#no it did not find any treasure at the beach. yes I did look

[noknowshame]

visiting the beach on the coast of Cape Cod where the Whydah Galley wrecked in 1717 (RIP Sam Bellamy) - along with the museum dedicated to preserving the archeological finds at the site!

[jhdyuiee]

treasure trove

𓇼 pairing: husband!johnny x fem!reader

𓇼 tags/warnings: fluff, smut!, unprotected sex, tit job, fingering, multiple positions/orgasms, oral (m receiving), tit/breast play, sucking/marking/biting, kissing/making out, dirty talk, breeding kink, cursing, name calling (good girl) & pet names (wife, babe), sex by the beach :0, rough johnny

𓇼 w.c: 2k

𓇼 a.n: hehe, i told ya'll i'd be back very soon and with my first ever johnny fic no less, hehe. anyhow this is the last release of the week, please stay tuned next weekend for my next releases! thank you for your continuous love and support, i truly appreciate it & i love ya'll just so much! until next week, jiji out 🤍

Maldives. 

Nothing beats the ocean side view. The water so clear, so exquisite. You looked out the window of the restaurant you and your husband were dining in for the night. Today marked a day until your honeymoon was over. You were a bit sad, not wanting this to end, not wanting to leave just yet.

You watched as the sun slowly set, illuminating the beautiful ocean. You were always fond of the ocean, it was the center of all your good moments in life. You teared your gaze from the beautiful ocean to the man in front of you.

Your husband: Johnny Suh.

“I’m starting to think you’re on this honeymoon with the ocean rather than with me,” Johnny says as he swirls the wine in his cup.

You couldn’t help but smile at his commentary. “Jealous of the ocean, Suh?” you teased.

“You’re a Suh too now you know,” he answered, taking the cup of wine to his lips. His face scrunches up when he gets a taste. He sets the glass down, using that hand to entwine his fingers with yours.

“Did I ever tell you how magnificent you look tonight?” your husband speaks, a slight blush adorning your cheeks.

“Yes, yes you have… in fact it's all you’ve said to be tonight,” you told your husband who just looked at you like a love struck fool. He was your fool, head over heels for you. In Johnny’s world he always thanked the lord above for letting him meet someone like you.

“Well, what can I say, my wife is simply just the most radiant woman in the whole world!” he says a bit louder, loud enough for other guests to hear.

You slightly shout his name as you see the few guests turn around to your table. Johnny just laughs, bringing your entwined hands to his lips where he kissed it so lovingly.

“I love you,” he mutters, instantly melting your heart.

“I love you too,” you tell him as you then bring his hand to your lips so you could do the same thing.

And so your dinner with Johnny continued, laughter and smiles radiating from your table. Everyone in that restaurant could feel the love surrounding you two– the newly wedded couple. Once it was time to go, Johnny made sure to take your hand–holding it real tight–and walk you to his car. You noticed there was no one else there except you two, Johnny noticed this too. And Johnny for one was someone who wouldn’t miss an opportunity to do something… revolting.

His hands quickly find their way to your waist, holding you as he slams his mouth onto yours. You could taste remnants of his wine from him, intoxicating yourself. You didn’t mean the wine, but Johnny himself, the man was like an addicting drug, something you couldn’t help but intoxicate yourself with.

You find yourself trapped, being eaten alive almost. His tongue fights against yours, dominance overriding Johnny. His hands lingered on your ass, groping it which caused you to moan into his mouth. He lightly smacks one of your cheeks before soothing it. You could feel your panties begin to wetten, yourself begin to heat up.

He parts from the heated kiss first, instead going to kiss your cheek, jaw, before settling on your neck. He uses one hand to brush away any hairs, leaving your neck in full exposure to him. He nips on your skin before sucking on it. You grab onto his brown locks, holding him as he tries marking you. You were sure you were going to be left in a body full of marks by the time ya’ll leave tomorrow. Well, not that you were complaining.

Once Johnny felt satisfied he parts from your neck, meeting you at eye level. And just as he was about to devour you again, you two hear a woman’s laughter in the distance. You two freeze, instantly sobering up. However you didn’t fail to notice the remnants of lust in Johnny's eyes.

“Just wait until we get into the villa,” he whispers into your ear before taking your hand to guide you to the passenger seat. As you take your seat and he begins to drive off, your mind wanders to all the indecencies that are about to unravel.

𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉

You two couldn’t make it past the front door before he had you two undressing. You were left in nothing, naked as he sucked on your tits. “How are you so perfect,” he groans against your breast, kissing his way to the other one where he proceeds to suck on your nipple before marking you up. You gripped onto his hair, watching as he loved on your body.

When he’s had enough he brings his lips to yours, pecking them before saying, “why don’t you take care of me now, I’ve been hard ever since the restaurant.” Johnny guides your hand to his hardened member that was still confined by his boxers. You shyly smiled before dropping onto your knees where you then proceed to take them off. His cock springs out, leaking with pre already and the tip looking red.

You licked your lips before inching towards his cock. You dart your tongue out before swirling it around his tip, licking up his pre. You groaned at the sour taste, only focusing on his tip. Johnny looks down at you with an urge to just shove himself down your throat, but he wanted you to do it yourself. He watched as your cute tongue licked his tip before licking his slit. He curses and closes his eyes at the pleasuring sensation.

You looked up, finding your husband in pure ecstasy from just some licking. You felt it was right to now kick things up a notch, so you spit on his cock. You used one of your hands to spread the spit around him, making sure to wet him well. When you felt it was wet enough you begin. 

Johnny opens his eyes again when he feels his cock slide in between something soft, something he knew all too well: your tits.

“Fuck,” Johnny curses as he watches you try to fuck his cock in between your tits. Eventually opting to help you out by thrusting himself in between them, watching as you take his tip inside your mouth.

He knew he wasn't going to last, feeling himself nearing his release. You too could feel it in the way he twitched in between you. So being the caring wife that you are, you helped him out a bit by squeezing your tits a bit tighter and taking him in your mouth more deeper.

Johnny gripped your head, holding it as he came. His warm seeds erupting inside your mouth before you swallowed them. You lick him clean one last time before getting back up. Johnny immediately kisses you, tasting himself on you. You feel as his fingers go to your dripping cunt, he moans at the amount of juice overflowing you right now. He continues, sliding them in between your pussy lips. He barely gets to your entrance before you part from the kiss to say: “Pl-Please Johnny, in-inside… inside me pl-please.”

He groans, “anything for you my wife,” he says, unable to resist your pleas.

He flips your two around, your back against the wall. He takes one of your legs into his hand, holding it as he uses his other hand to bring his cock to your dripping entrance. You watched intently, watched as you swallowed him right up. Your hands fly to his shoulders, holding him as you feel his girth spread your gummy walls apart. He was snug inside you, fitting into you just right.

“So fucking tight, feels so good,” Johnny moans against your ear before kissing it. You mutter a sultry, yes, back to him.

Johnny starts thrusting, in and out, you watched with watery eyes. The pleasure so massive as you feel his cock reach up to your cervix, kissing your womb so nicely. You chant out his name when he continues pumping his length into you ruthlessly. You could feel yourself being fucked into oblivion already. You tightened yourself even more around him. “Fuck, already gonna cum babe?” Johnny asks.

“Mmmm,” you say, unable to cohort a simple sentence. Your fingers scratched Johnny’s back as he continued pounding you against the wall.

Johnny watches you in pleasure, watching the way your tits bounced in front of him. It was a sight he couldn't pass up on. Johnny wraps his mouth around one of your nipples, sucking on the poor thing as you grew closer to your release.

Too lost in the overstimulation from his cock and mouth, you failed to notice his fingers which grazed your clit. It wasn’t until you felt them rub your clit that you felt your eyes widened. Involuntary moans erupted from you as he continued playing with your clit.

“I’m… I’m cumming,” you moaned, as you gushed around his cock. Johnny too moans, loving the way you felt as you came around his cock. He continues his thrusting, overstimulating you into mini orgasms until he finally cums. You still couldn’t get used to how much he would cum, how’d he’d fill you up with such warmth.

However, just when you thought it was over, it wasn’t. Unlike the other nights, tonight Johnny was in a desperation of more. He carried you further inside the villa, rushing to the bedroom. He plops you on the bed, feeling it dip as he climbs on as well. Johnny opens your legs, watching as your and his orgasm mixed together and dripped out of you.

“Say, my dear wife, what if we have a child,” Johnny blurts out.

You didn’t know what to say, was this the cause of his sex driven state or was he genuine? Well, whatever the case, you didn’t mind. You were always talking about how much you wanted a child and were always ready to have one if the time ever arose.

“Do it, get me pregnant tonight my dear husband,” you whispered, pecking his lips. you were testing him, a test Johnny wasn’t going to play by tonight. He backs up a bit, spreading your legs wider before positioning his cock in between your folds. He rubs himself in between them, gathering the remnants of his leaking cum only to push them back inside.

“Y-Yes,” you moaned, “I could feel you so deep.”

Johnny smirks, watching your face twist in pleasure, watching as your eyes glistened with tears. He pistoned his thrust, hips slapping against your ass. He continues his ruthless thrust in and out of your cunt as the squelching sounds echoed in the room. He was wrecking your cunt, trying to make sure he was the only one that could ever leave you satisfied for all your life.

“Keep squeezing me babe and you’ll milk me in no time,” he groans, feeling as you squeezed him. “Good girl, just like that,” he then says as he rubs your clit once more.

“I’m go-gonna cum,” you moaned, tongue lolling out, “Cum wi-with me!”

His thrusting falters, going irregular until he finally cums inside you for a second time tonight. Yet he wasn’t done, he still had a promise to uphold. The promise to make sure you left this trip pregnant with his child, our child. And so he fucks his cum into you deeper, not stopping until he’s sure he’s made you pregnant. 

𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉

Once everything seemed all perfect to him, Johnny takes his cock out of your stuffed pussy. Remnants of his animalistic side, subduing and being replaced by a gentle and cuddly husband. Johnny engulfed you into his body, his warmth, as he whispered sweet-nothings into your ear. 

Then everything fell silent, the ocean waves sounding in the distance lulling you to sleep. You peacefully slept in Johnny’s arms, resting after a long day and night. In the midst of you sleep you felt a hand graze your stomach, and a loving whisper in your ear.

“I promise to protect you both, my treasures.”

© jhdyuiee

2024. 11. 10

final a.n: have a great weekend! stay safe! & creds to the person who created the dividers, i lost their tumblr page so i couldn't tag them ahhh

[eri-pl]

A crack origin for Hobbits

Warnings: high levels of crack, Elf-Dwarf relationship, mentions of Sauron.

So my husband asked me how strictly canon is "Hobbits are just Men, but short" and we talked and yes, Hobbits do have some Dwarflike traits but also some Elflike traits—

OK. so, Eregion.

I could go with Celebrimbor, but Maglor is funnier. And he is the only Elf in the Silm said to be married but not any details about it. And Silm was redacted later, I can very well see Maglor marrying someone really inaproppriate in SA and Elrond noting it down as "Maglor was wed."

So, Maglor is taking a break from beach hermiting and visiting his nephew (I don't care the book says "he never came again among the elves" — Elrond wrote the book and I imagine they were on speaking terms and more close than resentful. also, he never officially did, but I imagine it wasn't a big secret in Eregion that he's Maglor. Yes, it freaked the jewelsmiths out.)

And Celebrimbor gets a mysterious visitor and Maglor doesn't like him (and when Maglor agrees with Galadriel, it is something), and Sauron is quite terrified that his plan will go into pieces. So he decides to get rid of Maglor, Maglor's credibility and some of the meddling Dwarves.

Now, in the Legendarium love potions etc don't exist, so I would assume more like "Sauron made them get lost in some mines and confused them with magics, and Maglor falling in love with the Dwarf was a side-effect". Anyway, Maglor falls in love with a Dwarven lady, and she with him (other Dwarves are fine, maybe even survive too). And it's Sauron's fault.

Anyway they marry, and even after their minds clear, they are still in love, because they did build ahealthy-ish relationship in the meantime (let Maglor have some happiness), and, well, they have kids. Who are weird and small and less hairy than Dwarves.

