#carcinization at work

[melodyfrogface]

My friend’s hermit crabs had babies the other day and so she’s setting up a tank and stuff to try and get at least one of the thousands of zoeae to maturity and part of that process involves some sort of “laundering” which I guess just means tumbling the baby crabs in a water vortex to acclimate them to the tank environment

But I always think of like money laundering and taxes and stuff when I hear that word so to me, my friend is committing

Crab Fraud

[the-real-list-of-ominous-threats]

you're not a crustacean so you can NEVER become crab no matter how hard you try

[modpoppy]

speculative biology is nowhere near my strong suit but by god will i bs my way thru to a wacky crab

[ace-whovian-neuroscientist]

Theory about the creatures from Wild Blue Yonder: when you exist at the edges of the universe and/or a desolate difficult-to-survive place, there are certain forms that are more likely to emerge. That form just happens to be beings who struggle to understand the rules that the rest of the universe, be that dimensions or constancy or psychological complexity, and use mimicking as a method to learn how our world works.

So what I'm saying here is that while the creatures in Midnight, Flatline, and Wild Blue Yonder are not the same species, they have the same tendency to drift towards a category of forms. It's convergent evolution (distinct origin sources developing similar features due to similar survival needs).

It's space carcinization.

[sarahmackattack]

Let’s get carcinized.

With the crab facts advent calendar, you can scratch off the iridescence to reveal one crab fact every day! We dug deep into the facts vault to bring you some deep cuts. We know you'll love 'em.

Get a calendar here 👇🏻

Art by @franzanth

These calendars support Skype a scientist! We're a small science education nonprofit. We connect scientists with classrooms, scout troops, libraries and more! We offer our programming totally for free. We also run the squid facts hotline! Calendars support our work 🧬

[tapejob]

I think the funniest reality in hockey is that much like how carcinization exists in nature, tim horton-ization exists in nhlers. real success is when you are good enough to publicly work a fast food drive thru

[wazzappp]

So. @quasar-crew made a post about all the fun fic ideas they've been thinking of and within that was an 'Everyone gets infected funtimes' au. It has consumed me.

Ashleys mutations mostly focus on allowing her to GET AWAY and doing it QUICKLY. Most of her time while infected with the Plaga is spent trying to get away from threats, so it responded to that when developing its 'improvements'. She's mostly based off of the Novistador enemies found in the later levels.

Her clawed feet allow for climbing and perching on small objects. Armor extends up the leg because lets be real bro. I saw Jacksepticeyes playthrough theres no way her legs didnt at least get OCCASIONALLY grazed by wayward bullets from Leon trying to shoot whoever is carrying her away. NEVER AGAIN. Her armor is not as strong as I would imagine Leons is because it needs to be light enough to allow her to fly.

The Novistador's only have three fingered 'hands' so that translates over by only mutating three of her fingers. She has mandibles but they're mostly meant as a last resort self defense, along with her new sharp teeth (TEEF. TEEEEEEEEEFFFF). They don't move much beyond slight up and down motions. She also has a nictitating membrane that rests on the edges of her eyes when not in use. It activates after she blinks (think like a windshield wiper clearing away debris) and also covers her eyes when she's flying. This does impede her vision a little bit, so its best for her to find somewhere to rest if she's up there to spy.

Ashley has considerably less armor than Leon because 1. thats not the focus of her mutation. the focus is allowing her to get away from threats and 2. because she needs to remain light enough to actually get in the air. Her wings are extensions of the Plagas legs that have shifted to rest more on its back than its sides. That way its less strain on her back muscles (shoulders are already so fuckin complicated bro). They move in more of an x motion than an up and down. The best thing to compare them too would be a hummingbird. I briefly considered looking to dragonflies and their flight, which led me to this very cool video but I think she's just too large for that to work. Her wings have no bones in them, instead relying on the Plagas strong exoskeleton (carcinization strikes again) to keep her lightweight but strong. In theory, if she practiced enough, she should be strong enough to just. Pick an enemy up, lift them into the air, and then drop them.

Her antennae are controlled by a small tendon anchored just above her ears. They act to gather extra sensory information. They can detect smell, temperature (fire chaser beetle style babyyyy), and they are sensitive to touch which allows her to sense wind direction when she's flying up high. When in a situation where too much is going on, they will flatten back to try and avoid sensory overload. It's like when you turn down your car radio to see a parking spot better.

Also, because I forgot to draw it sometimes, the armor on her back wraps around her neck to protect more of her main veins and arteries. Plus, no more choking so thats a bonus.

And heres just. Some random doodles because I ended up really enjoying drawing her (bonus Leon with an awkward cutoff because idk how I want to draw his feet yet. Some kind of fucked up digitigrade deal most likely I just haven't figured out the details.)

Next up, Ada Wong you can not run from me.

[gallusrostromegalus]

The Power Of Friendship (And This Gun I Found!), Episode 10: Thy Fearful Symmetry is now live!

Due to scheduling conflicts and migranes, I haven't been able to post the 3-Chapter turbo update, but it's Halloween, so I'll post the part that's done.

This Episode Is Brought To You By:

~tHeMaTiC pArAlLelS~

Jared age 19

I don’t actually know how divorces work but honestly this sounds less painful

OSHA

Brunch

The Hu is a real band and you should check them out

Clownectomies

My Parents Lived In The Sketchiest Part Of The Bay Area When Mom Was Pregnant With Me And Can Identify Like 20 Different Guns From Sound Alone And Assures Me That Kalashnikovs Are Super Distinct

Stock Options

Hypercompetent Blondes

Pepe Silva

This skit is 85 years old and still the funny

TRON

Fun Fact: Thoth’s name is spelled “Θώθ” in Greek

Unsecured Wireless Printers

Bad Anime Tropes

I am you as you are me as you are he and none of us are being adequately compensated for this shit

Internal Monologues

External Monologues

Dubious Business Offers

Carcine Nomenclature, 

And Takahashi-Sensei.  Thank you for everything, and may your memory be a blessing.

▣

Notes:

This is your approximately-every-100,000 words reminder to take a break.  Get up, stretch, hydrate, pee, maybe go outside and touch some plants, finish your homework, or go to bed if you’re already up too late. 

There are a couple  On-Page minor character deaths in this chapter, and an On-Page major character dismemberment. Please take care of yourself and your mental well-being accordingly.

[relia-robot-writes]

Goo that has undergone carcinization

Erica rolled over as the morning sun hit her face. She expected to sink blissfully back into her goolfriend, but instead hit a hard, rubbery outer shell. She sleepily protested as she levered her eyes open to took at Gleria. "Baaaabe..."

"Sorry, Love," said Gleria, whose phone was currently floating inside her charcoal-tinted spherical mass and texting furiously. "Bad news from work, gotta respond." She stretched out of bed and extended a handful of pseudopods to skitter upstairs to her office, still writing the response of per my last email.

Erica blinked from the waterproof bed as her goolfriend vanished. "I'll make breakfast for us, okay?" she called.

---

A shower and some coffee later, Erica made her way up to Gleria's office with a plate full of delicious food and the second cup of coffee. "Breakfast, babe!" No response. "Babe?"

She rounded the corner to find Gleria frowning so much that it looked like she was growing armored plates. "Gleria, you look like you're going to explode. Take a break and eat something?"

"Can't." She rippled. "Somebody pushed an update that broke the whole system, like I told them it would, and now I have to fix it because the company is losing millions of dollars per minute. Just leave it there."

