVARO VERA REGINO

> álvaro ( spanish, elf warrior ) — meant to signify his fairy type specialization. > vera ( spanish, river bank ) — pulled from veracidad, which i headcanon is the apparel company that ortega's family owns. it also references the ruchbah squad's base's proximity to the water. > regino ( spanish, from the latin " regis " meaning king ) — meant to signify the affluence of his family.

ATTICUS HENZO

> henzo ( from the scientific name of the fall-blooming anemone, eriocapitella hupehensis ) — atticus's name from the spanish & italian translations of sv. i thought it sounded fitting and i thought it was cool that it could be referencing hattori hanzō, ( who's name could be read as to partially conceal. )

ERI NESPERA

> nespera ( portuguese, common name for loquat ) — eri's name from the italian translation of sv. i just thought it sounded pretty.

BB ELITE FOUR

LACEY TAMAYO TURNER

> tamayo ( japanese, generational jewel ) — loose reference to her relation to lian, clay's hisuian ancestor. > turner ( from turnip ) — clay's name in the german translation of bw/bw2.

AMARYS NERINE

> nerine ( from the genus nerine ) — amarys's name in the original japanese of sv.

CRISPIN HINO

> hino ( japanese, fire ) — reference to his fire type specialization.

DRAYTON LIRIO

> lirio ( spanish, iris or lily ) — draydon's name in the spanish translation of bw/bw2.

also, here's the first post i made about their names, along with age, gender. and sexuality headcanons!

#some of the characters's names have changed slightly btw! #mostly just giving some additional last names to be more in line with spanish naming conventions #i've named all of the other poketags + rivals too i should share them at some point... #hc : (pkmn) mjverse #hc : (mjv) paldea #mj.txt #asks

[christinesficrecs]

do you have any stiles who is pregnant with derek’s pup or pups? no surrogacy pls. :)

Oh my goodness! I promised you fics! And then life happened! So glad you didn't give up on me. ❤️

let’s see where this thing goes by EvanesDust | 5.4K | Explicit

When Derek moved to Beacon Hills on a whim, he never expected to see Stiles again. He certainly never expected to find out that he was a father, and after a rocky start, he never thought that they’d be a family. But six months later, Stiles and Derek have moved in together and are raising their son, Jake.

They’ve planned for the future, but after Stiles reminisces about his pregnancy, Derek realizes he doesn’t know if Stiles wants more kids.

The answer is yes.

…or the one where Stiles and Derek are parents and discuss having more kids. Featuring fluff and smut, with a side of breeding kink.

Desperate Measures by SylvieW | 25.1K | Mature

Alone and away from his pack on an international business trip, Derek finds company in a local omega. He didn't realize that Stiles' desperation--and the outdated laws of his country--would turn their one night stand into so much more.

You'll Be Mine and I'll Be Yours by tearsandholdme | 87.3K | Mature

“Oh my god!” Stiles hissed, his back colliding with the door. “Oh my god! I slept with my boss, oh my god. I'm a walking cliché!”

It was supposed to be a one night stand. No complications, no feelings, no baggage. But then a missed doctor's appointment in his childhood comes back to haunt him and Stiles is left with a lot more than one very good night.

if it's meant to be, it'll be by DeancebraArt, EvanesDust | 27.5K | Explicit

Following a chance encounter with an irresistible and alluring omega, Derek wakes up in bed alone, with no way to contact the man he met the night before. Over the course of the next year, Derek finds himself wondering: how can he miss someone he doesn’t even know? And, more importantly, how can he find him again?

After a one-night stand with a mysterious alpha werewolf leaves Stiles pregnant, he resigns himself to raising his child as a single parent. It’s not until the man he’s been pining over for the last year shows up at his doorstep, does he realize there might actually be something more complicated than raising a child on his own: love.

You Plus One by Unloyal_Olio | 8.8K | Explicit

Stiles didn’t beat around the bush. “Can werewolves get man-pregnant?”

Deaton dropped the cat he was holding.

You'll Grow Into Your Skin by crossroadswrite | 11.8K

“So funny story,” Stiles winces, “Remember when I joked you couldn’t get me pregnant?”

Derek nods his head. He remembers pretty much everything from that day.

“Right,” Stiles bobs his head, stops himself and does a little ta-da gesture towards Jacy, “Surprise?”

(Once in a) Blue Moon by clarkoholic, skywardsmiles | 60K | Explicit

Stiles and Derek are getting along, but they’re not a family, and they’re sure as hell not mates. Christ, they’re basically just two stupid guys who happened to get pregnant because of a full moon and sheer dumb luck.

The Lighthouse Keeper by tugela54 | 75K | Explicit

On a rural island just off Alaska’s northern Inside Passage, stands a centuries old lighthouse - the perfect sanctuary for its keeper to hide when the moon is full, to burn and rage through its cycle with the townsfolk being none the wiser.

But then a new resident comes to Beacon Harbour – a bright-eyed young student chasing an elusive whale species – and all of a sudden those thick stone walls seem paper thin…

Like the Sun Holds the Moon by IAmAVeronica | 118.1K | Explicit

Stiles is an omega, and he's supposed to be obedient. He's supposed to mate with the stranger chosen for him and quietly disappear. He's not supposed to talk to alphas, or have sex, or fall in love. Then he meets Derek Hale. Obedience was always overrated, anyway.

My Life is not a Horror Movie, Derek by DiscontentedWinter | 38.9K | Explicit

Stiles keeps dreaming of people in robes with knives. With chanting. In Latin. And he mentioned the knives, right? That can't be good.

monday i can fall apart but by friday i'm in love by tryslora | 5.6K | Mature

It's just past five in the morning and Stiles is barely awake, wearing only sleep pants that hang low below his pregnant belly, and he can't get the damned brand new jar of decaf coffee open. But he has a neighbor, and he's too tired to think that waking someone else up at this hour might not be the best (or politest) of ideas.

#asks #sterek fics #ficrecs #disneyprincessbuffyannesummers #mpreg #pregnant stiles

[fresamilkwrites]

LIGHTHOUSE RELATED HEADCANONS ━ Bruce Wayne [The Batman]

author's note. Many of you have been asking me for a continuation to my lighthouse fic, and while no particular idea has come to mind, I did mention before that I had a whole plot of Bruce and reader's life... so I decided to tell you some more about it in the head canons format! Anyways, if you have any prompts or want to know anything particular about their relationship, don't be afraid to leave it in my fic requests!

They're low-key together simply because she has a savior complex.

The Wayne Enterprises investors wanted Bruce out of the company because they thought he didn't give a good impression. It was then that under Alfred's influence, Bruce decided to take his public life and image more seriously.

He goes to a charity dinner and keeps to himself the whole time, he does not know how to interact actually.

But she's there.

She was the typical social butterfly, the people's delight and very kind regardless of the fact that she'd grown in wealth.

She realized Bruce was alone and that everyone seemed to be nitpicking everything about what he did or how he looked. That made her decide to take some action.

She approached him and started a conversation that surprisingly flowed naturally. They simply got along, which was a rare occasion in Bruce's life.

After that, they always found each other at events and social functions. They stuck together and slowly but surely became closer. Things naturally flowed that way.

Her family didn't like him, they also thought of him as a social reject and didn't want their only daughter close to him. It was bad reputation, they said.

But she didn't care, she was falling for him.

And she always thought it was unrequited. He never showed how he felt and that was misleading when it came to this matter.

"He just likes hanging out with me. As friends." She'd go around saying.

But Bruce also had feelings for her.

Feelings that he also didn't quite understand. But he did know that being with her felt right and always worked as a way for him to escape what tormented him. At least for some time.

So that to him translates into a marriage proposal, somehow?

And he does propose.

Randomly over dinner.

He struggled to and stumbled over his words trying to explain the proposal he had, of course he didn't just ask the usual "will you marry me?" Bruce made it sound like a business agreement to a point.

She was confused to say the least.

But also extremely happy to know that after all, her love was reciprocated. And then she accepted.

She understood Bruce was a man with broken pieces, but she was set on the fact that with all the love and patience she had for him, things for him would eventually get better.

When she broke the news to her family, they weren't happy and tried to convince her to give the ring back. She wasn't willing to do that, ever in a million years.

"You simply don't get him like I do," she'd tell her mother.

After the wedding and moving in together, she thought she could see improvement in him and their dynamic. He was still pretty warded when it came to his emotions, but he seemed to put an effort and everything went well.

He never verbally told her that he loved her, but she knew he did. She learned he didn't smile at anyone, but he did at her. He made jokes. He asked her to cook special foods for him like a kid. And at night when they slept, Bruce held her so close that it felt as if he were afraid she'd leave.

And she was happy that way, that was enough.

Even if sometimes she felt like his behavior was neglectful towards her emotional needs, she never focused on that because she understood it was never intentional, and knew that he was always trying his best. Besides, seeing him "happy" (it's not like he really projected much happiness when they weren't in private but that was besides the point) was all she cared about.

#kore's fics #kore's writing #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x oc #battinson #headcanon #Robert pattinson #Bruce Wayne x y/n #fanfic

[stedesbonnets]

as my beloved friend @theosrose said yesterday when we were talking, the sheer lack of any scenes between stede and ed this season makes it feel very strange, and since i've got nothing better to do today, i've decided to compare the amount of screen-time stede and ed share in season 1 vs season 2*

* i mean scenes in which they are alone, or in company but the focus is only on them (like the restaurant scene)

season one:

ep3: their first meeting (25:17-25:38). total: 21 seconds

ep4: opening (02:22-02:42), "who's this mary then?" (09:51-10:48), stede wakes up (13:41-14:31), aux wardrobe (14:57-16:56), "do you wanna do something weird?" (18:36-21:11), "we need to be a lighthouse" (26:51-27:38), ending (29:43-31:10). total: 535 seconds

ep5: books looting (01:32-01:49), dining lessons (02:26-04:18), going to the party (04:51-05:21) (i cut it right when frenchie enters), entering the party (09:10-09:48), ed playing the piano (15:29-15:57), stede telling ed to stand down (20:31-21:04), passive aggression (25:17-25:36), moonlight (26:11-27:12). total: 337 seconds

ep6: opening (00:11-02:30), ed almost kills stede (15:46-16:00, 16:16-16:25, 16:49-16:55), bathroom scene (18:00-20:44). total: 332 seconds

ep7: opening (00:10-01:10), treasure map (05:11-05:56), the moth (10:45-11:12), restaurant scene (12:00-13:30), after lucius calls ed out (17:35-18:40), co-captains (24:29-25:07). total: 325 seconds

ep8: "i mean in hindsight i probably could've guessed" (11:22-48), nature walk (12:40-12:52), the beach talk (16:43-17:28), ed leaves (22:18-22:52), foot nudge (33:07-33:35). total: 145 seconds

ep9: ed shaves off his beard (13:33-15:27), the kiss (16:44-19:58), last conversation (21:02-21:35). total: 341 seconds

interesting note: although stede and ed share the last amount of scenes in ep9 (only 3), the total amount of time spent together is the second longest in the entire season. also, the kiss scene is the longest scene in s1.