Depending on your preference, it may end with Maglor running away to the beach (especially after learning what happenned to Celebrimbor), or with his wife dying peacefully of old age in his arms or whatever. Or less peacefully but at least they both fight in the war against Sauron.

Anyway the kids are there, and they have marry some Dwarves and their kids are still very similar to the strange mix, and don't look like normal Dwarves, so after a few generations they are their own tribe and leave.

And yes: they are the hobbits.

Cons of this theory:

More tragedy for Maglor and other Elves would laugh at him

Elf-Dwarf relationships.

Hobbits are descendants of a doomed kinslayer (but does that matter?)

Where do Hobbits even go for afterlife??? (New Zealand)

Pros:

More tragedy for Maglor and now we know why he doesn't want to return

Hobbits have an explanation. Also, Hobbits being musical, hard to corrupt, and having a knack for finding treasure has an explanation

Sauron's evil schemming is an important factor in the emergence of the race which later will lead to his downfall. And that's just too good. I almost can ignore the Elf-Dwarf thing for this.

It gives Námo a headache? (I like him, but I also like to make him confused and that's hard XD )

[ninjatrashpanda]

Figured I could share this here.

I'm currently working on a Tevan Little Mermaid AU/Retelling and these are four "blueprint" scenes I have written so far (as in, they're scenes I had clearly in my head and decided to write down, but they'll probably be different in the finished product.) Any thoughts are appreciated.

Also, full disclaimer, yes, I cast Hen as the sea witch, but she is not the villain! I based her on the original fairytale's version of the witch, who was a true neutral party who did what she was paid to do, no more, no less.

Also, Eddie's a seahorse and Bobby's a crab. Feel free to read under the cut.

"Buck, for Neptune's sake, slow down!"

Without missing a beat, Buck turned on his back, his tail still cutting through the ocean without slowing down even an instant. He felt a slight ping of guilt upon seeing how far Eddie had fallen behind, his little fins flapping on his back, but he couldn't afford to care right now. Chimney had told him that the prince's ship was coming back to town tonight, and that they humans would shoot their colorful exploding lights into the sky in his honor. He had to see it, he just had to!

"I can't slow down!" Despite himself, Buck quickly rushed back to grab Eddie and press him against his chest before turning again dashing in the direction of the shore again. "I've calculated everything to the last minute! We're gonna arrive just as the ship comes to port, watch the exploding lights for a bit, then go home! We have to capture the right currents at the right time for it all to work out!"

Eddie, pressing his little body snug against Buck's chest, grunted at that. He didn't understand. Buck knew that, had never had much of an issue with that because Eddie was still always down to explore the shipwrecks and sunken treasures the humans had lost at sea.

"Your parents don't want you at the surface, Buck!" Eddie tried with a huff, but Buck chose to ignore it and push on. They were almost at the last current, the one to take them to the beach in front of the castle. He couldn't stop, not now. "They'll go insane if they find out you went!"

+

"Look, Eddie, there it is!" Buck exclaimed, excitedly pointing over to the large vessel. It was still several yards away, Buck knew better than to get too close, despite what his parents and Bobby thought. He respected the old crab more than he cared to admit, but Bobby still had the incredibly annoying tendency to see him as nothing but a silly little guppy instead of the 18-year-old merman he was.

A small splash at his back told him that Eddie had also breached the surface, but Buck's eyes stayed locked on the royal ship, which was still on its course toward the human city's port. Dusk was turning into night rapidly, so the exploding lights should begin any moment now. The anticipation of the spectacle Chimney had described to him warmed Buck's chest from the inside out, his patience wearing thinner and thinner with each passing second.

"Buck, come on," Eddie started to plead once more, and Buck had to actively bite back the groan that threatened to escape him. He knew Eddie didn't think of him as stupid. Eddie was worried for his safety, and was rightly scared of what Mother and Father would do if they ever found out he had come up here. He was still tired of having the same Neptune damned conversation for the who-knows-how-oftenth time. "Let's just go back, whatever the bird said, a bunch of lights can't possibly be worth all this!"

+

The witch—Hen, her name was Hen, Buck reminded himself—quickly made her way around the room, collecting ingredients, from a diverse array of corals, and various bottles, to what looked like some strange kind of seaweed, all of which she put together by her large cauldron.

"Here's the deal, little prince," she addressed him once she seemed satisfied. Her figure, though shorter than him, was imposing, commanding respect and authority. Buck was almost envious of how confident she was. "I'm not a fairy godmother. My magic has its price, and it has its conditions, and I don't control any of it. Every spell has its own unique consequences. If the spell is strong, so are the drawbacks, you understand?"

Buck's brow creased in confusion. Price? Drawbacks? What was that even supposed to mean? Granted, Buck had never been taught much about magic, but he had figured Hen would just cast an incantation, and poof, he was human and able to live on land with Prince Thomas happily ever after. But now magic had consequences he had to consider?

"Buck, this isn't worth it," Eddie whispered in his ear. He had diligently kept his post above Buck's shoulder throughout Hen's explanations, his eyes always narrowed, always studying every move of every single finger and tentacle Hen was moving. Buck wasn't sure what exactly Eddie planned to do to protect him, given his rather tiny size, but Buck appreciated the sentiment. "You can't trust her."

And as eager as Buck was to be human and to be with Prince Thomas, he knew he had to contemplate this. Eddie certainly had a point. Hen was a sea witch, who lived in a cave in the darkest part of the ocean floor, the entrance of which was decorated with the skull of a... creature, he had no clue what the hell that thing was, but it wasn't any kind of fish he was familiar with, and everyone in the kingdom shunned and warned of her (the teachers told the guppies daily to stay clear of her, even). And yet... Buck somehow felt that he could trust her.

+

Tommy hummed lowly to himself, every row of the paddles bringing a new tone, while his eyes kept studying the stranger. There was something about him that intrigued him—and no, it had nothing to do with the fact that he was beautiful, or that Tommy had found him naked on the beach with only a small crystal around his neck, no matter what Gerrard said—but Tommy couldn't quite put his finger on why there was a small part in the back of his head that seemed to scream every time he looked at the young man.

"Y'know, I don't even know your name yet," he said, a soft smile playing on his lips. The stranger, who had been almost entranced by the trees and flowers along the lagoon's bank, looked over to Tommy, his wide sapphire colored eyes shining in the light of the moon. "I could, I don't know, guess. And you nod or shake your head?"

The man's surprised expression softened, a light, almost bashful smile making the corners of his eyes crinkle in it's stead. The slightest hint of pink blushed over his cheeks, making the butterflies in Tommy's stomach go ever wilder. He nodded, and gestured for Tommy to begin.

[nevaroonie]

Quite Interesting

*Disclaimer! The lore implied in this series is NOT CANNON*

Wandering Waves

When most people can’t sleep they listen to music. But not everyone lives next to a beach. So whenever you can’t sleep, you find yourself walking along the lines of the beach. It’s always a peaceful encounter, the sand between your toes. The salty scent in the air and the waves crashing against each other. 

And tonight was no different. You found yourself walking that same path—the salty scent in the air. Bring your mind some ease. The crashing sounds of the waves were more alluring than any, song you could think of, which could be a good thing. Nature has always been captivating to you. 

The crunching of the sand below your feet. The moon reflecting on the ocean's surface. Having a backdoor that leads toward a beach will always be awesome. You could never find something like this in Dahlia. Then again you moved away from Dahlia for this fresh start. After the inversion.. You knew you had to get out of there. 

And now you were here. On the coast enjoying the sand. And the crashing waves. Everything was so pretty tonight. And it seemed you weren’t alone tonight. You could feel the presence of someone else. Perhaps it was the change of moonlight. Maybe it was the slight change in the atmosphere. 

But you could feel them. Perhaps it was another soul who couldn’t sleep. Or just someone who wanted to walk the sandy beach like you. As long as they didn’t interrupt your calming stroll you didn’t care. One more lap and you’d go back home. But for right now.. You needed to combat your insomnia.

As the minutes passed the waves stopped crashing into each other. And the salty scent dulled. Soon it’d be time to go. Now that nature has cooled your nerves maybe you could sleep tonight. However.. You could feel someone watching you. Was it the stranger? Perhaps.. Where did that stranger go? 

‘’ It’s a lovely night no? ‘’ the voice was soft and caught you off guard at first. You turned your head towards the noise. He was beautiful… the way the moonlight danced off his skin, highlighting his beautiful.. Sliver eyes..it only made sense a person as such wouldn’t be human. 

‘’ yes, it is.. ‘’ you responded, sure you’d run into different types of empowered people before. Some are ruder than others. But never a vampire.. Never one with such grace. You were taught staring was rude. But you couldn’t help but not take your eyes off of him. And he knew that. Maybe it was just the aura that surrounded him. Who knows.. 

Not you. Now he was looking directly at you. ‘’ what is a beautiful dove like you doing out here? ‘’ his voice.. His accent slipping through on certain words.. He was a treasure, why were you out here again? Wait.. did he call you beautiful? He did, didn’t he? You felt your face flush at the recollection. 

This felt like a scene out of a storybook. ‘’ are you alright? ‘’ here you were, getting flustered at a stranger's words. While he was trying to talk to you. ‘’ I.. I’m okay.. ‘’ cluttered but at least you got something out. However, the beautiful stranger as you had taken to calling him. Was no longer looking at you. 

His beautiful eyes were being held captive by the returning waves. Maybe that disappointed you a little. Now that the stranger was turned away. You could get a good look at his features. Other than his vampiric eyes. The pale skin was expected, it comes with territory. Defined and graceful. 

Those were the only words coming to your mind. Even while standing and attempting to discuss with a stranger on the beach. He looked at ease, calmed. And something told you he was worried about something. ‘’ do you always stare longingly at people dove? ‘’ it was like you were thrown out of your trance. Dove.. you liked doves. 

‘’ n-..no I don’t try to.. You’re.. Nice to look at.. ‘’ maybe your eyes deceived you, but was there a small smile on his face barely covered by his hair. He took in a deep breath; Inhaling the salty air. The last few weeks had been long for him. Dealing with the aftermath of that event. 

Having to do something he’d hoped he’d never have to do again. And wanting to find the ones responsible for this. Yet he found himself on the east coast. Enjoying the waves and you. He found you Quite Interesting. Maybe that’s why he spoke to you. However, it was now his turn to feel a little jealous of the waves. 

He had lost your wandering eyes to the ever-growing waves. Nice to look at huh.. He hadn’t heard that one in a while. Humans are interesting.. Or well this one was. ‘’ what brings you out to the beach this late?..’’ he could feel your eyes on him. They burned with curiosity. After all William what were you doing out here? 

‘’ that’s a good question dove. ‘’ now that you two were locked-eyed. You could get a good look at him. As if you weren’t already doing that, it’s not every day you meet a beautiful stranger. Let alone one that calls you dove. ‘’ I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.. ‘’ he was smiling again, he has such a nice smile. It comments his eyes. 

‘’ how about names? ‘’ you didn’t want to refer to him as a stranger. It felt wrong, though his smile shifted slightly. ‘’ William.. William Solaire ‘’ Now you had his name. William, it was fitting..  It sounded familiar, but you couldn’t think why- ‘’ And yours Dove.. ‘’ there it was. That name.. Dove, you liked the way it rolled off his tongue. 

You didn’t realize your name also rolled off your tongue ‘’ you have a beautiful name.. Though if you don’t mind I’d like to call you Dove. ‘’ you nodded in agreement. You didn’t mind. He returned your nod and gestured for you two to sit. You were getting tired of standing. ‘’ now.. Dove, why are we out this late? ‘’ 

‘’ I like to watch the ocean, especially on nights I can’t sleep..’’ while you weren’t looking at him. He was looking at you. He was listening to you speak. Of course, you would later regret sitting on the bare sand. But the company was nice enough to take the risk. Or at least that's what you were telling yourself. 

‘’ what about you.. William? ‘’ you tried saying his name it felt nicer than calling him a handsome stranger.

‘’ escaping a source of stress ‘’ he moved his hair out his face. He wasn’t just escaping stress, he was looking for a distraction. And maybe that distraction was you. Being the head of a monarch is never a fun business. And with the fall out of the inversion. William couldn’t help but want a break from his responsibilities. 