Erica frowned as she put down the plate. "Gleria, it's Saturday. This is supposed to be your day off."

"They got me on overtime. This'll be good for us, eventually." She extended a large pseudopod split down the middle and grabbed the food, the coffee, the plate, and the mug all at once and drew them into her core. Her computer beeped and she cursed at it. "I really can't talk right now. Sorry." The pseudopod lay there on the table, slowly hardening.

"Don't forget to drink some water, okay?" Erica tried to caress Gleria, but her membrane was so tough she couldn't get through at all. She gave her a kiss on her plating, then went back downstairs, a worried look on her face.

---

Erica leaned forward on the couch, tongue sticking out between her teeth as she guided her character stealthily along an outer ledge. Carefully... Carefully...

"MOTHERFUCKER!"

Erica jumped, and so did her character, thirty stories straight down. She scrambled at the controller for a moment before her character hit the ground and the game displayed "YOU DIED" at her. She sighed, put down the controller, and looked up at the ceiling, where softer but more creative cursing was emanating from. She filled up a water bottle and trekked upstairs.

Her goolfriend had formed another large split pseudopod for symmetry, and had clearly banged on the desk with it. She was steadily cursing so hard Erica thought she might actually boil. She put the water bottle down next to another water bottle, completely full. "More bad news?"

"Those idiots rebooted in the middle of my update and completely bricked their machines. I have to start all over." she banged one of her pseudopods on the table again for emphasis.

"Sounds like a them problem?"

"Yes, but I'm the only one that can fix it."

Erica checked her phone. "It's been six hours, babe. Can't you at least take a break?"

"Not without losing the company a bunch of money."

Erica leaned against the wall, in Gleria's line of sight. "So let it! It's not your fault, right? You even warned them! Its not like theyre gonna fire you if youre the only one that can fix it."

Gleria's core gyrated, still jostling with her phone and the plate and mug from breakfast. "I'm... I'm so close. I've almost got it. I can't stop now."

Erica frowned, the heaved a sigh. "Okay, but do actually drink some water, okay? You look dehydrated." She clicked the two full water bottles together for emphasis.

"Yeah, sure," said Gleria, already absorbed in her work again. "Thanks, love."

"You're gonna seize up," warned Erica, to deaf goo. She sighed again and made her way back downstairs.

---

Erica was partway through making pasta for dinner when she heard a thump from above. She eyed the timer, then hurried upstairs. "Babe? You okay?"

Erica flicked on the light to see her goolfriend, computer shut down, toppled over on what was now apparently her back. The two large pseudopods had hardened into claws and dragged her over backwards, leaving her tiny typing/foot pseudopods waving in the air, clacking against her hardened skin. "I don't want to say I told you so," grunted Erica as she heaved at the large goo, "but did you drink any of the water I got you?"

Gleria toppled over, back onto her hardened front. Erica stared at her for a moment before her phone buzzed. Gleria had texted her. "Sorry, you were totally right, can you please help get me to the tub so I can osmose a little?"

"You can't even talk?!" Erica goggled. "Babe, you've got to take better care of yourself!"

The crystallized goo in front of her clacked her claws in what was probably supposed to be chagrined agreement.

"Well, it's just like I said," said Erica, grinning as she helped Gleria navigate the stairs. "You really need to find a job that'll make you less... crabby."

Erica dodged the pinch and ran ahead to run the tub, laughing all the way.

[sanctum-stinker]

Woe Spidersona be upon ye!

repost from Insta, sorry Insta folks.

Have been really into drawing my Spider-sona Spider-Crab recently. My fascination and love for crabs comes in waves when I least expect it. Idk how much lore I’ve dropped but basically-

His name is Karry Ohnn (because Spider-crab always carry on) and he’s an anomaly! Working at Aquamex, a marine research outpost, he studied carcinization and implications of crab like tendencies on humans and how it could improve day to day life. Upon falling into his radioactive pool of crabs (entirely ethical) he was supposed to absorb the radioactive water and become a variant of The Spot, however due to an anomaly he instead began to adapt to his surroundings in the only way he knew, by turning into a crab. With that he becomes Scientist by day, Spider-Crab by night, using his long forearms to swing from building to building to keep his small seaside Japanese city safe from malicious hands!

[jpitha]

Worldbuilding stuff. Remember that everyone's planet will have different rotation, a different year. Everyone's "day" will be different. How will they work around that when they're with humans? Will they?

The K'laxi homeworld is a smaller, older, more stable world than the Humans, but fortunately, their spin was actually pretty close. While on Earth a day is 24 or so human hours, on K'lax a day is around 32 human hours. Their similar circadian rhythms is one theory as to why the two sapient species get along so well.

Shortly after humanity arrived on the K'laxi station, both leadership groups got together and discussed how "day" and "night" would work together. The Humans normally used a 7 day week with two of the days designated "the weekend" a time for rest and friendship. The K'laxi didn't have such a designation, they only divided their 768 (human) day year up into thirty two 24 day months and had several feast days, holidays, family days and other breaks from work built into each month. To the K'laxi, familial relations are very important and they have large regular family get togethers.

In the end, as the K'laxi didn't divide their month into weeks and the humans did, they decided to make a 10 day "week" with two human years happening every one K'laxi. It wasn't exact but it was pretty close. There was always some adjustment when moving stations or going to planets, but everyone tried to keep things as close as they could.

As the Humans and K'laxi who were raised together in space grew and spread across space, their language and timekeeping became standardized for use on starbases and starships. After only about 100 years, it was expected that any Humans and K'laxi one met in space could speak the same dialect of Colonic and all kept the same calendar.

As the relations with the Xenni normalized, they were offered to join in with the humans and k'laxi, but they were a much different species. They originated from a world much wetter than Earth and K'lax and loved being in the sea. They were rather carcinized* and much preferred wet water worlds and their own rather moist starbases, the Xenni kept more to themselves.

The AIs that were the Starjumpers, Starbases, starships, as well as the ones in bodies that lived and worked among the other sapients thought this was all rather silly and a distinction without a difference. They did like that the Humans and K'laxi slept at night though, so when they were asleep they could go out and be among their own kind and do their own things.

*crab people. Think crab people

[powdermelonkeg]

The worst part of timeline shenanigans is the Rito.

Originally, the Rito were supposed to be the evolved forms of the Zora, after the Great Flood. Ignore the fact that the Zora are one of the only races of Hyrule that could function properly in a flooded Hyrule, fish people became bird people.

Then Breath of the Wild came around, where there were both Rito and Zora. Okay, so some point of divergence in evolution happened, right? Some Zora turned into Rito, while others didn't. It's theoretically at the end of three separate timelines merged together, one of which with Zora and another with Rito, so it could work.

Now we've got Tears of the Kingdom, where Rito were confirmed to have existed during the era of Hyrule's founding, so long ago that it's nearly prehistory.

Why birb.

Between the stark differences between Wind Waker Rito (human-like with beaks, have wings that only come out during flight, only gain wings after interacting with Valoo) and Breath of the Wild Rito (full birb, born a birb, die a birb), along with the other flight-like tendencies of Hyrule (Remlits, Oocca, etc), my theory is that most things in Hyrule genetically Want To Be Birds, a la carcinization (avianization?), and the Wind Waker and BotW Rito are an example of convergent evolution.