TOTAL NUMBER OF SCENES: 35

TOTAL NUMBER OF TIME: 2036 seconds, or 33.93 minutes

the total runtime of s1 is 5 hours 6 minutes 45 seconds, or 306.75 minutes. 33.93 out of 306.75 in percentage is 11.06%

season two:

ep1: opening (01:12-02:17). total: 65 seconds

ep3: reunion (27:43-29:44). total: 121 seconds

ep4: opening (00:00-00:28), "you're not a mermaid" (03:17-03:35), "i like your beard" (10:09-10:46), "i love everything about you" (17:23-19:43), stede inviting ed back to the ship (24:00-24:53), "buttons turned into a seagull!" (26:40-27:02). total: 298 seconds

ep5: "i'm your captain" (03:22-04:50), moonlight kiss (25:20-27:44). total: 224 seconds

ep6: guilt room (03:01-03:22), poison into positivity (04:53-05:47), don't be pirates, kids (07:47-08:17), the almost dance (11:38-11:54), the love scene (22:10-22:27, 22:43-22:50, 23:25-23:32). total: 152 seconds

ep7: the morning after (01:02-02:18), dining and dashing (04:19-05:57), ed giving stede a lesson in being famous (06:03-06:43), ed leaving (11:59-13:51). total: 326 seconds

TOTAL NUMBER OF SCENES: 21

TOTAL NUMBER OF TIME: 1186 seconds, or 19.76 minutes

the total runtime of s2 (minus the finale) is 3 hours 16 minutes and 2 seconds, or 196.033 minutes. 19.76 out of 196.033 in percentage is 10.07%

CONCLUSION:

while the amount of screen time in percentage is similar between the seasons, s2 has significantly fewer scenes with stede and ed. additionally, the time they spend together per episode in s1 is much longer than in s2, and the scenes are stretched out throughout the episodes evenly. even during s1ep8, in which they share the least amount of screen time due to being separated, stede and ed still share 5 scenes, unlike s2ep5 which separates them for the longest amount of time (20 minutes!)

so far in s2, stede and ed share way less scenes than in s1, and when they do, they are shorter and often oddly spaced. for me, the best laid out episode is episode 4, while the worst is episode 5. interestingly, they share the least amount of screen time (after ed wakes up) in ep6, despite having the love scene in it. in my opinion, most of their scenes in s2 feel less earnest than in s1, and are so short i can barely savor them. this is ultimately the result of hbo cutting off two episodes, but also an issue of giving the crew too much spotlight, making stede and ed's plot line feel rush and poorly planned post ep3.

i have no doubt the finale will fix most of stede and ed's issues, but the scarcity of the scenes they share (and their contents) make their arc feel watered down to me, like the writing crew keep beginning to say something meaningful but getting cut mid sentence

#our flag means death #ofmd s2 spoilers #elinor.exe

[callivich]

Gallavich Nature & Wilderness Prompts 🌿

Prompts for fics, headcanons, or discussion, art, etc. Interpret these however you like and feel free to use them as just a jumping off point, you don’t have to stick to the exact prompt! If any fics like any of these have already been written, please feel free to recommend them to me!

Mickey’s on the run from the cops. He needs a place to stay until the heat dies down. A small logging town seems his best bet. Even better, the logging company needs workers - cash in hand and no questions asked. How hard can logging be? Turns out - very and his hot boss, Ian, with his flannel shirts and rugged beard, doesn’t help matters.

The lighthouse stands on an isolated, dangerous point. Mickey’s worked there ten years and he’s scared off every single guy who’s come to work there. He prefers to run the lighthouse in solitude. His boss disagrees and keeps sending people. Ian’s the latest one and he doesn’t find Mickey scary in the slightest. In fact, he finds him kind of funny and this is definitely not the image Mickey is trying to project.

Ian and Mickey barely know each other but they’re paired up for their company’s nature retreat. That means sharing a tent in the middle of a forest for a long weekend. Each pair is given a different set of coordinates and they have to camp there for four days in isolation. Mickey doesn’t see why they can’t just pretend they went and stay at home, Ian wants to use his ROTC training and do everything by the book. It’s going to be a long few days.

Best friends for as long as they can remember, Ian and Mickey are about to leave middle school and enter high school. But when things at home get bad for both of them, they decide to run away. Should be simple, right? And how hard can it be to survive on their own? Turns out living off the grid in the nearest forest is pretty tricky and two city kids are not cut out for it.

Mickey’s stolen a bunch of cash and he needs somewhere to hide it. Deciding that a state forest is a good place, he digs a hole and buries the money. Ian is a park ranger who keeps seeing a suspicious man entering the forest late at night. He watches the man for a few weeks, curious as to what he’s doing. By the time he realises the man is hiding (probably) stolen money it’s too late because he’s got a crush.

Ian doesn’t end up going to jail for arson, which is a good thing because Mickey ends up in witness protection rather than prison. He finds himself under an assumed name, working at a hotel in the depths of a national park. When the hotel offers a raffle to win a weekend stay for people who leave their business cards, he can’t help but rig it so Ian wins. Meanwhile, Ian is confused about how and why he’s won a weekend away at a hotel he’s never been to, in an area he’s never visited. Still….it’s free so he goes and is greeted by a very familiar face.

Mickey has always been able to grow things. It comes naturally but it’s a rare talent. Because of this, he hides it. Ian has always dreamt of growing vegetables and flowers and has spent his life trying to cultivate them. He’s not had much luck on his allotment so far, until one day he does. Mickey has always been drawn to new growth and unfortunately he lives next to a communal garden. He’s done a good job of suppressing his powers but he can’t help but encourage the redhead’s plants.

It’s supposed to be a fun weekend camping in the woods, celebrating their second wedding anniversary, but a wrong turn and bad cell signal leads them to get lost. Then things get worse - the weather changes, one of them gets sick/injured, and they wonder if they’re gonna make it to their third year of marriage.

Ian has a new job for the parks department and his first task is a month long stay at an isolated lakeside cabin to monitor the wildlife. He’s looking forward to the peace and quiet. What he’s not expecting is that there is a guy squatting in the cabin. Mickey’s illegally hooked up to cable and wifi and has a massive store of food and booze. Oh and he’s not leaving just because some parks department dork has shown up.

Mickey is stranded and injured in the woods after his dog ran off. Ian is the search and rescue guy that finds him. But Mickey isn’t leaving without his beloved dog and if that means going deeper into the woods, then that’s what he’ll do. Ian tries to promise him that the rest of the team will find Mickey’s pet, but Mickey just will not let himself be rescued. Looks like Ian is going to have to stick with him.

Ian’s been training for the ROTC survival weekend but when he and his siblings get taken by the DCFS, he’s not allowed to go. Mickey knows how much this retreat means to Ian, it’s all he talks about, so he decides to surprise Ian. He promises him a weekend at his place, but when he shows up to get Ian, he drives him to the forest. Their weekend turns out less survival based and more romantic than either of them could imagine.

The desert is comfortable, a place where people can disappear. And that’s what Mickey likes. He can run from his life in Chicago and enjoy the anonymity of being a bartender in the middle of nowhere. He likes the quiet nights where he can smoke outside and there’s no one and nothing around for miles except stars. But then a guy from Chicago starts to frequent the bar and this guy, Ian, despite being a stranger, is bringing up far too many memories of city life. Memories that he thought he’d blocked out….

Mickey is the groundskeeper for a summer camp. He’s looking forward to the two weeks of quiet before the chaos of summer. He’s planning on doing his final bits of work all by himself. Ian is the overeager camp counsellor who shows up early by accident. Mickey is pissed but there’s nothing he can do. As things are not completely set up yet, Ian has to share Mickey’s cabin.

When their school offers a field trip for low-income students, Ian jumps at the chance and manages to convince Mickey to go along too. It’s an overnight trip to an island on Lake Michigan. Everything goes fine until the morning they’re supposed to leave. Ian and Mickey wander off to have some alone time and end up being left on the island. By the time their teacher realises, it’s too late to go back so they’ll have to spend a night in the wilderness.

Ian’s never heard of equine assisted therapy and it sounds expensive and daunting. But his therapist thinks it will be good for him and they’ve found a charity that offers extremely discounted lessons. Besides, they say it’s just learning to ride a horse, not any sort of special training, so how hard can it be? Mickey’s worked at a stables on the outskirts of the city for several years after his juvie parole officer gave him the choice between that and working in a factory. He’s never taught anyone to ride but when the instructor for the specialist program leaves abruptly, Mickey finds himself teaching a handsome redhead everything there is to know about horses….

Mickey’s a tattoo artist who has lost his inspiration. When a city-wide competition offers a cash prize that could save his studio, he enters despite not having done a good tattoo in awhile. He wanders the city looking for anything to inspire him and comes across an exotic plant centre. Ian is curious about the new customer who begins to come in regularly - not buying anything, just looking closely at the plants and rudely telling Ian he doesn’t need any help. When he eventually does share his story, Ian is intrigued and decides to find Mickey the perfect flower to inspire him.

#gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #ian x mickey #mickey x ian

[thiswasinevitableid]

Strange Days (Indruck)

The winner of the mer and humans on land poll was: A lighthouse keeper who doesn’t believe mer are real

“You sure you don’t wanna keep him?” Duck stares at the Newfoundland on the steps of the lighthouse. The dog stares back disdainfully. 

“Nah. Beacon’s a good dog, but my place ain’t big enough for him. Besides, it’s good to have one of those around in case you gotta rescue folks. Or you fall in.”  Leo pats him on the back, “you’ll be fine. You got a good head on your shoulders.”

Duck thanks him and says his goodbyes as the former keeper gets on his horse and rides inland. Then he walks up the stairs into the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse, where he’ll be the keeper until…

Well, until he gets tired of it or dies. Leo had been keeping it since 1880, and after twenty years decided to leave the Graveyard of the Atlantic for somewhere a bit less windswept. 

After ten days of learning the ropes from Leo–and getting growled at and knocked into by Beacon–Duck prepares himself for his first night alone. Winnie, the mouser, meows at him from the steps of the staircase to the lamp. 

“Yep, guess it’s just us three.”

“Mew.”

He stares up the spiraling iron walkway, “Wish I could say that suits me fine. But I’m a shit liar.”

“Bwoof” 

“Coulda done without that agreement, Beacon.”

—--------------------------------------------------------

“It’s just by the lighthouse. You can’t miss it.”

Indrid is glad Barclay gave him that detail when directing him to his new territory; the outer banks can bleed together after a while, and being relatively new to the whole area means he’d rather not make enemies by unintentionally stepping on someone’s tail. 

He makes a full circuit of his new home, waving to Dani when she swims by on her way home. He can unpack his few belongings soon; it’s warm and calm enough this evening that he doesn’t feel like being cooped up. 

Once on the surface, he floats on his back and soaks in the sun. In his old haunts he wouldn’t have been so bold; the Colds held territory near old whaling and fishing communities up north and as a result had made a lot of enemies by ripping holes in nets or tipping over boats. Showing his face as a mer would have meant someone trying to shoot him or catch him to sell to a sideshow, as Barclay calls them (he’s been reading human newspapers more lately).

But here, on a stretch where the only visible structure is the lighthouse and the beaches are empty, he feels no fear of being in the open. One of the selling points his friends made when talking him into moving south was that this patch of sea is dangerous for ships, but safe for those who can be beneath the waves. Which means fewer fish being chased off and fewer people trying to throw nets on him. 

(Besides, since he can see the future, he has some chance of knowing when danger is coming).

He drifts and daydreams so long that the light is now beaming across the water. It transfixes him, and he climbs up onto a still-warm rock to better observe it. There must be a human in there, perhaps more. It seems a lonely location, even miserable if it becomes as story as they say. It must be a certain kind of human who is willing to take such a post. 

Indrid knows it is good manners for both humans and mers to offer gifts when you move into a neighborhood. If he and this human are to live so close, perhaps he ought to make a gesture of goodwill. 

Now if only he knew what to offer….

—-------------------------------------------------

Duck is walking the beach at the base of the lighthouse, not thinking of anything in particular, when a shine catches his eye. On a nearby, half-submerged, rock is a pile of silver. When he picks it up, it cascades to reveal a necklace studded with gems. There hasn’t been anyone on the beach all morning, and this was placed here. Not lost. 

“Plus sometimes when you’re up there you get a glimpse of a mermaid.”

“Leo, I ain’t a kid. Or a sailor who’s gone too long without, uh, company. I don’t believe in mermaids.”

The older man smiles, “Keeping the light can change some things.”

There’s no mermaid leaving treasure from sunken ships for him to find. This was just tossed here by the waves. 

He tucks it in his pocket; it’s not a bad start to a nest egg. 

—-------------------------------------------

Indrid ducks back under the waves. The human liked his gift. And stranger still, Indrid rather liked watching that human, with his dark hair and round, friendly face, accept something Indrid had chosen for him. 

If he leaves enough acceptable gifts from afar, perhaps the handsome creature will allow him to offer some in person.

—-------------------------------------------------------------

This is weird.

Two days ago, Duck found a massive Marlin, still alive, on the same rock where he found the necklace. Since he wasn’t lacking food, and felt kind of bad for it, he managed to toss it back into the sea. 

Today, he’s found a basket of fresh oysters. The basket is green, almost like it was made by seagrass. 

