#fleet of pelicans

[meteorologistaustenlonek]

There are many names for a group of #pelicans. Proper term is a pod, also a pouch, a scoop, a squadron, or - if fishing together - a fleet.

Thanks to @WDEFNews12 viewer Linda Parks of Decatur for Friday's @LangleyRoofing #WeatherWindow #PictureOfTheDay.

Submit your pictures at wdef.com/photos

[deepestnightcolor]

Hi I love your writing!! Not sure if you take requests so please ignore this if you don’t!! What if Sam and reader were dating and then reader finds out about Sam/Penny liking each other in the past so they get kinda insecure and Sam reassures them

nsjhdwj thank you so, so much! <3

It really means the world to me to hear it! :) Thank you so much for your request as well, it was absolutely LOVELY to write. I hope you will enjoy it! Have a lovely day, dear anon~ <3

(Needless to say, I do take requests >:))

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sam (SDV) x GN!Reader

ᴡᴄ: 1889 words

✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: a lil jealousy, a lil insecurity. it is mostly fluff, though. gentle kisses and all~

☾ ᴡʜɪꜱᴘᴇʀꜱ ☽

The relationship between Sam and you had begun to blossom in the fall of your first year in Pelican Town. It had all started out quite simple; playing pool with the blond and Sebastian in the saloon turned into hanging out and playing video games together. Taking turns trying hard levels bled into fleeting touches and looking at one another longer than necessarily needed; until it all ended in a chaste kiss behind near the river. It hadn’t taken Sam much longer to show up on your doorstep with a bouquet of flowers, asking you to officially be with him.

Ever since, your relationship had grown like the crops on your fields – filling your heart with a deep, comfortable feeling of contentment and calm, something no one ever had managed up until the town. However, whenever Sam walked up to you, looking at you with these deep blue eyes filled with excitement and genuine happiness and smiling at you as if you were the first warm day in spring, you felt like you were at the right place, at the right time.

However, there was gossip in town. Little whispers, really, nothing you wouldn’t have expected living in a sleepy community like this. The gossip here was nothing more than a fleeting thought that was spoken out; here one moment, gone the next.

You had always promised yourself to not let these whispers stick to you, to just smile and forget about it. And so far you had done well; the most attention you had spent on anything that wasn’t rock solid was wondering how someone would come up with something like that.

In all seriousness, you just didn’t care for it. It rolled off your back like droplets of rain rolled off your raincoat.

You didn’t think a simple visit to Pierre’s would change that. You were standing in front of one of the shelves in the far back, looking at the different seasonal seeds in stock, considering trying out something new on the fields when you heard Marnie’s voice. It was hushed as it usually was when she was gossiping. Any other day, you would have just turned back to the bags in your hand, but today, you heard your boyfriend’s name. Much to your shame, your ears perked up almost immediately, and even worse, you actually tilted your head a little to catch what Marnie was saying.

“Yes, I am surprised he didn’t end up with Ms. Penny. The crushes they had were quite obvious, even my nephew picked up on it,” she hummed.

Another voice now answered with a hum, but when they talked, you were able to identify it as Mayor Lewis’s. “Even my old eyes picked up on it! I saw them at the bridge often, and I always thought Ms. Penny just waited for him to make the first move and she would have been all his.”

Your heart sank. Sam had had a crush on Penny? You furrowed your brows as you thought back, trying to remember if you ever had picked up on anything like that. Then it hit you – they had often hung out by the bridge together, and if you were honest, you had always felt a weird tension sizzle in the air between them.

Marnie again: “It is quite a shame, really. Jas told me that Ms. Penny looks a little sad when they pick up little Vincent. I think they would have made a good couple; she could have taught him a lot, I bet.”

“And maybe he would have helped her to get out of her shell a little. I thought they were a good match as well.”

You couldn’t take any more. You stepped out from between the shelves and almost ran to the till, slamming the bags onto the counter. “Just these, please,” you smiled at Pierre, loud enough for the hushed whispers behind you to stop.

“Thanks,” you murmured after you had been rung up, fleeing the general store without as much as a look in the two chatterboxes’ direction.

You had genuinely wanted to let go of what you had heard today. After all, Sam was with you now, and he seemed genuinely happy with you. Even now in his sleep, he was looking peaceful and content; his arm stretched out towards you as usual. Whenever you and Sam slept together, he had to touch you in some way. You didn’t mind that, in fact, it usually calmed you and lulled you into a deep slumber. Tonight, it didn’t help.

You had started thinking as soon as your conversation with Sam had faded as his breathing had grown heavier; a clear sign that he was drifting off to sleep.

Had you gotten in the middle of something between Sam and Penny?

Would he maybe be better off dating her?

Would he be happier with her?

Why did he choose to be with you when there seemingly was a spark, big enough for others to notice?

Penny, in all honesty, was not only a beautiful human but had an incredible personality at that. She was a catch, no doubt. Maybe you had ruined the best relationship Sam could have ever had, because what could you offer? You were a farmer, nothing more, nothing less. Doing work many considered as nothing but simple and dirty. Whereas Penny was always clean and well-kempt: being noble enough to try and give the town’s kids the best possible education. Trying to give your boyfriend’s little brother the best possible chances, for crying out loud!

Holy shit, you had probably ruined Sam’s life, what did he even see in you?

“Babe?” a groggy voice next to you asked, making you tense up. You had been so lost in your whirlwind of thoughts that you hadn’t even realized how much you had been tossing and turning. You tried to stay still, even out your breathing. Maybe he would just go back to sleep.

But you knew Sam better than that. And just as you had expected, two strong arms slowly snaked around you, pulling you into a warm chest. Sam’s hand found your hair, long fingers running through it just mere moments later. Sam knew you, sometimes better than you knew yourself, and he knew what to do when you were nervous. And even now in your state of inner turmoil it helped; you relaxed into his arms, and for a split second, your head was quiet.

“What’s wrong, baby? Bad dream?”

That was your chance. If you said yes now, he would probably cuddle you, caressing your hair until you fell asleep. Sleep sounded nice right about now.

“Did I ruin your chances with Penny? Would you rather be with her?”

The caressing stopped, and you could feel the mattress behind you shift. Was he leaving now?

The light switched on, and before you could say something else, you saw Sam’s face hover right over yours. His rough hand was placed on your cheek now, thumb caressing the skin gently as he peered into your eyes. All sleep had vanished now, replaced by honest concern and confusion.

 “Why would you think something like that?”

You bit around on your lower lip, looking away in embarrassment. “I heard Marnie and Lewis talk at Pierre’s today…They…they talked about the crush you had on Penny and the crush she had on you and how you would be a great match and how she is sad when she picks up Vincent now and-“

Noting how stupid you sounded, you stopped yourself, taking in a deep breath and not being able to stop yourself, “and it had me wondering, because I saw you hang out as well and Penny is so beautiful and kind and noble and she would have a good influence on you! And what am I, just a farmer, you have seen me in dirty clothes more often than in clean ones and-“

You looked at Sam helplessly, tears in the corner of your eyes. “And I just…Why did you choose me when you could have had her, Sam? Why didn’t you choose her? You could have…I…” The blond looked at you, patiently waiting for you to finish speaking.

Only when your stream of words had seemingly ceased did he lean in and press a soft kiss to your lips.

“Because Penny isn’t you, my love,” he murmured against the plush of your lips, looking into your eyes. His thumb was still caressing your cheek, allowing his other hand to lock together with yours.

“Yes, Penny is a good-hearted woman, and yes, I might have had a crush on her.  But you touched my heart in a way no one ever has. I fell in love with you, and I mean all of you. Your eyes; the way they light up when you’re proud or happy. The way you smile and the many different smiles you have. I love every single one. I love that you get dirty every day while doing what you love. I love that you give it your all every day.”

Sam kissed your nose carefully, his eyes peering into yours again.

“I love how careful you are with everything, especially with things that are dear to you. Yoba, I love the way your breathing sounds when you are next to me, I love the way you ramble to yourself when you are working on something and think no one can hear you. I love the random sounds you make. I love seeing you. I love being around you. I love you being mine. I love you.”

Sam kissed your lips again, holding onto your face. You looked up at him with teary eyes, hiding your face in his chest. The blond laid back down, carefully pulling you on top of him. He drew random patterns onto your back; mostly hearts and clouds and little stars.

“I remember the first actual date we went on. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I was so close to just throwing up. Sebastian kept teasing me, asking me why I was nervous, I had been to the beach so often…” he kissed your head again, holding you a little tighter to his chest. “And then I saw you there. All bundled up in your winter clothes, and I asked myself why I had been so stupid to suggest a date on the beach in winter. But when you smiled at me…Shit, that was the moment I just knew that you were my one and only. And I wouldn’t want to live a life in which you weren’t.”

You sniffled a little, but smiled a little as you thought back to the date. You had, in fact, asked yourself why Sam would want to meet up at the beach in winter, but you could have never allowed yourself to pass up the opportunity.

You closed your eyes; taking in your boyfriend’s scent. He smelled like cotton and a hint of vanilla. Honestly, you found he smelled like home.

You could feel Marnie’s and Lewis’s voices quieten down, as did your worries.

Sam could feel you relax in your arms and slowly lifted your chin with two fingers.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, Sam.”

“And tomorrow I will skate on the Mayor’s property.”

“No, Sam."

[eemamminy-art]

Title: Coming Around Again Rating: Explicit, no archive warnings apply. Summary: It had always been his dream to eventually return to Pelican Town after spending his summers there as a child, but when Mallory inherits his grandparents' old farm he is surprised by just how much the town— and more importantly the people in it— have changed. Alex had been his best friend once, but now he was seemingly too busy and too cool for his old friend. Mallory threw away the life he had been building in order to come back home, but nothing is as he remembered it to be. His heart aches for the fleeting happiness of his past, and to forge a new future for himself— with any luck, a future that includes Alex by his side.

I've finally started posting this! I've uploaded the first three chapters and plan to post one chapter either every week, or every other week on weekends. It feels so vulnerable to finally be sharing this after pouring my heart out for 100k~ words, but here goes! I hope you enjoy!!

(Do note, that while marked explicit, the explicit chapters will be later. It is a slow burn after all!)

[thebluester2020]

[SDV] "Sins of the Guilty"

Summary: SDV Bachelors lusting over the nun that's recently come to visit Pelican Town Warning(s): Not proofread, Sacrilege of nuns, Sub!Sebastion [Reader is kinda a dom in his part], Sebastion doesn't have active sex with the reader, it's only imagined, I kinda favored Sebastion's part ngl, Dom!Shane [The usual lol], This is the filthiest thing I've ever written ngl, Elliot is the king of making readers squirt fight me on that, Elliot is a simp low-key, Bachelors loosely follow the plot of the verses, Unprotected sex [Wrap it before you tap it folks], Pure filth, Porn with plot. Word count: 8,285 wordsSide note(s): Inspired by the fact that- I like nuns and priests man. Going to religious schools all your childhood will do that 💀. Also, sorry for not including all the bachelors. I mostly wanted to focus on those who I think would struggle the most with being presented with a pretty nun in front of them cause it's more fun that way pfft.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Shane - "Hopeless Sinner" 1 Peter 5:8 - Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.

♡ - Never in his life had Shane been a religious man.

Too much had happened in his life for him to even consider the possibility of a god, and even if there was such a thing? There was no way that they'd look down favorably upon them, especially with all the sins that weighed down his soul.

And he had a lot.

He was a drunk, he could hardly keep his eyes open half of the time. It was common for him to stink, absolutely reek of alcohol and past missed showers and he far too commonly let his alcoholism get him into frequent situations that he would only come to regret the next day. And to add to that list of sins? He wasn't exactly a people person.

He was rude and curt, saw people as an annoyance and treated them like such. He wasn't open to hearing people be kind to him much less try to suggest ways to change himself. The only time he felt semblances of happiness was when he was with his niece and even then? Those times were fleeting and brief, all because of his aforementioned addictions to the bottle.

And...despite all of that, all those troubles...he wasn't intent on changing.

In his eyes? He was a lost cause, too far gone and there was no point in expending energy on something that was damaged. And he only doubled down on that ideology when rumors began to circulate that a nun was going to visit the town for a little while. He even made it a mission to avoid any places where you could've possibly been at!

The last thing Shane needed was some old woman lecturing on the goodness of Yoba and the sins that came with drinking. How that "he wasn't too far gone" and that he could be "saved", all if he just believed and dedicated himself enough.

At least...until he saw you in person one day outside Pierre's shop on his way to get some cans of beer.

. . .

"You must be Shane, I'm Sister Y/N. It's a pleasure to meet you!"

It was like the entire world paused for the briefest of moments.

Just enough for him to truly take in your features the moment he saw you, right in front of Pierre's shop no doubt.

Your smile alone could have chased away the darkest of storms and replace it with a sun that shined as much as your eyes did. They were as wide and big as a dog looking up at its owner, he thought. As if you were expecting some type of praise or reward for greeting him with so much enthusiasm. You were slender-figured but graced with long legs, your skin appeared smooth and your lips were pink and full. Yet as Shane looked back down, he was shocked that you weren't wearing a long black dress like he had thought nuns wore but...shorts-

"Shane? Are you alright?"

"Huh? Y-Yeah...I'm fine." He cleared his throat. "How in the hell do you know my name anyway?" He continued, surprised when you didn't flinch at his rude tone.

"The Church made sure to brief me on people's faces and names before I came to visit!" Of course they did…though, he didn’t know whether or not to complain at this fact or to allow himself to silently be happy in a way. After all, it wasn’t everyday that someone cute knew his name off the bat, much less greeted him with a smile that didn’t have badly hidden disdain or disgust behind it.

“Anyway…” You cleared your throat. “You should come to service this Sunday! It’ll be my first one in the valley and I’d love to have everyone there, I-if possible of course.”

He clicked his tongue.

At the very most? He’d think about it.

“Maybe,” Then, he walked past you.

. . .

After the two of you first met, Shane tried avoiding you the rest of the week until Sunday passed him by.

But though be was successfully avoiding you physically, mentally was a whole other issue as no matter what he did? No matter how much alcohol he drank, you’d always find a way to squeeze your way into his thoughts. When he cringed at his own smell at times, suddenly he’d would be hit with a wave of grace as he remembered the smell of your light perfume. It was even beginning to infect his dreams.

Dreams that…were far more pleasant as of late.

In his dreams, you’d sit with him and talk out in some meadow somewhere. Perhaps you’d go on and on about the book of Yoba all the while you steadily inched closer and closer to him before you’d place a hand on his arm. Your chest touching him as your sweet words grew more sensual, forgoing the talk of holiness to instead invite Shane to touch you through your clothes.

But before getting to the good part?

He’d always wake up, left with an aching hard-on and his alarm screaming at him to get ready for work.

That was the first and possibly the only time that Shane began to believe that there may have been such a thing as "The Devil". After all, why else would he suddenly have these thoughts of someone who just arrived in town a few days ago? Especially someone so out of his league?! Also, the two of you only met once and you probably didn't even remember his name!

But after the fourth time of waking up, his own brain once again blue-balling him?

He knew he had to see you in person.