[ahamkaracature]

Detroit become crab

My carcinization-inator is working wonders. Soon all things will be crab

[leonstamatis]

Art & Attribution Issues In Blaseball: The Card Game. An FAQ covering common misconceptions and concerns.

I am not a visual artist and am not personally being impacted by the card game. But I’ve seen a lot of the same questions (and arguments against criticisms) pop up, and I’ve decided to compile some of the information into one place for the purpose of easily sharing it.

Specific questions regarding artists’ experiences probably shouldn’t go to me! I’m just following along.. A text-only version is available below the cut further down.

Sources:

Goblin’s post comparing Blaseball: TCG player designs with fanmade designs

TGB Reddit AMA (includes Tillman’s original designer, Marn @/charaznablescanontoyota, confirming she was never contacted.)

Mentions of whitewashing concerns from @/hadestigers

DMs with Wayfinder regarding credit for a stolen design and accreditation (via Goblin)

Also, adding here that Gob has posted a couple asks with specific desires and concerns as an artist affected by this.

Additional Links:

Cancel your preorder (originally found by @/waveridden)

Wayfinder contact form (or email at info@wayfinder-games.com)

Art & Attribution Issues In Blaseball: The Card Game. An FAQ covering common misconceptions and concerns.

1. What is Blaseball: TCG?

Blaseball: The Card Game is an upcoming game from Wayfinder, which aims to recreate some of the experiences of Blaseball.com in a card game format. A pledge campaign was launched in early 2022 to fund the project. The game itself was unveiled at PAX Unplugged this month.

2. So... Why are people mad about it?

The current iteration of the card game, from what we've seen, includes recognizable fan favorite players from Blaseball. Some of that art bears significant resemblance to design elements made popular by fandom creators. People working on the game have said they made an effort to avoid this and, when a fanon design was used, asked artists for permission. But as more designs were unveiled, artists have said they continued to see popular fanon ideas without acknowledgement of where it came from.

3. How do you know the ideas came from fanon?

Blaseball doesn't have player designs. All we know about the players from the site itself is coffee preference, blood type, some stats, and the name/team. That means almost everything about the player is created from the ground up by fans. Wayfinder (and The Game Band, who operate Blaseball.com) have confirmed they specifically sought out artists who weren't in the fandom for the game in order to prevent copying. But according to a Reddit AMA with TGB, those artists were then given descriptions of gender, race, and specific features of the players. Those aspects were created by fans, and often a specific fan who cared a lot. They deserve credit for that.

4. Did anyone talk to them about it?

Yes. Extensively. Goblin has spoken at length about efforts to contact Wayfinder privately about accreditation and acknowledging fan artists. They tracked down the original artists for every design being stolen and sent it to Wayfinder, despite not being involved in the game or receiving compensation. Specific examples are available on their Tumblr, @stainedglassgoblin, where they've been speaking about this process.

5. Is it possible it was accidental?

Some of it could be due to coincidence, sure. But the number of similarities has prompted concerns. Goblin has a post with about a dozen examples of overlap between fanon and Blaseball: TCG designs. Again, TGB confirmed during their recent Reddit AMA that card game artists were given specific summaries for characters appearing in the card game. Here are a few:

Nagomi Mcdaniel is an Asian woman who has undergone carcinization and developed crab attributes.

Chorby Short is a frog who plays blaseball.

Specific designs were also used for popular players like Wyatt Quitter, Tillman Henderson, etc.

There are a few issues here:

Carcinization is not implied to change a character's appearance in game. That is a fanmade interpretation. While Nagomi is a name with Asian roots, gender is always up to interpretation with names -- so why does the summary specify? That's fanmade lore, too.

Where on Blaseball.com does it say Chorby Short is a frog? (It doesn't. That's fanmade.)

While creators have confirmed one artist was asked for permission to use their Tillman Henderson design, two other artists also had huge influences on the common design -- and at least one, who initially drew the design, says she was not asked.

6. I preordered the game and now I feel weird. What do I do?

Great news! If your order hasn't shipped yet, you can cancel it. The best way to make clear your disappointment about this issue is to revoke your financial support. Visit the GameFound page for the game to find details on cancellations and refunds.

7. How do I voice my concerns?

Wayfinder Games has a general email listed on their website at info@wayfinder-games.com. There's also a contact form there that you can fill out. I recommend telling them you won't purchase the game, and will be telling others not to purchase it, either. Money goes a long way. And so does public scrutiny! Talk openly about your concerns on social media. Tag them. Put pressure on them, publicly.

8. What are artists asking for?

Credit for their work. It's also worth noting that this is a for-profit game! Wayfinder is making money off of it, while the people who came up with these players' lore aren't being compensated at all. It's a shame that the people who have made art out of genuine love for the game now have to see someone else get paid for it.

9. If people didn't recognize the player designs, they wouldn't buy the game. This is stupid.

I’ve seen this sentiment a few times, and I'm a little tired of it. I understand the need to bring people in and sell the game, but there were plenty of ways to go about it that didn't involve art theft. Here's just a couple:

Make new characters. Seriously. The fans love to make up new players, and this would not have been the business failure you think it would be. It's better than having artists call you out for plagiarism, anyway.

Don't provide character details to the artists you specifically hired because they were unfamiliar with fanon. I really don't understand why they did that. I can't figure it out.

Work with fandom artists from the beginning in order to give them credit for their designs from the start, avoiding this whole debacle. Checking for permission is the bare minimum; providing compensation is even better. This could have been a collaborative thing, instead of leaving fanartists out despite their obvious sway in fandom spaces.

Make a game without character art. This is the boring answer, I guess, but... Blaseball.com doesn't have any pictures of the players! It still has plenty of fans! If the card game were just the same player cards we already know, I'm sure it would have been fine.

10. Is there anything else?

Yeah. I don't have specific examples of this handy, having not seen all the art, but some artists have expressed concerns about the whitewashing of certain players in the current designs. While the designs may riff on art concepts from fandom artists, there are cases where artists say the skintone is lighter or facial features and other details have been scrubbed of their racial/ethnic ties. I didn't want to leave that out. Some cards have been redesigned since they were unveiled. But artists say they had to reach out to Wayfinder with concerns to make that happen, and it resulted in the artists they did hire having to do more work to completely redo cards -- instead of only doing the work once. That's unfair to everyone, and also unnecessary.

11. Stay informed and updated

We've yet to get an official statement from Wayfinder (on Twitter, at least) on this issue since it was brought up. The "blaseball: tcg" tag on Tumblr is full of posts with additional context and information, and Goblin (and other artists!) have made a number of statements regarding their experiences.

Also? Support your fandom artists. Give them a follow.

--

Thanks to Gob and to lofi for reviewing this. Again, if anyone has concerns, additions, or corrections, send them my way.