Once again, there’s been no one on the beach for more than a short stroll, let alone someone equipped with a boat to dive from. 

Yeah, it’s strange alright. But he really likes shellfish. He can even cook them on the beach for lunch.  Even if they’re probably washed off from a boat somewhere and definitely not left by a mermaid. 

Three nights after the oysters, Duck is in the gallery, checking everything before the lamp is lit. In the sea below, a human face and chest emerge, watching the lighthouse. The man doesn’t seem to be in distress, and it’s calm enough today that there’s been a few swimmers. 

That has to be what he is. Because Duck refuses to believe the silvery tail glinting in the sunset belongs to the swimmer. There’s no such thing as mermaids. But maybe he needs to request more books from town before his imagination completely gets away from him.

—------------------------

Indrid has just finished leaving clams for Duck when there’s a splash behind him.

“Damn it, Beacon, I told you, you don’t gotta fish people out if they’re just swimmin’!”

Indrid trills, failing to gain speed before a large mouth closes gently around his arm and begins dragging him onto the shore. The futures suggest that a struggle will lead to injury, and so he resigns himself to an undignified entrance. 

The dog shakes himself off as the lighthouse keeper hurries down the beach. 

“Sorry, uh, sir, he gets a little overeager when it comes to help….” The charming drawl peters out as the human notices his tail. 

Indrid waves both that and his hand, “Hello. My name is Indrid. I am your seaward neighbor.” He pats the dog's head, “it is nice to formally meet you both.”

The human says nothing, just stares at Indrid’s tail with his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. 

“I brought some clams today, since you prefer shellfish to swimming ones.”

“....You’re a fuckin mermaid.” He murmurs. This close, Indrid can see one of his eyes is blue, the other brown. 

“Just mer is fine. We come in a wider variety than man and maid.” He cocks his head, “are you alright?”

The human sits down in the sand, “Leo was right. Y’all are just swimmin around out there.”

Indrid shifts so he’s sitting rather than on his stomach, “My presence bothers you.”

“N-yeah-uh, I, I don’t feel, uh, fuck, strong one way or the other? Fuck.” The human removes his hat, brushing sand from the top, “Look, uh-”

“Indrid. And you are..Duck? An interesting name.”

“It’s a nickname. How you know it I got know clue. Look, Indrid, it ain’t personal. In fact you seem real friendly. But I spent my whole life trying to tell myself this kinda thing is just old wives tales. I feel all…outta sorts.”

“Ah. I see. I will leave you in peace. I know what it is like to feel as if you have unwanted company.”

“It ain’t even that. If I’m bein’ honest, I don’t mind company. I just need a little time to take it all in.”

“Shall I…come back tomorrow, then?” 

“Sure. Just not too late, I gotta make sure I’m minding the light when I’m supposed to.”

“Very well. Just after that bell in town rings noon?”

“That works, yeah.”

“Should I bring clams or oysters?”

Duck meets his eyes with a bemused, but friendly, smile, “Wouldn’t say no to some snapper.”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------

“Can you hear it from there?” Duck calls out the window of the keepers cottage. 

“Yes!” Indrid grins at him from the beach, then continues turning his catch—a massive flounder–humming as his silver tail gleams in the sunlight. 

Satisfied that they’ll be able to pick up the second episode of The Outlaw on the radio while they eat an early dinner, Duck heads out to join him, two bottles of Coke in hand. Indrid adores sweet drinks, and if Duck could bring him a strawberry phosphate from town, he would. 

Since Indrid became an undeniable element of his life, Duck has seen him almost every day for the last two months. And if he’s honest with himself (or with Winnie, who listens as he fusses over all this out loud), when he doesn’t see the mer for a day or more he gets worried that something has happened to him. 

The Outlaws theme blares to life as Duck divvys up the fish. Usually the two of them will talk during dinner, but after the first minute of action Indrid’s focus is entirely on the radio, and he barely eats until the program is over. When the announcer says to tune in next week, the mer gives an indignant chir. 

“But I wish to know what happens now. Will the sheriff simply ride off now that the outlaw has let him go? Or will he follow him into town? What if they never see each other again??”

Duck chuckles, “guessin they will, if only so they can make more episodes.”

“Promise you will let me listen again?”

“Of course, ‘Drid. I like your company. Pardner” he exaggerates his accent on the last word and Indrid laughs.

“You would make a very dashing lawman. I assume.”

Duck nudges his toes against Indrid’s tail “Thanks, but this life is plenty exciting for me.”

The mer goes silent for a moment, then he asks, “Duck? Why were you so bothered when you first knew of me? Is it because that is too much excitement?”

“Not exactly. I’ve had…weird stuff happen to me most of my life. Blue, glowing women turn up in my bedroom. There are lights in the sky near my hometown no one can explain. A friend of mine when on some scientific research trip and swears that something bit him and that he can’t remember what happens to him on the full moon. And all I ever wanted for myself was a quiet life. To do what made me happy without the fear of it all bein’ upended or dangerous. The weird shit always made me…nervous. Maybe that makes me a fool or coward but…I dunno.”

“I do not think it does.” Indrid moves closer, “I left home for the same reason. To not be looking over my shoulder all the time. But…since strange things have found you..perhaps you and he could look out for each other?”

Duck wants to kiss him. Red-brown eyes are so earnest, so hopeful, that he’s certain he could and Indrid would melt in his arms. 

Beacon howls from the house as a warning comes over the radio of a storm. 

“Dear me, it’s early.” 

“Guess I better get my ass in gear. You gonna be okay?”

“As long as I am deep enough, it will not catch me.” Indrid takes his hand, rubbing it against his cheek, “take care, Duck.”

“I will. I’ll see you when it’s over.”

—-------------------------------------------------

Duck takes back every single bad thing he’s ever said about Beacon. The dog’s barking is the only reason he goes to the door of the lighthouse and looks out. In the roaring, ripping wind and rain, a figure has been tossed to the rocks at the base of the house. 

Indrid. 

He drags the mer inside, nearly being blow off his feet. He’s glad he’s kept up the floor of living quarters in here, and even gladder that said room is only three floors up. 

“Fuck, fuck, ‘Drid, can you hear me?” He lays the mer on the floor, his chest and tail scratched and bruised from the rocks, “goddamn it, you told me you were gonna stay deep!”

“There was a future where you Winnie slipped the door and you went after her and drowned.” Indrid murmurs, then chirps in pain, “I wanted to be here in case you did, so I could, could save you. The wave took me by surprise. I am sorry.”

“Why are you fuckin sorry, you got hurt because of me.”

“Yes, but you now risked your life for something strange, which I did not wish you to do.”

Duck cradles him closer and kisses him once, gently. Indrid trills, surprised, and then purrs and wraps his arms around Duck’s damp shoulders. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry, that’s the worst fuckin moment for this but I just...’Drid, you may be the weirdest fuckin’ thing in my life but you’re also the best. Everyday I wake up happier because I know I’ll see this fuckin’ stunnin face in the waves, looking for me.”

Indrid kisses him, tasting of the storm, “And everyday I surface with a heart lighter than the sun because I know you will be in the lighthouse.” He strokes Duck’s cheek, “my brave keeper.”

Duck rests their foreheads together, “Don’t that work out nice?”

“It does. And since you are about to ask, yes, please get the bathing tub you’ve been keeping outside; the collected water will be enough to wait out the storm. And after that…well, I have some ideas for how to pass the rest of the day.”

Duck trails his fingers up Indrids’ tail, savoring the way it flexes under his touch, “I’m all ears, darlin.”

#indrid cold/duck newton #indruck #mermay #duck x indrid #human/monster romance #taz amnesty

[romeoandjulietyouwish]

Below you will find a (mostly) complete list of all the aus created here on my blog! Do you have an idea? Send me an ask about it! You can tip me on my ko-fi!  (seriously y’all I’ve spent a lot of time on these aus so it’s really great to have my work appreciated!)

#happy ending au - The Raven Queen doesn't come for Vax, instead he's able to build a life with Keyleth after everything. (also on ao3)

#hunger games au - Pretty self explanitory, a vox machina hunger games au. (Do not send me asks or prompts based on this au)

#ballet au - The vox machina are members of a ballet company, this is mostly vaxleth and percahlia with a shit ton of angst but also some fluff (also on ao3)

#childhood friend au - What if Keyleth had met the twins before they left Byroden? This is mostly vaxleth, but also some percahlia

#twitch au - All of vox machina are twitch streamers, this is mostly fluff (but with occasional doses of angst)

#soulmate au - Soulmates can feel sensations from the other, pressure, pain, etc. vox machina

#medieval au - Keyleth is a princess and the rest of VM are knights/hunters/healers (also on ao3)

#percy’s deal au - Percy took the deal with the Raven Queen instead of Vax, giving his brother the remaining years of his life to spend with his family

#modern au - Pretty self explanatory, it features EMT Vax and farmer’s daughter Keyleth

#foster care au - A modern au where Percy and Cass are fostered by Kima and Allura after their family’s murder and grow up along side Keyleth.

#famers market au - Vax and Keyleth meet at a farmer’s market and she offers him and his sister a safe place after they run from Syldor. A few months later Percy wanders onto the farm covered in blood.

#firefighter au - All of vox machina are EMTs, firefighters, or social workers.

#bookstore au - Keyleth runs a small bookstore and Vax is working for the Clasp, things don't go well. (also m9 is here and forcibly adopting Keyleth)

#biker au - All of VM are bikers when Vax and Vex are forced to take in Velora.

#vampire vax au - Vax was turned into a vampire by Sylas.

#aasimar percy - Exactly what it sounds like

#lighthouse au - Vax gets sent to work at a remote lighthouse as a punishment but meets the very bubbly Keyleth, the daughter of the owner.

#arranged marriage au - Beau and Bren get married, Bren to find information about the Cobalt Soul and Beau to find out how to break Volstrucker programming.

#kiki and percy arranged marriage au - Keyleth and Percy get married and live in Zephrah and have a qpr

#kiki and percy childhood friend au - Keyleth and Percy are nextdoor neighbors and family friends born three weeks apart. They meet the rest of VM at a fancy private school.

#space au - A future version of Exandria is corrupted by magic and uninhabitable, Exandrians take to the stars. VM and M9

#paranormal au - Percy has always been sensitive to ghosts, something that comes in handy when he joins Vex and Vax's paranormal investigating team.

#lavish chateau au - Vex, Vax, Scanlan, and Grog are courtesans at the Cheateau.

#teacher au - All of VM are teachers at a public school, the M9 are some of their students.

#keyleth’s wife - Many years post VM, Keyleth finds love again in widowed Tempest Blade Elenora.

#rock band au - Vox Machina is a rock band.

#ashton de rolo au - As a teenager, Ashton was adopted by the de Rolos. Years later, he and Vesper joined the Bells Hells.

#werewolf kiki au - I mean, it's what it sounds like.

#four seasons au - All of VM represent different times of year.

#baby box au - Kaylie is left in the hospital as a baby with only a phone number, when NICU nurse Pike calls it, she finds her college friend Scanlan.

#dragon au - All of VM are dragons, the Chroma Conclave are an adventuring party trying to take over the world.

#age swap au - What if Percy and Cassandra’s ages were switched? Normally this au features 18 y/o Percy, Kid!Percy denotes him being 15.

#orym's baby au - A few years into their marriage, Orym and Will adopted a baby halfling girl.

#empire siblings neighbor au - Caleb is Beau’s tutor as she grows up, they lose touch when he’s taken to the Soltryce only for them to reunite as adults.

#surfing au - Keyleth, Pike, Grog, and Vex are all surfers while Vax is a lifeguard and Percy makes surfboards. Scanlan plays loud music on the beach.

#keyleth’s brother - What if Keyleth had an older brother?

#cassandra in vm au - Cassandra was the one to escape Whitestone instead of Percy.

#circus au - all of VM are circus performers

#once upon a time au - All of VM, M9, and BH are stuck in Storybrooke. With only Vesper and Vax to save them.

#royalty au - Vex and Vax are a prince and princess, the rest of VM are commoners who befriended the twins without knowing who they are.

#cassandra is julius's daughter au - exactly what it sounds like

#zombie apocalypse au - Exactly what it sounds like, VM

#broadway au - All of VM are broadway performers

#reincarnated au - Vax is brought back to life with a single purpose, to kill Keyleth

#fight club au - Inspired by Creator Clash, Keyleth is a boxer in an underground ring.