Even if it was just to hear your voice again.

. . .

So, the next day, he went to the shrine of Yoba where he knew you'd be.

And the second he knocked on the door, you responded with a gentle "Come in" before he stepped inside. And...he couldn't help but feel like a black sheep amongst all the holy symbols and the gentle sound of a religious choir playing from a phone, suddenly, the paranoia of Yoba knowing about Shane's unholy imagination of you began to glare up. He felt as if he was going to burst into flames as punishment for daring to offend a sacred place with his presence!

Once he had turned a corner and saw you sitting on a pew, facing the statue of Yoba however...all of a sudden, he was calm and he remembered why he was there.

He simply wanted to confess his sins and have someone hear him out.

"Shane?" You said as you turned around, a smile immediately jumping onto your features. "I thought that was you! It's easy to recognize grumpy voices in this town."

He rolled his eyes.

"Can I help you with anything? What's going on?"

When he opened his mouth, he realize that he didn't have a single clue about how to admit that he wanted to confess his sins. Especially when those sins revolved around you (not that he'd ever dare to say that part out loud). "I uh...want to confess my sins."

Your smile grew. "Oh? Please, sit." You scooted over on your pew before tapping the space next to you.

Obediently, he sat down but a considerable distance away from you. His hands started to sweat and shake, how was he supposed to confess that you were the source of his sins?! How was he going to tell the pure nun of the valley that he was struggling not to masturbate to you defiling yourself on his unworthy cock? The imagination of your moans combined with the image of you begging him to fuck you against the shrine of Yoba plagued his mind. And what's worse?

He didn't feel an ounce of guilt for it really...he just wanted to be around you. Be it fuel for the mind or something more, he just didn't know.

"...Something tells me that you didn't come to confess." You spoke breaking the silence and snapping him from his thoughts.

His heart dropped to his stomach. Did he do something to give himself away?

"How do you-"

"I've been doing this for a while, you tend to pick up clues." You chuckled. "So tell me, what's really going on? I'm a good listener."

The moment you turned around and looked at him, his breath hitched in his throat as his dream from the night prior suddenly flashed in the forefront of his mind. Your pretty pink lips soaked and glistening from your spit whilst you panted heavily like a bitch in heat, practically for him to do something to you, anything to you. Already, he started to feel his cock twitch inside his boxers, causing Shane to quickly clear his throat and look in front of him.

He tried to think about anything else to keep himself from getting hard in front of you.

"...I've been having weird dreams." He finally admitted. "Dreams that aren't...good."

You hummed to yourself for a moment before you responded. "Like..."I may do something awful" type of bad or another type?"

"Lustful." He muttered.

Like the flip of a dime, it felt like the atmosphere in the room changed.

"You've been lusting after someone?"

He nodded his head.

"Who?"

"Does it matter?" He said snappily, eliciting a chuckle from you.

"Don't be so snappy, I like a bit of gossip as much as the next person..." You scooted closer. "Though, if you've been struggling with these thoughts then...the correct thing for me to say as a nun is to suggest you to stop. To be tempted by the flesh is a sin, your thoughts should never be focused on such things."

Finally, Shane forced himself to look at you, fully expecting you to look at him with some type of reprimanding disgust in your eyes but...he was shocked when he found nothing of the sort. You looked at him like a tiger would eye a piece of prey. "But...?" Shane said.

"But, I as an individual say that you should pursue this person. Who knows, she may like you."

Now that made him snort, there was no way that you would like a drunk like him. He was certain of that. "I'm the town drunk, why would she— you like me?" He decided to be upfront, to which you met his words with shock for a moment before you offered him a simple smile in return.

"Nuns have needs too, and who said this had to be a permanent thing? I'll only be in town for a few more weeks, all your sins will simply...wash away, stay between us, once I leave."

It felt like his dream was becoming truer by the second. Only...you were naughtier than what he originally assumed based on your appearance, but it added to the charm, and with each sugar-coated word that fell from your pretty lips, the further his mind slipped into depravity and what he wanted to do with you as he felt his cock chub up against his thigh. After all, when was the last time he'd gotten his rocks off? His right hand and his brain could only stave off the longing for a real tight cunt for so long!

And as he watched you start to lift your dress and slip your panties down your legs.

He immediately took the plunge.

. . .

"F-Fuck!" You cried out as your legs were spread, Shane on his knees as his lapped at your cunt like a man-starved.

And he might as well have been.

He felt as if he had been in a desert for months and had finally spotted an oasis, your slick upon his tongue was sweet and dripped from your pussy like a nonstop faucet, something that he wasn't going to dare let go to waste as he alternated between tongue-fucking your sex with his tongue and moving onto sucking your clit whilst his calloused fingers plunged in and out of your weeping hole.

And you couldn't get enough of it.

"Sooooo d-deeep...." You whined as your eyes started to roll into the back of your head.

Shane's resolve would've snapped if he hadn't been so focused on both eating yu out and prepping you to take his leaking cock, the sound of you, a nun sounding so fucked out and horny...practically crying out for his tongue and fingers made him rut into the air to try and alleviate the tight feeling within' his pants.

"S-Shane...I'm- I'm cumming-" Your high-pitched whine suddenly died on your lips when Shane stopped pistoning his fingers in and out of you as he stood and shredded his clothes.

"No you aren't lil' slut, you'll be doing that on my dick." He grumbled, his hands practically shaking from how eager he was to get inside of you before he finally freed his dick from its confines and lined himself up to your entrance, his hand coming up to press against the middle of your leg and push it till it nearly touched your chest.

Your mouth opened in a wide O at the size of him, causing the man to chuckle.

"Never had something this big in your pussy?"

You unconsciously shook your head but, your pussy nonetheless twitched in eagerness for the man's cock. Despite Shane's eagerness though, he made sure to be as gentle as he could be with you as he gently pressed his mushroom tip against your hole, the feeling sending a rush of electricity over your skin at the feeling of a cock touching your pussy.

It was strange and...it felt hot. Hotter than what you expected it to be.

Shane gripped his cock at the base before beginning to press his tip against your hole, steadily inserting it into your hole before thrusting forward a little as he steadily filled you. The man groaned at the feeling of your wet walls clenching onto him, almost as if you didn't want to let him go despite you possibly being the first man you've ever been with. "L-Loosen up..." He whispered, already feeling a knot begin to form and tighten in his stomach.

It seemed he hadn't been laid longer than what he originally thought. It took ever ounce of Shane's strength and will not to fuck you like a toy, to be as gentle as he could be until he was certain you were ready to be fucked into the pew like you were begging him to when he first started to eat you out.

Then again, you weren't going to last long either as you had just recently had your orgasm denied.

"Y-You're too big..." You whispered, trying to relax your cunt like instructed to but it hardly seemed to do anything at all. You moaned when you felt Shane's cock twitch at your words, a cocky smirk crawling onto his stubbled features as he leaned closer to you. "I'm big huh?"

You nodded your head breathlessly, a moan tearing from your throat when Shane finally bottomed out inside of you, his hips pressing against your ass whilst he tightened his grip on your leg to keep you from trying to escape the stretch his dick gave you.

"J-Just fuck me..." You hissed, shooting a glare to try and chase your denied orgasm. And the man gladly did as you wished, slowly pulling himself out of you before suddenly slamming back into you, almost knocking the air from your very lungs before he immediately went into a harsh and brutal pace. Shane almost had a mind to tease how you looked, your lips flushed and lips wet from your shared salvia from your earlier kissing session.

Your moans were loud and unbridled, to the point where even he was worrying about whether or not your slutty moans would attract unneeded attention to the shrine!

But as his balls slapped against your ass, the sensation in combination with your cute moans only served to make his balls tighten in anticipation of his impending orgasm. "Oh Yob, r-right there!" You yelped out when Shane suddenly positioned himself to fuck into you deeper, his cock slamming into the deepest part of you with each thrust. Shane then moved his hand down from its position on your leg to your hips, using the leverage to pull you onto his cock as he threw his head back to let out a drawn-out groan.

"Fuuuuccckkkk..." He moaned, his mouth hanging open before he lazily looked back down at you, smiling at your fucked out expression as he spotted drool beginning to dribble out from the corner of your lips.

At that moment, his thumb reached to wipe the drool from the corner of your lips before plucking the digit into his mouth with a smirk at your taste. "Can't believe how lucky I am...Yoba must be real," Shane snickered. "I get to fuck one of his cute lil' slutty nuns...especially one that doesn't know what to do with herself when presented with a real dick in her cunt." He continued as the need to fill you up grew with each thrust.

You nodded stupidly, Shane had an urge to kiss you but...your moans sounded too good for him to risk messing up his position and ruining your pleasure that was causing you to cry out so abashedly.

"C-Cummin-" Your climax hit you like a freight train as your body suddenly went rigid. Your cunt spasmed and clenched impossibly tighter around Shane's cock like a vice grip, nearly making him stutter in his movements as you came around his cock. "Y-Yoba-" He hissed, sucking in his bottom lip as he leaned forward a little at the sheer pleasure your spasming cunt brought him.

Shane only managed a few more thrusts before he spilled into you, his stomach clenching and his body stilling as if it were putting all its remaining energy into filling you up.

A breath he didn't even know he was holding released when he finished and looked back at you. Your gaze was unfocused as your cheeks were flushed red and spit trailed down the corners of your lips.

"Oi, you with me?" Shane said as he pinched your cheeks together with his hand, gently shaking you to try and snap you out of your daze.

You could only respond with a soft moan before you looked at him but not at him. He chuckled, he would accept it for now. He just needed to get you dressed, after all...he definitely wanted to discuss if his confessions with you could be a regular thing, at least...until you left of course.

Elliot - "Forbidden Desires" Proverbs 6:25 - Do not desire her beauty in your heart, and do not let her capture you with her eyelashes;

♡ - When Elliot and you first met. It was on the beach of all things.

Out on the wooden pier that overlooked the ocean. Frequently, the writer would visit here to collect his thoughts for his writing and try to find inspiration from the gentle waves that crashed lightly against the pier and beach alike. Yet it was when he turned his head to the side briefly, the world suddenly seemed to stop on its axis.

He thought you were gorgeous.

Baked in the backdrop light from the sun, he nearly thought you had a halo on your head. Glowing with your holiness that made all the features on your face that much softer, like the way your hooded eyes looked out across the water almost longingly as if you were beckoning for a wave to come and carry you somewhere else. How pieces of your hair escaped your veil and blew with the sea breeze along with your dress.

The longer he admired you quietly, the more he thought you were an ethereal spirit, completely unaware of how you were tempting him despite your outfit telling him that you were the sister that the town had been expecting for about a week now. It was your job to be a role model as to how not to sin.

Yet...he wanted to do the opposite- "Are you going to keep looking at me, or will you say hello?" Your voice snapped Elliot from his thoughts before he finally noticed you were looking at him with a curious but soft gaze, a smile gracing your features when you saw how his cheeks began to tint red.

"E-Excuse me." He said as he stood up and dusted himself off. "I was just in shock, I wasn't expecting the long-awaited nun to be at the beach."

As the two of you stood side by side, he noticed how you were shorter than himself. "Oh," You said. "Did I interrupt your alone time?" You smiled.

Elliot smiled and shook his head. "Oh no, I don't think you could ever do that." He responded, your mouth hanging open a little as a blush of your own started to coat your cheeks. It was then that Elliot quickly cleared his throat and tried to find a way to apologize. It seemed like he wasn't himself, his thoughts kept coming out before he could fully think about whether he could say them or not!

"Sorry, I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable."

You then turned your body fully to face him. "Oh, you're not doing that. I find your forwardness charming." You were dangerous for Elliot's heart, the way you looked up at him made his mouth dry while equally making him feel as if he were floating amongst the clouds. Up until you caught his attention again with a laugh. "What's your name?"

"Elliot," He answered immediately.

"Y/N." You responded. "It'll be hard for me to come to the beach with my duties and all...you should try visiting the shrine in the Pierre's shop. I'll be there most of the time."

"How long will you be staying in town?"

"Two weeks." He struggled not to immediately frown at that answer, all while he simultaneously struggled to not throw a curse at Yoba for making him feel this strongly about one of his devoted followers. Elliot could be frank with himself, he knew that you would be in his every waking thought from this point onward. All he'd think about is how to get closer to you, get to know you and so much more!

"I hope you'll enjoy your two weeks here then sister." He finally said.

"Oh, I'm certain I will." Then you turned to walk away, your faint perfume tickling Elliot's nose as he was left along with his thoughts, his thoughts settling on the newfound fact that you were his muse.

All of a sudden, his inspiration to write came to him like rushing waves during a typhoon. Stories of how a man fell into a forbidden relationship with a woman, or perhaps a shorter tale of how a man falls in love with a spirit, someone he longed for but knew he couldn't ultimately have. Yet, as all the thoughts flew through his mind. One thing was for certain, you left him with a burning ache in his pants.

. . .

Later that night, he admittedly felt slightly guilty for palming himself over his pants at the thought of you. The pretty nun with the soft voice and heavenly features, although Elliot tried not to think too hard about your words from earlier, to not misunderstand how you phrased your words or how you looked at him as a signal for something more...the image in his head was far too addicting to let go so easily.

The thought of you bouncing on his cock while he sucked at your breasts, planting kisses all over your body as you moaned for more...was it wrong of him to have those thoughts? Then again, surely you knew how you sounded when you spoke to him on the beach! You sounded like you were interested in him! That you may have wanted to pursue something more with—

"Ah...look at me," Elliot murmured to himself, running his fingers through his hair as he scoffed at how ridiculous his thoughts were.

You were a nun.

You were just being friendly!

What he was doing was wrong. To think about a holy sister was potentially one of the greatest sins (at least, to what he knew about the book of Yoba).

Perhaps he needed Yoba more than he realized.

. . .

And that’s what prompted him to visit Pierre’s shop three days later, specifically where he knew you’d be, the Shrine of Yoba.

Elliot’s plans were simple, to confess his sins, receive your judgement and advice, then leave. Of course though, he’s leave out the part where his thoughts revolved around you despite the fact the both of you hadn’t known each other for that long. But once he was standing right in front of the door that would lead into the shrine��he felt like his entire body had frozen in place.

Were you actually a nun or secretly a demon? He thought.

No person should ever have power over another like this. But the moment Elliot’s nerves loosened up a little, he quickly knocked a few times on the door before a gentle “Come in” could be heard from inside, causing him to walk in before he immediately saw you getting up from your kneeling position at the shrine.

You smoothened out your clothes and then looked at Elliot with the same angelic look you gave him the first time you met him. “Elliot?” You said. “You came.”

He nodded his head, keeping his head down just long enough in an attempt to ease his blushing. “I figured I was overdue for confessing my sins.”

“Don’t be silly,” You chuckled. “We all come and confess our sins when we’re ready, there’s no pressure.”

It was easy for you to say, he thought.

You weren’t the one who was losing sleep over imagining the naked form of the person you just met. And as Elliot walked to sit on one of the pews, the more he couldn’t help but think that this may have been a bad idea. Although your attire was similar to what you wore on the beach, he didn’t know if his eyes were tricking him or not but…your clothing appeared…tighter.