Even if it was only for a night. Everything would be fine without him. He knew.. Or rather hoped. Everything would be okay. He turned his gaze back to the crashing waves; your company was greatly appreciated. Even if you didn’t know. That was fine.. Sometimes a pretty face is a good distraction. 

A yawn escaped your mouth. It was nearing bedtime. Your body had finally given in, and perhaps finally willing to let you sleep? The stranger.. No William had taken notice of your yawn, you weren’t making any attempt to mask it after all. ‘’ am I that boring? ‘’ he chuckled.  

‘’ no.. I wouldn- ‘’ your sentence was interrupted by another yawn. That time he broke into a slight smile. Was it a teasing smile? Perhaps.. But he was smiling. He seemed like he didn’t do that often. ‘’ no.. William, you’re not boring.. You’re interesting..’’ you managed to get out without a yawn trying to steal the rest of your sentence. 

That earned another chuckle from the mysterious man. ‘’ Most in your situation wouldn’t even talk to a stranger on the beach.. ‘’ he wasn’t wrong. You didn’t know why you felt comfortable around him. 

‘’Most people.. Don’t walk a beach when they can’t sleep either ‘’ you had a point. This was an uncommon practice. Especially at night, but you didn’t mind. You weren’t happy you couldn’t sleep. But you were happy you got to meet William.. You don’t meet many vampires.. Then again not many people bluntly say oh yeah im a vampire. 

And maybe I’d be better if William thought you didn’t know he was a vampire. 

Seems no matter how much you try to distance yourself from the magical world. It finds its way to you. Was that a good thing? Maybe, maybe not. Who knows. You attempt to muffle another yawn. However, the attempt fails. However, the yawn does gain William’s attention again. 

‘’ dove.. You should probably head home. ‘’ you were getting tired. But you didn’t want to go. You wanted to stay and conversate with William. You couldn’t help your eyelids were closing every so often, nor how many yawns were escaping your mouth right now. What, was that the third one? You can’t remember. 

‘’ im.. Not.. ti- ‘’ you couldn’t even finish a clear sentence before another yawn stole the rest of it. William was taking notice, and getting reminded of Vincent's rebellious days. He couldn’t help but smile. Perhaps this trip to the beach wasn’t as much of a bad idea as he thought. Nonetheless, you needed to get home. 

‘’ come on up ‘’ William stood looking at your half-sleep state. Your attempt to stand was met with a flop, as you fell. Flat on your bottom. If you didn’t have sand in your unmentionables before. You most definitely did now. 

‘’ Lets try that again..’’ william stuck out his hand. You missed it at first, however you found your fingers locked in with his. As the strong grip pulled you off the sand. He was surprisingly warm.. ‘’ now where too. ‘’ yes, where too.. 

William attempted to follow the directions you were given. But even at his age, he didn’t understand. your sentences were interrupted by either a yawn or you’d lose your footing. He found it funny. You reminded him when he was your age. Of course that was a while ago- 

You were losing your footing again. That wasn’t good. In one swift motion, you and William were inches away from each other's faces. ‘’ dove.. How about I carry you? ‘’ perhaps this was something from a storybook. You nodded; might as well ride out the rest of this fantasy. 

As if you weighed nothing he lifted you off the ground. Bits of sand falling from your night clothes. His grip was tight- he was also holding you close. Once again the warmth radiating from this man was.. Breathtaking, and slumber-inducing. Your eyes were closing again. 