#wild west au - a cowboy retelling of the Chroma Conclave are

#cheerleading au - all of VM are cheerleaders on the same squad

#volstrucker au - Caleb is sent to kill Princess Jester of Nicodranas. She tries to break is programming

#siren au - Vex is a siren and she draws Percy in, but falls for him before she can kill him

#pixie hallow au - all of VM are pixie hallow faries

#byroden au - Percy goes to Byroden after his family was killed

If you want to request that I write any fics in in these aus, or any fics in general, please refer to this post about my request guidelines before sending anything in And if you want to write a fic in any of my aus or based on any of my headcanons, all I ask is you credit me with the idea/au and tag me or link to my blog if you post on Tumblr. And if you post it on ao3 please list it as a related work if it's an au I've already written or link to my Tumblr or AO3 page here’s the link to a post with the rest of the aus tagged, this should make it easier to find all the posts for each au!

#happy ending au #hunger games au #ballet au #childhood friend au #twitch au #soulmate au #medieval au #percy's deal au #modern au #foster care au #farmers market au #firefighter au #bookstore au #biker au #vampire vax au #aasimar percy #lighthouse au #arranged marriage au #kiki and percy arranged marriage #kiki and percy childhood friend au #space au #paranormal au #lavish chateau au #teacher au #keyleth's wife #rock band au #ashton de rolo au #werewolf kiki au #four seasons au #baby box au

[goldensunartinitiative]

A pitch for a new Golden Sun game

If you were not aware, the first two Golden Sun games are now available on the Switch. My personal stance is to abstain until an actual new game is made, but to help celebrate, here is a pitch for a new Golden Sun game.

This may be a bit unorthodox, but it would tell the second half of the story, but would radically differ from The Lost Age. And be warned, there are massive spoilers for the first two in this pitch.

Isaac and company battle Saturos and Menardi, but once the Fusion Dragon forms, Felix sneaks up and kills Isaac. The rest of the team kill Felix, but are wiped out by the Dragon. Once they separate, Saturos and Menardi also succumb to the effects of fusion, so they all end up dead as the Venus Lighthouse beacon is fired. Sheba still falls, but does not survive without Felix. Jenna and Kraden are swept away into the ocean and drown. Who does that leave us with?

Alex.

And now a new team is needed. Hamma saw the future and combines forces with this possibly evil manipulator. So Mercury and Jupiter both have an adept on this new team. With no one to prove Piers is innocent, he is executed. The Great Gabomba spirit sees how the jewel came from a now dead man, and tells Akafubu that to atone for the death of the man who owned the jewel he used in the ceremony, Akafubu must take a new test: he must join the quest to become the witch doctor. Now we have a Mars adept.

Briggs made out well from the situation, escaping Alhafra to Champa with the boat, the food, and the money. But when he learns of Piers, Briggs agrees to join the quest to help as a navigator at sea. Maha from Garoh joins as an additional Jupiter support, and you team up with Susa to kill the serpent. Susa joins as your Venus adept.

The group still gets to Lemuria, but with no Piers it gets awkward. Piers uncle goes with you, in defiance of the senate. Second Mercury adept!

Karst and Agatio still appear, but they turn on Alex for letting Saturos and Mendardi die. Fighting ensues? And perhaps Maopa could join. He learns of your quest, and comes along to ensure the power of Anemos would be used wisely. Then parties could be 5 instead of 4 (always with one non-adept; Briggs or Maopa).

Reaching Prox, Karst and Agatio are missing (same fate as The Lost Age). You need help to find them and finish the quest. Puelle becomes your second Mars adept, and upon learning his son has died, Kyle also joins. Yeah, in this version, no parent abduction because their kids are already dead!!!

Now you have 8 adepts, many of whom are severely under-powered non-fighters (Pier's Uncle, Pulle, Kyle) plus two non-adepts susceptible to the elements. And with no Doom Dragon, your final boss?

The Wise One! You are no match, but at a critical moment it is possible for Alex to warp away. Instead, Alex stays and willingly gets wrecked by The Wise One (as is tradition) who then…willingly backs off? The Wise One allows Alex to light the last beacon and heals this united band of misfits. Because The Wise One has seen who they have become on this journey:

-Alex realizing that there is more than power, and he legitimately wants to help Weyard now. -Akafubu becoming a strong leader to his people, worthy of the title of Witch Doctor. -Maha transforming from a hermit to an ambassador for Beastmen across the world, and allowing Beastmen to be open in the world. -Piers' Uncle and Kyle complete what their relatives died trying to do and can return home to honor their memories. -Maopa reestablishes open and good relations between the people of Atteka and Hespiria. -Susa becomes a better equipped leader for Izumo, more capable than just they guy who stabbed an already dying serpent. -Puelle gets better character development, and becomes the actual hero of Prox. -Hamma completes what Ivan was supposed to have done, and can now focus on the return of the Anemos to honor her fallen brother and restore her people's heritage. -Briggs gets booty. Both treasure and Chaucha. He's a pirate, what do you expect? Some things don't change too much.

Everyone gets character growth and the stakes are high since both parties are gone. But all in all it is a satisfying experience, made up by a group even more fragmented and desperate than the Lost Age crew, but just as noble.

Now, obviously this would never happen due to tone alone, but I hope this outline demonstrates not only the interesting possibilities in the scenario of "what would happen if everyone you play as completely died" but also its feasibility as a game. It would follow The Lost Age in terms of geography and would use the same mechanics, but with changes to story and unexpected character moments this would be a unique game. No doubt about it, perhaps a little too unique and controversial.

Of course, even better than this would be a 4th Golden Sun game. So what are you waiting for Camelot?

#golden sun #goldensun #黄金の太陽 #game pitch #au

[singguks]

apolonia lighthouse → kim namjoon.

synopsis. after a universal catastrophe happens in your life you take a sudden trip to cabo and end up discovering yourself through the magical eyes of someone else. 

pairing. namjoon | reader 

genre. travel au, fluff 

word count. 4718 

warnings. a heartbreak and the journey to repairing it.

rating. PG-13

a/n. to my dear friend @joonipie who has shown me the way countless times whenever i needed it. happy birthday, hyo ♡ i love you doesn't cut it- excelsior, now and always!

Very few things in your life had pulled the rug from beneath your feet but this time the blow went lower and deeper than you had expected. 

As a person who liked to follow a plan and matter of fact had planned her entire life, you hadn’t expected to lose your job and your long-time boyfriend in the same week… or ever to be honest. And before it gets too dramatic: you quit the job.

Not the boyfriend though. 

Your life was good. Or you thought so. 

You worked as the head chief of a publishing company – the second-best in the country to be exact – and had been in a stable relationship for seven years. You were always the talk of the hour whenever you gathered with friends or family, for those same reasons. 

“My daughter is the one in charge of all those books, can you believe?” 

“You two are such a lovely couple… Oh my!”

“She is already so successful… I can retire in peace knowing she will take good care of everything.”

“Imagine your kids! They’ll be beautiful and let’s be honest, super smart.”

You felt happy whenever you heard it, it would be a lie if you said you didn’t. But when you arrived without notice from a business trip last week at your apartment, one you shared with your boyfriend, and found him not alone but accompanied by another woman every one of those ‘compliments’ started shifting things inside you. Having a nice job or making a visually good couple said nothing about you. Not even a little… 

Not even at all. 

It was like a spark got lit inside of you and although frail, it found enough space to be set loose. He tried to explain, your boyfriend… But you refused to hear a word. You remember marching down to the closet you shared, taking the first suitcase you found, and instinctively shoveling pieces of clothing inside without much thinking. 

You took the first cab you managed to see across the street and in another impulse you called your superior. 

“I’m quitting,” You said while pointing to the driver to just go straight ahead, “I know, sir. And no, I’m not drunk or joking, you know me well enough by now. I’m just done.” 

Your boss ended the call only after asking you to reconsider and to accept some vacations instead to think properly. And although you said you would, you knew it was a decision you were never backing down of. 

The cab dropped you off at the airport and luckily you managed to buy a one-way ticket to Cabo leaving in half an hour. And for the first time, something you decided that was completely unplanned, seemed planned by the universe itself. If you had to wait for that plane more than that perhaps you would lose your guts to do something so out of the box. You would probably go running straight to your parents' house, tears dripping down your face. 

But the plane came. You took your phone one last time to send a simple text to your mother saying the following: 

[ may 7th, 13:03 pm ]

Had a last-minute call. Going to spend a few more days off because of work. Love you! Send kisses to Dad. 

What followed was simple yet very complex; phone off. And the silence… Well, it was something you were not used to dealing with. It left room for much doubt and interpretation and… Thinking. Reflection. Something that you now realize, you never did. 

But that is a subject for another moment.

Cabo. 

Why Cabo, right? Well, you remember coming here for the first and only time when you were twelve. Your parents had been fighting a lot at the time, you reckon… It was a trip your grandmother was supposed to take but she insisted your father should take you guys instead. So you came, and your parents kept fighting. But something about the trip felt overly magical to you… 

Now that you think about it properly while flying above in the clouds contemplating your destiny and the reason why you chose it, it made no sense at all. It always felt like a magnificent experience somehow but you couldn’t pinpoint what exactly had made you feel that way about Cabo or your time there. 

You remember your older sister being isolated all the time to be able to talk to her boyfriend on the only phone available for forty miles or something and your older brother teasing you in every way possible… Your parents rarely agreed on something back then which made every spec of moment frustrating and almost infuriating. 

Still… Something about Cabo being a secluded reservatory area, surrounded by two wide beaches. Or maybe the fact that there were few houses there, all of them located at least twenty meters distance from each other. Or how you could see the sunset from the south beach and the moonlight from the north one… 

Or maybe your little trips to the only local shop to find some snacks, which were a big deal for a twelve-year-old girl who had little to no personal space to herself. Oh, and the nice and cheerful fisherman who used to sing while working. The sea breeze… Feet buried in the sand. Lungs filled with air, sunshine beaming on the skin. 

Maybe those tiny moments created something bigger inside of you. Something that stayed dormant for a long time and now had the chance to surface. 

“Is this the uh… The-” You try, looking for the name of the bus that takes tourists to the reserve on the tickets. You had left the airport once you arrived still loopy as if you were having an out-of-body experience. 

“You’re going to Cabo?” You heard a low voice behind you making you turn. 

You stood still for a few seconds while staring at him. He smiled waiting for an answer. 

“Uh- Yes.” You say finally, “Yes I am.”

“Then this is the “The” you’re looking for.” He smiled wider. Something about him felt oddly friendly and made you relax in an instance. Right then you realize you weren’t one to be so open to strangers so this felt like a new experience. “I’m Namjoon by the way, nice to meet you.” He offered his hand. 

You looked at it, he had big yet delicate hands… You shook it. And surprisingly you offered no resistance in showing a smile of your own. A little shy compared to his, but still. 

Namjoon stared deeply at your eyes for what felt an eternity trapped inside a second and if you were a hopeless romantic you’d say time stopped for a bit. You see, he had this gorgeous dimple craved on sunkissed skin and a pair of hazed eyes that seemed to contain all the mysteries of the world. You knew nothing about him apart from his name and yet you already felt he was very different from you. 

“Nice to meet you too.” You say lost in thoughts. 

You were a straight line, and he was a damn parabole. 

The trip to the reservatory lasted two hours and for the whole ride you kept on admiring the landscape and how it made you feel. Sometimes you would look to the front of the bus and see Namjoon standing while chatting cheerfully with the driver… Sometimes your eyes caught hold of each other but you would quickly look back at your window. You kept going back and forth on this game of tag just to ignore the inevitable: what had happened earlier that day. 

When you least expected it, the driver announced your arrival. 

“Here it is-” Namjoon smiled at a guy while giving him his suitcase, you were next in line. 

“Mine is that yellow one!” You pointed out and he was quick to fetch it. 

“There you go,” He placed it on the floor for you and was quick to add, “Where are you staying?” To which you froze and noticing your embarrassment he felt the need to add an explanation and thank God he did. “Oh- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry, it’s just the houses are quite far from here and your luggage seemed heavy. I was going to offer my help, just that.” You saw him smile awkwardly. 