[miscelunaaa]

shell-ter | knj

pairing: hermit crab!namjoon x marine biologist!reader (who is also soft-bodied because reasons)

genre: crack, humor, smut, strangers to lovers, hybrid au, really just unabashed nonsense

summary: While walking on the beach and avoiding your responsibilities, you stumble upon a line of hermit crabs waiting to exchange shells. It should be an exciting moment for you, but instead there’s this random naked guy yelling at you to leave his friends alone. Why can’t a stroll on the beach ever just be a stroll on the beach?

rating: 18+ for maximum crabby goodness

word count: 6.9k

warnings: Scientific inaccuracies around the nature of crabs, hermit crabs, and other adjacent decapod crustaceans (I tried my best, I promise). Implied early pandemic setting. Writer plays fast and loose with hybrid tropes. Swearing. Crabby Namjoon lmfao. Meet ugly. Awkward public nudity, which is also very likely illegal wherever this is set. Joon’s crab friends leave him to die. Probably inaccurate descriptions of hermit crab mating conventions. Namjoon being casually naked the entire fucking time. Instinctually protective Namjoon. Lots of hybrid nonsense. Bittersweet ending?? Kind of??? Look, Namjoon plays by nature’s laws, y’all. This is perhaps the least feelingsy thing I have ever written. sexual content in the form of: Breeding kink. Oral, female receiving. Face sitting. Body worship??? Size kink. Big Dick!Namjoon. Dirty talk. Strength kink. Unprotected sex with other birth control in place. Rough-ish sex. Squirting. Possessive Namjoon. Hybrid nonsense. 

notes: this is all @thatlongspringnight’s fault, so everyone pls be sure to thank Julie. I ironically and unironically love hybrid fics, and this series is going to be my homage to the more ironic side. There will be more chaos!! I’ve got ideas for each member, some more than one! Please note that this is a significantly delayed crosspost from my AO3 pseud. I’m still trying to decide how to approach this space in a lot of ways and posting this is partially me feeling out how I personally feel about getting work out in this space anymore. 

Please also note!! I am no longer doing any tag lists. If you want updates for as soon as I post a fic, please subscribe to me on AO3. Updates go straight to your inbox and AO3 is way more stable than this fucking dinosaur of a platform. And this is to say nothing about it actually giving a shit about writers. 

my masterlist | my disclaimers | read on ao3

The sun has only been above the horizon for a short while and already it feels like the sand’s been baking underneath its gaze for hours. The tiny grains each feel like hot coals as they wend their way between your toes. You scowl and try to step more carefully. Seokjin’s already fucked up the shower drain once or twice after neglecting to shake the sand off his body; you’d hate to be the next call to your cranky landlord.

It’s not a glamorous life, being a marine biologist, but someone has to do it. Or at least, that’s what you and Seokjin keep telling yourselves every time the university threatens to cut your funding and bring both of you back home. Someone has to study the beach flora and fauna, right?

Right?

“But why crabs?” you mutter to yourself. “Why the fuck did I pick crabs …”

Hermit crabs aren’t even real crabs, you muse to yourself as you step lightly over the early morning beach. They’re still crustaceans, just not “true” crabs like their sisters in the infraorder. Every time the university threatens to cut funding, you have to explain it to some bureaucrat who doesn’t think it’s important to know the difference. To the average person and their piss-poor science literacy, taxonomy seems like a lie anyway.

All things become crabs in the end. You’re more than ready to carcinize and join your tiny decapod brethren. Seems easier than waking up at the asscrack of dawn just to put on pants and a bra and see if you can catch them moving shells all at once. At least the crabs are nicer than anyone in the finance department so … take me now, crab daddy or whatever.

Today doesn’t seem promising. You’ve been trying to observe a vacancy chain for a week, with no luck. It’s not even for your thesis; you’re just fucking bored. Like fine yeah whatever you could be working on your thesis right now but why do that when you can avoid it and watch hermit crabs line up and wait patiently for shell to free up? They even naturally orient themselves!! They line up by size! That’s way more fascinating and way less depressing than talking about brachyura behaviors in wild environments versus commercial ones.

Maybe you should have picked the fake crabs instead. Maybe your advisor would let you change your thesis … for the third time …

Better not. It’s just easier to procrastinate the inevitable at this time.

Hours pass, and nothing’s happening on the beach. You’ve walked it up and down, you’ve reapplied sunscreen, you’ve finished both water bottles, and you’ve seen nothing, not even a lone crab sighing. You go home for lunch with a sigh, taking care to knock the sand out of your sandals before going into the dinky apartment. And then you repeat it all again, leaving this time with a sun hat and stronger sunscreen for the intense afternoon light.

You’d think by this time that the sound of the waves beating the shore would drive you nuts and remind you of your failures, but no. It’s the only thing soothing your annoyance at the lack of hermit crabs and your lack of will to work on your thesis.

Every once in a while, as the sun makes its way across the cloudless sky, you sit for a moment in the hot sand, dropping your notebook to the side. During these moments, you allow yourself to stare out into the sea and let the quiet flow through you. It’s nice, really. No one’s been coming to the beach because of the pandemic, so it’s personal nature hours just for you, the lone soul brave enough to venture out.

It’s during one of these moments, late in the day, the sun just beginning to touch the horizon after a long day of making things unbearably hot, that you see it. Or, rather, you see them.

Hermit crabs, perhaps a half dozen or so, beginning to queue up in the sand. It’s adorable, really; they’ve arranged themselves biggest to smallest, and they’re holding onto each other with their claws to make sure the order is maintained. At the end of the line lays a shell, just a bit too big for the biggest crab to move into.

The wonders of nature never cease to amaze you.

You watch from a few feet away, trying not to make any sudden movements, as a few more crabs join the line and the rest shuffle to make sure they’re in the right order. You turn to reach for your notebook.

As you’re flipping through to the first available page, you hear a little pop.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

The angry voice makes you jump, your notes and pen flying somewhere as your hat falls off and you scramble to look dignified instead of very obsessed with crustaceans.

“N-NOTHING?? I-I waS—”

“Doesn’t look like nothing to me.” The voice is angry, accusatory. Your head spins around to find its source before you’ve even located your pen and you’re too startled to care about the undignified shriek you emit when your eyes find it. Or, actually—if you had to make an assumption—him.

A man, tall and lanky and naked as hell, is staring down at you. His hands are on his hips, his skin burnished gold in the mid-afternoon sunlight. Good lord, he’s so fucking naked! And angry!! But mOSTLY NAKED???

Why is an angry naked man yelling at you on the beach?

Why is it also kind of turning you on???

(Maybe Seokjin was right, maybe you do need to get laid.)

“Do you fucking mind?” He’s tall too, glowering down at you with handsomely hooded eyes, his full lips set into a hard line that makes no sense with how soft they look.

This is not the time to be thinking about this man’s mouth!! What are you doing? Has the sun addled you? Say something!

“D-do I mind? Mind what?”

“Do. You. Fucking. Mind?” the man spits at you. His eyebrows furrow.

Don’t look down. Fuck. Do not look down.

“Do I mind?” Something in your brain finally fires correctly. “Do you mind?? Naked asshole yelling at me?”

“This is my natural state and this is my turf—”

You scramble up to stand, almost falling over because your head swims from doing it too quickly.

“Your turf? This is a public beach, dickwad.”

Dick. Don’t look down don’t look—

Fuck. You looked down. Ohhhhhh boy did you look down. Oh wow. That’s a peen. That’s a big ole peen out in the sunlight in public on this here public beach. Holy shit. He’s gifted and he’s naked and he’s on the beach yelling at you and fuck why is this making you so horny???

“Lady, I don’t know who the fuck you are but you’re on my turf, you’re scaring my friends, and you need to fucking leave so we can do our business and get back to doing what we do.” The man’s chest is rising and falling rapidly as his jaw ticks with frustration. He’s got really nice pecs and his n—NO. FOCUS.

“I’m sorry, what friends? It’s just you and me here on the beach.” Thank god. This would be hard to explain to the local cops.