Around your chest to be more precise and it was driving him nuts.

He silently begged Yoba that you wouldn’t come close enough to where you’d be able to spot his steadily growing hard-on. And thankfully, you kept your distance via sitting on the pew just in front of him with your back turned.

“Now, you may confess when you’re ready to begin.” You murmured a quick prayer before clearing your throat as a sign you were attentive and listening.

Elliot sighed. "Sister, I've been...well- I've had unholy thoughts as of late. Thought that revolve around a woman that I'm infatuated with."

When you didn't say anything in response, he continued.

"She's the most beautiful woman I've ever been blessed to see. But it would be wrong for me to pursue a relationship with her."

That was when you spoke. "May I ask why?"

Elliot's throat bobbed up and down at the question. "She's a nun."

The silence that followed was so loud that it nearly rang in his ears. Yet, as you turned around to face him, his mouth immediately fell open to apologize until a certain glint flashed in your ears as you looked at him with a smile, a finger tugging at the collar of your uniform.

"And...what do you want to do with this nun?"

"I want to kiss her." At his confession, it was like a string had broken before you and Elliot's lips crashed together. In the writer's mind, it was as if your lips were meant to be with his own, the taste of your mint-flavored lipstick addicting to his tastebuds as he felt around in your mouth. Your breathing became heavier, pressing yourself as close to Elliot as you possibly could despite the pew that still separated the two of you. "What else do you want to do to me?" You panted when you both separated, your breaths labored and heavy as a single string of spit still connected you two.

Elliot silently eyed the rest of your body.

"May I show you, sister?"

. . .

Had you known the man you met a few days ago was capable of this. You would've fucked him right then and there out on that wooden pier.

The position Elliot currently had you in was making you see stars and galaxies behind your eyes, your legs spread out on his lips as he held you tight against his form, almost as if he were afraid you'd disappear right before his eyes whilst he fucked up into you like a man on a mission. Each thrust making his cock assault your sweet spot deep inside you, you felt as if your organs were molding and reshaping themselves just to better fit Elliot's cock.

"Y-Yoba's name..." He whispered hotly against your neck, pressing wet open-mouthed kisses against the side of your neck and all the way down to your exposed collarbones from him hastily pulling down the front of your dress. "Y-You're so tight-" Elliot grit his teeth together as he groaned against your skin.

However, each time he fucked up into you, the sound of your sexes meeting reverberated throughout the small area of the shrine as your slick poured down from your pussy to pool and coat the front of Elliot's thighs, you were starting to...feel something.

A certain coil beginning to tighten tighter and tighter by the second in your stomach.

Compared to the orgasms you've given yourself in the past, privately when you were in your room or in an area you were certain was vacant of other people. This one was more intense and threatened to wash over you with such a force that you worried you'd pass out from the intensity! But, it was hard to voice such a worry when you were being fucked to the point that you couldn't utter a single syllable, to where you nearly had a mind to forgo this life and simply be the plaything of Elliot for the rest of your days.

"E-Elliot...!" You keened as you wrapped your arms tighter around his neck, Elliot's thrusts somehow growing even more ruthless as he tucked his face into the valley between your breasts.

"Shit..." You managed to hear him breathe out.

Your mouth steadily started to form a large O shape as the coil inside your tummy tightened more and more until it finally burst.

Suddenly Elliot stilled his movements to raise your dress higher to witness the wetness that flowed from your pussy like a fountain spewing water, his mouth dropping in shock whilst the lust inside his eyes grew at the arousing sight of your orgasm spewing from your cunt and splattering onto his thighs.

He was only snapped from his trance when he heard your fucked-out moan and your hand tap his shoulder.

"Truly, you are the woman of my dreams," Elliot said with an equally fucked-out voice as if he were the one who just came. "Do that again." Your eyes snapped open as you tried to quickly voice your protest but not before your words were shooed from your lips when the writer fucked up into you again, resuming his previous pace before he gently leaned you back, his hand resting on the small of your back to keep you steady whilst his other went to lift your leg higher so that he had a better view of your cunt.

The squelching noises were like a symphony to his ears.

But all he could think about was you squirting again.

The pew you both sat and fucked on was already dirty...defiled.

It didn't matter to defile it some more.

"Please, squirt on my cock again," Elliot begged. "Will this help my dear? Don't hold back, please." Without a single word of warning, the hand that held your leg up dived down to rub quick circles on your clit with his index and middle finger.

"F-Fuck! Elliot...baby, w-wait- you're going to-" Your entire body shook and convulsed from overstimulation as you struggled to keep your head and thoughts straight, moans falling from your lips shamelessly as you could hear Elliot's raspy moans and throaty groans, the sexy noises only serving to make you clench around the writer's experienced fingers.

Elliot took your pussy getting tight as a sign you were close once again, causing him to speed up both his thrusts and his fingers as they rubbed side to side without abandon on your clit. You tried to cry out for him to slow down, to give you a short break but your moans fell on deaf ears as Elliot only silenced you via fucking you harder to the point your moans took the place of the words you wanted to say as he abused your cunt. "Ahhh...." You moaned in pleasure as you felt something begin to well up inside you again.

"E-Elliot- f-fuck...." You couldn't do anything else but whine and beg, his name slipping from your lips repeatedly as his fingers on your clit sped up whilst he rose you forward a little to plant kisses along your breasts.

"Don't be embarrassed my dear," He whispered against your skin. "Just cum, I got you...please." At the sounds of his begging, that earlier feeling of a coil beginning to tighten started to nearly grow unbearable inside you, your eyes barely staying open as you allowed your body to take all the pleasure your eager lover was bestowing onto you.

"Oh, Yoba...fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-" Your body once again grew rigid as Elliot's eyes darted to where the two of you were connected, his eyes widening as your pussy clenched onto him tighter than before as a clear liquid squirted out from you and around his dick. Upon seeing that sight, he wasn't too far behind from his climax, managing a few more hard thrusts before his head dropped forward a little as he moaned.

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, trying to catch your breath until it was you who broke the silence as you steadily rose your head and slid your hands to rest on Elliot's shoulders with a soft moan and a dopey smile. "You know..." Your voice was hoarse as your hand moved to catch Elliot's chin under your hand before you tilted his head back to make you look at him.

You pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, a sweet lovesick moan leaving the writer's lips before a smile slowly came onto his lips. "We should do this again."

"How..." Elliot took a moment to further catch his breath. "How long will you be in town?"

"Couple of months, we can discuss about this being a regular thing as well as...you possibly taking me out on a date next?"

He couldn't think of anything better.

Sebastion - "Hungry Recluse" Genesis 2:18 - Then the Lord God said, “It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper fit for him.”

♡ - He had heard about a nun coming to the valley when his mother brought it up at dinner a few weekends ago. And back then? He didn't have a mind to care really.

He was a recluse.

He had nothing against religion but he preferred to stay away from crowds. If a nun was to come to the valley then he was more than certain you would bring a crowd, preaching about Yoba and the likes and he respectfully wanted no part of that.

So, imagine his shock one night when he was outside his home smoking. Only to spot a nun doing the same.

"A nun, smoking?" He nearly choked on his own cigarette. His words catching your attention before you cursed under your breath before you dropped your cigarette and quickly stomped on it with the heel of your shoe.

"Goddamn it..."

He scoffed. "And you curse too?"

You rolled your eyes. "If you're going to snitch to someone, do it now." As Sebastion stared, thinking about how much he wasn't going to snitch to anyone (after all, he believed it wasn't his place nor did he feel like anyone would believe him should he have wanted to do it). He couldn't help but think about how...well, how pretty you looked.

You sported a more roguish look to your uniform compared to what he was originally thinking you'd look like. Clean outfit with a bright smile, maybe a hand carrying a bible or the cross of Yoba perhaps. Instead? One side of your dress was bunched up, exposing quite a considerable amount of thigh as well as the black stocking you wore underneath, and the similarly colored boots that would've typically been hidden underneath.

Your make-up was gothic and you had a septum piercing along with a couple more piercings on the outer edge of your right ear.

And if he was seeing things right...was that black nail polish on your fingers- "Are you going to keep staring?" You said bitingly.

"Sorry," He apologized, quickly looking somewhere else. "I just didn't expect the nun to be-"

"A sinner?" You interrupted with a heavy sigh.

"Different." He finished his sentence.

You clicked your tongue. "Yeah well...that's what you get when you're an unwilling member of the church." You spilled.

Now he was really curious about you. This entire time, he had expected a goody two-shoes sister who would rave on and on about Yoba anytime that they could! Or maybe even some old hag as old as Evelyn was, nagging and constantly haggling people about converting and praying more to Yoba.

But instead? The town received neither.

Only you.

And he was absolutely enthralled by you.

So much so that he found himself unconsciously walking up to you before he cleared his throat. "Do...you want to talk about it?"

"I'm not looking for pity if that's what you're-"

"I'm not trying to pity you." He interrupted. "You just seem to be in need of a confessional as much as anyone else." He shrugged, his words sparking a chuckle that sounded like a melody in his ears.

. . .

And that was the beginning of you and Sebastion's relationship.

One where you two would meet under the guise of night every other day after you had finished your "performance" during the day of playing the innocent nun who wanted to spread the word of Yoba. Something that Sebastion quickly learned was nothing but complete bullshit. The two of you would rant about your lives and how much you two wished you could change things.

Whether it was from Sebastion's dreams of moving away from Pelican Town and into the city, to you ironically praying to Yoba that he'd give you an outing from the church.

The one day you'd be free.

"...Why are you stuck in the church?" Sebastion had asked one day, lighting your cigarette before his own.

You blew a puff of smoke before sighing. "Mommy and daddy had unresolved debts and issues." You said. "To pay 'em off, they got rid of me." You continued.

"Now I wear this damn get-up and play "Good follower of Yoba"." You mumbled a few curses under your breath afterward, ones that made Sebastion snicker under his breath as he considered your situation. Although obviously different, the similarities in your stories were eerily similar. The two of you longed for another life, felt as if you didn't belong in the current one you both lived, and, as much as you both could, you tried to actively change that.

But...where Sebastion could easily pack some things, get on his bike, and head for the city.

You didn't have that luxury.

"Why don't you move here?"

"Unresolved debts remember?"

"I know but...there's a lot of abandoned places here in the valley. We even have an abandoned farm not too far from here. You could live there."

"My cage would be no different then, just a new window to look out of."

A small smile crept onto your features when you spotted an apologetic frown appear on Sebastion's face. One that made you flush a little as his cheeks appeared puffier and cuter. You appreciated being able to talk to him, more than you'd ever be able to convey but...you weren't looking for sympathy or solutions to escaping that only involved you living a life on the run and in hiding.

In truth? Being asked by the higher-ups to visit this small town, meeting Sebastion?

It was as close to a blessing from Yoba as you'd ever get.

Back home, you were a glorified maid if not eye candy for old men. You'd clean for them, cook for them, bring them drinks...it was such a dull life. You hadn't even been able to go to college. You couldn't even do most math but you could damn well recite random passages from the book of Yoba.

You hadn't nor would ever be able to find love!

All talks of boys and falling in love were strictly forbidden, seen as nothing more than a gateway for potential sinning, something you'd eventually learn was nothing but complete hogwash as there were plenty of times you've seen your fellow sisters open their legs for priests when it pertained to the topic of being able to get away with some things. Here in the valley though? You didn't feel that pressure.

You liked it here.

You liked...well, you liked the people. They were nice.

"You should be happy here Sebastion." You said, breaking the silence.

"You have a good life here, it may not be the one you want it's the one that's the best path for you at the moment."

Sebastion rolled his eyes. "Easy for you to say, you don't live here."

"Maybe, but I'd need a million more fingers in order to count how many situations are worse than this." You sighed. "After all...you never know, one day you may find yourself liking it here. Life is funny like that." At those words, you placed a gentle hand ontop of Sebastion's for only a brief moment before you got up and walked away.

An act that only served to leave Sebastion's heart skipping beats and...strangely upset.

. . .

And he must've sat outside for an extra thirty minutes before he finally went inside.

Dinner tasted bland, and all of a sudden Demetrius' snide remarks and insults didn't even make him turn nor lift his head to briefly glare! All Sebastion could think about was you.

You, you, you, you, you.

He didn't know what sounded weirder or more pathetic.

Him chasing after you like he was in some chick-flick, exclaiming how he wanted to be with you despite only knowing you for going on close to a week now. Or if he said that you were the only person in this entire town who seemed to understand him! The only one who made him truly happy aside from the small yet rare-found joys in his life! He could introduce you to his friends, Sam and Abigail, he thought you'd get alone well with them.

Maybe you could teach Sam to play new songs? He remembered you mentioning how you knew how to play the guitar a little. Or maybe you could simply be another girl added to the group, someone for Abigail to hang out and talk with.

As Sebastion sat on his bed. His mind further diving into his racing thoughts that concerned you, so many situations revolving around the question of 'What if?' that he could barely keep track of them all! He wondered then about what if you'd be another addition to the farming community here. If you would actually take over that abandoned farm.

What would you grow, would you be good at it or would you only prefer animals like Marnie?

Or...maybe you'd be something else?

A writer like that one guy who lived at the beach with Willy.

Or maybe an inspiring somebody like himself or Sam?

Another member to the Adventurer's Guild perhaps?

He considered it all but the one scenario that made his heart strangely ache the most was...if you were with him.

You made him smile the most out of everyone here. Sebastion enjoyed your curt personality that blended well with your shockingly soft tendencies. You were pretty and when your lips weren't covered in dark lipstick, they shined a surprisingly glistening red. Your eyes were the most gorgeous underneath the moonlight ad your figure (if he couldn't guess from the first moment he met you) was something that made his jaw drop every single time.

Suddenly, there was a throb in his pants at the thought of what you'd look like underneath your clothes.

But no, even if you stated you didn't want to be a nun.

He'd give you the respect all the same. He wouldn't dare to do anything inappropriate with your face in mind. It wouldn't be right.

. . .

But oh...did he think it would feel so right.

It wasn't a bad thing to touch himself to the thought of you, was it? You weren't there and so long as you didn't know then technically sin would have ever been committed! At least, that's what he comforted himself with as he furiously jerked himself off underneath his covers, breathless moans leaving his lips as he imagined it was your hand stroking him off rather than his own.

And as he did so, he swore he was more turned on than he ever had been in his entire life.

He imagined you were wearing your dark lipstick as your hand went down to massage his balls, your lipstick leaving smudge trails up and down his cock as you flattened your tongue to trail along the prominent vein that ran on the underside of his cock. Yet as you did so, you kept a firm eye on him as you looked at him through your lashes.

"You must've been so pent up Sebby..." His cock twitched at the nickname. "Waiting for me to do this to you, you must've been thinking about this since the day we've met. Huh?" A whine left escaped him at your words, his vision beginning to blur from both pleasure and growing embarrassment as his cock began to leak more and more pre.

"Not going to answer~?" You purred. "That's okay, you seem to be way more talkative down here than with that mouth of yours."

"P-Please..." He whispered.