Perhaps he remembered the poorly given directions to the place you called home now. You closed your eyes and gave into the sandman's slumber. Who knew a walk on the beach could lead to an interesting night? 

~~~~~~~~~~~

AN - this is the first chapter in a William x Reader series I have planned! I hope you all enjoy! Taglist - @int3rtwiningh3artstrings @porters-fangs @sunsickcrab @achios @dawnofiight @ashertickler

let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list

[drunkonaheistinspace]

three almost kisses and the one time nothing could interrupt

originally published: December 3rd, 2023

Pairing: Illinois x gn!Reader

Rating: General Audience

Tags: fluff, friendship, first kiss, slight angst

1

When Illinois proudly announced that the two of you would be attending an auction again, flashbacks from last time hit you like a tsunami. Luckily for you, you were informed of his plans two weeks in advance and not hours in advance like last time, giving you plenty of time to prepare.

The first thing you did was insist that you wear your outfit from last time and he didn't have to buy you a new one. You accidentally found out how much he paid for it, which nearly gave you a heart attack. The only reason you still had it was Illinois's argument that it was a birthday present and you didn't want to be rude. And yes, you even kept the overpriced ring that could possibly be an ancient relic. The second was to find out more information about the auction. This time it was about a deceased collector whose collection is being liquidated so that the family can pay off the mountain of debt that the deceased had left them. It looks like you might even find it this time as the deceased specialized in ancient artifacts and judging by the thumbnails were the kind of artifacts you're after.

The sight of Illinois in a suit was something you could never get used to. It was just wrong. But it gave you the opportunity to tie his bow tie, which in turn gave you an excuse to get close to him. "Let's go over the rules again," you said as you straightened the bow tie. "Why are we going to the auction?" Illinois sighed. "To find potential pieces for my collection." "What don't we do?" "Do not purchase artifacts of unknown and/or questionable origin." "And?" "And don't give my partner any gifts that cost me more than fifty dollars." The fifty dollars was still a compromise. You wanted to go lower than ten bucks, after all he was still your boss and after all he was obligated to pay you and he paid you well above average, which is why you didn't see the point of expensive gifts. But he insisted that there should be at least fifty. He referred to this as a bonus for excellent work performance.

A look out of the window told you that the limousine had already arrived and was now waiting for you. You went to grab your coat, but Illinois grabbed your arm. You looked at him in surprise. “After the auction...would you like to go out for dinner afterward? It doesn't have to be expensive! We can also just make a detour to McDonald's and get something there.” A gentle smile graced your face. Illinois was always so cute when he was shy. This was a side of him that only you got to see. "I'd love to have dinner with you." You stood in absolute silence for a moment, looking at each other before Illinois slowly walked towards you and leaned towards you. You closed your eyes in anticipation but your lips didn't touch. Instead, you were startled by loud impatient horns. "The limo is waiting," you said, heart racing, and grabbed your coat. "Yeah, we should go now," he agreed, running his fingers through his hair.

In the end, the auction was canceled because two idiots broke in and took a large part of the collection. Instead, you spent the night in the parking lot behind a McDonald's watching the stars while sharing a helping of chicken nuggets.

2

You had asked Illinois for a single day at the beach several times in the past. Just to relax. Well, your wish has finally been granted after a long time, but unfortunately not in the way you would like. Yes, you just found yourself on a beach at sunset, but instead of sipping colorful cocktails and enjoying the view, you were stuck on a deserted island in the middle of nowhere with a treasure map that made no sense.

"I give up! The map is useless!" you called to your boss who had climbed up one of the palm trees hoping to get a better view of the island. You, on the other hand, had the map in your hand and tried to make sense of the scribble. "I'm afraid I have to agree with you there," Illinois admitted while clambering down the palm tree. "I'm not even sure if we're on the right island anymore." You sit down on the sand and bury your face in your hands. The adventurer sat next to you and fanned the cool air with his hat. "At least we can enjoy the sunset." With a sigh, you looked up and you had to admit that the sunset here was particularly beautiful. At least there was a nice moment you could share with Illinois. "We should take a vacation and just go somewhere that isn't dangerous," you murmur as you rest your head on his shoulder. Illinois said nothing and just silently took your hand and gently squeezed it.

You just sat there and watched the sunset without saying a word. You couldn't remember who turned around first, but suddenly you were looking at each other and your faces got closer and closer. Your lips were only a few millimeters from touching. You were just a head movement away from what you both longed for. At the same time, a cannonball hit the water just meters in front of you, drenching you both in seawater. You looked up in surprise and saw a ship on the horizon.

"Please tell me that's not who I think it is," you moaned in annoyance and frustration. "Captain Magnum," Illinois confirmed. "Maybe we should flee inland before he actually hits us." As if on cue, you saw another cannonball being fired and you ran into the dense jungle hoping to escape the pirate.

3

You ran through the dark maze-like corridors. You've been running for quite a while and you're not exactly sure where you are right now. Everything looks the same and the fear that you've been going in circles the whole time overcomes you. The worst thing about the whole thing, however, was the fact that you didn't even know who you were running from or where exactly you were going. The day started out so harmless.

It was a beautiful summer day and you and Illinois were “on vacation” so to speak. Maybe vacation wasn't the right word. It was much more of a break between adventures because your plane broke down and your flight was delayed by two days. You were in no hurry and instead chose to take this as a sign that you really needed some time off. This included sitting in cute little cafes, drinking coffee and talking about possible new goals. Buy new work boots. Arguing with Illi about why you don't need a 200 euro jacket. In the end you decided to visit an art exhibition.

The exhibition included several different pieces by well-known local artists. You didn't know any of them, but that didn't stop you from marveling at the countless works. Illinois seemed to feel the same way because he would stand in front of a work for a long time complementing both the composition and the technique and all you could do was listen in silence and marvel at how much this man knew about art.

Then it happened. Illinois was laughing. Everything was good. Everything was wonderful. Then he noticed something in the distance. His laughter stopped. His smile vanished. He looked like he had seen a demon. Then everything happened quickly. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards the exit, but something forced him to change direction and you ran deeper into the gallery. You couldn't see who or what was doing this to Illinois, but you were sure of one thing. You've never seen him so scared. Eventually he drags you through a door with a staircase leading down. Once you got to the bottom you saw two hallways and Illinois turned to you with a worried look.

"Listen to me. We have to split up! He's most likely after me and I doubt he'll hurt you as long as you stay away from me!" "But-" you tried to protest, but he placed a finger on your lips, silencing you. "No buts! For once, I want you to listen to me and do what I tell you. This is solely for your good.” He removed his finger and instead took your face in his hands. “We will find each other again. I promise it." You wanted to protest again, but the look in his eyes tells you that he won't accept any complaints. You took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay. I trust you." He gave you one final affirmative smile before you walked in different directions.

And so you found yourself in the endless dark labyrinth that sucked every hope out of you with every passing second. Your legs hurt from running and you were exhausted, but you couldn't afford a break. Not unless you knew where the adventurer was. Every step you took felt like you were pulling a heavy load behind you, and a tightness that settled in your chest heralded the onset of a panic attack. It was difficult for you to see in the dimly lit hallways and you felt like it was getting darker with every step. How much time has passed since you broke up?

You turned a corner and instead of finding another endless corridor ahead of you, you ran into what you initially thought was a wall. Only the wall was warm, muscular and difficult to breathe. Two strong hands rested on your shoulders, providing the necessary support that kept you from collapsing like a cheap folding chair on a hot summer afternoon. "Thank God! You're fine!" did you hear the living Adonis statue say You were too exhausted to say anything. Instead, the hands moved away from your shoulders and you were pulled into a tight hug. "I know I have some explaining to do, and I'll do it once we get out of here," Illinois still held you tight, afraid someone would pull you away from him. “I promise you that we will then be a month – no, two months! oh you know what Let's take the rest of the year off and just relax!" The support that the adventurer gave you finally let you relax and catch your breath. Over time, your mind became clearer and the hallway you are in became brighter. You take a deep breath. The familiar smell of leather and linen gave you another piece of security. Your limbs were heavy as lead, but you somehow managed to raise your arm and squeeze Illinois' biceps, after which he released you.

You didn't realize your vision was blurry until you tried to look the adventurer in the face. You feel his warm hands on your cheeks and a light pressure on your forehead. You blink a few times and as your vision cleared you noticed his forehead was pressed against yours. His eyes were closed, his sun-tanned skin was glistening with sweat, and you could smell the faint whiff of coffee on his breath. "I promise nothing will happen to you," he whispered more to himself than to you. “You survived until now. You survived longer than anyone else." He opened his eyes. "You mean too much to me to let him take you away." You stared into each other's eyes for a long time. The corridor was long forgotten. All your senses were taken over by him. The warmth radiating from him. The smell of him clouding your mind like a potent drug. His breath on your face. His eyes that looked straight into your soul. It was like a spell that you couldn't break.

Slowly he closed his eyes again and tilted his head. His lips were only a few millimeters from yours. You inhale his breath and close your eyes. This was the moment. But before you could lean forward and fully surrender to the spell, a door next to you was violently thrown open. You both jumped aside in shock and panic. Was the door here all along? "There you are!" exclaimed Wilford. You both looked at him in horror, but neither of you was able to say or do anything. “You two are extremely late for your interview! Well, come on in!" Wilford grabbed you both by the wrist and yanked you through the door.

You didn't talk about what happened in the corridor. Neither of you could.

+1

It's mid-August. The sky was painted yellow and pink from the setting sun. Illinois kept his promise. Since the Gallery incident, you've stayed away from adventures and settled in a small town. He gave you you room to breath by giving you a small house on the outskirts of town. Under normal circumstances you would insist on getting an apartment, but since the incident you just needed some alone time. Time to think. Time to understand your own feelings. His house wasn't far. A few minutes walk. He gave you a key. You were welcome at any time. And yet you haven't seen each other in two months.

Those two months were the first time you could really think. Overthink. Losing yourself in your own mind. You realized three things: 1. The carpet in your living room was exceptionally soft and perfect for staring at the ceiling for hours. 2. You miss the smell of leather and canvas. 3. Illinois' entire existence was like a siren song and you struggled every day to resist it.

You only now realized that you had been under his spell since the first time you met and every time you tried to leave, you somehow found a way back to him. You had lost your heart and it was now part of his collection. The only thing that stopped him from possessing both your body and your soul was a single kiss.

One kiss and there will be no turning back.

A kiss to seal the deal.

A kiss to become his holy grail.

Every time you opened your front door and looked out, you could see his house. So far and yet so close. There was nothing standing in your way except your own pride and sanity. But today you were weak.

You didn't bother putting on shoes. You looked up at the sky and noticed that the colorful play of colors from before was replaced by dark rain clouds. You felt the first drops on your face and closed your eyes. It didn't take long for the light drizzle to turn into a storm. The rain soaked your clothes and your hair was wet and stuck to your face. This was the perfect weather.

Your legs moved of their own accord, carrying you down the street until you stood in front of his house. Lightning and thunder joined the rain and the wind became more ruthless. But you didn't care. Three steps and you were standing at his door. You take three deep breaths. You knock on the door three times.

You heard the footsteps behind the door. Your heart was racing and you felt the adrenaline rushing through your veins. You heard the door unlock and you held your breath. The door swung open and you took the first step. Illinois didn't have time to react as your arms wrapped around his neck and cold lips pressed against his. He stumbled backwards until his back was pressed against a wall. Only when he realized it was you kissing him did he allow himself to close his eyes and return the kiss. Only when he wrapped his arms around you and felt how wet your clothes were did he force himself to break the kiss. He grabbed your shoulders and pushed you away. You were surprised at his sudden abruptness, but the sight that greeted you made every bit of anger in you fade away. His otherwise perfect hair hung over his face, his cheeks red, his lips swollen and his eyes dark. You wanted to lunge at him once more and steal another kiss, but his grip was iron, keeping you at arm's length.

“What happened?” he asked, struggling to keep you at a safe distance. “Why are you wet?” “I couldn’t take it anymore,” you replied while breathing heavily. "I need to see you, feel you, you..." “And that’s why you walked through the rain?” He looked you up and down again. “And that barefoot?!” You rolled your eyes. “How dare I walk barefoot in the rain! This is worse than the time I had to jump off a cliff into the sea! Or the time I had to fight a mutant killer bunny!” Now it was Illinois who rolled his eyes.

You felt his grip on your shoulders loosen and you took the opportunity to approach him again. He didn't do anything to stop you and so you wrapped your arms around him again and hid your face in his neck. Strong arms wrapped around your wet form, pushing you closer to him. “I want to be more than your partner,” you whisper into his skin. In response, he kissed you on the temple. “Were you thinking about a spring wedding or would you prefer fall?” You gave him a light kick to the leg. “Not so fast, my dear! We haven’t seen each other for two months and we have to make up for that time first.” “Whatever you want, treasure!”

[cottoncandyswirl828]

Zuma Appreciation Week: Day 5 - Favorite Outfit