You find yourself breathing again and filled with the urge to dig a hole in the ground. The man was just being nice and you were making things feel uncomfortable. “Ah, sorry!” You say apologetically, “I totally misunderstood the situation.” 

You misunderstood the situation? Who says that!

“Nah, it’s fine!” He laughs it out while handling other baggage. “I should’ve explained myself better. It was blunt of me.” 

“Well, thank you for offering.” You say already pulling the bag away from this scenario. You absolutely hated awkward moments like this and for sure didn’t know how to handle them. 

You waved a quick goodbye and saw Namjoon staring at you with a big smile on his face and a hand over his eyes to block the sunlight. 

“You know where you’re going?” You heard him shout and you cussed through your breath. This couldn’t get more awkward. Fuck.

You turn around to look at him, and while staring down at the floor you smile in embarrassment once again. “So…” A sigh escapes your mouth, “Could you point me out the-” You take a look at the ticket once more and then finally resume, “The Carpenter Hut?” 

Once again his dimples get deeper, while his right arm stays raised to block the light from his eyes. His figure overall is beautiful… Like a carved statue. 

“That’s a really good one,” He comments warmly, “It’s that way, towards the south beach. The one all made of wood. Has a swing on the front, quite hard to miss.” 

“Ah… South beach.” You quite honestly ignore the description he makes once you hear the location. You remember staying on the north side the last time you came and somehow that little detail seemed like getting in the way of your new experience in Cabo. Almost as if things weren’t exactly like in the past, this time wouldn’t be as magical as it was before. And you needed it to be magical. 

“Yeah, south…” He said almost in an inquiring tone. “It’s the best part of the reservatory, the sunsets are always over there. And the water is warmer too!” 

“Yes, it’s just- The um… The lighthouse-” You looked at the horizon trying to have a glance at the structure. 

“Apolonia,” You both said at the same time and your eyes met once again. He laughed, you kept staring. 

“It’s still there. The lighthouse.” He pointed with his head towards his right side. “You can visit though, it’s just a fifteen minutes walk on the beach from where you’re at, don’t worry.” 

“Oh.” A cloud lifted from your spirits. “Thank you then, I will!” And once again you turn your back on him to find your lodging. 

“See you around!” He shouts and you give a glance back to offer a smile. 

You didn’t expect to see him around however, you knew he was just being receptive toward a tourist. This was a big reservatory, everything was pretty far and isolated… There was no way. Right?

Wrong. 

You had no trouble finding the cabin Namjoon had described and indeed the location was amazing. By the time you arrived there, the sun was setting and everything felt like a dream of oranges and dark blues. The Carpenter Hut, your new home for fifteen days, couldn’t have a more perfect location. It stood right by the beach, in a more private area, and from its mini kitchen window, you could see the Apolonia lighthouse from a distance. 

From the moment you walked past the front door you felt like you were living in another reality, you were acting nothing as you would usually do. You didn’t unpack or felt the need to like you always did; the luggage was simply left by the bed open. The urge you felt to cry earlier today vanished and somehow this euphoria took place as you started to open every window the cabin possessed for air to flow. The breeze felt so nice against your burning skin and it clashed so well with the hot weather that you saw yourself turning on a small and old radio you found on the kitchen counter. This melodic and quite sensual Spanish song started filling the ambiance and instantly matching its vibe you started dancing. 

Everything clicked and felt extremely natural. The only thing missing was a beer bottle on your hand which made you take a mental note for tomorrow to visit the local supermarket and do some grocery shopping. 

As for tonight? All you needed was to take a warm bath, something you were dying to do ever since you arrived at your apartment and hadn't had the chance to because of… Well… You know. That and to find a nice place to have dinner tonight. 

And that’s how you came to see the dimpled man once again. 

“You mind if I sit here?” He asked, pointing towards the chair next to you on the counter of the local restaurant you had chosen. As you nodded, giving him a free pass to do so, he smiled and then raised his hand to call for the waiter. “So we see each other again,” Namjoon spoke while sitting next to you. 

“Just a happy coincidence,” You see yourself reply quite dismissive. Still, you offer him a smile before taking a sip from the beer bottle you were holding between your hands. 

You hear him chuckle beside you, with pensive eyes, and then reply “A writer I really like once said something along these lines,” he licked his bottom lip before reciting the passage, looking straight at your eyes, “when we’re interested in something, everything around us appears to refer to it — the mystics call these phenomena ‘signs’, the skeptics ‘coincidence’, and psychologists ‘concentrated focus’,” 

Your eyes are kept on his for a few more seconds, admiring their depth and how the light arrangement adorning the establishment kept dancing on his black irises. You decided to give the situation a chance because something about him allured you. So you talked. And talked some more. 

The conversation lasted the whole night, and from time to time, when you would focus too much on his mouth while he spoke to you — blaming the loud band playing live for messing with your hearing — your mind would fantasize about him… Namjoon. The more you explored his, the more appealing he looked to you. Like leaning into an incredibly deep well out of sheer curiosity, and being so mesmerized by the secrets that its bottom contains, that you end up falling down without even noticing it. 

And in a way, you almost did. 

That night you drank much more than Namjoon. To drown the insistent demons pestering your head, even though he did an amazing job to keep you entertained. Suddenly the brief thought of seeing him in a different light made you remember everything going on with your ex. And well, as he left you safe and sound at the door of your private cabin, you felt the urge of doing something unexpected. Your eyes kept lingering on his, and the warm smile on his face started to fade with the slow but steady proximity. Everything felt so right… You were millimeters from touching his mouth with your own, and when he motioned to close the gap, you backed up. Suddenly the guilt of doing something wrong daunted you. “I’m sorry- I’m,” You started, and he was quick to comfort you, reassuring you everything was ok. 

You saw him walking away, amidst sand and all the stars still up in the sky, through the tiny window from the kitchen, convinced now you would never see him again. 

You were sitting on your beach towel, reading a novel you had been dying to start for a while now but never really found time for it, when you saw him again. It had been seven days since your last proper encounter. Until then you saw Namjoon here and there, but you always diverted ways. Like the time you went by the local grocery and he was already inside, so you quickly hid behind a jeep waiting for him to go away until the coast was clear and you could resume your activities. 

Why were you doing that you couldn’t quite understand. Fear perhaps… 

The sun was going down, and that’s why you decided to put the book aside for a bit. That’s why you saw him this time. As soon as you glanced towards the sea, to see the sun diving down, you saw him there, floating in that beautiful painting. 

The skeptics call it coincidence, huh… 

All of a sudden you got up and went towards him. Simple as two magnets being pulled towards one another. And you just stood there at the edge, silent, water touching up to your ankles. Namjoon had his back to you, just floating mindlessly while seeing the scenery before him. 

He finally turned around to come out of the water, submerged up to his shoulders. And he froze on the spot as he saw you. His body only moved up and down, following the movement of the waves, and his eyes were glued to your figure. Standing there, breeze touching softly your skin, and looking towards this man who intrigued you so much, you realized you should just stop playing it safe… Or running away. Nothing was ever guaranteed as you once fooled yourself that it was. You could still lose if you played it safe… So why risk a life you want because of fear? 

Namjoon seemed to have the answer. 

“Would you take me to the lighthouse?” You saw yourself asking. 

You still couldn’t wrap your head around why that place was so special to you, and still, you hadn’t made time to go there ever since you arrived in Cabo. Like everything else in your life, if you reflect on it. But you were done being dismissive of your wants and needs. So in a spurt of courage and freedom of your own idiotic rules, you asked Namjoon. Because somehow, you really felt he was holding onto the key to every mystery clouding your head.

“Now?” He asked with a fond smile. 

“A wise man once said: If not now, when?” You answered him with all the certainty in the world, and the way he looked at you, seemed like he had been waiting for this all along. Waiting for you all along. 

You had shoved your beach towel and your book inside the bag you had taken to the beach without much thought. You didn’t even bother to put on your shorts again, the swimsuit was fine. The only thing that mattered now was the lighthouse and this moment. This feeling of going on a deeper adventure, one around your own self. 

You talked about the stars and how this piece of land was first discovered. All this while Namjoon had a towel of his own wrapped casually around his neck, droplets of water falling from his brown locks. You could feel the warmth from his skin every time your arm brushed gently on his. 

“And here we are,” He said opening the front door of the lighthouse for you both to go to the very top, where the beacon was already lightened up. “Apolonia lighthouse.”

You were marveled by the structure. It was still there, intact, as you remembered it to be. If you closed your eyes and inhaled its salty sent… Mixed with the smell of old ropes and kerosene, you could still see yourself at twelve, laughing while climbing the huge flight of stairs in a snail shape. 

“I have so many memories here… Yet I only remember the feeling of it,” You mused while touching softly the old and rusty handrail on your way up. “How is it so well maintained with all the tourists coming here?” 

Namjoon opened the iron door leading to the lantern room before answering. It took him a good push since the door was old and lacking oil on its hinges. You couldn’t help but marvel at his back muscles that were still uncovered after his brief dip under the sunset. 

“Tourists aren’t allowed here.” He said simply, giving way for you to go inside and see the beacon turn gold everything it touched. “Not even the reservatory staff.”

And suddenly, as the light passed on Namjoon’s face, and then yours, your world was lit. 

“Oh my God. It was you.” You concluded looking at him, his smile growing wider and wider. He leaned on the door behind him, now closed, one hand coming to rub his neck. He chuckled looking at the floor. 

“It took you long enough.” 

“But how- I don’t even-” You were still confused despite starting to unravel some of the memories. 

“Remember me?” He chuckled again. “Yeah… I figured you didn’t recognize me.” He was avoiding looking at your eyes, somehow shy that you were now aware he knew who you were from the beginning. “I knew it was you from the moment I saw that yellow suitcase. Maybe even before. But the suitcase was the confirmation.” 

“The suitcase my dad bought me here…” You remembered the old baggage with a nostalgic feeling to it. You had never had the courage to throw it away, despite the years, and well, an occasionally crooked wheel. 

Namjoon nodded knowingly. “Not many people own a yellow suitcase with a lighthouse sticker on it, you know… No matter how faded it was, I still remember it.” 

“You gave it to me.”

“I’m hurt you didn’t keep me in your memories though, as I kept you on mine…” Namjoon admitted, now looking at you. “I even maintained this old rusty door here because of you, see,” He slid to the side to show you the bottom part of the iron door. Your initials were engraved there. 

And you chuckled coming closer to inspect the piece of metal. The more you looked at it, the clearer the memory became. Namjoon was the boy that had rescued you from drowning that summer vacation, years ago. You both became inseparable, and he often would bring you to the lighthouse because you had confided in him you loved the stars. His family was responsible for the maintenance of the structure. 

That was the reason Cabo was so special to you. Because he saved your summer then, along with your life. And you had promised him the day you were going back home that you would come back to visit. He gave you the sticker as a promise, for you to remember him. But you never returned. And although your memories started to fade away with time, deep inside he was always buried there, like seashells in the sand. You were never able to give away that suitcase. Now you know why. 

“Why didn’t you say something?” You questioned confused and a little pissed off too. “I’m here for what- seven, eight days?” 

“Because we shouldn’t force anything in life.” He replied, one step closer. “Because you seemed different from the last time I saw you.” 

“Of course, I would be different, Namjoon! Years have passed by! I’m not a twelve-year-old anymore,” You elevated your voice, but not in anger… Just indignation and even amusement for his naive thought. 

“Not like that. You were different.” And he pointed to the center of your chest, “The way you carry yourself. The way you seem so uptight…”

“Yeah,” You scoffed, “Because I have obligations now.”

He laughed entertained, “You keep giving yourself excuses.” Namjoon looked deep inside your eyes and for a moment you felt naked under his gaze.

“You don’t even know me,”

“Apparently neither do you,” He said more serious. “The entire conversation we had over dinner that first night, you mentioned writers that meant a big deal to you, all of them preachers of freedom, of magic, of wonders of the world. You recited their words and even mused on how great it would be to work like that. You might have forgotten, but I didn’t.” Another step closer, and you gulped down. “I remember you always talked about being a writer. And you still show that wanting, even if somewhat restrained.”