He steps to the side and points at the ground, to the little hermit crabs in their line. “My friends??? The crabs that you’re disturbing, including myself???”

The incredulity in his voice makes it click for you.

“Oh. Oh my god, are you a crab hybrid?”

He puts his face in his hands and shouts through his palms: “YES.”

“I … okay, are you all hybrids? I’m so sorry, I didn’t know, I—”

“Save it, I don’t care. Could you just leave us alone now? You’re scaring the littler ones and we all just want new shells.”

You bend over to pick up your notebook. “I’m a scientist, I promise I wasn’t trying to scare you and your friends.”

“Fine, whatever, just leave us alone please? You’ve been walking up and down this beach for days and you’re disturbing the peace.”

You’re suddenly very aware of the sand stuck between your sandals and the soles of your feet. Your heart sinks. “Ah, yeah. I can … do that. I guess.”

It’s better this way, probably. You need to start working on your thesis anyway. Your notebook feels heavy in your hand as you secure your hat back on your head.

“Great,” the man says. His shoulders relax as he sighs. “Great. Thanks for understanding. I have to get back to it but if I see you around again, I’m coming for you. Got it?”

Did he have to say “come for you” while ass-fucking-naked on the beach and looking like a hunky dreamboat??? You feel something in the pit of your stomach pulse with need.

“Yeah,” you say as you abruptly turn away. Is the sun hotter now or is it just you? “I got it. Bye then, I guess.” God, this is just fucking weird. Hybrid crabs in the wild and they’re kind of hot too. Ugh. Seokjin’s going to laugh his ass off.

“Bye.”

You only make it a few steps away before a loud, frantic “FUCK” makes you whip back around.

The man is on his hands and knees, still very naked and human shaped, scrutinizing something in the sand.

“Um, is everything alright?” You keep your voice low and soft in hopes that your question won’t aggravate him further.

He sits back on his heels, throwing his head back with a groan. His throat bobs, and you try not to think about what biting at his resplendent skin might be like.

“No. No it’s not. I lost my fucking shell because these assholes—” he gestures wildly at nothing in particular “—finished the shell queue without me. The only one that’s left is way too small.”

And now the handsome naked man is pouting. He’s a hermit crab hybrid without a shell and pouting and distraught and now even more naked in a way. Good lord, is this a test? Is there a dude with a camera hiding somewhere recording all of this for reality TV?

“I’m sorry.” What else can you say?

“This is what I get for helping these ungrateful fuckers. This fucking sucks.”

If he doesn’t have a shell, does that mean he’s homeless?

“How long do you think it’ll be until the next vacancy chain forms?”

“The what? The shell switch?” He looks up at you. You’re still standing a little ways away, but the anguish is clear on his face. “I don’t know, it could be days it could be …”

Weeks.

Shit. You can’t just leave him out here like this.

Without thinking, you walk over to him and squat down to look at him at his level. “I’ve got a roommate, he’s a scientist too. I’m sure if we explain what’s going on, he’d be okay with you crashing with us for a bit. If you want, that is. I just … I feel bad. You lost your shell because you were yelling at me.”

The man bites his lip as his eyes trail away, lost in thought. And then, after a moment, he nods his head.

“Okay. It’s the least you can do, I guess.”

He’s hot. He’s kind of rude, but at least he’s hot, you think.

“Great,” you reply, hiding your slight irritation. You shrug off your sun protective button-up and hand it to him. “Tie this around your front to cover up. It’s just a five minute walk from here. I’m Y/N, by the way.”

He looks at the shirt and takes it reluctantly.

“I’m Namjoon.”

The first thing you learn about your new hybrid acquaintance is that he has little regard for personal boundaries. The moment he steps into your apartment, he refuses to leave your side. You’d expected him to be skittish, maybe, but not clingy like this. You’d had to keep him out of your bedroom as you changed out of your beach clothes, and you’d actually locked the door to the bathroom for once because it took too much convincing to let him know that you weren’t going to suddenly disappear on him, leaving him alone in a strange place. You weren’t unconvinced that he wasn’t going to to break the door down. You could hear him pacing on the other side as you tried to pee in peace with mixed success.

If you hadn’t been convinced of his hybrid status before, watching him sniff at the air and scrutinize everything in your little apartment would have been enough to change your mind. And then there’s his proclivity for nudity, which just further proves his nature. His behavior is just that removed from what you’re used to from normative humans.

You’d also expected more questions from him, if you were being honest. Then again, just because Namjoon had been encountered in a wild environment didn’t mean he’d been born out there. He’d not been perturbed by the microwave or the stove or even the hot water kettle you’d started as soon as you got out to the kitchen. But fuck, he was weirdly clingy.

You frown as you wait for the water to boil. You don’t know much about hybrids, but if you had to guess, his clingy behavior likely has something to do with you being an available female and it being the mating season. August is primetime for horny hermit crabs; maybe his instincts are drawing him to you in some way because of it. If you’re being honest, you don’t completely hate it, though it feels a bit cringe to admit that to yourself. Even so, you try to shake the shame. So what if you enjoy the fact that he may or may not at this point in time consider you desirable in some way? Who doesn’t want to feel desired every once in a while?

As you reach up to open a cabinet above the counter and grab a box of tea, you hear something rustle behind you. Namjoon probably, still looking around while hovering.

“Namjoon, do you want some—”

Your voice catches in your throat as you feel a warm body press to your back. Large hands appear on either side of you, grasping the counter. You feel warm breath on your neck.

“—tea?”

A nose nuzzles into your skin, lips exhale a shaky breath.

“You smell really good, baby,” Namjoon says. “Smell good enough to eat, to …”

T-to what? You feel like you’re about to implode. To whAT??

“To what?”

Ugh, you sound pitiful with your voice all airy like that. You’re lucky anything managed to come out at all.

His hands don’t move to touch you, but his chest is scorching against your back. He’s close enough that you hear him swallow as his lips brush just barely against the shell of your ear.

“To breed.”

Namjoon’s voice is so low it brings goosebumps to your skin. A tremble passes through you, and you’re certain he can feel you shiver between his form and the counter.

“That exciting for you?” he asks. “The idea of getting your cunt fucked by a hybrid cock?”

“Yes,” you breathe.

His hands finally move, his weight settling against your back as he begins touching you, brushing his fingertips against your forearms and over your hips.

“Do you want me to mate with you, baby?”

“Yes.” God yes.

The scramble for your bedroom is a blur. All the way there, your hands are trailing over his skin while his are pushing your clothes up and off. You can feel how hard he’s gotten against you, but before you can get your hands on his erection, he’s falling back against your bed and pulling you on top of him.

Maybe you should be worried about how quickly things escalated. And maybe your conscience should shut the fuck up and let you be vaguely irresponsible with your feelings and body for the first time in months.

Namjoon groans as you straddle him, letting your hot flesh drag against his. His fingers sink into the softness of your thighs.

He murmurs a protest against your kisses. “Not yet, I want to—”

You realize he’s pulling you up his torso before can think to stop him. With stunning ease—damn that hybrid strength—he carefully positions your center over his face.

“This. I want this. I want your scent. I want you.” He looks up at you from between your thighs with those intense, dark eyes of his. Fuck. Fuck you want to die. This is fucking obscene. This is fucking—

The first suck against your folds makes your body pulse, and every movement after that brings you higher and higher into a stratosphere you didn’t even know existed. Namjoon is extremely skilled with his human mouth. It feels like you’re being devoured. It feels fucking amazing.