The pups all have a ton of cute outfits, it’s honestly hard to pick a favorite. But today’s prompt demands that I do, so after much deliberation, Zuma’s Pirate Pups to the Rescue outfit is my favorite. Zuma has actually dressed up as a pirate twice in the series, the other time being a Halloween costume, so Zuma clearly has a love of pirates. His Pirate Pups outfit is super cool, and I know he must’ve had a blast being able to go on a pirate mission of his own, so I’m gonna give him another treasure hunting pirate adventure, this time with first mate Tracker! Just be warned, I don’t know any Spanish, so please forgive me if any of Tracker’s Spanish comes out wrong, I did my best, thank you Google Translate.

“Yar har har! Prepare to set sail for uncharted waters, first mate!”

“Aye-aye, Captain Zuma!”

Tracker hopped down from the bridge of their pretend pirate ship to pull the anchor shaped chew toy onto the ship deck.

“Anchor’s raised, Captain!”

Zuma pulled a rope hanging from a pole, which released a makeshift sail.

“Set a course for the eastern sea, where treasure awaits!” he shouted, pointing out towards the ocean.

“Actually, that’s south. East is that way.” Tracker corrected, pointing to Zuma’s left.

“Oh. Set a course for the southern sea then!”

The two laughed as they pretended to sail the ship through rough seas, imagining a wild storm on the horizon and giant waves that threatened to capsize their vessel.

“Ahoy! Sea beast off the port bow!”

“That’s the starboard bow, port is the other side of the ship.”

“¡Ay Caramba! I’m always mixing those up.”

Zuma laughed, “Don’t worry about it, Marshall mixes up his left and right all the time. Now man the cannons, matey! That sea beast has a date with Davey Jones!”

“Aye-aye!”

With a little toy cannon, Tracker aimed at the imaginary beast.

“Boom! Boom! To Davey Jones locker with thee ya Cuero!”

“What is a Cuero again?”

“It’s a creepy looking sea monster from Chile and Argentina. Land ho, Captain!”

“Aye! Time to drop anchor and find our treasure!”

With the toy anchor dropped and the sail refurled, the two pretend pirates hopped off their pretend ship to look for pretend treasure.

“Keep your ears peeled, matey. Who knows what dangers may be lurking on this island.”

“Aye-aye, Captain.”

The pups split up to look for their treasure, searching different sides of the beach they were playing on. As Zuma looked for a good spot to find the treasure or maybe encounter a jungle trap, he noticed a clear glass bottle half buried in the sand. Digging it up revealed that a rolled-up piece of paper was inside.

“Wow. Hey Tracker, come look what I found!”

“Arrr, did ye find the treasure, Captain?”

“Even better. A real message in a bottle!”

“Really? You found that?”

“Yep! Buried right here in the sand!”

“Well, what are you waiting for? ¡Abrelo! Open it! Let’s see what it says!”

Zuma pulled on the cork of the bottle until it popped off and shook the paper out of the bottle. The pups’ faces lit up with excitement as they unfurled the parchment.

“It’s a treasure map!” Tracker exclaimed, “No lo creo, a real treasure map!”

“Do you think it leads to real treasure?”

“There’s only one way to find out amigo, let’s follow the map and see where it leads!”

“Alright, matey, time for a real pirate adventure! Let’s go find us some treasure!”

The map marked a clear trail from Adventure Beach, up the nearby cliff and into the forest. There was also a message written on the map, saying:

“You’ve found a map, that much is clear

But only half the map is here.

To find your way to treasures unknown

Dig where the trees meet a peak of stone.”

“What do you think ‘a peak of stone’ means?” Tracker wondered. Zuma shrugged.

“I’m not sure, maybe a mountain or hill? I bet we can figure it out if we follow the map, let’s get going!”

The two pirate pups followed the map up the old roads of the cliff and reached the forest fairly quickly. From there, they began searching for any noteworthy stone structures.

“See anything that could be a peak of stone, Zuma?”

“Nothing yet.”

Zuma continued to search through the shrubs and bushes, pushing past the foliage until he came to a small lake, where many trees were growing around it with their roots dipping into the water. Despite its seemingly small size, Zuma could tell the water was pretty deep, and in the middle of the lake, a small stone spire was peeking out of the water. Zuma’s eyes widened in realization.

“Tracker! I think I found the peak of stone!”

Tracker came running almost immediately, “Really? Where is it? Where should we start digging?”

“I think it might be under the water, in that lake.”

Tracker looked over at where Zuma was pointing, tilting his head curiously.

“What makes you think it might be there? I don’t see anything that looks like a peak of stone.”

“That’s because most of the peak is underwater. It’s called a sea mount, basically a mountain that’s underwater, and the tree roots lead into the water too, so the water is where the trees meet the peak of stone.”

“You may be right! Do you think you can dive down there and take a look?”

“That’s what I was trained for!”

Zuma handed Tracker his pirate hat before jumping into the water with an excited splash. Just as Zuma suspected, the little stone spire was just the tip of a much larger underwater mountain. Overall, Zuma guessed the lake was about 20ft deep, and at the bottom he could see a half-buried bottle sticking out from the lakebed. With a little bit of effort and a quick break to come up for air, Zuma dug the bottle free and brough it to the surface.

“I got it!” He exclaimed, holding the bottle in his teeth triumphantly as he gasped for air, “Whew! That was good lung exercise.”

“You alright, amigo?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

Zuma carefully climbed out of the lake and shook himself off before opening the bottle to reveal the second piece of the map. Surprisingly, it didn’t show a path to the treasure, but it did have a compass drawn on the map, along with another message:

“Listen up, the treasure is near

To find it, simply open your ears.

There lies a cave by the setting sun

Just find that and your quest is done.”

“A cave by the setting sun…” Zuma pondered, “What do you think that could mean?”

“Well, the sun sets to the west, so maybe it means the cave is to the west of here.”

Zuma nodded. It made sense, and it would explain why there was a compass on the map. So, they headed west until they came to a cliff face, where a large waterfall fed into a winding river.

“The cave must be nearby,” Zuma said, “let’s start looking.”

But Tracker continued to stare at the waterfall, ears perked up at attention, listening closely.

“What is it? Do you hear something?”

“Sí. The waterfall. It sounds… Odd. Like, I can hear some sort of echo.”

Tracker stepped closer to the waterfall, concentrating on the sound. There was definitely an echo, but echoes are only made when sounds bounce off of something, what could the sound be bouncing off of?

A bombilla went off in Tracker’s head, and he ran right up to the waterfall to see what was behind it.

“Zuma! I found it! The cave is behind the waterfall!”

Zuma ran right up to Tracker to see for himself. Sure enough, right behind the wall of water, there was a large crack in the cliff, opening up to a large cave.

“It sure is! Great work first mate!”

The cave was dark, but a few cracks in the cave ceiling let in enough light for them to see. Still, the two walked slowly and carefully to avoid any hazards they might not be able to see. At the very back of the cave, a large stream of light illuminated a particular spot on the ground, where small stones were arranged… In the shape of an X.

“X marks the spot!” Zuma exclaimed, “This must be it! We found the treasure!”

“Come on! ¡Vamos a cavar! let’s get digging!”

The two pup dug their paws into the dirt and began it scooping up as fast as they could. It wasn’t long before their paws brushed up against something hard.

“¡Ahí está! I think we found it!”

It took all their strength to pull the chest out of the hole, but they managed to hoist it up with the help of Tracker’s cables. Fortunately, the chest didn’t have a lock, so all they had to do at this point was just lift the lid.

“Come on, let’s open it up!”

“Oy-oy-oy! I hope there’s real tesoro in there!”

The rusty lid took a bit of effort to pry open, but once they did, their eyes went as wide as saucers.

The chest was full of shimmering, iridescent pearls of all colors and sizes. Some were strung to create necklaces and bracelets, while others were loose.

“Woah!”

“Tantas perlas… I’ve never seen so many pearls in all my life!”

“How do you even get that many pearls?”

“Maybe whoever buried the treasure was a pearl fisher, someone who harvests pearl for a living.”

“Or maybe they were a pirate who stole from a pearl fisher!”

“Either way, this is an amazing treasure! I can’t believe we found something like this! We should call Ryder and Carlos and show them what we found!”

“Totally! We gotta show everyone! They are not gonna believe this!”

[fancy-plans]

I know that no one follows me for final fantasy stuff, but I need to write out my thoughts/interpretation the Final Fantasy XVI ending, and tumblr allows for good spoiler protection, so forgive my indulgence.

SPOILERS AHEAD, DO NOT READ UNLESS YOU'VE BEAT FFXVI

Okay. Now, as much as I hate it, I think Dion is definitely dead, or meant to have died. While there's no question in my mind that this is the game's intent, the fate of any of the three who faced Ultima can be easily amended with enough will (hehe) or copium. We only see Dion falling, we don't see him actually die, so why can't Dion be to FFXVI what Shepard is to Mass Effect 3? Joshua (if he lived), or Terence, or Medicine Girl, can be there searching for him in the rubble, find him, heal him. But yes, for me personally this is a pure copium interpretation none-the-less.

As for Clive, I also think he is definitely dead. He states that Ultima's power was too much for his vessel body in the end, and we see the curse taking him on the beach, spreading from his fingertips to his entire hand within seconds. We also see Metia fading, which indicates Clive's death.

The main argument I see for Clive's survival is that in the final Jill quest, she says that no matter how bad the night is, the dawn will always come, as will Clive. And then when Jill is crying, she sees the dawn come, and stops crying. However, I think that's just her finding hope in the darkness, and through her grief, taking comfort in the knowledge that Clive did indeed save the world so that a new dawn would always come.

This also fits with the lyrics of the song that play at the end, My Star, which go:

For your flame still burns inside me deep within my heart Showing me, a new tomorrow, never too far And when I cannot bear the pain, I look up to the sky and pray And though our night is over you shall always remain, forever, my treasure, my star

Yeah, those lyrics definitely say "Clive is dead" to me, sadly. I think Clive's fate is of course debatable, and I see a lot of people convinced that he survived. But, for me, as much as I wish he did, I just don't think he lived.

Now, finally, to Joshua, the most complicated one. The biggest piece of evidence for Joshua's survival is THE BOOK. Final Fantasy, written by Joshua Rosfield. A lot of people think that Clive wrote the book under Joshua's name due to the quill that Harpocrates gave to him, but... why? That makes no sense to me. If they wanted to show that Clive survived and wrote the book, the book would have just had Clive's byline. Let's not forget that Harpocrates also said that Joshua is a gifted writer, so Harpocrates' crumbs don't lead only to Clive as the author.

There's also the interpretation that Clive/Jill had a son named Joshua who wrote the book. While more plausible to me and also a sweet interpretation, it still seems like quite a big reach. Or, perhaps Joshua had already been writing the book while he was alive, and Clive finished/published it? But when Harpocrates tells Clive that Joshua would be a good writer (which he also says to Clive to keep us all confused, lulz), it's implied that there really isn't time for anyone to be writing, but maybe after Ultima's defeat it's the pen they could turn to.

So, of all the explanations for the book, I think that Joshua surviving and writing it is the most likely, and the reason for that being shown at the end when it easily didn't have to be shown at all. And let's also not forget that the name Joshua derives from Yeshua, the Hebrew name for Jesus. Jesus and the Phoenix, these are both figures who rise again.

But, that of course begets the problem of how, actually, did he survive when he was most definitely dead? Joshua even explicitly says in an earlier scene that the Phoenix can mend flesh, but not restore a spirit. Yet, the difference from then and the end is that when Clive healed Joshua, he was using the power he absorbed from Ultima, the power of a God. We know this because after Clive heals Joshua, he states that his body wasn't enough to be able to handle Ultima's power after all. And if Ultima's power wasn't important narratively, then Clive could have healed Joshua's flesh once he absorbed the Phoenix's power, rather than this act occurring after. Besides, whatever he did to Joshua must have utilized a great deal of power, not just the power of simple healing/mending flesh, to have been too much for his vessel body. And while the powers of the Phoenix can't restore a spirit on their own, we really don't know what they would be capable of in conjunction with Ultima's power.

Even before this, we know that Joshua's power earlier went to bounds that it should not have been able to when he reached Clive, who was trapped in Ultima's nightmare realm. Ultima says something like, "You shouldn't have the power to do this. How is this possible? This is the power of creation," (paraphrase). I think that Joshua and Clive's powers, when fueled by their will, determination, and brotherly love, are capable of stretching beyond any normal bounds. There's no telling what they'd be capable of when combined with Ultima's power. Therefore, as Clive cycles through the memories of his brother and burns with the will for the power to heal him, Clive was able to actually revive Joshua at the end.

My last though on Joshua surviving is not based on any actual game events/lore/evidence, so might perhaps be more copium fueled, but I think it also makes more sense for Clive's story arc. The game begins with him (nearly) killing his brother, and a full loop would end with him saving him. Final Fantasy XVI is after all, more than anything, a story of brotherly love. For Clive's final act to be to save his brother and fulfill his duty as Joshua's shield, is a much more satisfying and complete story and character arc imo.

Anyway, those are just my thoughts. Like I said, it's really up to interpretation which, if any of those three, might have survived. The only thing that would change that would be if we got a post-game DLC that confirmed things one way or another. But, for now, this is what makes the most sense to me, for better or worse.

[pouroverpaloma]

Writing Interview Tag Game! Thanks @cinnamontails-ff !

When did you start writing?

I don’t actually remember! I was a desperately weird and introverted kid (surprise) and I read voraciously, all the time, so I also started writing really early. Stories, plays, poems, comics, whatever. I also kept a meticulous diary when I was in high school, and I’m so glad I did because it’s so fucking funny to read now. Teenage Paloma had a lot going on, to put it kindly

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

Have I watched Supernatural? No. Have I been an insatiable consumer of Destiel fanfiction for years? Absolutely. I gave a PowerPoint presentation to my book club once titled “All the best romance novels are Supernatural fanfiction,” and I stand by that thesis. I don’t care. Those babes were cooking.

Like, I’m sorry, the soulmate AU trope is never going to get better than Don’t Look Back by @goldenraeofsun. It’s just not. No one is ever going to write an academic romance as compelling as And This, Your Living Kiss by @asecretvice. If you haven’t poked around that part of Ao3 because you don’t watch the show, I beg you to get in there because treasures await ye

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

This isn’t going to make a ton of sense outside of my own brain, probably, but my goal is always to write prose that feels the way Ada Limón’s poems make me feel. She’s really frank without being unserious, and I love the way she creates imagery without telling you she’s doing it.

Also, this weekend, I read a Tessa Dare historical romance while I was on the beach, and I loved it! It was so fun, but not at the expense of the plot, and the supporting characters were so funny without getting in the way. A masterclass in froth.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