You opened your mouth to answer him but he just kept going. 

“What about the bottle of pinot noir you kept sliding your fingers on over the market, indecisive if you should buy it or not? Or the day I caught you skipping waves at the beach all excited like a kid just for a second later you cease it and look over your shoulders afraid someone was watching you?” 

At that, you gasped, “I can’t believe you were watching that!” One of your hands went to rub at your forehead quite embarrassed. 

“And what if I did? What’s so wrong with doing exactly what you want?” He questioned, another step taken. The distance between you both was so minimal you could feel once again the warmth radiating from his sunkissed body. “How about the kiss you almost initiated but then backed up?” 

You had your head tilted up now to be able to look at him, your heartbeat increasing the more you looked at his eyes. 

“Because,” You said faintly. 

“Because… What?” He repeated. 

Your gaze dropped to his mouth. And the moment you felt his hands on your waist pulling you closer, your breath hitched. 

“Because what?” He insisted, noses brushing softly. 

The beacon’s light kept shining on you both every turn it did around the room, and like it, you also felt your world spinning. 

“I- There’s no excuse.” You admitted. 

“I know.” He whispered before kissing you passionately. 

You deepened the kiss, and as your hands came to hold him tightly around his neck and at the nape of his head, you couldn’t help but feel like the scenery painted behind your closed eyelids: a rush of golden and white flashes that warmed your skin more and more. 

Namjoon had been the beacon you needed in your life once again, guiding you through a dark night. The boy you had met once, now a man entangled in your embrace, had always given you the greatest gift of all… Either in a sticker shape or in an ocean salty kiss, he had always seen you. He had always paid attention, he had always supported unconditionally your choices and your quirky ways, without ever holding you back, without ever judging. He was always your quiet comfort, the shared laughter, the hand you met amidst sand while building castles, the carved dimple you admired while he was distracted gazing at stars, the deep voice reciting you poems over dinner, the nose that brushed softly at yours so caring… The one holding you close and dearly. 

And that… That said more than enough about you, about him, and about what you truly wanted for your life. 

Your fifteen days were up. 

After much rolling in bed with Namjoon, picnics by the dunes, cold showers filled with laughter, dancing in the kitchen while drunk, biking around the reserve, and lots of dates on the lighthouse, you had finally to say your goodbyes. 

You had a plane to catch, that’s for certain, you both knew that from the beginning.  But at the airport entrance, when he pulled you back once more to hold you close in his arms and whispered softly “Please come back.” you looked at him with a different kind of promise. 

“This time, I will.” 

He had let you go that day because that’s what he did. Namjoon kept you close because he also let you run free. 

And not even a month later, there you were again. Ticket in hand, on your way to Cabo, on your way to him. Not for a vacation this time, but to stay permanently by his side. You were ready to pursue the life you had always desired — a writer living in the lighthouse of her dreams. 

#bts imagines #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #btswritingcafe #namjoon imagine #namjoon scenarios #bts namjoon #namjoon fanfic #bts blurbs #bts fluff #bts ff #bts fanfic #bts soft hours #namjoon #namjoon fluff #kim namjoon imagine #singguks #drabble #namjoon drabble #bts bon voyage

[showrunnerihardlyknowher]

so! who all lives in the stardew au town? besides the main characters, of course

Jacob and Kumiko live at the dorms of their college. Jacob will get letters/gifts from his mom and brothers sometimes, or he may ask you to send things to them in return.

Reagan lives in a house with her mom and dad.

ABC has a housing condo where Serena, Jimmy, and Alesha live on different levels, along with a few other ABC personnel.

Elysie lives in a house with her husband and 3 kids with one more on the way. Ben lives nearby in his own house with Milo.

Jasper lives in the company housing on the lighthouse island most times, but he'll stay with his dad on the mainland during winter. Hershel doesn't live in town, he just comes and goes by boat.

Angie lives on the army base nearby

Felix lives in the police station, he doesn't go back to his home anymore.

Dean has a coastal "vacation home" he's staying in that Jamie has also decided to crash at

#ask #anon #stardew rip off #and of course more characters may be added as i write more stories

[mathiwrites]

the lighthouse, an au fanfic where orm is raised alongside arthur on the surface

Chapter 7

Never did she think the day would come where she feared the sea and all the creatures that live within. Yet, Atlanna remains vigilant, standing in waist deep water and feeling the gentle vibrations of the water. She will never be as strong on land as she is in the sea, and her senses are dulled. The constant light blinds her, and the sounds have finally evened out in her ears.

It is only for Arthur’s sake that she does not fetch her sword. He seems to think the boys are safe. The sword is dull either way; she’ll make due with what she can find.

The woman’s approach is marked by the waves, a disruption in their rhythmic cadence. She is hesitant, but brave to come towards Atlanna who had shown a willingness for violence. 

“Lana?” The woman asks softly.

Her name in the mouth of someone other than Tom’s makes her feel strange. Her chest squeezes and her heartbeat kicks up at the thought of interacting with someone outside her protective bubble. She cannot fight this woman for she has done nothing, and she remembers nothing outside her duty to protect her family.

“The boys brought back some food, I thought you might like some. The children are already eating.”

Tom’s favourite recommendation to newcomers is always the oysters and for the kids, obviously, he’ll say that it’s fries and fish sticks. 

Atlanna takes a deep breath and turns to regard the woman. She holds out a tray of oysters along with a gentle smile on her features. It’s warm, it’s welcoming and it’s kind. A lost part of her longs to connect, so she offers an awkward smile in return.

“Thank you,” she says, softly. “After you.”

“Let’s share one together.”

Each woman plucks an oyster from the tray and raises it to their lips. Neither avert their gazes; they are not shy, queens in their own right, but they are polite. The flavour is fresh and salty-sweet. It reminds her of home, and that in itself is heartbreaking. The texture has always been her favourite—the softness of the meat dancing on her tongue followed by the delightful crunch of the shell.

Martha Wayne stares at Atlanna, eyes wide with surprise.

The Atlantean Queen furrows her brow and immediately begins to close herself off. “What?”

It’s the laughter that surprises her. The woman raises her hand to cover her mouth, as if to stifle her amusement before answering. “What a unique way to eat oysters.”

Atlanna pulls back, making a face—disapproving of either her own strangeness, or the comment. She had forgotten that Tom never eats the shells. He hands them to her to polish off.

“No, no, it’s wonderful to see. Please, have more. It’s a sustainable way of eating oysters.” Martha holds out the tray, but Atlanna does not take any. “I’m sorry for laughing.” She must have some experience with volatile personalities because Atlanna’s reticence does nothing to deter her. She simply keeps eating and nudges the empty shells, and some untouched oysters, closer to Atlanna.

“It must have been a shock to hear your children crying out like that. I’m so sorry this happened.”

“Are you looking for a reward? For your intervention?”

“What?” Martha blinks her dark eyes at Atlanna. “No, of course not. I just thought you would like some company. You look… sad. I don’t mean it in a pitiful way, but like you’re longing for something. That’s all.”

Longing? What could she possibly be longing for? She has everything she needs here: her boys, her lighthouse and the man who should be her husband. Atlanna looks out at the sea. It’s not longing that she feels, but mourning—mourning for all the hopes and the dreams she has carried with her since she was a child, and now, must abandon them for the sake of her children.

It is a woman’s plight, is it not? To gore oneself and feed pieces of her heart or her soul to the world around her, so that it may thrive. This is what it means to love, truly, and to nurture. No matter the choice, she would have lost, whether it was Tom to her kingdom if she became Queen, or her childhood home for the sake of freedom.

“I know we don’t know each other, but whatever it is, you’re not alone.” Martha steps closer, wading deeper into the sea to join Atlanna. “When Bruce was young, a man tried to take us. He doesn’t remember, he was too little, but it terrified me.” She pauses, leaving room for Atlanna to respond, should she want to. “I don’t know if I’ll understand, but I’ll listen, if you want someone to talk to. You’re not alone.”

Of course, Atlanna isn’t alone. She knows that. She has her sons, and her Tom, but… there is so much she cannot tell them. Not for lack of want, but for lack of words. How can she say that she has not felt right since Orm’s birth, like she is an inadequate mother, like she cannot give him what he truly needs which is why she brought him to Tom who raised a happy Arthur? How can she word the endless pit that is exhaustion and fear? How can she watch Tom’s face fall when she tells him that every night, she thinks that if she never woke up again, it would be easier for him? He could simply take the boys and start a new life, a safe one.

It doesn’t occur to her until that very moment that she has never felt the kinship of another woman. Her life has been surrounded by men, by fathers who put duty and tradition first and by warriors who guard their emotions most of all. Here, a stranger is gently lacing her hands with hers and showing her an unwarranted and undeserved kindness.

It—

It brings tears to her eyes, the ones that would not—that could not fall because she needed to be strong. 

Atlanna says nothing. She has no words to name her sorrow.

Martha listens anyway.

#my fics #dc fanfic #dc comics #batfamily #aquafam #atlanna #tom curry #orm marius #arthur curry #aquaman #martha wayne #batman #ao3feed #ao3

[wickedsrest-rp]

Crabs Gone Wild | Group Thread

TIMING: Current PARTIES: Gael (@lithium-argon-wo-l-f), Marcus (@thenavysealkie), Van (@vanoincidence), & Dīs (@disinfernus) SUMMARY: After a disruption on the beach, Marcus finds himself with company on the shore close to the lighthouse. Crabs are everywhere! While the four discuss amongst themselves on what to do with the crabs (get rid of them, or leave them alone entirely) something lurks beneath the surface as they figure out a way to get them to scatter: coffee!

Wicked’s Rest. The little town with an equal measure of college kids and apparent secrets. Today was a beautiful day in early June, the sun shining overhead as several families, groups of friends and lone bathers took advantage of the lovely weather by frequenting the beach. The sand was layered in swathes of technicolored towels, picnic blankets and punctured by bright umbrellas. The smell of something cooking was wafting through the salty sea breeze and the sound of the waves lapping the shore was drowned out by laughter and discussion, shouting because someone let the ball drift too far out to sea, dogs barking as they brought back that disgusting, seaweed-covered stick back when they have so many toys they could’ve fetched instead. Gael wasn’t quite in the middle of the hubbub as he probably would’ve been. Instead, today, he was sitting on an old wooden bench by himself at the foot of a staircase that led from the sandy ground to the paths above, the walkway that overlooked that particular section of beach. He wasn’t entirely paying attention to any one thing as he sat there, slightly hunched and wearing plain clothes. His back hurt and he couldn’t recall getting much (if any) sleep the night before but what he COULD remember was being incredibly sore, that familiar sensation of his skeleton being rearranged by whatever he did when he sleepwalked. He wasn’t going to complain about it, though, instead finding solace in his existence at that moment as he sipped hot black coffee from one of his trusty old mugs. The messenger bag he took almost everywhere with him was loosely strung over his shoulder, resting on one side of him while a tall thermos stood upright on the other. His half-lidded eyes with the dark circles under them looked ahead, catching glimpses of activity here and there before it faded back into the haze of motion and color. Yep, today was going to be just– Then Gael heard a scream. It was distant and he was exhausted but even with those two factors considered, he instinctively raised his head, squaring his shoulders as was put on alert, turning in the direction he heard the scream coming from. In a swirl of activity, he saw people standing about, the joy largely gone from them as a collective as they gazed upon a mass of something moving on the shore near the lighthouse. Black, chittering, hundreds of… what were those? Gael forced himself to stand, gathering his few belongings, finishing his cup of coffee and he hastily made his way up the staircase to get a better look, ignoring the humming and nervous chatter of beachgoers and passersby. Once he was at the top, he looked out over the railing at the glittering, swaying collection of what appeared to be hundreds of crabs, their shells oily black and their movements highly irregular, never mind that Gael had never seen so many in one place before. “Well THAT doesn’t look good,” He murmured to himself, cleaning the mug with the hem of his shirt before stuffing it into his bag.

The sun poked through Marcus’s window and woke him far earlier than he would have liked. Granted, it was mid morning already, but his recent bout of insomnia meant he had only fallen asleep at about 5am. He silently cursed being woken up so early after finally being able to sleep for more than a couple of hours at a time. Regardless, he figured it was best to get up and start his day. After all, it wasn’t like he’d be falling back asleep. 