Your smirk grew as your hand quickened in its pace, your face leaning in closer to his to the point he could almost imagine your breath gently blowing on his face. "Please fuck me..." He moaned. "R-Ride my cock, j-just do something more with me."

"Such a good boy~"

As you sat up, you licked the tips of your fingers clean from his pre as straddled him to where your pussy hovered over his cock. He twitched at the feeling of your heat, his eyes glued on your dripping pussy before your finger tipped his head to look back up at you. "Keep your eyes on me." You ordered before swiftly pressing a kiss to his lips. A choked-up moan escaped Sebastion's lips when you suddenly sunk yourself onto him. Your hips immediately started a fast pace that made his eyes roll into the back of his head.

Until you suddenly slowed down. "W-Wha...?" He said dizzily, looking back at you. "Why-"

"Eyes on me Sebby~ or what? Is my pussy too good for you to listen to me?" You suddenly slammed your hips down, Sebastion's hand gripping the bedsheets with a loud moan before you resumed your original pace. "You should be following what I say more diligently than this Sebastion" You pouted. "A holy nun is giving you her untouched pussy, the least you could do is look at her~"

"Y-Yes!" He moaned. Tears flowed down the sides of Sebastion's face as he kept his eyes on you, the sounds of his balls slapping against your cunt echoing throughout the room as a familiar knot steadily started to appear in the pit of his stomach. His cock twitching inside your warm pussy as the feeling of your walls nearly drove him to insanity.

Your moans, your face contorting in pleasure as your hands roamed up and down his chest underneath his hoodie. Everything about you made him want to exclaim just how much he had developed a crush on you, something that he wanted to take farther rather than just simply have sex with you. Yet, as the heat in his belly turned white-hot, his moans sounded closer to wails as he begged to cum.

He had to remind himself that this wasn't real.

You weren't even here.

Something that was slapped into him the second he felt his cum pool over the top of the hole he made with his hand rather than feeling it fill you up.

"Y/N..." He moaned as if you'd magically appear before him.

Tomorrow, he would definitely confess his feelings. Religion be damned, he knew that he wanted something with you.

[cisikim]

the boy and the heron: an enchanting dance of war, grief, and legacy. pelicans mirror the haunted memories of humanity; mahito’s journey echoes miyazaki’s legacy and the truths he compels us to face.

it’s a meditation on impermanence—beautiful things end, but home awaits. he’s telling us to embrace the real world's challenges and to find strength in love.

he’s telling us that we don’t have to carry on the burdens of the past. it’s ok to turn away. to move forward without it. but if you wish, you can carry a piece of this painstaking creation with you. only if you wish.

in miyazaki’s worlds, we’re gently reminded that beauty lingers in both fleeting moments and enduring strength—a narrative that allows us to cherish both, remember what serves you, and live.

[r3-ese]

tides

pairing : sdv elliott x reader

contains : fem!farmer, slight angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending

word count : 2k

note : elliott got me into stardew but i ditched him for an emo boy, skater boy, and rock eater so i owe this to him 💀 also im too weak to write angst without a happy ending. so. here's this 😁

Elliott stood at the end of the dock, enveloped in the tranquil embrace of the morning. The rhythmic dance of the waves below was a mesmerizing sight, their undulating motion reflecting the golden hues of dawn. The dock itself, worn and weathered by countless seasons, creaked softly underfoot as if whispering ancient secrets of the sea. The air was filled with the tangy, invigorating scent of salt, mingling with the faint aroma of freshly caught fish, a scent that comforted him like an old, familiar friend.

This place, this dock, was his sanctuary. It jutted out from the edge of Pelican Town, extending into the expanse of the ocean like a lone finger reaching out for the horizon. Here, Elliott found solace from the hustle and bustle of the town. The constant chatter of the saloon, the clamor of daily life—everything faded away once he was on this dock. It was his personal retreat, a place where he could immerse himself in thought, free from distractions.

He settled onto a bench that had seen better days, its wooden planks polished smooth by years of exposure to the elements. The bench overlooked the vast expanse of the sea, where the gentle waves sparkled under the early morning sun. Elliott’s gaze was drawn to a figure silhouetted against the light—a newcomer to Pelican Town. The farmer, with her mysterious aura, seemed perfectly at home amid the tranquil setting. Her movements were fluid and graceful as she cast her fishing line into the shimmering water, her presence blending seamlessly with the rhythm of the ocean.

The farmer’s silhouette was framed by the soft light of dawn, her form casting a long shadow that danced with the waves. Elliott couldn’t help but be intrigued. The way she moved—deliberate and serene—contrasted sharply with his own chaotic thoughts. He watched her with a mix of curiosity and admiration, feeling a connection that he couldn’t quite explain.

“Good morning,” Elliott called out, his voice carrying gently over the water. He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving the farmer’s figure.

The farmer turned, her eyes meeting his with a flicker of surprise. Her face was partially hidden by a wide-brimmed hat, but her eyes, a deep and earthy brown, conveyed a quiet strength.

“Morning,” she replied, her voice soft yet clear, like the distant call of a seabird. She returned her focus to the water, her hands deftly working the fishing line.

Unperturbed, Elliott settled deeper into the bench, the wood groaning softly under his weight. He pulled out his weathered notebook, its cover worn and creased from years of use. The pages within were filled with scribbles and sketches that mirrored the world around him—depictions of the sea, the dock, and fleeting glimpses of his own thoughts. Inspired by the natural beauty of the dock and the enigmatic farmer, he began jotting down notes for his latest story, occasionally glancing up to observe her.

“So, do you come here often?” Elliott ventured, hoping to engage her in conversation.

The farmer’s eyes flicked towards him briefly before returning to the water. “Most days,” she said, her tone measured. “The fish are plentiful, and it’s peaceful here.”

Elliott smiled, the corners of his lips lifting in appreciation. “I find it peaceful too. It’s where I do most of my writing.”

She looked up, her gaze meeting his with a spark of interest. “You’re a writer?”

“Yes,” Elliott confirmed, a note of pride in his voice. “I write novels, mostly. Though I haven’t published anything yet.”

The farmer nodded thoughtfully. “What do you write about?”

Elliott shifted back on the bench, the weathered wood creaking beneath him. “Various things—love, adventure, mystery. Lately, I’ve been searching for inspiration for something new.”

Her eyes returned to the water, reflecting the dappled sunlight. “I like science fiction,” she said after a moment. “Stories about distant worlds and possibilities beyond our own.”

Elliott’s interest was piqued. “Science fiction? That’s fascinating. I’ve never explored that genre before.”

“It’s my favorite,” she admitted, a small smile tugging at her lips. “There’s something thrilling about imagining what could be.”

Their conversation flowed naturally, an unexpected bond forming between them. They discussed books and stories, the farmer sharing her favorite sci-fi novels while Elliott described his writing process. The sun climbed higher in the sky, casting a warm glow over the dock. Elliott felt a sense of camaraderie with the farmer, a kindred spirit who understood the allure of a quiet life by the sea.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

As the weeks turned into months, their regular meetings by the dock became a cherished routine for Elliott. Each morning, he would find solace in their conversations and the farmer’s insightful comments. The dock, with its weathered planks and the ever-changing patterns of the sea, had become a backdrop to their growing connection.

One crisp autumn morning, as the air grew cooler and the leaves on the trees surrounding the dock began to turn vibrant shades of orange and red, Elliott had a sudden inspiration, a thought arriving like a wave crashing over the shore.

He looked at the farmer, who was carefully tending to her fishing line. “What if I tried writing a science fiction novel?” he mused aloud.

Her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as she turned towards him. “That would be incredible. I’d be thrilled to read something like that from you.”

Encouraged by her response, Elliott made a decision. “Then it’s settled. I’ll write a sci-fi novel, and I’ll dedicate it to you.”

She blushed slightly, her cheeks tinged with the soft hue of the sunrise. “You don’t have to do that.”

“But I want to,” Elliott insisted, his voice firm with conviction. “You’ve inspired me so much. It’s the least I can do.”

In the months that followed, Elliott immersed himself in his new project. His cabin, nestled in a secluded part of Pelican Town and surrounded by the lush, dense forest that rolled down to the beach, became a haven for his writing. The interior of the cabin was a reflection of his solitary life—a small space cluttered with stacks of books, scribbled notes, and half-empty mugs of coffee. The walls were lined with bookshelves, their contents spilling over with manuscripts and literary classics. The air was thick with the musty scent of old paper and the faint, tangy aroma of sea salt that had seeped in from the open windows.

Elliott’s desk, positioned by a window with a view of the ocean, was his workspace. It was covered in an assortment of notes, plot outlines, and crumpled drafts. The window, framed by heavy curtains that were often drawn back, offered a glimpse of the sea—once a source of inspiration, now seeming distant and detached. The cabin felt increasingly claustrophobic, its walls closing in on him as he lost himself in his writing. The outside world, including the dock and the farmer, felt like a distant dream.

Despite his growing isolation, Elliott pressed on with his manuscript. Each day, he poured his emotions into his writing, driven by the hope of creating something worthy of the farmer’s spirit. The manuscript became his focus, a labor of love that consumed his every waking moment.

Unbeknownst to Elliott, the farmer had not forgotten him. Each day, she left small tokens of encouragement at his cabin—a carefully wrapped package of his favorite wine, a collection of rare shells from the beach, or a bouquet of hand-picked wildflowers. These gestures were meant to remind him of her support, but they went unnoticed as Elliott remained engrossed in his work.

The beach, where Elliott often walked to clear his mind, became a somber reminder of the farmer’s absence. The once-pleasant strolls felt empty without her presence, and the ocean, with its endless expanse, seemed to mock his sense of isolation. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore, once soothing, now felt like a relentless reminder of the distance that had grown between them.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

One evening, after months of relentless writing, Elliott finally completed his work. The novel, dedicated to the farmer, was held in his hands—a tangible manifestation of his efforts and emotions. Eager to share it with the world, he decided to release it the following day.

That night, seeking solace and clarity, Elliott wandered to the beach. The sky was a deep, velvety blue, dotted with stars that shimmered like distant beacons. The cool night air was refreshing, carrying with it the faint scent of the sea. As he walked along the shoreline, he noticed a chest partially buried in the sand, near his cabin.

Curious, he approached the chest and opened it. Inside, he found a collection of items that held sentimental value: bottles of wine he had mentioned in passing, rare shells he had admired, and flowers he had once expressed a fondness for. On top of the chest lay a note in the farmer’s neat handwriting:

“I know you’re focused on your work, but please take a break now and then. I understand the dedication it takes… just know that I’m here for you. - Farmer ꨄ”

Elliott’s heart ached as he read the note. The realization hit him like a tidal wave—he had been so absorbed in his own world that he had failed to see the farmer’s attempts to stay connected. Guilt and regret surged within him, but so did a renewed sense of hope.

The note was a lifeline, pulling him from the depths of his isolation. He felt immense gratitude for the farmer’s patience and understanding, her gestures a reminder of the bond they shared.

Determined to make amends, Elliott rushed to the farmer’s home, his heart pounding with urgency. The journey to her farmhouse, nestled in the rolling hills and surrounded by blooming crops, was filled with anticipation. When he arrived, he knocked on the door, hoping for a chance to explain.

The door creaked open, revealing the farmer’s surprised face. Her eyes, though weary, held a spark of curiosity. “Elliott? What’s the matter?”

“I finished the book,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion. “I wanted to apologize for shutting you out.”

Her expression softened, and she stepped aside to let him in. The interior of her home was warm and inviting, with wooden beams and a cozy hearth that crackled with a gentle fire. “You didn’t shut me out, Elliott. I knew you were focused on your work. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Elliott felt a wave of gratitude. “I found the chest you left me. Thank you. It means a lot to know you were thinking of me.”

The farmer’s smile was genuine, her eyes reflecting the warmth of the hearth. “I care about you, Elliott.”

Taking a deep breath, Elliott asked, “Would you like to hear the story? I want you to be the first to hear it.”

Her smile widened, and she led him to a comfortable seating area near the fire. As they settled onto a plush couch, Elliott began reading his manuscript. The crackling of the fire provided a soothing backdrop to his words, and the farmer listened intently, her presence a calming influence.

As the night wore on, Elliott read the entire novel to the farmer. The dawn began to break, casting a soft, golden light across the room. When he finished, the farmer’s eyes were shining with admiration. “That was incredible. You captured everything I love about the genre.”

Elliott felt a surge of pride and relief. “I’m glad you liked it. I wrote it for you.”

She took his hand in hers, her touch warm and reassuring. “Thank you, Elliott. It means more to me than you know.”

In that moment, Elliott knew their connection had endured the distance and silence. They had found their way back to each other, their bond strengthened by their shared experiences. As they sat together, hand in hand, Elliott felt a renewed sense of purpose and a deep, abiding love for the farmer who had inspired him. The waves of the sea, the crackling fire, and the warmth of their shared space were a testament to the journey they had undertaken together.

[pariahofpelicantown]

Rain Soaked Apologies (Haley x GN! Farmer)

Summary: Haley spends a lonely night feeling alone and reflecting on her behavior towards the farmer, only to find they are there when she needs them most.

The rain lashed fiercely against the bedroom window, creating a ceaseless and unyielding pitter-patter that reverberated through the room. Haley lay curled up on her bed, her body folded into a tight ball as she wept silently into her pillow.

Tears cascaded down her cheeks, mingling with the rivulets of water that streaked the glass, transforming the outside world into a hazy blend of grey and black. Occasionally, a bolt of lightning would pierce the gloom, its harsh light only serving to highlight the profound darkness enveloping Haley's soul.

As she lay there, the rain drumming a sorrowful rhythm against the window, Haley's mind replayed the day's events in an endless loop. She thought about her family—her parents no longer there, and her sister always consumed by work. The weight of isolation pressed down on her, even in a small, close-knit community like Pelican Town.

And then, of course, there was the incident with the farmer. That morning, she had been more brusque and rude than usual, driven by some unfathomable urge to push them away. Now, she was tormented by the thought that she might have alienated the one person who truly cared for her.

Haley felt a sharp pang of guilt at the memory of the farmer's expression that morning. It had been a poignant blend of surprise, hurt, and something else... maybe disappointment.

She could vividly recall the way the farmer had looked at her, eyes searching for some hint of understanding, before turning and walking away with shoulders slightly slumped. In that fleeting moment, an intense urge to call out to them, to apologize and explain herself, surged within her. But something held her back—perhaps stubbornness, perhaps pride. Now, it was too late, and she was left alone to grapple with the heavy weight of her actions and their inevitable consequences.

Haley's mind drifted back to the farmer, a tumultuous mix of emotions welling up inside her. They had shown her nothing but kindness since their arrival in Pelican Town. Despite her cold and dismissive demeanor, the farmer had remained steadfast, always friendly and respectful, never wavering in their gentle persistence.

And then there was her birthday... The farmer had gone out of their way to remember it, presenting her with a small but incredibly thoughtful gift. It was a simple gesture, yet it had pierced through her hardened exterior, making her feel something she hadn't felt in a long time... Seen. In that moment, amidst the rain and her solitary anguish, the memory of their kindness was a bittersweet reminder of what she might have lost.