At home, I write in bed with my laptop on my lap and a can of seltzer within reach at all times. Sometimes I go to a cafe near my house, but I’m always worried someone will look over my shoulder and see what I’m writing and post me for cringe on TikTok or something. Which, now that I’m typing it out, is maybe a stupid thing to worry about

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

I have a couple recs!

1. Go for a biiiiiig walk. Listen to classical music, nothing with words. Don’t try to think too hard. It’ll come.

2. Read something you find genuinely terrible. You’ll get so mad that you’ll start thinking of ways you could have done it better. For me, this is usually the book Haunting Adeline, which for whatever reason activates every “um actually” in my body at once

3. Type up something deeply unserious that you have no intention of publishing. Chances are you’ll end up loving it in the rewrite and post it. This is how that Rolan fic of mine got made

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

Oh god, yeah, and oh god, yeah. I’ve learned a lot. Some of it’s actually been helpful in therapy, like how I keep writing about overcoming domestic violence trauma. Some of it has been discovering, in a very public way that I can’t undo, that I’m into choking. We do not have the dignity of choosing how enlightenment comes to us

What is your reason for writing?

It’s for fun. It’s all for fun. I am having such a fucking good time.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

I love when people talk back and forth with me! And I love love looooooove when people tell me how something made them feel. Or when someone points out a literary device I was proud of. If there’s a quote, too? I’m dead. I’ve died.

Writing is fun, but it’s solitary. It’s so motivating to have people who are willing to step into my little universe with me and talk about it. I’m extraordinarily lucky.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

I want people to see me as someone who shares their enthusiasm, ultimately. We’re all here for the same reason, and it’s That Fucking Wizard.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

My voice is really distinctive! My friends have always been able to pick out my writing, even in anonymized settings, and I think that’s neat

How do you feel about your own writing?

It’s been a long way getting here, but I view my writing as a thing I made, that I liked making, that I now have no ownership over. Once it’s out, it’s not mine anymore, it’s the reader’s. And that’s a good thing! Everyone brings their own rich experiences to everything they read. Interpretation is amazing, even for something as prima facie trivial as video game erotica. When people tell me how they related to or analyzed something I wrote, it’s like I get to read my own story again.

:) I’ll tag @lemonstealinglibrarian @lastlight-inn and @toads-treasures , if you want! No presh

[1dastroficfest]

Round 2 is officially finished! Thank you to all our amazing authors and everyone who's supported them! It's been a pleasure to bring the astro fest back for another round, not only to explore different parts of all the wonderful mystics in the world, also to see how people interpret them differently. We learned so much in just a few months and we hope this is a collective feeling. Thank you thank you thank you. We intend to do a round 3 next year, again with different themes. Stay tuned, the sun travels fast through the signs.

Under the cut are all our round 2 fics, please check them out! 🌙🪐☀️

Lullaby Garden by rockstarlwt28 / @rockstarlwt28 Harry/Louis, 29k, prompt: the Moon Tarot reader Louis Tomlinson and fortune teller Harry Styles, better known as the Tomlinson's, are the proud owners of a children's home, Lullaby Garden; in the heart of the hilly town of Scarborough. With eight children to keep them on their toes, the pair aren't short of good-hearted family fun.

I Don't Have A Choice (But I'd Still Choose You) by Wishingforloushair / @wishingforloushair Harry/Louis, 31k, prompt: Pluto Louis Tomlinson is the captain of The Dagger, a pirate ship so wicked his reputation as the Spectre precedes him into every quay, dock, and tavern. When a mysterious package arrives for him seemingly giving him the last pieces of the puzzle to find the treasure of the mythical Nymphaea Islands, he sets the ship on a course to find riches that amount to more than the grains of sand on every beach. The men discover a stowaway on the ship, and to Louis' utter shock the man is Lord Styles, the man who broke Louis' heart years earlier and drove him out to sea in the first place. Loyalties are tested as the past comes back to haunt Louis in a way he couldn't imagine.

we don't fight fair by HelloLovers13 / @hellolovers13 Harry/Louis, 2k, prompt: Mars “What, you think I'll just roll over for you now?” The smirk on Louis’ face was almost devilish. “Yes,” He breathed against Harry’s lips, cocky and sure, like it was a fact of life. It sent all kinds of shivers through Harry. God, but he wanted to. Wanted Louis to have him right against this wall, let everyone see how he fell apart under him. But not tonight. Harry fixed his posture, standing up straighter and trying to get himself under control. “I don't think so, omega.” Or: Nothing like a little chase to start off Louis' heat.

Catching A Partner by berzerkshires / @berzerkshires Harry/Louis, 24k, prompt: Uranus This documentary follows the story of two people who fell in love in the last place you'd expect. Louis is a detective at the Boston Police Department investigating a trail of recent murders. Harry is the latest victim who survived an attempted murder and is sent to live at a safe house with Detective Tomlinson as the killer is still at large. This is their story.

It's Only Sunny Cause The Planet's Dying by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28 Harry/Louis, 13k, prompt: Sappho The man leans back in his chair and looks down at the tarot cards in front of him. “Wow, that was really impressive. How long did it take you to memorize all this bullshit?” He raises a brow and that challenging look is back on his face, but he’s not even bothering to mask it this time. It makes Louis’ blood run cold. “I beg your pardon?” The man chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. “If you take a peek in my wallet that you just stole, you’ll see there’s a detective’s badge in there. Why don’t you come on down to the police station with me and you can explain your methods to me there?” (Or the one where Louis is a thief and a con-artist who’s used to getting what he wants, using any means necessary. And Harry is is the straight-laced detective who might just be tired of always doing the right thing).

a little party never hurt no one by Kikiberoski16 / @larrysballetslippers Harry/Louis, 3k, prompt: Eros “I did! But now you only want them to be your personal toys. So you get more men to touch you!” Louis pointed at Vang, the one who always wanted to be close to Harry. Harry threw his arms up. “Maybe because I do enjoy their attention, Louis! Maybe I like having them around.” “If you like their attention so much, maybe they should replace me completely.” Or, Louis wouldn't call himself a possessive boyfriend, but can't stand it when the mates touch Harry.

The Heart's Home by homosociallyyours / @homosociallyyours Harry/Louis, 10k, prompt: Chiron Louis is alone in the world, working long hours at a restaurant job that barely pays his bills, when he's roped into helping his bosses with a scheme. All he has to do is guard the special catch they've brought in, the one that they expect will bring them unbelievable wealth. But there's a problem: the creature they've caught is definitely half human, with the heart and soul of a human and the voice of an angel. Louis knows immediately that he can't let this mer-squid, Harry, become a wealthy person's dinner. As they spend more time together, growing ever closer, Louis realizes that he's got to find a way to get Harry back to his home-- the sea --even if the thought of losing him hurts and doing it means risking everything.

Make Me Your Aphrodite by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove Harry/Louis, Zayn/Liam, Niall/Shawn, 16k, prompt: Venus “I just – I don’t know." Harry sighs. "I go on so many dates, and they’re all just… nothing. The guys are boring, or they’re terrible in bed, or there’s just no chemistry. It’s just so frustrating. Enough to make a girl want to give up on men altogether.” “I mean, I did give up on men, like a decade ago,” Louis says, laughing. “Have you tried dating girls?” It’s meant as a joke, but Harry looks thoughtful. “Maybe I should,” she says. “I’ve considered it, but never actually tried – I mean, goodness knows it can’t be any worse than some of the guys I’ve gone out with.” Louis blinks. “Wait, do you – are you serious?” “Why not?” Harry says, pulling out her phone. “I’ll change my Tinder settings right now, look.” She taps the screen a few times, navigating through the pages. “If it doesn’t pan out, then oh well, I’ve had some nice conversations with some nice girls – not the worst thing. Maybe we can even be friends. And if it does…” She smiles. “Well. You know.”

(Gimme a Solution and) Watch Me Run With It by lululawrence / @lululawrence Harry/Louis, 21k, prompt: Vesta This second, this minute, this hour, this day... hell, this week the trend was for Harry to feel overwhelmed. He was having a hard time not drowning in all of the responsibilities he had heaped upon himself and it had exhausted him. Beyond that, really. He had gotten to the point where he didn't even remember why he used to be so focused on getting back on stage every night. Fine. Maybe this trend had been going on for even longer than a week. It might have even been months. Harry is getting dangerously close to his breaking point, and that is when things start to change, starting with a favorite childhood sweet a member of the touring crew leaves for him in his dressing room.

Daylight by ReynaLovegood2 / @reynalovegood2 Harry/Louis, 18k, prompt: the Sun The change in Harry’s behaviour was subtle for the most part, Louis decided. More eye-contact, more upright posture, and the casual ease with which he handled his words and his fingers—a lot of it could be chalked up to late-adolescence induced confidence. He was a teenager after all. Surely they were all still finding themselves and growing into amazing, mature adults with every passing day. And then school started. ~ Or Louis opened up to Harry more than usual when he's in London and it causes Harry to act different. He expects Louis be vulnerable all the time, and Louis has to choose between shutting away his best friend or letting people assume they're romantically involved.

lost in the silver sea by you_explode / @nobodymoves Harry/Louis, 42k, prompt: Echo Non-AU. From MSG 2012 to MSG 2018; or, Harry and Louis keep having their voices silenced, and they keep finding ways to speak.

Thanks again! See you next round! ✨

[amaretigris]

The Sea Witch's Curse

Taglist: @freyagallileaevans @luna2034 @notagreekgal28 @hopeisrising @mylittlemermaid221 @justagirlthatlovedtoread

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Ch. 9 | 2k words | Angst & fluff

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Creaking your eyelids open, the serene sight of sunshine piercing the water made you smile. You stayed like that for a minute, observing jellyfish float past the blowhole in the top of the cave, until your memories came rushing to the front of your mind. Jerking yourself up, you realized that your body was laid on a sanded slab of limestone. You glanced around, watching schools of fish swim past the arched entrance. You were alive. You were home. How was that possible?

Looking back down at your green fin, you sighed. You should be happy. This was likely the best potential outcome. Pushing yourself off the rock, you swam out of the sea cave, headed to your father's Throne Room. You knew you'd find him there.

Gliding past his guards, you found your father perched on his basalt and abalone shell throne. His right hand held his trident to the side, while his left hand hung off to caress a sea anemone. He watched as his fingers glided through the strands. Your father had grown immune to its stings long ago.

"My daughter," he greeted without looking up.

"I'm glad you are awake. We have much to discuss."

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

"What happened? I thought I died. The last thing I remember is not being able to breathe," you curtly replied.

Your father turned his head to look at you. His expression was neutral.

"Yes, well, it seems that you did, in fact, break Ursula's curse. You were already transforming back into a mermaid when Ursula catapulted you into the water. She was pushing some of her magic through the tentacles around your throat, stalling the transformation."

You nodded your head and pursed your lips in thought. So you would have been able to breathe underwater just fine, if not for the witch. Saying 'I love you' to Eric broke your curse. It must have broken his. A wave of relief eased over you - at least he could be free now. Your father leaned forward.

"Why would you be arrogant enough to go to her in the first place, (Y/N)? You know that it is forbidden for any of my daughters to have contact with her."

Stubbornness set on your face and your eyes met his.

"I was looking for information about mother's death. You have never told us anything. You simply forbade any knowledge of or contact with the sea witch or the surface. You never gave us any answers. We lost her, too," you felt your chin trembling with the last sentence.

Your father looked down at your chin, and you saw guilt flash through his eyes. He closed them, taking a deep breath.

"I have never told you anymore details because it doesn't matter. I've kept you all safe. You're safe here, not out there," he sighed.

"But Mother loved the surface. She would take me to shipwrecks to sort through their treasures. She was fascinated by it. Mother saw the beauty in everything. She didn't live in fear-".

Your father quickly pushed himself up from his seat.

"Enough, (Y/N)," he roared.

"There are reasons for these rules. Yes, your Mother was fearless, but look where that got her," his voice broke, and he turned his head away from you.

His next sentence was whispered.

"I'm glad you're home safely, my child. You will never leave again."

You felt your eyes trying to tear, but you knew you wouldn't be able to cry.

"I never asked to go to the surface, but at least up there, I was free," you spat, turning to leave your father's quarters.

⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅

The Cassiopeia docked, and Eric took a deep breath, stepping out onto the sandy Sardinian beach. He gasped as a feeling of relief flooded his system. Grimsby was right on his heels, and anxiously stepped onto the beach as well. He sunk to his knees on it, crying happy tears.

"Eric," he looked at the prince. "We're finally home."

Eric smiled at him with tears in his eyes as the rest of the crew came swarming out onto the beach. Some also sank to the sand in praise, and some headed straight for the stairs to the palace and the village. Eric's smile never left, but he closed his eyes, and raised his face to the sun. A single tear streamed down his cheek. He was grieving what could have been.

It has been three days since he lost you to the sea witch. Eric constantly watched the water for you, even on the journey home, which was made longer by the sea witch's storm pushing his vessel further out to sea. You were a mermaid, after all. Your siren song and confession had saved him in every sense of the word. He could only pray that you were still alive down there. Maybe your curse had been broken, too. Maybe you swam along with his ship, but stayed out of sight. Perhaps he'd never actually know. The uncertainty ate at him. He could live if you'd transformed back into a mermaid and were happy back in your would. It would kill him to know that you had really died that day to free him.

Eric snapped back to reality at the sound of royal guards yelling and rushing onto the beach. They ran to him and his crew, parting so that the queen could run to Eric. She was barefoot. She must have kicked her fancy shoes off. The queen threw her arms around Eric's neck, and squeezed him to her as hard as she could. She was shaking, afraid that he would disappear again. Eric let out a happy sigh and stroked her hair.

"Mother, it's alright. It's really me. I'm really here. I'm home," he chuckled.

The queen said nothing, but kept her grip tight around Eric. He felt moisture soaking through his shirt.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm sorry, I'll explain everything," he squeezed her reassuringly.

The queen finally loosened her grip, extending her arms so that she could look at Eric.