“Taste so ripe for me, baby. Breeding you’s going to be so easy,” he says against you. The vibration of his low, husky voice reverberates up your spine. Goosebumps spring up from your bare skin. Did your nipples just pucker?

Maybe you’ll leave out the fact that you’ve got an IUD. Maybe you’ll just let him have his fantasy about you. You’d hate to break his little paguroidean heart.

Namjoon licks wide stripes through your folds, each stroke culminating in a suck at your clit before he starts the motion anew. He groans into your flesh as if it’s the finest thing he’s ever consumed, as if he can’t help how this makes him feel. Each stroke, each tug, each movement and sound he makes pushes you closer to an edge you didn’t realize was there.

Your hands find their way to his scalp. You run your fingers through the dense hair as you breathlessly moan praises to him. It’s all you can do not to grind down onto his face; you’d hate to feel like you’re suffocating him. When his teeth graze your clit, however, you find yourself gripping his hair close to his scalp and grinding down anyway.

“Fuck, I’m so close, I’m gonna come,” you keen, your hips dragging along his lips.

“Come on my face, baby. Give it all to me,” Namjoon growls. His grip on you tightens and he starts helping you hump his face.

Suddenly, the wave hits you. It carries you past the edge and out into a realm of pleasure you haven’t felt in ages. You cry out, your body tensing as your cunt pulses with release. High as you feel, the emptiness makes it feel incomplete.

It’s like Namjoon senses this, because abruptly, he’s flipping you down onto your back. He towers above you as you whimper and reach for him.

“Please, I need your cock,” you say, fighting tears as your orgasm’s flood recedes.

“I’m going to fuck my spawn into you over and over, baby,” he purrs, his eyes trailing up and down your quivering body. “Gonna fill your soft, pretty body up with my seed. You’re not going to be able to walk for days when I’m done with you.”

You watch as his hand drifts down his torso to tug at his massive length. Will it even fit? You’re not sure. And will he actually wreck you the point of rendering you immobile? Who fucking cares?? You’re willing to see him try. For science. Yeah, for science or something.

You reach for him again, hands open and needy as you help him pump his length a few times before he finally lifts his eyes back to you. He looks hungry, perhaps as even as needy as you feel.

Namjoon finally leans over you, and you feel the tip of his cock start pressing into your cunt. You suck in a breath as slowly, so slowly, he pushes further inside. His size almost hurts; it toes the delicious line between pain and pleasure, and you can’t be bothered to differentiate between the two. Not now, not in this moment.

He groans once he’s finally fully sheathed within you, and the sound of his pleasure makes you clench. The squeeze makes his body tense.

“Cunt’s so tight, so fucking right around me.”

If you weren’t so breathless from being filled, you’d cry out praise in return. You don’t get the chance to catch your breath. Namjoon starts thrusting slowly, and the drag of his skin against your core makes you grip the sheets and press your hips into his.

For a moment, you wonder if this is it. This is hybrid sex. It’s normal sex but just a little bit better in all the right ways. Your hormones sigh in content, but your scientist brain is a little disappointed that it’s not something more.

After a few moments, during which you finally seemed to adjust to his girth, he stops and hooks your legs around his elbows. The stretch of your muscles is unexpected and before he starts to thrust again, you panic.

“Namjoon, I don’t think I can bend like tha—”

“Yes you can. I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his face dropping to kiss your knee as you adjust. He’s got your legs bent up at an intense angle, making his thrusts even deeper. Because of his strength, he’s able to help support your weight on his arms and thighs so that you don’t have to support it yourself. You’re completely at his mercy now, and fuck if it’s not the hottest thing that’s ever happened to you.

He picks up his pace as you relax into the position. Every thrust has his hips slapping against yours, the wet sound of his cock fucking your cunt echoing into your tiny bedroom. You realize through the haze that your bed is creaking and hitting the wall behind it as he fucks you hard and deep. You can’t be bothered to care if your neighbors will hear. They can probably hear you moaning and crying in his arms too. The hybrid above you seems to think the same thing.

“That’s right, baby, let them hear you. Let them hear me breed this wet fucking hole. Let them hear me fill you with my spawn.” Namjoon’s breaths are beginning to grow raged. When he’s not grunting obscene, filthy things at you, he’s biting his lip. Sweat’s dripping down his temples and neck and beading at his chest. “You’re mine. This is my cunt, no one else can fill you like this, can they?”

“No one can. I’m yours,” you whimper as your hands trail up to grip his arms. “Only yours.” What the hell has gotten into you? Pre-thesis trip you could never.

His thrusts grow rougher still and you realize that the string within you has wound itself tightly again. Fuck, it’s never snuck up on you like this. Namjoon’s cock is dragging against every sensitive spot it can and at such a quick pace that suddenly, just as soon as you noticed it, the string is snapping.

You scream. You’ve never screamed during sex before. This orgasm’s even stronger than the last; your ears ring, your heart pounds, your cunt tries to squeeze around his length so tightly that he almost can’t move. And you’re wet, so so suddenly wet. There’s a trickle down your ass and into the sheets and you realize that this fucking hybrid’s still fucking you through it as if it’s nothing.

He doesn’t make it much longer after you. As soon as your orgasm begins to ebb, his hips begin to stutter, hard and fast.

Namjoon swears one last time and with a last snap of his hips, he comes, emptying himself within you.

Your ears continue to ring with the sudden silence. The sound of heavy breathing is the only thing reminding you that right, yes, you’re still alive, this isn’t a weirdly real wet dream at all. This actually happened.

You wait for Namjoon to pull out, only to realize that he’s looking down at where you’re still joined. His brow is furrowed, even and his chest rises and falls with recovering breaths.

Finally, you break the silence.

“Everything okay, Namjoon?”

“Yeah, just ... I didn’t realize you could gush like that.” His fingers brush along the stretch marks at your inner thighs as he looks down at the sticky scene.

“Yeah, it’s a bit messy, I’m sorry. It means you did a good job though.”

Namjoon grabs a pillow and places it under your hips before carefully pulling out. You whimper at the sudden loss of his cock.

“Don’t apologize, I just—”

Is he ... is he pouting right now??

He sits back on his heels and surveys your wrecked, tired body, the pout still playing his lips.

“I just wish you could have done that on my face. It smells so good.”

Your feel your face heat instantly. Not even his obscene dirty talk had you feeling this embarrassed. Does he even know what he’s saying right now?? You’re so stunned you can’t even speak.

Namjoon shrugs to himself before finally settling next to you in the bed and pulling you towards him with care.

“It’s fine,” he says into your neck. “The night is still young, it just means I’ll have to try harder when we go again in an hour.”

Your stomach lurches at the thought. You’re not sure if it’s horror or anticipation. “Again? In an hour?”

Morning comes sooner than either you or Namjoon expect, and with it, your roommate, also arriving sooner than you expect.

He makes himself known in his customary way, which doesn’t have the customary result he expects. Barging into your room, already recounting the wonders he saw out at the reef, goes over poorly when you’ve got a hybrid still sleeping in your bed, clinging to you under the thin sheet covering your naked bodies.

Seokjin yelps. You scream. These are normal and expected reactions.

But poor Namjoon … he does neither of those things.

“I’ve never seen a grown man skitter.”

“Well, you scared him. I think he’s got a right to be spooked.”