Haley froze as the door to her room creaked open, her body instantly tensing at the intrusion. She hastily wiped away her tears, praying that the newcomer wouldn't notice the redness and puffiness of her eyes.

The farmer stepped into the room, their voice a soft whisper as they called out, "Haley...?"

She glanced up at them, her heart thudding in her chest, the weight of her earlier actions still pressing heavily on her. "What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice wavering between surprise and defensiveness.

The farmer spoke gently, their voice filled with concern, "I was worried about you. I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Haley felt a fresh wave of guilt wash over her. Even after the way she had treated them, the farmer still cared enough to come and check on her, just to see if she was okay. She couldn't help but feel a pang of remorse at the thought of how she had acted towards them.

Her eyes welled up with tears once more, and she struggled to find the right words. "I'm... I'm sorry, truly. I don't deserve your kindness after the way I've been treating you," she managed to say, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions.

The farmer shook their head softly, a gentle smile gracing their lips. "Haley, everyone has their bad days. I know there's more to you than what you let on. I see it, even if you try to hide it."

Haley's defenses began to crumble in the face of such unwavering compassion. She had spent so long building walls around her heart, pushing people away before they could hurt her. But here was someone who saw through her facade, who cared enough to look past her rough edges.

"I don't know why I do it," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "I push people away because... I guess I'm afraid. Afraid of getting hurt, afraid of being vulnerable."

The farmer took a step closer, their eyes locked onto hers with a sincerity that made her chest tighten. "It's okay to be afraid, Haley. But you don't have to face that fear alone. You have people who care about you, who want to be there for you. Let us in."

Haley remained silent for a moment, absorbed in her tumultuous thoughts. Her heart was a storm of confusion, guilt, and a strange sense of longing she hadn't felt in a long time. The warmth of the farmer's concern was beginning to thaw the icy barriers she had built around herself.

As the farmer began to turn to leave, she felt a sudden, desperate need to not be alone. Summoning every ounce of courage she could find, she whispered, "Wait..." Her voice trembled slightly, betraying the vulnerability she so often tried to hide. "Please, don't go. Stay... stay with me."

The farmer hesitated, surprise flashing across their features. For a moment, Haley feared they might refuse, that she might have pushed them too far. But then, with a gentle nod, they moved to lie down next to her, their presence both calming and reassuring.

Gently, they enveloped her in their arms, holding her close as if to shield her from the storm raging within. Haley stiffened for a moment, unaccustomed to such tender closeness, but soon found herself melting into their embrace. The warmth of their body, the steady rhythm of their breathing—it was a balm to her wounded soul.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Haley allowed herself to be vulnerable, to let someone in. She buried her face in the farmer's chest, her tears soaking into their shirt as she finally let the dam of her emotions break. All the hurt, the loneliness, the fear—it all came pouring out in a torrent of sobs.

The farmer held her tighter, their hand gently stroking her hair, murmuring soothing words that she couldn't quite make out but felt deeply in her heart. "It's okay, Haley. You're not alone. I'm here. I'm here."

In that moment, the rain outside seemed to soften, as if the world itself was offering her a moment of peace. Haley clung to the farmer, feeling a sense of safety and acceptance she had long forgotten existed. Maybe she didn't have to face her fears and her pain alone. Maybe, just maybe, she could allow herself to trust, to hope, to heal.

And as she lay there, wrapped in the farmer's comforting embrace, Haley felt a flicker of something new—a sense of belonging, of being seen and understood. It wasn't a solution to all her problems, but it was a start. A small, precious start.

[halofanfiction]

Halo: Last Stand at Thermopylae

Chapter 1: Arrival on Thermopylae

Master Chief sat in the back of the Pelican, the engines humming as the craft descended through the thick, storm-ridden atmosphere of Thermopylae. The planet’s surface came into view, a barren landscape of jagged rocks and dust storms. This wasn’t a world anyone fought for because they wanted it—only because it held something vital.

The hologram of Commander Lasky flickered to life on the heads-up display inside Chief's helmet. "Chief, the Covenant is closing in fast. Intelligence reports indicate that the facility in the Thermopylae canyon holds research that could turn the tide of the war. It’s your job to make sure they don’t get their hands on it."

Chief responded with a curt nod. "Understood."

"The scientists can’t be evacuated in time. Their experiment is still days from completion. Until then, you and the Spartan team are all they’ve got."

Master Chief glanced out the viewport as the Pelican neared the narrow canyon that served as the UNSC research base’s last defense. It was a natural choke point, with towering cliffs on either side, a perfect place to make a stand.

The Pelican touched down in the clearing, and the ramp lowered with a hiss of hydraulics. Chief stepped out, his boots sinking slightly into the dust. Ahead of him, 29 Spartans were already waiting, standing in formation. Their armor gleamed under the hazy sunlight, a silent, powerful force.

As Chief approached, a figure stepped forward from the group. Spartan A-217, a battle-scarred veteran, greeted him with a sharp salute. "Master Chief, welcome to Thermopylae. We’ve been prepping the defense, but the Covenant are getting closer by the hour. We’ll be seeing them soon."

Chief’s visor turned to scan the area, noting the heavy turrets, barricades, and sniper nests set up along the canyon walls. Every Spartan was armed to the teeth, but something in the air felt off—like a storm waiting to break.

"We’ve got a one-way canyon to defend," Spartan A-217 continued. "No retreat. No escape. And if the Covenant breach our line before the experiment is done, the war is lost."

Chief said nothing for a moment, taking in the situation. He knew what was coming—waves of Covenant troops, artillery fire, and a fight that would likely end in blood. But for him, there was no hesitation, only the mission.

"Then we hold the line," Chief said finally. "We buy time."

The words were met with a grim silence from the Spartans. No one needed to be told what that would entail.

Inside the research facility, Chief and a small group of Spartans met with Dr. Sorensen, the head of the scientific team. The lab was bustling with activity—holographic displays flickered, diagnostic equipment hummed, and scientists moved from station to station with hurried urgency.

"Master Chief," Dr. Sorensen greeted, her face lined with exhaustion. "I wish I had better news, but the experiment won’t be ready for another 72 hours. If the Covenant break through before that… well, you know what’s at stake."

Chief’s gaze fell on the equipment scattered across the lab. "What are you working on?"

Sorensen hesitated. "I can’t give you all the details, but it’s a weapon—a breakthrough in energy manipulation. If we succeed, it could give the UNSC a fighting chance against the Covenant fleet. But it’s delicate work, and we need more time. Without it, Earth and the rest of the colonies may not survive the next Covenant offensive."

Chief gave a slow nod, his mission clear. Protect the scientists. Protect the experiment. Hold the line at all costs.

With the situation laid out, Chief regrouped with the Spartans. The sun was setting behind the canyon walls, casting long shadows over the base. The quiet before the storm was unnerving, even to the seasoned warriors.

"We’ve set up automated turrets, motion detectors, and explosives along the pass," Spartan A-217 reported. "It’ll slow them down, but if they throw enough at us…"

"They will," Chief replied. He checked his rifle, the familiar weight in his hands grounding him. "How many waves can we expect?"

"Intel says they’re deploying a full invasion force. We’re the only thing standing between them and the facility."

Chief looked at the other Spartans, scanning their faces behind the visors. Some were seasoned veterans, others younger, but they all shared one thing: the resolve to stand, no matter what. He admired that, but he also knew what that resolve would cost.

"Get some rest," he ordered. "We start soon."

As the Spartans dispersed to their stations, Chief remained, standing at the canyon’s mouth, gazing out at the darkening horizon. He’d faced impossible odds before, but this felt different. There were no reinforcements on the way, no fallback plan. It was just them and the Covenant.

And when they came, there would be no mercy.

Chapter 2: The Siege Begins

The canyon was unnervingly quiet. Dust swirled in the wind, and the Spartans moved silently as they fortified their positions. Master Chief observed the operation with a practiced eye, ensuring every last detail was accounted for. Automated turrets lined the narrow pass, their barrels sweeping the horizon. Sniper nests were perched high in the cliffs, giving the Spartans above a clear line of sight to rain fire down on the Covenant forces below. The chokepoint was fortified, but it would be tested soon.

Chief stood near a holographic map of the area with Spartan A-217, who was overseeing the placement of explosive charges along the canyon walls. "If they send in heavy armor, we’ll collapse part of the ridge and funnel them into the kill zone," A-217 explained, pointing to key spots on the map. "But that’ll only slow them down. We’re looking at hours, maybe days of this."

Master Chief's voice was steady, focused. "We hold as long as necessary. No Covenant gets through. Not while the experiment is still active."

Nearby, Spartans triple-checked their weapons, syncing up with the base’s defense network and laying out additional traps along the canyon. The atmosphere was tense but controlled—a quiet storm ready to break. They were all aware of what was coming. But no one spoke of it.

It started with a low rumble, felt more than heard, as the ground began to tremble beneath their boots. Master Chief looked out across the canyon mouth as dark shapes appeared on the horizon. The Covenant fleet had arrived. Dropships hovered above, descending slowly, ominously, as the vast invasion force began its approach.

"Eyes up," Chief’s voice came over the comms. The Spartans immediately snapped into position, weapons ready. Every sniper had their scopes trained on the incoming drop pods, fingers itching on triggers. There was no panic, no hesitation—just quiet focus. This was what Spartans were made for.

Through his HUD, Chief saw the first wave of Covenant infantry hit the ground—Elites, Jackals, and Grunts swarming from the dropships like ants. A moment later, the valley erupted in fire.

"Engage," Chief ordered.

The Spartans opened fire in perfect unison. Bullets, energy rounds, and explosions lit up the canyon like a battlefield straight out of hell. Plasma fire streaked toward the Spartan positions, but their shields held. The Covenant forces marched forward, relentless, but the kill zone was working just as planned. Elites fell by the dozens, caught in crossfires from the cliffs, and Grunts exploded in bursts of energy as they stepped into the trap-laden pass.

From his elevated position, Master Chief fired precise bursts, picking off Elites and Jackals attempting to coordinate the attack. His motion tracker flashed—an incoming Banshee strafing the ridgeline. He pivoted smoothly, launching a rocket that collided with the Banshee mid-flight, reducing it to a flaming wreck that spiraled into the canyon below.

"First wave down," Spartan A-217 reported over the comms, voice steady. "But that was just a probe. Bigger ones are coming."

The quiet between waves was eerie. Bodies and debris littered the battlefield, smoking craters marking where plasma mortars had hit. The Spartans didn’t relax; they knew the worst was yet to come.

"Status on Covenant movements?" Chief asked, scanning the battlefield for any sign of the next assault.

"Scouts show heavier units on the way. Wraiths, Hunters, and more dropships inbound," Spartan A-217 replied.

Chief clenched his rifle tighter. He knew the Covenant would adapt. They always did. Their tactics were shifting—hunters were now advancing in tight formations, using their massive shields to cover Elites, while Wraiths rumbled into position behind the infantry, preparing to rain artillery fire on the Spartan lines.

"Get ready," Chief said. "They're bringing in armor."

He checked the explosives they’d planted earlier, syncing the detonators to his HUD. The Covenant didn’t know what they were walking into.

The Wraiths started their assault, launching glowing plasma mortars high into the sky, their arcs deadly and precise. Explosions tore into the cliffs, sending rocks and debris raining down on the Spartans' positions. Master Chief saw a turret go down, its operator vaporized in a direct hit.

"Now," Chief commanded.

In unison, the explosives along the canyon wall detonated. The deafening roar of the collapsing ridge echoed through the canyon as tons of rock and debris crashed down, crushing Covenant forces beneath it. The Wraiths were temporarily halted, forced to navigate the rubble. It gave the Spartans precious seconds to regroup.

But the Covenant, undeterred, pressed forward.

With the choke point breached, the Covenant switched tactics again. Elites and Brutes surged toward the Spartan lines, backed by towering Hunters with fuel rod cannons glowing ominously.

"Keep them back!" Chief ordered, moving to the front lines.

Plasma grenades detonated around him as Covenant forces tried to overwhelm their positions. Master Chief charged, a blur of motion as he closed the gap, smashing into a Brute with a devastating punch that sent the creature sprawling. He pivoted, unloading a burst of assault rifle rounds into an Elite at close range, the alien’s shields flickering out just before it collapsed.

The Spartans fought like a well-oiled machine. A team of three Spartans cut through a pack of Grunts, their synchronized movements making quick work of the alien fodder. On the cliffs, snipers were thinning out the advancing infantry, but they were starting to run low on ammunition.

"Chief, we’ve got a Wraith closing in on the right flank!" A-217 called out over the comms.

"I’ll handle it," Chief replied.

Without hesitation, Chief grabbed a Spartan Laser from a fallen comrade. He sprinted toward the Wraith, dodging plasma blasts and incoming fire. He slid into cover behind a boulder, the Wraith now in his sights. As the laser charged with a high-pitched whine, Chief popped out of cover and fired. A crimson beam of energy seared through the air, cutting through the Wraith’s armor and igniting its fuel core. The massive Covenant tank erupted in a ball of fire, lighting up the battlefield.

Despite the Spartans' heroic efforts, the Covenant kept coming. Wave after wave of infantry, vehicles, and airborne units assaulted their defenses. Plasma fire lit up the sky, and the canyon walls echoed with the sounds of battle.

As night fell, the battle showed no signs of letting up. The Spartans were holding, but just barely. Ammo was running low, and the automated turrets were malfunctioning after taking repeated hits. Chief knew they couldn’t hold forever—but that wasn’t the mission.

He checked the timer on his HUD: 48 hours left for the scientists to complete their work. They still needed more time.

Over the comms, A-217's voice cut through the noise. "Chief, we’ve lost Spartans on the ridge. We’re down to 20."

Chief acknowledged, but there was no room for hesitation. "We keep fighting."

As the next wave of Covenant forces prepared for another assault, Master Chief readied himself. They were going to be tested like never before.

And this was just the beginning.

Chapter 3: Attrition and Sacrifice

The battle had stretched into its third day. The constant barrage of Covenant forces was relentless, wave after wave crashing against the Spartan defenses. The once sturdy fortifications lining the canyon had been reduced to smoldering wreckage. Bodies—Covenant and Spartan alike—were scattered across the battlefield. The air was thick with the smell of plasma burns and scorched earth.

Master Chief hadn’t slept. None of them had. Time had blurred into a single, long assault, a trial by fire designed to break even the toughest of warriors. But Spartans didn’t break.

Chief crouched behind cover, plasma fire sizzling over his head. He glanced at his motion tracker, the red dots swarming like angry wasps. The Covenant were pushing harder than ever, seemingly endless. But he could feel the attrition taking its toll. Their lines were thinning. The Spartans were down to 14 now, spread across the canyon in small, specialized units.

"We're getting low on ammunition," Spartan A-217 reported through the comms. "One more wave like that, and we're in trouble."

Master Chief gritted his teeth. The Covenant was bleeding them dry, testing every possible weak point, and the Spartans were running out of options. There was still no word from command. The only thing that kept them fighting was the countdown on Chief’s HUD: 24 hours remaining until the scientists completed the experiment.

They just had to hold out for one more day.