After getting dressed, he walked outside and the typical sounds of the town that usually greeted him were replaced with a sharp scream followed by quiet murmuring. He looked in the direction of the noise and saw a large group of people huddled around the shore, nervously whispering amongst themselves. What the hell was going on?

He moved towards the shore, trying to peek over the mass of people to figure what had them all so concerned. And then he saw it. A mass of crabs, all huddled together like it was some sort of crab family reunion. On second thought, this seemed far sinister. They were all completely black and shiny as if they were covered in oil. This difference and their strange movements made it seem almost like a cult scene. Of course, the idea of a crab cult was a ridiculous one. 

Still, whatever was happening, it couldn’t be good. Marcus sighed to himself and started to move towards the shoreline to get a closer look.

As the body of crabs ebbed and flowed, moving as one grand unit like an oozing black wave of dangerous pincers (and definitely too strange for Gael to assume was natural), he found himself glancing around at the crowd of onlookers. Most of them started generally retreating, which made sense but he was looking specifically for anyone who was moving towards the mass. Scanning, scanning, then his eyes fell upon a fit man who seemed to be making his way in the opposite direction of the general movement of the crowd. That was the one he wanted to talk to - his mind was already perceiving this as a challenge and while he had no idea how to fix anything yet, finding solidarity in someone else who was at least curious to see what was happening was a plus in his book. Shakily, he descended the staircase once more, keeping his sharp eyes on where he last saw the man, weaving his way through the crowd with as much polite urgency as he could until he locked his vision on the man. “Hey–” he called to get the man’s attention. “Hey, sorry to bother you but…” He trailed off and looked over at the crab rave, which was considerably more intimidating now that he was closer. “The hell’s going on?"

God, there were so many of them. All huddled together as one black mass and… were they dancing? To say this was unusual would be a massive understatement, something was seriously wrong with these crabs. And if the crabs were affected this way, he could only imagine how this would affect the rest of the wildlife along the shore and in the water. He didn’t like the idea of getting closer, but he needed to figure this out. 

Suddenly he heard a man’s voice call out behind him. Why was he asking him what was happening? How should he know? 

“Somethings up with the crabs” he said, feeling as if he were stating the obvious. “I’m gonna try to figure out what’s going on so I can fix them. Care to join me?” 

He looked like a practically minded and logical man, maybe he could offer some useful insight?

If they weren’t staring down an army of crabs, Gael might’ve replied with sarcasm at the response but this wasn’t the time or the place. Instead, he adjusted the strap of his messenger bag with a nod. “Yeah, I was hoping you would say that.” His eyes danced over the other man’s stern features as though searching for something he wasn’t sure he was looking for. “Okay, so…” He gulped and nodded his head. “Bunch of crabs. I don’t know much about crabs but I don’t think they usually… move in unison like that,” It was his turn to state the obvious and the hand that had his thermos looped around a couple of his fingers was placed on his hip, the other tapping his chin in thought. “Gael, by the way.” He introduced as he started to make his way closer to the mass slowly, not waiting for the other man to follow as he assumed he would naturally since he was going that direction anyway.

The man wasn’t quite as insightful as he had hoped, but that was alright. At least two heads were better than one when it came to situations like this. “I don’t know much either, but I spend a lot of time by the water. These little guys usually keep to themselves and look a lot less…slimy”.

He heard the man introduce himself as Gael. “Marcus” he answered back. “We’ll get each other’s life stories later, for now let’s get in there and take a closer look”. With that, Marcus and Gael trudged forwards towards the crab rave. 

It was almost as if something was controlling them all, as if they were puppets being piloted in some strange performance. Of course, that idea was ridiculous. Then again, dancing crabs were also ridiculous. If something really was controlling these crabs, Marcus really wasn’t too thrilled at the idea of coming face to face with it. Yet, on the other hand, whatever it was also needed to be stopped. He hoped it was just some sort of chemical leak and there was no supernatural force at play. He knew the fae could be very tricky and even compel humans to an extent, but not animals and not on this scale. At least, not that he knew of. Marcus. Gael made a note of it along with putting a pin in getting to know his temporary puzzle-solving partner as the duo got closer to the pseudo-swarm… Or was it just a regular swarm? How many bodies of something constituted a swarm– Okay, not now. He continued to tap on his chin as he kept his dark eyes on the darker shells of the crab rave - if that wasn’t what it was called, that’s what he was going to call it. As they walked, he tried to think of some of the bits of information his sister gave him pertaining to crabs but among those tips, he couldn’t recall particular weaknesses or ways to deter them, especially in a group this large. They got closer and he watched the mesmerizing movements of the crabs, pausing on the edge of the horde uncertainly. “Well… damn.” He breathed; it was much more intimidating now that they were so close and he felt his sore body on edge, ready to react if something happened.

Marcus felt an odd sense of calm being so near to the swarm of crabs. If they were going to be hostile towards them, they’d have attacked by now. Instead, they were just doing their own thing, vibing. Not that it made their behavior any more acceptable, it didn’t. But at least he knew they’d have time to think instead of having to focus on defending themselves. He looked to his unexpected partner who seemed to be much more nervous than he was. 

“They’re not going to hurt us”, he said matter of factly. “If they wanted to they would have by now. We have time to watch them a little bit more closely. But still be on your guard, we don’t know if there’s anything else waiting to strike. Something scarier than some crabs.” He examined them more closely. Crabs were really like an advanced form of insect, so could their minds even be manipulated? Did they even have free will to begin with, or were they simply driven by instinct? Surely there was something they could do to break them up. 

“This might sound stupid, but I want to see how deep in their trance they are. I don’t want to touch them and get any of that black gunk all over me, and I doubt you do either. Do you have anything we can throw at them to spook them off?” he asked Gael, looking at the man expectantly.

The good news was that Marcus seemed more I'm control of himself than Gael felt… the latter contributed his emotions to a handful of things, not to mention that Marcus looked more like he belonged there for some reason. Maybe it was just that the professor had never seen so many crabs in one place before in his life, especially ones that were moving as some sort of hive mind.

He shook his head out of his thoughts when Marcus asked him a question directly and he thought briefly before rummaging through his messenger bag. Unfortunately, he wasn't the type to carry a bunch of inherently useless things with him so after muttering to himself, he pulled out half of a very chewed wooden pencil and his mug, still smelling of the coffee from his thermos. "Will either of these work?" He asked. While he liked that mug, he had many more at home and sometimes science required sacrifices.

Vicker’s Beach, for the most part, had been a source of comfort for Van. It was a little odd, considering the memories that congregated there, but she wasn’t going to argue with something that kept her calm. If she focused on the good, then the bad wouldn’t be so worrisome, right? Van had every intention of arriving early, but she hadn’t woken up in time. Deciding that the beach would be too busy, she opted for something close to it instead. The lighthouse wasn’t her first choice, but she had spent some time there during high school in her I’m going to be a photographer phase. It hadn’t lasted very long. 

Except, when she eventually arrived at the end of the path, her coffee in hand, she was faced with something else entirely. There were tons of crabs. And – Gael? “Gael?” Van stared at the man she only knew in passing from when he had visited Sly Slice, and then she looked to the other person. She didn’t recognize them. “Why…” She felt grossed out watching the crabs fall over each other. she didn’t know anything about the crabs, not really, just that they were plaguing the town. “Why are there so many crabs? What are they doing?” She didn’t think this was how they mated. She was entranced by the horde, not completely realizing that Gael and the unknown stranger had been deep in their own conversation. 

Still holding the items aloft, Gael heard his name being called somehow through the buzzing people and skittering crabs and he turned his head to look over his shoulder. “Van!” He gave her a tired but genuine smile, his expression softening as he regarded the young woman. “Hola señorita, what brings you to crab-infested beaches on this otherwise lovely day?” He asked. 

Marcus examined the chewed wooden pencil, he could still see teeth marks in it. He definitely wasn’t going to touch that, plus it was probably too small to really make enough of a commotion. Now the mug, on the other hand, would be perfect to see if the crabs follow their instincts and scatter. 

He was about to ask Gael to hand over the mug when he heard another voice call out. He turned and saw a woman in the distance, apparently trying to get the other man’s attention. He almost couldn’t believe it when he turned around and called out loudly to the woman as if they had ran into each other at the supermarket and not in front of an obsidian crab cult. He felt a bit annoyed, but still turned around and kept track of the conversation. He sensed there was more to the woman than met the eye, but he couldn’t place his finger on anything in particular. He’d have to watch her a bit more closely once this crab situation was figured out. 

“Let’s have a reunion later, right now how about you hand me that mug? We can throw it into the mob and see if they scatter.”

Van was still disgusted by the way the crabs moved over one another. She felt her stomach begin to turn at the sight, so she forced her gaze away to the other person standing next to Gael. “The other beach was full.” The disappointment in her voice was not hard to miss. The crabs skittering ahead of her were the reason she never left her house, and for good reason. What were they even doing? She could hear the clacking of their claws and legs as they ran over each other and it made Van’s skin crawl. 

“I don’t know if it was a reunion, we barely know each other.” She took a sip of her coffee and looked at Gael. “Oh, you have coffee too?” She knew she wasn’t helping the situation, that much was obvious. What she could really do, she wasn’t sure. Maybe they’d ask her for good crab recipes? Her grandma had one in a book somewhere. “Don’t they live here?” She knew the obsidian crabs were a new thing, but still. “Like, this is where they live, why do you want them to leave? Do they eat people?” She didn’t think she heard about them eating people. 

Gael offered a small nod of solemn condolence at Van’s mentioning that the ‘other beach was full’ though he wasn’t sure how serious she was about it. He also looked back at Marcus when the latter spoke up and nodded. “Oh, for sure,” He said, holding the mug out to the man. “I do have coffee,” He hummed absently, tossing the pencil back into his messenger back and holding the thermos aloft. “Helps me function.” The professor regarded the crabs this time, raising an eyebrow. “I think if they ate people, they’d have started eating people by now.” He mused aloud. “And I think the problem is the sheer number we have. And I can’t speak for anyone else but the way they’re moving is just… uncanny.” He frowned.

Dīs had taken up refuge at the base of the lighthouse, mainly to people watch, but on this particular day there seemed to be much more activity than the usual beach goer. They shouldn’t have bothered, they really should have stayed, but curiosity got the better of them so they folded their newspaper neatly and set it onto the plastic chair they’d rested on not moments before.

They looked amazingly out of place with their black robe and circular sunglasses as they strode closer to the goings on. They’d noticed the crab mass earlier and paid it no mind, but with human interruption added to the mix, their curiosity was piqued.

“I agree with her,” Dīs said once they’d reached the group. They kept their distance, but it was close enough to see the undulating mass of crabs. They found themselves fixated on the swirling pattern and how the obsidian captured glints of light across the irregularities in form. “Why do you want them to scatter?” From where they stood, it didn’t look like the crabs were bothering anyone.

Why did he want them to scatter? Because something was very clearly not right with the crabs, and they could be sick or dying for all Marcus knew. He also couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something perhaps a bit more sinister at play. After all, crabs weren’t exactly known for convening in large organized groups like this. He’d seen this behavior in humans many times, primarily in religious settings. As far as he knew, crabs tended not to have a religion. 

He was becoming a bit frustrated at being interrupted by yet another stranger butting into the situation. He should have just handled this situation by himself, he thought. He turned to the stranger and replied “I want them to scatter because this isn’t normal behavior. Usually crabs scuttle along independently from each other, not… whatever this is. It isn’t natural. I don’t want them to leave, just to not be all creepy and hive minded” He then turned to Gael and said “But if you have any other suggestions, I’m all ears buddy”, and then slapped the man on the back. He had meant the gesture as a form of encouragement, but had used a bit more force than he intended to.