You and Seokjin are standing outside of your bedroom door while Namjoon hides under your bed, refusing to come out until he thinks it’s safe. Your roommate’s not wrong; the man had absolutely skittered into his new hiding place. He’d actually tried to drag you with him, but you’d resisted long enough to shout at Seokjin to leave before you tore him a new asscrack.

“His dick is … well, it’s huge.”

“Nice subject change there, you jerk.”

“What? You expect me to see an endowment like that and not say something? How did you even fit it inside you?”

“Please don’t say the word endowment. We’re stressed enough about funding without you comparing his dick to the massive amount of money we’re missing out on.”

“Fine. Unlike the rich white assholes back home though, he seems … nice? I guess? The whole hiding under the bed thing notwithstanding. Did he at least know how to use that enormous—”

You hold up a hand. “Just stop. The sex was great. Amazing even. But um, the hiding thing—”

“You’re about to tell me something weird aren’t you. Hon, you’ve got to stop bringing home your weird hippie types, like, you can’t just bring hot homeless dudes home. Living in a van is not the same as having a house! I hope you used a condom.”

“Jin. Ugh. God, that was one fucking time. He’s not unhoused and even if he were, what business is that of ours?”

Suddenly a voice comes from inside your bedroom. It’s muffled, and perhaps a little salty in tone, but it’s now close enough to make you think that maybe Namjoon’s gone from hiding under the bed to hiding under the blankets. “Well, technically I am homeless and it’s all your fault!”

Seokjin raises an eyebrow and levels a hard stare at you. “Talk.”

Namjoon doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to get back to the beach after being coaxed out from your bedroom. In fact, he’s not in much of a hurry to do anything besides follow you around the little apartment, wrapping his arms around your waist whenever he’s got the chance. He’s also not in much of a hurry to put on any of the clothes that Seokjin picked out for him.

Namjoon just looks at the garments and instead walks over to you and pulls your body into his chest. His body is warm against your back. The gesture seems sweet, but it’s beginning to get annoying. Seokjin looks the two of you up and down, your stiff form enveloped by Namjoon’s lanky, muscular one.

He shrugs. “If I had thighs like that I’d eschew pants too, I guess.”

You purse your lips as you watch Jin leave the room, leaving you with the very naked and needy Namjoon.

“Hey, so um,” you start, your fingers finding his arms to loosen his hold on you. “You’re really cool, but I’m not much of a … cuddler? Like casual cuddling is cool but this is a bit much.”

Instead of letting you shake him off, the hybrid’s hold around you tightens.

“I’m not cuddling,” he scoffs. “I don’t cuddle. This is protection. I’m making sure you stay safe until you can release your eggs in the ocean.”

It’s very hard not to roll your eyes and scoff back. This is an instinctual behavior for a lot of brachyura species, and apparently it’s something he’s displaying too.

You pat his arm, perhaps with a little bit of condescension. “Yeah, but I don’t have any natural predators, big guy.”

“True. But you’re still all soft.” His hand trails up from your waist to fondle one of your breasts. Your breath hitches while he continues to speak. “You still need protection.”

“Namjoon, I’m not going to suddenly sprout an exoskeleton.”

“Don’t care. Still gonna do my job as your mate, at least until you can get back to the ocean.”

“Buddy, we had mammalian sex!”

As much as you protest, it’s no use. At any given moment as the day moves on, Namjoon’s got his naked body entwined with yours, to protect you from predators like email pings from your computer and Seokjin (but only when he suddenly stands up or steps too close to you). It’s all you can do to get him to release you from the confines of his embrace so that you can use the bathroom. For his part, Namjoon seems to be content to spoon you on the couch as you mindlessly sort through thesis research.

It could be worse, you guess. You’re getting your touch fix for the next few months of thesis hell.

Seokjin tolerates the interloper as well as can be expected, but softens when he sees the delighted look on Namjoon’s face as he has instant ramen for the first time. It’s a humble dinner, but it does the job. After that, Namjoon seems to soften on Jin too, and finally, you can move around the apartment without requiring Namjoon’s protection.

The next day, the hybrid seems more restless. He’s not ready to go back to the beach, but if you had to guess, he’s close. Now that he’s no longer preoccupied with your safety, he starts inspecting things in the apartment with care. He opens cabinets and sticks half his big body in them, probably just to see how it feels. He smells and sniffs things like spices and soap. He touches the carpet and the couch and the different utensils sitting in the kitchen’s tool crock. Nothing is not worth his inspection, it seems.

At one point, you walk into the living room to see him standing in the box that Seokjin’s extra computer monitor shipped in. He stands in it as if it’s exactly what he’s supposed to be doing at the moment, while still naked as ever, his hands at his sides with his back straight. His full lips are pursed into a thoughtful pout as he stares off into space.

“Everything okay, Namjoon?” you ask gently, hoping you don’t startle him.

He blinks and turns to look at you.

“Yeah. Uh …” He pauses, and looks down at his feet in the box, and then back to you. “Does this box make my butt look big?”

It’s now your turn to blink and not speak for a moment.

This must be an instinct thing too. And it’s one you’re frankly unequipped to handle. How do you tell a hermit crab hybrid that he doesn’t currently need a shell, not in this form at least?

“Um, no, it doesn’t,” you say carefully but casually. “Looks great.”

Namjoon tries to hold your gaze but you glance away and try to make yourself look less perturbed by pulling out your phone and pretending to check the time. When you look back at him, his pout is even more pronounced.

“I don’t believe you,” he grumbles.

The rest of the day passes much like this, with Namjoon trying to see how it feels to cram his big body in various spaces. At one point, you find him sitting in your empty suitcase. At another Seokjin enters the bathroom and comes out screaming moments later; Namjoon had laid down in the bathtub and decided not to make his presence known until Jin had already lowered his fly to pee.

Your favorite might be the hybrid’s discovery of the colander in the kitchen. After inspecting it closely, he sets it atop his head. He thinks for a moment, rolling his shoulders and shifting his weight between his feet, as if to feel out how the colander might protect him from danger. Whatever protection it offers must be enough because after a moment, he nods, and carries on doing whatever it is a hermit crab hybrid does after finding suitable protection. In this case, it’s sitting at the kitchen table, eating peanut butter straight out of the jar with his bare fingers while you and Seokjin chip away at your research.

Later that evening, after you’d all eaten dinner and had gone to bed, Namjoon wakes you up and says, “I think it’s time for you to go release your eggs into the ocean.”

And who are you to argue with his instincts as a hybrid?

As luck would have it, the beach is vacant still, and the weather is having one of its rare mild days. There are no errant visitors escaping their homes for some sun. There are no beach patrols or lifeguards, no kids playing hooky. It’s just you and Seokjin and the increasingly agitated crustacean hybrid who just wants to make sure you deposit your eggs in the ocean like a good girl.

No matter how many times you tell him you’ve got an IUD and a mammalian reproductive system, he still thinks that he needs to see you leave his spawn out in the sea. He’d tried to pull you out of bed to do it last night, but you’d pinched his nipple to get him off you and made him compromise: if he put a pair of Seokjin’s shorts on and left the colander at home to come with you, he could escort you to the ocean to “deposit your eggs.”

So now it’s mid morning. You’re about to wade out into the ocean to please Namjoon’s instincts.

Seokjin had shaken his head and said, “The things we do for science” when you’d woken him. He’s not wrong, you sigh to yourself as you kick off your sandals and shrug off your bag. You set them in the sand next to Seokjin and approach the water lapping the shore. You turn, and see that Namjoon’s close behind you, but instead of looking out at the ocean, he’s looking at the sand underfoot, his brow furrowed.