"Resupply at station Gamma," Chief ordered. "We make every shot count."

Despite the grueling conditions, Chief never wavered. Every time a Spartan fell, he was there, rallying the remaining soldiers, leading from the front. His presence was more than just tactical—it was morale-boosting. The Spartans knew they were fighting a losing battle, but as long as Chief was with them, they believed they could win.

In the heat of battle, Chief moved through the lines, coordinating defense efforts. He directed snipers to target Elite commanders and kept the heavy gunners focused on the advancing Wraiths and Hunters. He shifted Spartans into tighter formations, pulling them back when the Covenant overwhelmed key positions, and rotating those on the front lines to give them moments to recover.

"Keep focused. Stick to your zones," Chief said calmly over the comms, his voice cutting through the chaos. "We hold this line."

One Spartan—an eager but young warrior named M-198—was pinned down behind cover, struggling to get a shot off as Jackals advanced toward his position. Chief sprinted across the battlefield, taking out two Jackals with pinpoint shots before covering M-198.

"On your feet, Spartan," Chief said, helping him up. "No time for hesitation."

M-198 nodded, his courage renewed. "Yes, sir."

As the Covenant's relentless assault continued, the Spartans knew sacrifices had to be made to protect the facility and the experiment. One such moment came when a Scarab—one of the Covenant’s towering, spider-like assault platforms—entered the canyon. Its massive energy cannon hummed ominously, preparing to decimate the remaining Spartan forces.

"Scarab incoming," Spartan A-217 shouted over the comms. "That thing will level us if it gets any closer."

Chief assessed the situation. The automated turrets had been destroyed, and their heavy weapons were running low. There was only one option.

"Spartan Y-086, take your squad and hold that thing off," Chief ordered. "You know what to do."

Y-086—a Spartan with a reputation for fearlessness—didn’t hesitate. She rallied her squad, knowing full well it would likely be a suicide mission. They made their way through the wreckage, moving toward the Scarab’s legs, their weapons blazing.

The battle turned into chaos. Y-086 and her squad leapt onto the legs of the Scarab, attaching explosives to its joints, all while dodging the Covenant infantry and the Scarab’s defensive turrets. One by one, the Spartans in her squad fell, but Y-086 pressed on. With a final, heroic push, she placed the last charge on the Scarab’s main cannon.

"Charges are set!" Y-086’s voice crackled through the comms. "Finish the fight."

Chief barely had time to react before the explosion ripped through the Scarab. It collapsed in a heap of twisted metal, its massive frame crashing to the canyon floor. Y-086 and her team were gone, but their sacrifice had bought the others time.

Chief stood silently for a moment, watching the burning wreckage. "You did well, Spartan," he muttered, though no one could hear.

The hours dragged on. The Covenant, despite their heavy losses, showed no signs of letting up. With each passing wave, they sent more advanced units: Elite Zealots, Brute Chieftains, and aerial Phantoms strafing the Spartan positions. The once well-fortified defenses were now crumbling, and the Spartans had been forced to fall back to the last line of defense in front of the facility’s main entrance.

Chief’s visor flashed red. Only 9 Spartans left. The Covenant numbers were overwhelming them, and there was little room to maneuver. Plasma fire rained down from every direction, and the air crackled with the constant sound of explosions.

"We’re running out of time!" Spartan A-217 yelled through the comms, ducking behind a piece of fallen rubble as a plasma grenade detonated nearby.

"Hold the line," Chief responded, his voice unwavering. "We can’t fall now. Not this close."

Despite his calm tone, Chief knew their situation was becoming more dire by the minute. The Covenant was tightening the noose, and the Spartans were almost out of ammunition, explosives, and soldiers. Even with all of their training, courage, and resilience, they were mortal.

Chief glanced at the timer in his HUD: 12 hours left. The experiment was almost complete, but the Covenant was bearing down on them with renewed ferocity. He turned to Spartan A-217, who was clutching a plasma burn on his arm.

"We need to buy more time," Chief said. "We can’t let them breach the facility."

"We’re running out of Spartans," A-217 grunted through the pain, glancing at the few remaining soldiers still fighting.

"We’re not out yet," Chief replied. "We’ve been through worse."

As the next wave of Covenant soldiers poured into the canyon, Chief led the charge, positioning himself at the forefront of the battle. His assault rifle barked as he unloaded into an advancing group of Elites, cutting them down one by one. Behind him, the remaining Spartans fought with everything they had, every movement precise, every bullet counted.

One Spartan—L-054—was critically injured, pinned down by a group of Brutes. Chief made his way to her position, dispatching the Brutes with ruthless efficiency. He knelt beside her, quickly assessing the damage.

"Can you fight?" Chief asked, his voice steady.

L-054, bloodied but defiant, nodded. "Not leaving this fight, Chief."

Together, they pushed back the Covenant, holding the line as long as possible. But even with all their efforts, the Covenant kept coming.

By the end of the day, only 3 Spartans remained: Master Chief, A-217, and L-054. Exhausted, wounded, and low on supplies, they stood in front of the facility’s entrance, the last line of defense between the Covenant and the critical experiment inside. Plasma fire lit up the night as Covenant forces regrouped for what would be their final push.

Chief checked his HUD. 6 hours left. They just needed to hold on for a little longer.

"We're not done yet," Chief said quietly, determination clear in his voice.

A-217 gripped his weapon, his breath ragged. "Let’s finish this."

The Covenant was preparing for their final assault, and the Spartans—though diminished—were ready to face them head-on. They would fight to the last soldier, for the mission, for each other, and for humanity.

Chapter 4: The Final Stand

The canyon had grown eerily quiet, the lull before the final storm. Master Chief, Spartan A-217, and Spartan L-054 stood in front of the shattered remains of their fortifications, the last defense between the Covenant and the research facility. Behind them, the entrance to the facility loomed—silent and unyielding. The countdown on Chief’s HUD showed 6 hours left until the experiment would be complete. Just a few more hours, and the scientists’ work could shift the tide of the entire war.

But between them and victory stood the full might of the Covenant’s invasion force.

Chief checked his assault rifle. Ammo was dangerously low, and L-054’s injuries were critical. A-217, though still standing, was clearly running on fumes, plasma burns covering parts of his armor.

"We’ve been through worse," Chief said, breaking the silence. His words weren’t just for the other Spartans—they were for himself. There was no margin for error now.

L-054, her breathing labored but her resolve intact, nodded. "We’re not done fighting."

The motion sensors in Chief’s HUD flared to life. The Covenant were on the move again, closing in for their final assault.

Chief tightened his grip on his weapon. "Stay sharp. This is it."

A low rumble echoed through the canyon as the Covenant forces began their approach. Phantoms hovered overhead, dropping more Elites, Brutes, and Grunts into the pass. Banshees screamed across the sky, strafing the Spartan positions. At the center of the onslaught, a towering Covenant Scarab rumbled forward, its massive energy cannon aimed squarely at the facility.

Chief scanned the battlefield. They were outnumbered, outgunned, and out of time. But that had never stopped them before.

"Pick your targets. Make every shot count," Chief ordered over the comms.

A-217 and L-054 took up their positions, each Spartan preparing for their last stand. As the Covenant advanced, the Spartans opened fire. L-054, despite her injuries, took down a charging Brute with a well-placed shot, while A-217 blasted an Elite from cover with his last remaining rocket. But there was no denying the overwhelming force coming their way.

The Scarab fired, its massive energy beam scorching the ground near the facility. The shockwave knocked L-054 off her feet, her shields flickering out. Chief rushed to her side, pulling her into cover just as plasma fire peppered their position.

"I’m good," L-054 said, though her voice was strained.

Chief nodded and handed her his last energy sword, salvaged from a fallen Elite. "Use this."

She took it, the blade humming to life. "Thanks, Chief."

The Covenant swarmed them, plasma fire lighting up the canyon in an all-out assault. The Spartans fought fiercely, their skills honed by years of battle. Chief moved like a force of nature, taking out Brutes with ruthless precision, ducking between cover and returning fire at every opportunity. But even his armor couldn’t withstand the onslaught forever.

A plasma grenade landed near A-217’s position. He dove to the side, but the blast caught him, sending him sprawling. Chief saw him go down, struggling to rise as his shields flickered weakly. The Covenant troops were closing in on him fast.

Chief charged forward, cutting through the enemy with controlled bursts from his rifle. He reached A-217 just as an Elite raised its energy sword to strike. Chief blocked the attack with his forearm, grabbed the Elite by the neck, and snapped it with a single twist.

A-217 coughed, blood trickling down his face inside his cracked visor. "Guess we’re really pushing it now, huh, Chief?"

"You’re still breathing," Chief replied, pulling A-217 to his feet. "That’s what counts."

Together, the remaining Spartans continued to fight, their resolve unwavering. Plasma grenades and fuel rod blasts exploded around them, but they held their ground, determined to give the scientists inside the facility every last second they could.

Despite their fierce defense, the Covenant forces were closing in fast, overwhelming their final position. The Scarab’s energy cannon fired again, and this time it was a direct hit. The facility’s entrance shook, debris raining down as part of the structure began to crumble.

"They’re getting too close!" A-217 shouted over the comms.

Chief scanned the battlefield and saw the Scarab moving into position to deliver the final blow. Its massive cannon hummed, preparing to destroy the facility—and the critical experiment inside.

"There’s no time," L-054 said, her voice strained but resolute. She activated the energy sword in her hand, the blade crackling with lethal power. "I’ll take care of the Scarab."

"You can’t—" A-217 started, but L-054 cut him off.

"We don’t have a choice."

Chief understood immediately. "Go."

Without hesitation, L-054 sprinted toward the Scarab, using the wreckage and debris as cover to close the distance. Plasma fire rained down around her, but she was relentless, determined. She leapt onto the Scarab’s leg, climbing swiftly despite her injuries. The Covenant troops on the Scarab opened fire, but L-054 was faster, ducking and weaving her way toward the core.

When she reached the Scarab’s central power system, she plunged the energy sword into its reactor. Sparks flew as the blade sliced through the alien machinery, triggering a massive overload.

"Do it now!" L-054’s voice crackled over the comms.

Chief and A-217 watched from the ground as L-054 detonated her last remaining grenades, taking out the Scarab’s core in a brilliant explosion. The blast was enormous, the entire Scarab collapsing in a fireball of twisted metal.

L-054 was gone.

A-217 stood in silence, his head bowed. "She bought us time."

Chief nodded, staring at the wreckage of the Scarab. "She did what Spartans do."

With the Scarab destroyed, the Covenant forces reeled. But they weren’t done yet. Phantoms circled overhead, and waves of Elites and Brutes charged forward. Chief and A-217, the last two Spartans standing, fought with every ounce of strength they had left. Their armor was cracked, their ammo nearly gone, but they didn’t stop.

The timer on Chief’s HUD read 1 hour remaining. Just one more hour until the experiment was complete.

A-217 took position beside Chief, firing his remaining rounds into the advancing Covenant. "Think we’ll make it, Chief?"

Chief reloaded his rifle with his last magazine. "We don’t need to."

The Covenant pushed harder, their sheer numbers threatening to overrun the facility. But as the final minutes ticked down, the sky above the canyon began to darken. Not with Covenant dropships—but with UNSC reinforcements.

A squadron of Pelicans and Longswords appeared over the horizon, raining fire down on the Covenant forces below. The Phantoms were torn from the sky, and the ground forces were decimated by the sudden onslaught.

Chief looked up, recognizing the unmistakable shape of the UNSC Infinity as it descended into the atmosphere, its cannons blazing. Reinforcements had arrived.

As the Covenant forces were obliterated by the UNSC’s airstrikes, Chief and A-217 lowered their weapons, exhaustion finally catching up with them. The experiment had been saved, and the reinforcements had arrived in time.

A Pelican touched down near them, and a squad of Marines rushed out, securing the area. Commander Lasky’s voice came over the comms.

"Chief, you did it. The experiment is complete, and we’ve broken the Covenant assault. Get those scientists out of there. You’re coming home."

Chief looked at A-217. "We lost a lot of good Spartans today."

A-217 nodded, his voice heavy. "Yeah, but we saved the future."

Chief stood in silence for a moment, remembering L-054 and the others who had given their lives for this moment. Then he turned toward the facility.

"Let’s get them out."

[riiwriting]

Teenage Dirtbag | Sebastian (Stardew Valley)

cross-posted from my wattpad

prompt -  in which the farmer's big move isn't necessarily entirely their choice, but they've made peace with it.

warnings - canon divergence 

gender-neutral farmer (they/them pronouns used)

                                                       ⦿ pelican town, winter year 1

IT HAD BEEN ALMOST A FULL YEAR SINCE I MOVED. This was a fleeting thought, one that hint me suddenly before being dismissed as not a big deal. I didn't really think about it again until Robin brought it up one day while I was there to talk to her about building a stable.

"I have to say, what you've done with that farm is really impressive. I know it wasn't necessarily your choice of life, but you've gotta admit you've done a lot in under a year, Farmer," she complimented sincerely. I knew that she meant it, and that she was probably right, but I had to bite my tongue from verbally refusing her praise.

I instead just offered a tight-lipped smile, and chose the only out I could think of. "A year already. That's crazy." I did my best to seem amazed, but my acting admittedly wasn't great. I'm sure Robin knew exactly what I was doing in avoiding the conversation. She let it rest though, and for that I would always be grateful.

We finished discussing the payment and materials for the stable and I bid her farewell, zipping my coat back up to my nose as I headed for the snow outside.

"Be careful out there, please," Robin hurriedly called just as I was reaching the front door. She caught me a bit by surprise, and when I turned to look at her, I'm sure my eyes betrayed that fact. Her face reddened, "I know you take the mountain path, and it gets extra icy up there."

Before I could say anything to wave off her concerns, another head appeared around the corner. Sebastian had apparently decided to come up from his room for the day, and upon hearing his mother talking, was curious to see who was in the entryway.

Our eyes met, and out of courtesy, I gave a small wave. It took him a moment to process, but he sent me a groggy half-smile in return. We admittedly didn't know each other well – not that I knew anyone in town well, really – but I did seem to always run into him when I came to visit his mom. We didn't really talk when we did see each other, partially because he seems to hate people, and partially because I don't know how to talk to people my own age.

I cleared my throat, quickly turning my attention from Sebastian to Robin. "I'll walk through town," I reassured her. I knew that I would most likely change my mind and take my usual route the minute she was out of sight, but sometimes white lies are okay if they help people sleep at night.

"You can walk with Sebastian, then," Robin hastily offered up, alarming both myself and her son.

Sebastian's eyebrows flew upwards. "They can?" he asked, his face blank. He had just rolled out of bed. Obviously, he was not anticipating going into town this early.

Robin, however, either didn't notice this, or didn't care. She instead just gave him an affirmative nod. "You told me yesterday you'd pick the stuff for dinner up from Pierre's for me. Remember?"

"Well yeah," He quickly covered. His eyes flickered to me for just a second, before frantically flashing back to his mother. "I wasn't planning on going, like, now."

A sour expression crossed Robin's face, and she looked like she was going to argue. I knew that she was trying to passively teach him something about manners, but I wasn't afraid of a little snow.