With his mug surrendered to Marcus and another party introducing themselves to their merry band of wondering ideas, Gael figured that his role in this prospective play was either coming to an end or he was realizing with weariness that he wasn’t a main character. And that was fine, his body hurt. Using the lid of the thermos as a cup, he poured himself some of the hot coffee that swirled around in the container. “Mass gatherings of any animal tends to be worrying,” He agreed with Marcus. “And these ones are moving weird.” Picking up on some unresolved tension, probably due to the fact that nothing was happening, Gael was content to sip his coffee and brainstorm but he didn’t have much of a chance to when he felt a clap on his back, sending a spike of pain coursing through his body. Before he could stop himself, he grunted from the pulse and dropped his thermos lid, the contents of it splashing the sand and a couple of crabs. …And curiously, they broke from the swaying dance they participated in and did everything in their power to scurry away from the caffeinated beverage, the coffee painting the sand that previously had crab legs on it. “Wait a second,” Gael said slowly, reaching up to massage one of his shoulders and he raised an eyebrow. Leaning forward slightly, holding the thermos aloft, he tilted it just slightly enough that a little stream of coffee drizzled out of the opening. Sure enough, as it landed, the crabs hissed and scrambled, like oil to water. Tilting his head, Gael turned to regard his temporary companions. “Well?” He asked, holding the thermos for anyone else to take. “Call me crazy but I don’t think they like coffee.”

Nobody knew if the crabs ate people. That was a little worrying. But about their habits being abnormal, that was interesting to Van. Not because she cared about crabs, but because it meant that she wasn’t the only weird thing in town. Something else could take the front seat and she could watch from far, far away. Or in this case, too close. The appearance of a fourth person made her nearly jump out of her skin. He was tall and had on dark glasses so that she couldn’t see his eyes. As she opened her mouth to compliment his shades, Gael was spilling his coffee. 

Van winced in solidarity, holding her own cup close to her chest. She was distracted by the potential for a bad burn mark that she hadn’t noticed the crabs scatter at first— not until Gael had commented on it. She looked over and sure enough, they’d split into different directions. Van watched as he tested his theory once more, eyes widening as they began to venture further from where the group stood. “Who doesn’t like coffee?” The crabs, that was who. 

She didn’t necessarily want to lose her coffee to a greater purpose, but if what the men said was true— that crabs congregating as they were was wrong, then they should make it right… right? Van didn’t want to be responsible for assisting in removing the crabs from their home, a small amount of guilt bubbling in her chest already, and she held her own plastic cup out to Gael. “This one is iced so you won’t hurt yourself with it.” 

Dīs looked to the supposed leader of this crab break-up party and arched a brow. No, they weren’t impressed whatsoever. Why couldn’t people leave nature alone? What did it matter if the crabs wanted to circle walk themselves to death? Or mosh, or whatever it is they were doing. Perhaps they should have stayed at home.

“What is with you people and butting into things that may not pertain to you?” Dīs questioned, largely to the group, but to really anyone who bothered to listen. “First the mines,” their jaw clenched with that word and the memories that came with it, “and we all know what came from that. Now this? Whatever happened to observation?” Rhetorical questions, they were sure, but the fact that these strangers wanted to break up something that could be harmless was irritating at best. 

They watched as the circus only elevated in annoyance when one of their thermos lids fell into the sand. The crabs scurried from the beads of coffee that splashed across their brilliantly dark shells, seemingly in pain. Dīs scrunched up their nose with disapproval.

Marcus didn’t mean for Gael to spill his coffee onto the sand or onto the crabs, but it yielded the results he had hoped for regardless. They still had a startle and flight response, so it wasn’t as if they were completely under control of something else. He was relieved to confirm that but also felt a bit guilty that he had startled them. Still, it had to be done for science, otherwise they wouldn’t have much info to go off of. 

He was expecting a few things might make them fearful, but coffee? He theorized maybe it was the strong odor that came off of it. Was their sense of smell sensitive? He didn’t remember reading about crabs having a heightened sense of smell, but he also hadn’t read about them in quite a long time. He was more of a nature enthusiast and less of a marine biologist. In spite of this, he still saw himself as the de facto expert of the group. 

The goth stranger chastised him and the group for causing the crabs to scatter, stating that they were butting in where they didn’t belong and causing harm. Marcus knew all too well that this was one of the more unsavory traits of humanity, investigation too often leading to destruction. But, that wasn’t what they had done, right? A few crabs got spooked and broken out of what looked to be a trance, was that so bad? “It may seem a bit unnecessary, but it was in their best interests,” Marcus now turned to them. “They weren’t acting normal and we needed to investigate. Any conservationist or researcher would have done the same. I mean, you have to admit, that is NOT normal crab behavior. Besides, I didn’t mean for the coffee to spill on them”. 

He didn’t feel as though his apology went over well, but it was hard to tell behind their dark shades they were wearing. Fashionable, and also very effective in concealing your emotions. 

“Do you have an alternative, tall, dark and judgmental?” Gael turned to regard the newest member of the troupe of clowns he felt like they were all turning out to be. As he asked, he took the iced coffee from Van and his expression softened. “I’ll buy you another one, señorita,” He nodded and he glanced at the party. “Speak now or forever hold your coffee,” He announced, holding both containers out in front of him and taking a step as though to sacrifice himself to the crab gods in the hopes that it would work. 

The tall one was obviously annoyed, even Van who wasn’t all that observant could see it a mile away. She looked over at him apprehensively before averting her gaze, looking down as a lone crab began to go in the opposite direction of the others. Van didn’t know anything about the mines. Well, the only thing she did know was to stay the hell away from them. 

“Yeah, fine.” Van watched Gael approach the swarm of crabs, brows lifting in anticipation for what was to come. 

Only, instead, a distant rumbling from beneath of them sounded. She looked towards the group, brows pulled together in confusion. “Are one of you like, really hungry?”

Dīs had a bad feeling about this. Between the crabs dispersing from the coffee spill to the sudden and slow rumble that started from under their feet, none of it felt right. They’d already warned them once, now it was only a matter of time before something went belly up as it tended to do. 

They didn’t care for the apology, only the creeping feeling that crawled over their skin as they watched the coffee disperse more of the crabs once it was washed over them. The sound only grew, a feeling first before it became more of just a simple stomach gurgle. 

Dīs shook their head, “I told you to leave them alone.” They assumed the sound was connected; how could it not be? It felt like a call, a response to the crab’s circling interruption.

Marcus glanced over again at the darkly dressed stranger. They did have a point, they were told to leave the crabs alone. But it was too late now, what was done was done. The rumbling beneath them definitely couldn’t have been a good sign. Was there something underground?

He wondered if it was related to the mine at all, but thought better about suggesting another investigation. After all, this towns residents don’t have a good track record with mines. Besides, he remembered his promise to Cass not to go into any other caves, and he wasn’t sure if a mine counted as a cave. He didn’t feel like taking the gamble.

“If i didn’t know any better, id say we pissed something off. Just no idea what yet. And while I’d love to investigate, that sort of got us into this mess in the first place. Any ideas?” he asked the group vaguely.

When no one objected, Gael gave a small, sore half-shrug and moved forward, carefully stepping around the crabs and splashing the coffee to land on as few of them as possible. However, he also came to a stop when he heard (and felt) something, the something other people no doubt also heard and acknowledged. Gael rolled his eyes to himself but took a step back, turning to look over his shoulder with his brow furrowed. “I’m taking suggestions but standing around not doing anything is a hazard to a lot of people.” He motioned out to the crabs (noting that there were indeed fewer of them since his spraying the beach with the coffee), then over to the collection of beachgoers that still gathered around idly though some of them started to look at the ground themselves. “So if you’d like to actually contribute then you’re more than welcome to instead of standing there telling people what to do.”

Van stood awkwardly to the side as the men bickered amongst themselves. She should have just kept going, she decided. It was dumb to stop. She could be at home watching something by now if she hadn’t let her curiosity get the better of her. 

She still had no idea what was happening, or where the noise had come from. Part of Van thought she had imagined it altogether. She paused momentarily, listening to Gael as he spoke. ”What are we supposed to do? Shouldn’t we call animal control for something like this?” That made the most sense. What would four totally normal people need to do with mass amounts of crabs skittering around? It wasn’t their job to do anything. “They’re just crabs,” Van repeated, mirroring her earlier sentiment. 

Dīs did their best to keep everything under wraps. There was too much of a crowd to lose their cool there, despite this interjection into wildlife’s path feeling much like an injustice. They felt for the crabs, but what could they do then and there? Their faces were kept in remembrance for future gleanings. Dīs crossed their arms. “It certainly sounds like it,” they agreed, glad that at least one of them seemed to understand even if it was too late. The other man, on the other hand, grated on their nerves.

“I did contribute and you chose to ignore my warning. I told you to leave them alone and now there’s something else going on. But if you want another suggestion, I agree with her,” Dīs pointed to the young woman, again agreeing with her sentiment. “One of you should call animal control, since you want to do something so badly about the crabs.” They weren’t just crabs, but nothing good ever came out of snooping where one shouldn’t snoop. Upset, Dīs was ready to leave the brainless on the beach with their crabs. They didn’t want to bicker anymore about something so stupid.

Marcus wasn’t really sure animal control was going to go wrangling up a bunch of loose crabs on the beach, nor did he think it would really do any good. His main concern, at this point, was now on the rumbling underground. He could hear it getting louder. It was to the point where he began to feel vibrations in his feet and couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread wash over him. Something was very wrong here, and it extended beyond a weird crab cult. 

“I think the crabs are the least of our concern now. After all, like you said, they weren’t hurting anybody. But the last time I checked, Maine isn’t anywhere near any fault lines. So I think my biggest concern right now is whatever’s causing this rumbling sound. We should probably evacuate the people standing nearby, and then get out of here ourselves. I don’t want to end up becoming one with the earth just yet”. 

Tired, sore and finding himself starting to get frustrated by being told what to do by some goth stranger standing on the sidelines, Gael took a deep inhale, muttered under his breath in Spanish (something about “dumb” and “bossy”) and abandoned his endeavor, handing Van her cup that still had a little bit of coffee in it and closing up his own thermos. Normally he wasn’t like this… he attributed his sour behavior to the lack of caffeine and the fact that he felt like he got hit by a truck the night before. Despite being tired and sore, however, something different seeped into Gael’s bones and thumped into his ears as well as he regarded the crabs that, for all intents and purposes, no longer seemed to be moving in unison - now it was the rumbling that traced up his nerves. “It’s probably just tectonic shifts in the ocean,” He shrugged, casually playing off that he didn’t like the sensation either; fortunately, science tended to have his back on these, even if bigger earthquakes weren’t common up north. No use worrying about something that hadn’t happened yet though and he stowed the thermos in his bag, irritated and wanting to go back to bed. And to think this had started as such a lovely day on the beach. “A better plan then saying what everyone else should do without doing anything yourself.” Gael said pointedly, placing a hand on his shoulder and popping his neck. “I’ll start with that group,” He pointed to a chunk of people and without waiting for permission, started to motion with his hands in a general gesture, calling something to them along the lines of “let’s go, it’s a good idea to leave”.

Van looked over as the man spoke about evacuating. Dumbstruck, she took the cup back from Gael as he handed it over. There was barely any left– not enough to give her a caffeine buzz, at least. She’d need to pick up a redbull later to stay awake fully. Despite her confusion, she was glad that the string bean goth guy was agreeing with her. At least somebody was taking her word for it was and wasn’t treating her like a complete kid. 

However, Van’s confusion dissipated as the rumbling got louder. She was sure it wasn’t anybody’s stomach this time. Gael said something scienc-y, which was totally like him, and she held onto the fact that might not be a fact, but an assumption as if it were a lifeline. It made sense. Of course it did. “So we are… asking people to leave?” Van looked over at Gael for confirmation before looking between the other two, her stomach doing somersaults at what an earthquake could potentially mean for Wicked’s Rest. “I’ll go with you,” Van pointed at Gael, quickly heading to his side. 

Fault lines, tectonic plates — it all sounded wrong, but even they didn’t know what could be making that ever growing rumbling. Dīs didn’t feel like arguing anymore, especially not with a new curiosity. They were certainly going to explore the copious caverns later. Right now, though, they supposed they needed to vacate the beach.

And to think, it all started with some crabs.

Dīs turned from the Three Stooges and came face to face with a lingering crowd, whom, despite the growing growl from beneath the grown, stayed around to see what lasting spectacle they could find. Dīs grimaced and slithered their way through the group, refusing to acknowledge any of their wandering stares or help them vacate in any way, shape, or form. They all made their beds, for all they cared.

#season 1 #group writing