“Everything okay, Namjoon?”

“Yeah, go release your eggs, baby.”

You hate that his casual language still makes you preen, days after he’d fucked you. It’s even more infuriating that he can make something like releasing imaginary spawn out into the ocean sound remotely sexy. And yet … the things we do for science … and for the people we’d probably come to love if circumstances were different.

The water is warm and comfortable as you wade out into the shallows. It soaks through the running shorts you’d worn and wicks up your shirt as you move deeper, so that eventually it’s up to your waist. You turn and look at the beach, Seokjin standing where the sand is still dry, Namjoon closer, the waves brushing over his toes.

You squat a little, trying to make your imaginary spawning look convincing. After a few moments, you stand and start wading back. As you emerge from the ocean, Namjoon smiles. Ah, he has dimples, how had you never noticed?

Seokjin trots forward and tosses you a towel as you walk further ashore. You wrap it around your middle as Namjoon moves to wrap his arms around you.

“Thanks for having my spawn,” he murmurs, his voice sweet and heady as he kisses your forehead and holds you for a moment. Your eyes meet Seokjin’s over his shoulder, and the man looks like he’s about to burst out laughing. He keeps his cool and swallows it down as Namjoon releases you and clears his throat.

“So uh, just a second, I think—” The hybrid squints and looks out across the sand. “—Yeah, one moment.”

He runs off in the direction he squinted, and suddenly stops and squats down. You and Seokjin watch as he picks something up and looks at it closely. And then he puts it down and picks something else up. The objects are too small for you to see clearly.

“Is he … is that …” Seokjin trails off and starts walking toward him, and you follow.

“It’s another vacancy chain,” you say as the two of you draw closer to the hybrid, just enough to see the gathering at his feet. You watch Namjoon’s eyes trail up and down the line of hermit crabs, who’ve already ordered themselves by size. “Maybe one of them is about to give up a shell that’s the right size?”

Your roommate throws you a glance. “That’s the hope, right?”

You nod. Is he expecting this to bother you in some way? For a moment, you zone out, wondering what you’re supposed to feel about all this. But it’s only for a moment, because suddenly your attention’s being stolen away.

“You fuckers, I’ll fucking fight you!” Namjoon suddenly shouts.

With a little pop, he disappears. In his place is a little hermit crab without a shell, its little spiral abdomen, soft and vulnerable, curled up to the side. Seokjin’s shorts flutter to the ground a second later, now empty. You and Seokjin watch as this little crab, presumably Namjoon, scuttles up to another crab similar in size, and starts to hit it with his pinchers. All hell breaks loose in the vacancy chain, and you loose track of Namjoon as the hermit crabs all swarm and start … fighting, you guess? It’s weird and kind of hard to look at, but you also can’t get yourself to look away.

After a few moments, a lone crab wearing a shell emerges from the scuffle and creeps toward you and Seokjin.

“Is that … Namjoon? Is he looking at you?” Seokjin groans. “This is fucking weird.”

You squat down to look at the little crab. It, or maybe he, waves a claw at you, almost as if saluting, and then walks off quickly. You let your eyes follow him down the beach as he moves away from the fray. When you turn to look back at the vacancy chain scuffle, you see that it’s broken up. The crabs are dispersing and going off to do whatever it is that they do during these late summer days.

Namjoon’s gone. And you can’t help but smile to yourself and wonder what the fuck just happened.

“Is that it?” Jin’s beside himself with laughter. “He’s just fucking leaving? No dinners or dates, just a fuck and run after you’ve fulfilled your purpose? Is there no romance left in the world??”

You stand and dust off your knees, watching your fellow scientist send the hermit crabs scurrying away as he walks up and reaches for his discarded shorts.

You sigh wistfully. “With the way the guy ate me out, I was dinner.”

“That’s gross. That’s fucking disgusting. I don’t need to know that shit.”

“Look I’ve seen things now, don’t knock hybrid dick till you try it.”

“Quit bragging, it’s unbecoming.”

“Fine. Just know that jealousy is unbecoming as well.”

As you walk back down the beach to collect your things, Seokjin squints out to the horizon. He takes a deep breath and sighs. “Well it’s good he was a paguroidea and not brachyura I guess, right? You didn’t like compromise your data or anything?”

“Oh god no,” you shake your head. “I will do a lot of things for science, but that’s not one of them.”

“Then, uh, what was all this then with Namjoon? An experiment of sorts?” He’s got a smile on his face, and a light, teasing tone. He’s trying to make sure you’re okay, it seems, trying to gauge whether or not you caught feelings.

“No, not an experiment,” you say, letting yourself grow quiet with thought.

“Then what would you call it? Like are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” You really are, you mean it when you say it. “This was fun, I think. Just some fun and helping someone who needed it.”

“So is that code for schedule you a vacation for the next mating season around here or—”

Seokjin’s sentence is cut off by you throwing a sandal at him.

“You jerk! I can’t believe you’re supposed to be the uncle to my spawn and you’re treating me this way!”

Your roommate’s laughter peals through the air. “You’ll regret that when you need help coming up with names for your several hundred children.”

“Ugh, thank god for larval stages and precocious young.”

“They grow up so fast. Want noodles when we get home?”

“Please. Let’s head back.”

Thank you for reading! Drop me an ask and tell me what you think. Find me in various places at my carrd :)

©miscelunaaa 2022. My work is only found on this blog and under my ao3 pseud. Do not, under any circumstances, copy or repost my work. Thank you.

posted: originally to ao3 9.10.2022, to tumblr on 10.26.2022

[charaznablescanontoyota]

[ID: an excerpt from a reddit comment about the blaseball tcg development process, reading:

“All but one of the artists were chosen outside of the fanbase to ensure they had no background in Blaseball and wouldn’t accidentally pull from fanon

Artists were explicitly told not to look at fanart or do research. They were given very vague briefs to ensure generalized ideas were honored from fan history.

These are verbatim: “Chorby Short: frog that plays Blaseball, Jaylen Hotdogfingers: important she is black, has hotdogs for fingers, Nagomi Mcdaniel: as a former member of the crabs, has gained crab parts via carcinization, should be represented an Asian woman”

Every card was evaluated by sensitivity readers

Multiple designs were sent back for accidentally being too close to fan interpretations“]

on one hand i Get This from a perspective of wanting to make sure that players with names from specific cultures/who are commonly depicted as people of color don’t get whitewashed and that players who are depicted as trans/nb stay that way as well but on the other hand i think that even the vague briefs here are too specific. like i wish they’d told the artists the absolute bare minimum of “must be [x]” and just let them go ham??? why not tell them exactly what’s on the site about chorby short - name, pregame ritual, coffee, blood type - and let the imagination run wild with that. “frog that plays blaseball” is WAY too specific imo

ALSO knowing that the artists got these briefs makes it so easy to backfill in what the briefs were when you’re looking at the cards. you can absolutely take one look at the york silk card and say ‘oh the artist was told that york is a teenage boy from hawai’i’ and you can look at the howell franklin card and say ‘oh the prompt for this was humanoid wolfman’. it’s not slick, it’s actively working AGAINST the claim that “no interpretation is canon”, and it’s still taking elements of fan-created designs without proper credit, even if your artists aren’t directly looking at them as reference