I spoke up before she had the chance. "I appreciate it, Robin, but the snow is a walk in the park compared to the mines," I explained lightly. She still looked uncertain, so I reassured her one more time, "I'll be fine. It's not snowing as hard now as it was earlier."

Robin sighed, apparently admitting defeat. "Alright. I'll come see you tomorrow morning about that stable."

I nodded thankfully, "Right, thank you. I'll see you then." This time, I dismissed thoughts of courtesy and avoided Sebastian's eyes entirely as I slipped out the front door.

I wanted nothing more than to run home to a bottle of wine and Queen of Sauce reruns, but after all of that, my conscience didn't let me take the short way home. Robin clearly cared a lot about me getting home safely – more than I cared about me getting home safely – and it felt wrong to lie to her.

I shoved my hands into my jacket pockets as I walked, my shoulders hunched against the lightly falling snowing. The cold air pinched my nose, and I sneezed, which was enough motivation to get me to pull jacket up even higher.

I didn't mind the snow or the cold too much, but walking in it would never be my favorite thing. As I trudged through town, I was reminded of my walks alone to school as a child on days when my mother worked early and couldn't drop me off. I sighed, as I typically did when I thought of her. I loved her dearly, and she was my hero growing up, but as a young adult, I could only seem to remember all the ways she did me wrong.

Like guilt tripping me into dropping everything and moving to my grandfather's farm, for example. I'm half convinced she's the one who coerced him to leave it to me in the will, if I'm honest. She apparently wasn't a fan of my life in the city.

By the time I got back to the farmhouse, my legs ached. I cursed Robin under my breath as I screwed the cork out of a new bottle of wine, but realistically, the extra walk was nice. I sighed to myself as I curled up under the wool blanket I kept draped over the couch. Whatever resentment I was harboring towards this town and the people in it, I needed to shake. For better or for worse, this was my life now. And it really wasn't all that bad.

⦿

I WAS BREWING A POT OF COFFEE WHEN SOMEONE KNOCKED ON MY DOOR THE NEXT MORNING. I knew that it had to be Robin, so I stepped away from the kitchen to answer it. I jumped a little bit when I discovered that it was not Robin, but rather her son.

My heart started racing. "Is your mom okay?" I blurted, forgetting all formalities. He raised his eyebrows at my comment, surprise flashing across his face. His awkward fidgeting suddenly reminded me that he was probably just as uncomfortable as I was. I cleared my throat, "Sorry."

"No, it's okay," he awkwardly said. "At least you... um, care... I guess." I nodded, and a brief silence overtook the conversation. Sebastian quickly explained the situation, "She sent me to tell you she's not coming today. I guess she woke up with a cold, I don't know. I always feel like shit when I wake up as early as she does, so."

His mention of the time got me thinking, and I glanced at my wrist watch. It was hardly 8. "Isn't this early for you?" I asked.

He nodded, a groggy scowl on his lips. "Trust me, I'm not here by choice," he grumbled. After a second, he added, "no offense."

I shrugged off his apology. "I didn't get up much before ten when I lived at home," I responded, hoping it would ease a bit of the odd tension in the air.

"I bet that change must've sucked," he said.

I nodded, "it did."

There was another awkward pause. Had socializing always been this difficult? Sebastian cleared his throat to say something – goodbye, I'm sure – but sneezed instead. A shiver seemed to run up his spine, and I realized that he was wearing pajama pants, slippers, and a hoodie. In the snow. At 8 am.

"Um, do you want a cup of coffee?" I found myself asking. The socialization was awkward, but I wasn't going to let him freeze to death. I guess I do have compassion for other people.

Take that, mom.

He took a moment to process my offer. "Ah," he started, awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck. I felt a refusal coming, which I was honestly fine with – at least I offered. But after a look around the snowy fields, and then a long assessment of my face, he sighed. "You don't mind?"

I shook my head, a tiny smile on my pursed lips. "I'm not gonna drink an entire pot of coffee by myself," I responded.

That seemed to be the right answer, as he actually smiled. "Thanks," he mumbled shyly. I just returned his smile and showed him to the kitchen.

The pot was just finishing up when I returned to the countertop, hoping that Sebastian would seat himself without instruction needed. The soft sound of wood scraping against wood told me my hopes were answered.

I poured two mugs of coffee and grabbed a bowl of cream before joining my guest at the table. I only really had two chairs, as I had been focused on other things, and I didn't typically entertain enough guests to need multiple chairs, anyway. I didn't typically entertain guests at all.

Sebastian muttered another "thank you" as he wrapped his hands around the warm mug. This time I actually told him he was welcome, mostly because I didn't know what to talk about, and it would be significantly harder to excuse awkward silence now that he was in my house. It didn't matter, though. The kitchen grew quiet anyway.

"I can't believe you left the city for this," Sebastian eventually blurted as his eyes traveled around the farmhouse. When I raised an eyebrow at him, his face reddened. "Sorry. Your farm is really nice, too, I just mean..." he trailed off, his embarrassment outweighing his desire to explain himself.

I fought back my extreme amusement to give him a relatively vague answer, hoping to push the subject away. "I can't believe it either, sometimes," was all I said. I figured he could interpret that however he liked.

To my dismay, my guest seemed more curious about my backstory that I would've predicted. "Why did you move out here? I mean, I know the farm was your grandfather's, or whatever, but you chose to move."

The sleep had more or less vanished from his face, and he instead sat in front of me bright-eyed, genuinely intrigued in my answer. It would've been endearing, possibly even flattering, if it wasn't such a sore subject. I quickly reminded myself that I had just promised that I would let my resentment go. I sighed, "It's a long story."

He glanced at my watch, wordlessly pointing out that we had time for a long story. Even passively, he managed to be a smartass.

"I didn't really choose to move," I prefaced. I watched as his face darkened, a similar embarrassment to earlier spreading across his expression. Before he made himself feel too bad, I told the story. "My mom more or less made that choice for me. She didn't really agree with the choices I made or the people I spent time with after I graduated high school. And I guess I can't blame her.

When my grandfather died last year, I had pretty much just turned twenty, and still pretty dependent on my parents in a lot of ways. My dad and I had this big argument one day, and then the next night my mom was more or less blackmailing me into moving out to the farm."

It was quiet for a second as Sebastian tried to decipher if I was done. When he decided that I was, he said, "I get it. You didn't like, want to come here. That makes sense."

I shrugged." I mean, I didn't hate my life in Zuzu. I got into trouble, made some mistakes here and there," I paused, my face dipped to hide my embarrassment. I reeled it back, "I was just starting to really try and figure my life out. And then all of a sudden I was just living an entirely new life. It's like I didn't get a break from feeling out of place."

He nodded like he understood the feeling, though I'd never ask if he did or not. The was a pause, and then he asked, "Do you plan on going back, then?"

It was a weird situation to be in. On one hand, this was the question that haunted me every night as I fell asleep. On the other, I never imagined that Robin's son, of all people, was going to be the one to finally make me face it.

"Not at the moment," I settled, He made a face, and I added, "I like it here, even if I don't like admitting it. I'm finally adjusting to it, and I don't want to just drop everything again."

He nodded pensively as he took a long sip from his mug, his shoulders relaxing. I half expected him to disagree with my opinion. He gave me the impression he wasn't exactly fond of his hometown. To my surprise, he instead conceded, "Living here is... nice."

I agreed, and then because I couldn't think of anything else to say, I resorted to finishing my coffee. The room fell back into silence, but it wasn't quite as uncomfortable this time around.

When both of our coffee mugs were empty, Sebastian wasted no time in excusing himself – something I appreciated. I was already prepared to tell him that I had to go check on the chickens, but he mentioned needing to go back to his mom before I have to use my excuse.

I walked him to the door, as any good host would, and suddenly found myself in the awkward place of not knowing how to say goodbye. I didn't think that we were exactly friends, but we certainly knew each other a lot better now than we did when he got here. I was able to admit to myself that having an acquaintance in town felt kind of nice.

"Tell your mom I hope she feels better, and to not worry about the stable," I requested. I watched as he nodded, his expression stoic. Sighing internally, I forced myself to swallow my pride. "It was also nice to talk to you, for a change."

It took a second for him to process my words, but once he did, an honest smile popped onto his face. "Yeah, you too," he returned meekly.

I gave him a small smile. After a brief pause, he scratched at the back of his neck, his expression suddenly covered with what looked like the desire to flee. I was almost expecting him to turn and leave without saying anything else, but he instead cleared his throat and said, "Thanks again for the coffee. Um, next time you're over to talk to my mom, you should come say hi."

His words caught me off guard, but I think I managed to smile and nod like a normal person. My reaction – though I don't remember it – seemed to be appropriate, as I received a smile in return. He sent me a small wave before pulling his hood up over his ears and trudging out into the snow.

An unfamiliar feeling thumped in my chest as I went back inside to clear the dishes from the table. My day would fall into a routine after that, just like every day seemed to in Pelican Town. I found that I didn't really mind.

[ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask]

"Why did you order your Spartans to jump from the Pelican?" the interviewer demanded once again.

Her face was shrouded in darkness. A lamp was pointed directly in his eyes. Fred smirked. Did they really think that conventional interrogation tactics from centuries-old cop procedurals were going to make a Spartan sweat?

"It was the best tactical option." He shook his head once. "No. It was the only tactical option."

The interviewer scoffed loudly and crossed her arms over her chest. She kept doing that. As though she had any idea what it was like to be in the field. Maybe she did. But she didn't know what it was to be a Spartan.

"Don't you feel responsibility for what happened to your team?" she asked harshly.

Externally, Fred remained emotionless. Passive. He was the very picture of the robot super-soldier that the UNSC rank-and-file believed the Spartans to be. Internally, he recoiled.

Did he feel responsible?

He felt nothing else. He saw each of their faces - every Spartan that had died under his command. Malcolm. Joshua. Grace. Anton. Vinh. Isaac. The list went on. It filed through his mind on an endless loop, whenever he had a spare moment to think.

Then there were the others. Gray Team... wherever they were. Omega Team, too. Randall, who'd been lost years ago. Cal, Arthur, Solomon, and Daisy along with him. Kelly.

He wished she were here. She would've been able to put his head back on straight.

Of course, with his track record lately, he could very well have lost her on the Unyielding Hierophant. Maybe it was better that Halsey had absconded with her. He could at least believe that she was still out there. Force himself to believe it. He wouldn't make it much further if he didn't.

"I asked you a question, Spartan One Zero Four." The interviewer's voice was full of venom. She practically spit the words. She was trying to intimidate him.

That must have been a joke.

Fred rose from his seat. Even out of his armor, he towered over everyone in the sealed interrogation room. He reached out with one hand and very deliberately turned the lamp out of his eyes - a challenge to the interviewer. Go ahead and make me sit back down, he thought.

"I made the best decision. Unlike many in this facility, I care deeply about the soldiers under my command and I refused to waste their lives." He didn't say the words so much as growl them. His right hand clenched into a fist so tight that his knuckles turned paper-white.

The interviewer stared up at him. She was trying to put on a tough face, to keep control of the situation. To her credit, she was doing a good job. She almost managed to hide the vein pulsing in her forehead. The ever-so-slight widening of her eyes. The almost imperceptible tremor in her voice when she barked, "Are you implying that HIGHCOM wasted Spartan lives?"

The Spartan managed to choke down the biting laughter that threatened to escape him. Thirty Spartans combined for RED FLAG. For a suicide mission. But here they were, trying to pass the buck for their deaths onto him.

Fred smirked again. "No, Ma'am," he answered, forcing himself to slacken his fist. He looked her dead in the eye. She had blue eyes. Almost as light in color as Kelly's. "To imply would leave some ambiguity. What I am doing is inferring."

The woman's face coiled in disgust. But it was only skin-deep. She didn't have the clearance to know what he was talking about... she was just here to be ONI's voice. To provide them with plausible deniability for the public eye.

She opened her mouth to answer. Then the door burst open to reveal Fleet Admiral Lord Terrence Hood himself. The Admiral's face was red. He was shouting. The interviewer was escorted out by MPs. Fred watched it all from the sidelines.

Kelly would have found the whole situation hilarious.

Then Hood turned to him. "Suit up, Senior Chief. We're sending Blue downstairs - you ready to get back to work?"

Fred nodded, standing at stiff attention. Then he smiled. "Eager, sir."

[word-ghost]

an unfavorable attachment // 3

It should have been easy to convince Lord Harrowby that this would be unwise. 

Or rather, Harvey attending the Millworths’ party at all had been unwise. Sneaking away to the garden with Eleanora had been imprudent, at best. Barreling through the ballroom after Lord Harrowby, to prevent his niece's governess from meeting a potential suitor, would be idiocy. 

But examined at a certain angle in the dim light of the card room, after a swiftly downed drink, the idea appeared almost sensible. 

He could admit it shouldn’t have mattered that their brief encounter with this suitor’s brother had been less than pleasant. Since his return to the mainland, few of Harvey’s interactions with a certain set had been any better. It was nothing he wouldn’t have expected. 

Nor was it a surprise that Eleanora’s mother, who wanted nothing more than to see her daughter wed, would have arranged an introduction to an eligible match.

Eleanora once described these encounters as painfully awkward and inevitably fruitless. She professed to lack whatever charms were necessary in attracting a gentleman—or at least one able to meet her mother’s unbendable standards. Harvey could not count himself among their number, but he’d had months to wonder how anyone could not grow to appreciate her. 

It didn’t occur to him, at first, to wonder whether she’d given any of them the chance. 

Despite her amiability, he had learned how guarded she could be. And how stubborn. She was herself with him, even if she sometimes tried not to be. 

And as sure as Harvey was that he should not have kissed her again, he was without a doubt she had wanted him to. 

“She will not be interested,” Harvey offered, once he and Harrowby were alone again at the table. He didn’t allow himself the smallest smile, even as its warmth welled in his chest.

“She doesn’t have to be,” Harrowby spat back. “Any interest on his part, and her mother will latch on. If there is any hope of seeing Eleanora married, she’ll never permit her to return to Westwood Hall.”

The light in Harvey’s heart dimmed. What few hazy images he had of a hypothetical future dissipated. Never once had he considered she wouldn’t always be a part of his life in Pelican Port, even if only in fleeting moments, when he visited the Harrowbys.

If she didn’t come back—suitor or otherwise—Harvey couldn’t be sure their paths would ever cross again. Harrowby would have to hire a replacement, and who could predict where Eleanora might end up then?

The thought was torment. When Harrowby suggested again that they intervene, he felt himself nod and rise from the table. If this might be the last time he would see her, Harvey couldn’t leave without a proper goodbye. 

keep reading

[meraxes-of-new-albion]

I have spent my entire weekend off being a homebody and I almost feel like a human being again

That's not entirely true ig, Friday after work I went to the coworker I actually likes' house, they gave me a haircut and we hung out for a bit. Counting the haircut as my "cleaning/selfcare" thing for the day.