"I thought I'd lost you forever, Eric," she sobbed.

Eric made a shh sound and pulled his mother back to his chest.

"It's alright. I'm here now," he sighed.

He had so much to tell her - about the mermaid who cursed him, and about the mermaid who saved him. He couldn't wait to tell her about you.

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Days passed by agonizingly slowly. You were happy to be reunited with your sisters at least. Even when you spent your time with them, however, your mind always drifted back to Eric. You hoped that he was back home, and that he was happy. Perhaps he'd settle down with another human one day and make a family. The thought of that sent a pang through your heart, but you knew that you could never be with Eric the way you wanted. It was best if he found happiness elsewhere.

At least that's what you told yourself during the day. At night, you swam to the coast of Sardinia. You perched yourself on a rock about a mile out from the beach. You would lay your back on the rock, listen to the waves crash on the shore, and stargaze. It gave you some comfort to know that perhaps you and Eric were seeing and hearing the same things. You often fell asleep on the rock, but you would always return home before morning. You did this for three nights straight before your father approached you the day after. You were idly searching through coral reefs with your sisters.

"(Y/N)," he startled you.

You turned to face him.

"Yes, father?"

You raised an eyebrow at him.

"Come, take a swim with me."

You watched his back curiously as he swam away. Your sister Ariel pushed you forward to follow. Swimming up to his side, you and your father coasted in silence for a moment.

"Do you know where Sardinia is, (Y/N)?"

You bristled at the words, but tried to show no reaction.

"Sardinia? No. Why?"

"That is where your Eric is from," he looked at you knowingly.

You shrugged.

"Why does it matter?"

"It seems that my guards have spotted someone swimming there the past few nights."

You stayed silent. He already knew the truth, and you didn't know what else to say.

"Why do you go there, (Y/N)?"

You brought your hands up to wring them nervously.

"I just wanted to see if he was okay," you confessed.

"Do you think he wonders the same about you?"

You were taken aback by your father's question. You scoffed.

"No. No, I doubt he misses me. It's been seven days. He's back home now. I'm sure he's happy," you shook your head.

Your father looked at you.

"I want to show you something," he spoke.

You almost stopped in your tracks, but kept up your pace beside your father. You went silent again. As the two of you approached the island, you waited to see if your father would breach the surface. He did, hoisting himself up to settle on the rock you'd been laying on at night. He kept his tail dipped in the water. He motioned for you to come up as well. You hesitated, but joined him on the rock. Once up there, you looked at your father nervously.

"What's this about?"

Your father was looking toward the island.

"Look closely, (Y/N). What do you see?"

You narrowed your eyes, scanning the beach.

"Nothing. Why?"

"Look at the palace," he urged.

Adjusting your eyes, you glanced up at the palace steps. You almost gasped when you saw Eric sitting there, looking out at the sea. You watched him pet his dog, and occasionally throw a bone for him when he came running up with it. Every time, however, his gaze returned back to the ocean. Sadness and longing painted his handsome features.

"He watches the water. He looks for you, (Y/N). He searches for you everywhere. I've had my guards watching the island, and he circles it every day. He's waiting, and hoping."

Your heart swelled in your chest. Your father reached down, grabbing something, and handing it to you. Your mouth fell open in shock as you studied the object in your hands.

"What is this?"

"He throws them out in the ocean to sink to the bottom. He's trying to reach you, (Y/N)."

The sight of the sealed bottle containing a rolled up piece of paper, some sand, and sea shells made your heart drop.

You quickly fumbled to pull the quirk out of the bottle. After a moment of struggle, you popped the bottle open. You unrolled the piece of paper, but huffed in frustration when you realized that you couldn't actually read it. Your father had been patiently watching you this whole time. At your irritation, he reached a hand over to grab the letter. You connected eyes with him and he held your gaze for a second before looking down to the letter. He began reading it aloud to you.

My dearest (Y/N),

I hope this letter finds you alive and well. Or that it finds you at all. I did not know how else to reach you. You gave me this idea. Sea snail mail, remember? I hope you do. I don't know what injuries you sustained from the sea witch's attack.

My biggest hope is that you survived - that you're a mermaid again. One can dream, can't they? Perhaps one day I'll spot you. Perhaps one day we'll meet again. If, however, we never meet again (Y/N), I must confess that you saved me. Not just from the witch's curse. You saved my soul. You are the first person in my life to ever actually see me. You found a hollow, broken man, and loved him back to life.

When I lie awake at night, I often close my eyes. Not grasping for sleep, but grasping for the memory of you laying beside me. Your warmth and touch will never leave me, (Y/N); this I know for certain. I await the day we meet again. If that day never comes, I will cherish what memories I have of our short time together. I will carry my love for you until my last breath. This love knows no bounds, and is not confined by atmosphere, location, or time.

All my love, always,

Eric

[dragonmasterhiccup]

The mermaid snorts, making a trilling noise before gently catching his wagging finger with her teeth, her eyes sparkling playfully.

When he says he’s been planning to ask her for a while, she blushes, her ears perking up. “You had?” 

She laughs. “Yeah, I remember the look on your face-” the girl imitates the little shuddering noise he had made after eating the fish, making the same face he had.

At that question, she tilts her head, smiling warmly. Never had she realized that maybe Hiccup hadn’t caught on to just how special he truly was. She takes his face in her hands. “Well… yeah. That’s why I love you. You’re different from everyone else. Different from anyone I’ve ever met. And that’s so incredibly wonderful. You’re like- like the rarest, most beautiful treasure I could ever find. Much better than any of the ones in my collection. And I still can’t believe I get to call you mine.”

Melodía snuggles up to him, blushing again as he admits how much of an impact she had on him. “Really?” She then smirks, batting her eyelashes playfully before joking. “Did you think I was pretty?”

Her expression softens, her adoration for him practically flowing out of her as she takes his hand and nuzzles her face against it. “Yeah, it was pretty amazing. We’re both too stubborn to let some language barrier keep us from communicating.” She giggles.

The princess grins back. “And the rest is history.” The girl then gently pulls him into a kiss, before putting her forehead to his. “I love you, Hiccup.” Fredrick wiggles in approval.

He nodded. "Yeah, it just, it took a little time to finish making the belt in secret, and then it was a matter of finding the right time, and the right place to ask."

He gestured around them. "I knew that doing it while you were a mermaid was the right choice. This is who you are, and that's how we met. I knew I'd ask on this trip, but I wasn't sure where until you brought me to the glowing beach. Asking under the stars...the ones your parents told you about...it was perfect."

A beaming smile showed on his face. "I can't say enough how happy I am that you said yes!"

At her impression of his reaction to that fish, he laughed. "I mean, I didn't see it myself, but...that's spot-on!"

He tilted his head, listening as she spoke. The way she described him being different sounded like a good thing. Growing up, it wasn't.

How much would things have changed, if others had seen being different as a good thing?

Eyes soft, he reached up, placing his hand over hers, stroking the back of it with his thumb. "...thank you. That's why I love you too, you...you are amazing, Melodía."

He grinned. "Absolutely! And not just pretty, but beautiful!"

"I love you, too."

He could've stayed there with her all day, happy as can be.

[profoundbondfanfic]

Could you recommend some tentacle fics?

You're in luck because we have some self-proclaimed tentacle fic connoisseurs on this blog😂 Here are some favs.

An Unfamiliar Sea by anonymousEDward [Explicit, 108k words]

When a massive hunt drops into Sam and Dean's laps, they go in guns blazing - but what Dean discovers in the basement ends up changing his life for the better.

Alien Cas by MalMuses [Explicit, 111k words]

Dean is an astronaut, and he definitely chose the career so that he could help move humanity forward, not just because he didn't want to sit in an office, thank-you-very-much. Becoming the first human to set foot on Mars was never part of his five-year plan, but he loved his job and couldn't say no when the opportunity arose. He had spent plenty of time thinking about what he was risking never seeing again if something went wrong; his brother, brother-in-law, and the adorable kid they were adopting, not to mention his friends, his car, and pie. What he hadn't considered was what, or who, he might find when he actually got there.

Halflings by Unforth  [Explicit, 103k words]

Ever since his wife Lisa died, Dean Winchester has been willing to do anything for his son Ben. When Ben decided he wanted to adopt a halfling, Dean said yes without hesitation - provided they did so the right way, by giving whichever half-human they decided to bring home the respect and dignity it deserved. Half-octopi Castiel isn't exactly what they were looking for in a pet, but, then, they aren't exactly what Castiel was expecting for owners, either.

My Little Sea Treasure by Hiyochi [Mature, 63k words]

Exotic creatures weren’t really anything new to the world, animals all over the world, undiscovered that are coming about, being tamed to become pets. Only those who were rich or famous had these creatures, the more you had, the higher status. Somehow, Dean Winchester, a simple man, has stumbled across one.

Only a Salt Kiss Remains by InvictaAnimi [Explicit, 28k words]

Castiel is a brilliant cellist who plays by the seaside every day. Lately, though, he’s felt uncomfortable during his practice. His hair stands up on the back of his neck and he catches movement out of the corner of his eye. Of course, when he turns his head, nothing is there. He’s half convinced himself that his loneliness is causing him to go mad, when his admirer finally shows himself. Or itself. Being taken and held hostage against his will by a creature that shouldn’t exist might sound tragic to most people, but not to Castiel. Not in hindsight, anyway. It turns out, the most terrifying and unlikely of circumstances can bring unimaginable joy.

Research Specimen 14652 by Unforth [Explicit, 6k words]

Or: "Cas' just a scientist, Dean's just an octopus, can I make it any more obvious?" sung to the tune of Sk8ter Boi. Or: five times Dean hurt Cas without consent, and one time Cas' consent was enthusiastic. Or: yet another fic unforth has no idea how to accurately tag.

skin deep aquarium by sharkfish [Explicit, 3k words]

Cas moves closer, the end of a tentacle wrapping around Dean’s ankle as his hands tilt Dean’s chin up. “There are things I’m not supposed to tell you.” "I know,” Dean says. “The biology of our genders is different, as is our social behavior surrounding it.” “I know, Cas.” Cas tugs at Dean’s ankle and kisses him like it was hurting him not to. “I’m an alpha,” Cas says.

Squidding around by zation [Explicit, 92k words]

The Yellow-Eyed demon is dead. Vengeance extracted, Sam and Dean decide to try and get out of the hunting business and settle down. So Sam goes back to Stanford, Dean buys a beach house along the Californian coast, and things are simple for a while. Until it isn’t. Or, The one where the supernatural insists on finding Dean and where Dean doesn’t mind all that much. Not when the supernatural has tentacles, bluer than blue eyes, and is called Castiel.

Sweet Prince Castiel Meets the Tentacles of Pleasure by everandanon [Explicit, 98k words]

Imprisoned by his brother and doomed to be married on his twenty-first birthday, Prince Castiel manages to escape his quarters and flee to the magical Looking Glass Lake. There, he makes a wish to meet his truemate, his only hope at changing his fate — and to his surprise, his wish is granted. There’s just one problem. Or rather — there’s eight of them.

Tentacle Husbands by tiamatv [Explicit, 23k words]

“Dammit, Cas, stop it!” Dean complains, laughing. “Okay, seriously, how would the kingdom of Lebanon react if it knew their beloved Prince Castiel has a thing for feet?” Cas gives him a very wry look down the bridge of his nose, and gestures at the swirl of the eight octopus arms moving in the water underneath him. “I’m pretty sure the kingdom, if it were aware, would be much more offput by other things than my enjoying your toes, Dean.”

The Seraph by Hywar [Explicit, 135k words]

Ever since the seraph were discovered, there's been one rule society has had to adapt to: stay out of open water. Powerful, determined and aggressive, the octopus-human creatures are in a league of their own and have no qualms with taking what they want and attacking what they don't. Now, children learn to swim in man-made lakes and beaches are deserted save for researches and the fool-hearted. Dean Winchester is neither of those things. But a hunt has brought him and Sam, his brother, to one of the many abandoned beaches, where Dean is left with no choice but to take refuge in the water. He should be safe, he thinks, he doesn't go too deep - just deep enough to hide himself and to deter his pursuer. He forgot just how fast the damn things could be, and how determined they were once they had their eyes on something.

The Siren and the Sea Monster by Ltleflrt [Explicit, 15k words]

When Cain moves to Washington State, Dean decides to follow him so that he can keep his job as Cain's apprentice. The small town near the sea is Cain's home town, and he has a small beach house that he rents to Dean for dirt cheap, with only a warning to beware of strange neighbors.

What Has Eight Tentacles and Isn’t Allowed to Eat Pie? by Annie D [Teen, 16k words]

Dean watched an anime porn about this once, but real life turns out to be way less interesting. Or, the one where Dean gets turned into an octopus.

[draumstafir-blog]

1.03 | vikings rewrite

episode summary: ragnar embarks on his first venture into leadership, though he might not trust himself as much as others do.

on a foggy, dreary morning at sea, gyda awoke to muffled groans and murmurs of low morale amongst her raiding party. her father, who was usually right by her side, was nowhere to be found. although, because of the quaint size of the ship, she soon spotted him at the head, leaning against the serpent carving.

ragnar’s eyes were scanning at lightspeed. he could barely see anything through the grey fog that engulfed the ship, but he was looking for answers and he needed them now.

“brother!” ragnar nearly jumped out of his skin when rollo placed a hand on his shoulder, seeming to be the only person onboard in good spirits. “what troubles you?”

ragnar let out an annoyed sigh, “i released the ravens yesterday. they did not return within the day, but i fear that they might do so soon.”

“wow, ragnar loðbrók fears something. this might be serious.” rollo half-joked. no one wanted to admit it, but sailing to a new location was nerve-wracking, and tensions were running high as crew members became antsy.

ragnar was running out of reassuring things to say, as he simply turned his head away from his brother instead of attempting to carry on with this conversation.

suddenly, a caw was heard in the distance. ragnar perked up, unsure of whether to be excited or terrified.

“that was no raven.” rollo offered, his brows furrowing.

a few moments of utter silence passed, as everyone became focused on listening for more bird sounds. soon enough, another caw was heard, this time seemingly closer to the ship. then another. then two more in succession, until finally a seagull flew overhead.

“hark,” helga excitedly but gently shook gyda, as the young girl was still barely awake, “we are near land!”

everyone aboard was smiling and cheering, though this was only the first victory among a long list of logistical obstacles in ragnar’s mind.

“tell me your plan, brother,” rollo whispered lowly to ragnar as flóki joined them in a huddle, “and what did that wanderer tell you of the place we are headed?”