Yesterday I was gonna do the dishes... but then I spent almost 300 bucks at fleet farm instead. (My nice sorel winter boots have both developed cracks in the rubber that makes them waterproof... no good for work :( so I bought new, equally expensive, winter boots. Hopefully the carhartt boots are as trustworthy as their jackets.) I also did a ton of random organizing shit in my living room, put together a feather frame to cut down on that collection, etc.

Today I did the dishes! (And basically fuck all else! But dishes suck so I don't care.) I've been working on one of my twine rugs this evening to maybe start chipping away at that backlog, we'll see how far it gets.

Tomorrow I might prime some of my warhammer stuff after I get home from work, it should be nice enough the paint will behave and then I can not worry about it for the winter lol. I'd also like to hang a poster, I stopped at a cute art museum the last time I went home and got a poster of a pelican that's super pretty. Not sure where I'll put it though.... my living room is Animal Art but most of it is of animals I specifically worked with. Then again I do work with pelicans. Idk.

I'm pretty sure TB tests are this week at work too but that's pretty painless.

[bloodgulchblog]

38 perhaps? chiefpilot?

I posted this on discord already but I REMEMBERED-

38. A person’s weight as they lie on top of you

Laying together started as a thing the Master Chief offered out of practicality. ...Practicality or, Fernando had to admit, perhaps an attempt to care for him. He was only starting to get used to the Spartan, starting to learn to see the shape of John’s care as time passed on the shattered ring.

It was one thing when John protected him from the Banished or directed him to keep the Pelican (and, thus, him) clear of a dangerous situation. He was grateful for that thing, so grateful sometimes he felt like his ribs might collapse with it, but… It was another thing when they found packs of other survivors from the Infinity and its escort fleet. The Master Chief led those meetings, his presence large enough to shield the pilot from attention, and when they left he was always quiet (quieter) for some time. It took something out of the Chief to do that, but he did it anyway.

It was beautiful of him.

Fernando didn’t know how John learned he was anxious about the other survivors, but he obviously had. He was paying attention. And when the Chief had finally found the time to stop and work on his armor, to go through the difficulty of removing titanium plates and running through systems and come to the logical conclusion he wasn’t going to reverse the whole process before nightfall, he had used it in the same way.

“It would be warmer,” he’d said. That was true, and ring night was cold. It wasn’t the whole truth of it. Fernando could have said that, pointed out what he saw happening.

Maybe it was about more than cold. Maybe it was John offering human contact. Maybe this was more than he should have done, and more than Fernando had any right to accept from him.

But John was observant, and John was right.

“...Alright,” Fernando said instead.

It was hard to think of the Chief as vulnerable. He did not invite it. Fernando had to learn to see it in the same way he’d learned to see the care, and he’d felt it in the light tension in John’s body as he settled against it. The techsuit was a barrier, but it was far from the heavy green armor. There was give to him. He felt human.

“Comfy, big guy?”

Fernando felt as much as heard the huff of air John breathed out.

“Sure.”

That was how Fernando came to be here, curled up in the back of the Pelican under and on what softness they had, leaning into John and feeling the weight of John’s arm over him, the slow (incredibly slow) rise and fall of his chest, and how heavy John’s head was against his shoulder.

The Spartan was asleep. Finally asleep. It had been days since the last time John slept, and Fernando felt more than a flicker of warmth somewhere in his heart about it.

He couldn’t protect John. He knew that. But if this let John sleep, if it helped him as much as it helped Fernando, then maybe it was enough.

[thebluester2020]

[SDV] "Bet On It"

Summary: For the last few months, Alex had been attempting to get your attention and make you admit you had a crush on him until. You were adamant on your stance of denying any such thing until...you found yourself in his bed. Warning(s): Suggestive (kinda-ish?)) art at the end of this post, Light degradation (Alex calls the reader a 'slut' once), Teasing, Bratty!Reader, Mean! (kinda?) Reader, Reader bets on Alex being small. Side note(s): This lovely idea was given to me by @finchersbirds! [If you're reading this, hope you enjoy the flash fic + art <33] MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

♡ - You had a problem on your hands.

Since arriving in Pelican town a few months ago, you've been relentlessly tormented by one of the residents! One day, during the Flower Dance festival, you made the unfortunate mistake of speaking to Alex on the account that you didn't want to stand by yourself totally alone and thinking that he was cute.

But for Alex? He saw it in a different light, that light being...he thought you were totally into him.

Perhaps it was the spring air getting to him or the cute dress you wore on that day infecting his mind but...all he could think about was getting you into his bed and making you admit that you had a crush on him, no matter how small it may have been!

Thus, it started a month-long "rivalry" of sorts between the two of you.

Alex would constantly boast and brag about how strong he was, even going so far as to show up to your farm unannounced and even do some of your chores (something that you didn't entirely mind on the account it saved you some energy).

However, before you would let the act of letting him do your chores get to his head, you'd quickly shut it down and say that you didn't have a crush on him, that you would be stupid to let free help slip through your fingers so easily!

He'd state you were "being shy", you'd state the opposite and it would go back and forth relentlessly.

That is, until recently.

Suddenly, your local annoyance had grown more...touchy with you.

What were first fleeting touches such as him brushing past you or gently pinching your side.

Now it's developed into him briefly feeling you up whenever you found yourself close to him, his hands lightly grasping your arms whilst he pressed himself up against you. Sometimes Alex would tug you to him and whisper in your ear, something mundane like asking you if you wanted to play gridball with him but...you tried to deny the wetness you felt.

But his keen eye caught the way your thighs clenched together.

And it only continued until you made the foolish mistake of betting on him being small one night at the saloon, that his attitude towards you was him just trying to compensate for him lacking within' the size department downstairs.

The very accusation made him smirk like a fox who was within' an inch of capturing its prey. "Oh really?" Alex said with a chuckle as he downed the rest of his water.

You nodded your head firmly. "Yeah!" You huffed. "You're nothing but a damn clown." You spat harshly. "Trying to make up for having a small dick by acting big n' tough in attitude."

"Wanna bet on it?"

You took a moment, narrowing your eyes before you nodded your head. "Hell yeah, how much money do you want?"

Alex rolled his eyes. "Nah, let's make this bet really interesting. If I'm bigger than what you say—"

"Three inches."

Ouch, he thought. "—then I'll stop talking to you, for good, promise. But if I'm bigger than that...you have to confess that you like me."

The way your cheeks turned a fiery red already gave the man his answer but, he wanted to hear it from your mouth. Something that he knew he wasn't going to get until he won this easy bet. Finally however, you nodded your head. "Deal."

Sealed with a handshake and you ordering one more water for yourself, you two rushed off to Alex's house. Alex quietly opened the door, looking around to see if his grandparents were awake despite all of the lights being out before he led you to his room upstairs. It smelled...strangely clean, not like musk and sweat like you assumed it would.

More so like laundry detergent and a hint of cologne.

You had a feeling in your stomach that you were going to lose this bet but...was that so bad?

"Ready?" Alex's voice snapped you from your thoughts as Alex stood in front of you.

"No," You stated bluntly. "A-And don't look at me so confidently pervert! Turn around." You grumbled. Alex shrugged his shoulders before he did as he was told, the sound of him undoing his belt and pulling down his zipper sending excited electric currents throughout your veins as you waited.

But, he didn't turn around.

"Well?" You said.

"Come and see for yourself," You narrowed your eyes, thinking it was a trick as you inched around Alex until an audible gasp escaped your lips.

"Y-You're..."

"Huge?" He said arrogantly.

You admitted your defeat all too easily as you nodded your head, Alex running his fingers through his hair with a smirk before he sighed. "As the victor, I'll be merciful and let you choose. Want to confess your feelings staring at my dick or fucking yourself onto it like the secret slut you are?"

The sound of your meek "Onto it" made his cock jump before he nodded toward his bed. After months of chasing you...teasing you and trying to get you to admit you liked him as much as he liked you.

He finally had you.

And he was going to savor this victory, all night long.

[cannonfullofcanons]

@indomitus-ferox inquired: “Hey, look at me, okay? Stay with me; it’s gonna be okay, just stay with me... ” ( from Noble Six to Noble One, because I had to )

send in " hey, look at me, okay? stay with me, it's gonna be okay, just stay with me... " ( OR if your muse wouldn't say this: 💧 + [WHATEVER YOUR MUSE WOULD SAY] ) for the sender to find the receiver badly wounded or dying from unexpected yet serious injuries. | Accepting!

         How had he gotten here? He remembered flying; the pelican was shot to hell. Fuel was leaking, it wouldn't stay airborne for long. Words echoed in the back of his mind, faded, vague, but he could just make it out.

         Hit 'em hard, boss.

         Emile's voice. Even swimming in darkness, an inch from death, he felt a surge of emotion. Had they made it? Had they survived? And more importantly, did they accomplish the mission? After all they'd endured, he had a longing to know. To be sure his sacrifice wasn't in vain. It was stupid, selfish; emotions he'd cast aside long ago, before he even underwent augmentations as a SPARTAN. Yet there they were, lurking in the depths of his dying mind.

         Another voice came, from beyond the darkness. It's gonna be okay. This voice, he recognized as well. Noble Six. He strained against the newly-returning pain. The shackles of death, shaken off, if only briefly. Though his eyes were open, he could scarcely see; yet, his eyes felt fine. The possibility of brain damage occurred to him. It had been one hell of a crash.

         Why was she here? They had a mission. He should be dead, and they should be getting off-world on the Pillar of Autumn. Jun was already off-world with Halsey, God willing. So why had she come back for him? And for that matter, how exactly had he survived? His last memory was of flames engulfing him, and the world fading to black in an instant. Even the armor he wore shouldn't have saved him from that.

         Had he just...gotten lucky?

         Carter forced his eyes open wider with a heavy cough, throwing blood from his mouth with each spasm of his chest. "Hell, Lieutenant...don't sugar coat this." As his vision started to come into focus, he noted the jagged metal piecing through his chest on the right side. How he'd survived the crash, he'd never know, but with this, he doubted he'd live long enough for it to matter. He'd used up the last of his biofoam to keep flying that pelican, after he'd been shot.

         "You shouldn't have come back, Six. Waste of time. Where's the package - Emile? Did you get it to the Autumn? If you tell me you let that ship leave you here, just so you could come back for--" He's interrupted by further, spasming coughs. "Goddamn it. ... Finding me was like finding a needle in a haystack. But we're just as dead either way. Find a pelican, steal a dropship, something - but whatever you do, get the hell off this rock. That's...an order, Lieutenant."

         Carter's eyes begin to grow unfocused; vision fading in and out, but he's holding on. He's slipping back into that inky darkness, only this time, it's not foreboding. It's welcoming. As if calling him home. He didn't want to die, especially if there was chance he could still help. But given his current predicament, the odds seemed to be tipped rather heavily against him. His breathing slows, and he cracks a fleeting smile. "I'll...give Kat and Jorge your regards, Six. Give those Covvies hell. Show 'em...Noble isn't gone yet."

[grapesodadarkchocolate]

Guess What???

May 1, 2024

Dearest Richard, 

Happy May Day! A day to ding and dash, leaving a bouquet of plucked tulips from a neighbor’s backyard. The absconded flowers being held snug in a wallpaper sample vase, cone shaped stapled with a rick rack handle as its hung on a nearby front door. Ringing the doorbell and dashing behind some near by bush. Being out of sight but still in view of the flower bouquet adorned front door. Waiting for the door to open and able to witness the recipients look of surprise.

Did you ever do a May Day basket drop on someone’s front steps? My memory may be a bit tilted to the right of the truth. But I do remember simple garden plucked flowers and looking through a huge wallpaper sample book to pick out the base for the vase. I might have been about seven. There were Red Ball jets and pedal pushers also in that memory. The random thoughts that simply rise up, typically uninvited but enjoyed none the less. 

Wishing you had been doing a tandem ride with me yesterday morning. Lordy sakes, another day when awe was clearly in charge. Bull horn announcing here: “Move over wild tom turkey, juvenile eagle, cormorants, buffleheads, wood ducks and coots”— all the other wildlife I spotted while on my ride — “the migrating pelicans are in town.“ “What?” you might ask. Yes indeed, a sight that has never caught my eye while biking Harriet before. There they were. I had just entered the bike path, passing the wooden bridge just next to the fishing dock. There I spied eight or nine puffs of fluff with long orange beaks nestled next to one another on the edge of the estuary. Bringing out the extraordinary magic of an unexpected moment as walkers and joggers magnetically are pulled to stop and take a closer look.

Yes, there truly were pelicans. They are often something I see along the Mississippi River in spring or fall. I may see them flying over 35W as I am off on an adventure day excursion or simply heading off on a random errand to Fleet Farm. I did once see hundreds of pelicans kettle as they were all gathering to continue migrating north one spring day along the Mississippi River Road in Wisconsin. It is still plain as day in my memory. Not knowing what to call what was transpiring in the sky but mesmerized by the pelicans intentional pattern of movement. Rising up higher and higher and higher and as if by sheer magic they align themselves in an order that allows them to v themselves and continue on their way. A poetic aerial dance of organized chaos and then, before I know it, they are simply out of sight, heading further north along the grand Mississippi. Nature continues to astound me, taking my breath away. Asking for my full attention. Clearly caught in the updraft of such common beauty. The rhythm that migration offers. Struck by its predictability and temporal spirit of action.  The here and now and then gone. The movement. The foreseen behavior, opening a portal that says there is so much more in each moment. Demanding for a grab and hold, yet not too tightly, so that it all can be on its way again. Being simply along for the ride.

This coming alive of such exquisite beauty,  knowing that you have taught me how to stand still in it. To look more deeply, appreciating what is part of my ever presence. Anticipating its arrival, the wonders of springtime. Seeing dots of dutchmen’s breeches along the lakes shady lower road as I continue my ride. So much of this has always been there but the readiness to see it has not. The importance of simply bearing witness to what is being sought often has gone unattended. 

So do I record such a moment? Bringing my camera along for my daily ride or do I simply respond by embracing what is offered in the brief time at hand? The quandary that I realize I wanted to ask you, already guessing what your answer might be. Giving a little room for the query to make more sense to me. It is sometimes too easy to snap a photo and steady that visual in place. Or is it more about fully holding it heart close, allowing it to melt in with all the other memory snapshots I will garner as I head out in to my day, no camera in hand.

There was such exquisite peace felt as I gazed all around me as I rode. Amazed at how everyday and common it could seem. Grabbing on to the moments that offer the meaning I seek. Much like the gift of a rainbow or a mallard walking her ducklings across the road as they struggle to waddle themselves down from the curb and then back up again on to the other side. Just stopping and being. Breathing in without record or comment. The moments that help so in balancing what too often gets missed or simply ignored as being too familiar for recognition. 

So, I guess what I am saying is, I don’t have a photo to show you of those huddled pelicans on my favorite lake. Instead that image is already attached to my ever expanding tapestry of connecting memories. Realizing I will have them with me forever and always. Joining me wherever I may roam. Knowing that you would totally understand. 

Wishing you were here. Thanks for helping me to continue to ever widen my view towards seeing what is so ever present.

Until next write, 

Your Niece 🦆 

Kettle of American White Pelicans: Take a peek 🎥

Related blog entry: Listening Closely , November 2019 🍇🥤🍫