“when the norwegians started our tradition of raiding, they happened upon an island in the northeast of the region, and they slowly discovered that despite having many holy sites near the sea, the saxons lack any naval prowess.” ragnar explained.

“so we shall beach upon the seashore and search for a holy site?” asked flóki.

“the christian saxons keep many treasures in their temples, as a tribute to their so-called ‘god’.” ragnar rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, eliciting a giggle from flóki.

with a grin lingering on his face, rollo chimed in, “and you mentioned that this wanderer instructed you to sail south of where the norwegians used to go. why?”

“to be truthful, i am not sure,” ragnar let out a deep breath, “but the nornir goddesses have woven our fate. and when we find what we are looking for, we will strike.”

“yes,” flóki grumbled, staring menacingly yet blankly into the grey mist, “we must strike without hesitation, but we must remain cautious. i have heard my mother, who hails from vestfold, speak of loathsome and treacherous kings in the region. some of them and their vile deeds are well-known even in norway.”

“are all christians not loathsome and treacherous?” rollo chuckled through a smirk.

ragnar turned his attention back to the murky waters ahead. he almost wished that the waves would ripple large enough to fracture his reflection; finding it hard to look at himself with the knowledge that - win or fail - the fate of the whole crew would be woven by him.

-

lagertha exhaled, her sigh perhaps lengthened by the excruciating tension of the muscles in her lower back. this was the first of many hours in the day she’d spend hunched over a boiling cauldron, stirring around onion peels and cloth. what started as an innocent idea to surprise her husband and daughter with freshly dyed garments upon their return, soon became a tedious project. and the next batch, she thought, would look marvelous with the addition of fresh laurel leaves.

lagertha stared unblinkingly into the dark, bubbling waters, a disgusted scowl manifesting on her lips. she immediately cursed herself for allowing her mind to become so thoroughly consumed by these lowly housewife duties. but then again, perhaps it was a habit she’d picked up from ragnar, who was always simply thinking. it was a mystery to most what he even thought about, or to what conclusions he arrived. although, lagertha had no doubt that her husband was a brilliant mind, and through his raids would prove himself so. but if lagertha was going to brood similarly, she couldn’t help but contemplate what kind of man would marry a shieldmaiden, only to replace her armors with aprons.

the sounds of children laughing came from outside the covered windows. björn was sparring with a few of the neighborhood boys, most of which he was bigger and stronger than, even at his young age. while being a víking was a common occupation, it was not as much so to see young people training for the job. it was more or less a last resort for most men, when their lives in trades or agriculture inevitably proved exhausting and unrewarding.

björn was determined to be different. he knew he was a warrior by birth and by lineage, and soon he would have the prowess to prove it.

-

gyda clutched her axe with both hands, the shield her father had bought for her was slung over her shoulder. she couldn’t even tell herself trembling until the vibrations from the wood against her back caused a dull pain in her head.

“are you alright, my dear?” the comforting lilt of helga’s voice came from beside her on the rowing bench.

the shoreline was close. they would be beached within a matter of minutes.

“what do you think they will say to us?” gyda murmured, her eyes especially wide and glued to the pebble beach.

“who, my dear?” as helga’s brows furrowed, the lack of kohl around her eyes made her look a bit more kind, if gyda would face her. she reached a hand out and gently placed it upon the girl’s shoulder.

“the christian priests,” gyda’s lips trembled slightly, “father and the others say they are from saxony, so won’t they understand us? won’t they speak in tongues so close to ours, yet so corrupted by blasphemy? what if that is all i can hear before i...”

she stopped herself. ragnar had his own troubles, still stood in the center of a group of men, deeply engrossed in a discussion of strategy. gyda tried to compose herself so as not to bother him, lowering her volume even further.

helga began rubbing patterns across gyda’s upper back, “you are afraid to die. perhaps it is wise to carry a healthy fear with you, as even valhöll can be quite lonely without a familiar face.”

helga tapped at gyda’s shield, prompting her to lift it off over her head, and subsequently beckoned the girl’s head onto her lap. helga’s fingernails were a bit long, but very hygienic. she lightly scratched soothing circles into gyda’s hairline.

“would it console you to tell you a story of life,” helga whispered melodically, “people can be so interesting - their turmoils and triumphs. the saxons of saxony were once attacked by karl, the barbaric king of franks. he killed their old gods. he forced them to worship the christ god. and now there are many saxons who live on this isle, on which we are about to land. they worship the christ god here. they devote temples to him, and fill them with gold and jewels.”

as helga felt gyda’s body loosen up, she continued absentmindedly massaging her scalp, “but they are foolish to do so. and now the duty rests upon us, to take those treasures from their feeble hands, and instill into them the true glory of óðinn. i will not allow you to perish until that is done.”

the small waves began to splash more loudly as the ship drew closer to the shore. flóki was gathering a team of the strongest men to help push the vessel once it was beached, but his ear twitched, and he found himself looking over his shoulder at helga. although her back was turned to him, he feasted so decadently on what tidbits of her speech he could pick out, suddenly more in love than ever.

with the sun almost about to set in the unfamiliar sky, the raiders made camp in a nearby forest, the ship attended by two men though left at a secluded part of the beach. flóki, rollo, and some of the other men made haste digging a ditch around the camp, which would later be disguised with twigs and foliage. helga, gyda, and the one other woman in the raiding party all busied themselves preparing dinner; a lackluster stew of crushed hardtack, rehydrated fish jerky, and some chopped up acorns, if anyone had foraged enough. ragnar sat on a tree stump beside his daughter, sharpening his sword for seemingly no reason, as it had not seen battle since last year’s raids.

“now gyda,” helga said, her tone becoming almost a coo, “i’m certain this will not taste as nice as your mother’s cooking, but it will surely ease your hunger more than having the individual ingredients cold.”

“worry not, helga. my mother is not much of a cook. if she is in the kitchen, she can most often be found gazing out the window, for she reminisces about her shieldmaiden days quite longingly.” gyda giggled.

“a decent shieldmaiden is few and far between. but so is a good mother.” ragnar interjected, prompting both gyda and helga to look back at him. gyda was smiling, perhaps finally feeling comfortable with the presence of another woman to confide in. and helga embraced this role enthusiastically.

“when you have children, helga, are you going to give up raiding? father says i will have to do so.” gyda huffed, pouting her lips exaggeratedly as she began doling out portions of the soup.

“i suppose, in contrast to your mother, raiding is not much for me to give up. i have only decided to embark this one time, for the experience of combat, and for a memory to share with my beloved.” helga grinned, her smile becoming a thin line across her cheeks as she handed ragnar his supper. he placed his sword and whetstone across his lap, nodding subtly to her in thanks.

“why is it that you’ve not yet married boatbuilder flóki?” gyda inquired innocently, now tending to the cauldron as helga found a seat next to ragnar.

“gyda,” he reprimanded her nonchalantly, “that is not a very polite thing to ask.”

“it’s no trouble, ragnar,” helga gently placed a hand on his forearm in protest, “the inconvenient truth is merely that my family had arranged for our betrothal, but before any ceremony could be performed, my parents and elder brother all succumbed to illness. my surviving brother is not much older than gyda and has barely started a blacksmith apprenticeship. i only wish to send him whatever gold i may find on this raid, so that he may find a bride of his own, with whom to live on our family property. after this burden is lifted, flóki and i shall wed, so that i may officially depart from my maiden’s dwelling with confidence.”

“these are very unfortunate circumstances. thus, i can only suggest you return to this land with us, and raid again another day.” ragnar suggested.

gyda erupted into a smile, “yes, father, what a great idea! helga should come raiding with us each time we do so!”

helga looked to ragnar for confirmation, though his expression was distant as ever, if not amplified by his inhalation of soup.

“i am beyond honored by the invitation, but i am amateurish, possibly even oafish with the sword.” helga shrunk into herself a bit.

“your betrothed sings your praises, helga, rest assured.” ragnar felt the two girls’ eyes land on him. he drew out the silence as he finished his meal, perhaps relishing in the authority he so scarcely held.

“if you should prove yourself on this trip, you are more than welcome to return with us, if you so choose.” ragnar wiped his hands on his tunic, his head held high as he looked to helga, who sat on the ground. her blue eyes became wide with adoration, almost looking like gyda’s, or perhaps lagertha’s. although, lagertha had never let the balance of power in the marriage tilt toward her husband. she was decidedly more ruthless - a trait which helga and gyda may need to acquire quickly.

“heiðvör, the miller’s wife is looking a bit... underprepared.” rollo remarked to flóki, the two dusting dirt off of their hands and wiping sweat from their brows.

“you don’t mean álfkell, the miller, do you? then it’s no shock the woman can nary afford a chainmail strong enough to cover her colossal bosom!” they both burst into laughter at flóki’s retort.

“the bakers of kattegat all claim the man has insufficient funds for even a mug of seawater with supper!” rollo added.

“ah, but, the couple do have a young daughter,” flóki leaned in, his eyebrows raising as his volume lowered, “if she should inherit her mother’s figure, she will undoubtedly secure a great dowry. perhaps from you too, if by that time you can finally entertain the idea of taking a wife of your own.”

“flóki, my dear friend, i have yet to live thirty summers on midgard. once my brother reached that age, he had already been living most of his life for his children. when i think of fatherhood, i simply cannot imagine giving my children a name which means nothing. sigurðarson means nothing to me, for i possess not one memory of his face; no stories to tell, no reputation amongst the townsfolk. my brother, perhaps foolishly, believes that he is actually descended from óðinn. and i will not deny him that possibility - if that is what allows him to justify raising his children in anonymous poverty. for me, i cannot subject my lineage to that fate. my children will know their father to be a famous man; a great man. it may be that my brother and i shall both achieve that on this trip.”

“rollo, be calm yet and ponder not this plight, for many others and myself will know you and ragnar always as triumphant vikings.”

rollo placed a hand gently on flóki’s shoulder, “that eases my mind. though, at ease, it cannot remain. for my brother may be content to live and die as a farmer, but i intend to live for glory, or die in shame.”

-

the summer’s evening air seemed to hang low and thick, almost like a stone block, pummeling the faces of all who dared disturb it. jarl haraldson wiped beads of sweat as they dripped from his temples. though this was a trip he could not bear to reschedule. stopping before a magnificent pine tree, the jarl gently dropped to his knees, careful not to apply all of his weight to one joint or the other.

once comfortable in his position though, any sense of mindfulness was flooded with salty tears.

“my sweet erik, my lovely agnar, have you slept well tonight?” the jarl asked through fleeting breaths, tempered by runny sniffles.

the thought crossed his mind, that perhaps he should look around and make certain he was alone. but the chance that he should accidentally make eye contact with his bodyguard - who was stood a few hundred paces away - was too great and too humiliating.

“i have received word that a raiding party has left for the english isle. that slippery peasant ragnar loðbrók has defied my word and gone straight into the viper’s nest of those saxon kings. but rest easy, my beloved sons, i will not let our enemies prevail.”

jarl haraldson patted the earth beneath him, almost as tenderly as one would pat the chest of a slumbering child. and with one final swipe of his mucus-laiden nostrils, the jarl backed up and vanished into the night, his cloak disguising the sorrow on his face just as the humid darkness concealed him.

-

the orange twilight somehow managed to turn the previous night’s midnight heat into frigid mist. although the summer season was settling in, it was still almost frosty so far up north, as the morning dew clung to men’s boots with a vengeance.

even boys’ boots, too, felt its cold wrath, as a freckly young servant boy was sent into the nearby forest on the king’s orders.

with one careless step in the wrong place, the boy quickly discovered that the ground beneath him began sounding hollow. and mustering all of his might, he lifted some kind of metal trap door, half-revealing something close to a nightmare. but, half was all he needed to see in order to get the job done. picking up the sack he’d brought with him, the boy fulfilled his orders by emptying the thing of its contents: live rats. and the wretched creatures in the pit below dined lavishly, hissing with grotesque contentment.

the doe-eyed boy then began his trek back to the king’s castle.

“see, brother, the walk is not very far. i’m a lot of things, but i’m not the sort of man who’d see his own nephew hurt.” king ælle of northumbria pointed out one of the large grated windows in his dining hall, where a messy head of strawberry blond hair could be seen emerging from the treeline.

a comically long dining table separated him and his brother as they ate completely different morning meals.

“for heaven’s sake, osburt,” ælle paused in the middle of chewing his blood sausages and rye loaf, “there’s no point in your silent seething. the boy eats well, dresses well, and when he’s of age, he’ll be my squire. quite a noble upbringing if ever there was one.”

osburt stirred his spoon around in his porridge, which seemed to contain oats, barley grains, and chunks of something brown. “he was meant to be a prince, not a mere noble.”

“well, as i’m sure you’ve noticed by now, there’s no controlling the will of the wisemen council,” ælle pointed across the table with his meat knife, “and the both of you are, frankly, quite lucky that said will has allowed you to remain in my court.”

“but, while we remain here, i take it you’d have no problem finding any other common servant to perform animal maintenance for you. why is it that my son was so delicately hand-selected to deal with those monstrous serpents, whose use in your employ seem to be riding the line of savagery?” osburt spat as if he were reciting a tongue twister, all without lifting his gaze once to meet his brother’s.

ælle’s grip around the knife tightened.

he clutched a chalice of cider in his other hand, opting to look into the distance instead of at his poor excuse for a brother, “you remember what our father was like, perhaps more so than i, as the elder son. the only way to defeat your enemies for all time, is to earn their respect. that is what he so arduously believed, and mostly about the northmen, who still have yet to revel in the genius of his philosophy. and merely a generation before his time, we, the enlightened men of the godly kingdom of northumbria, were no better than those pagans. father knew their tactics, and he was keen on serving them right back. men would whisper stories of him capturing northmen even as they retreated, and punishing their cowardice by pulling gray brain bits out from their nose holes.”

osburt pushed his porridge away.

“the snake pit was only another facet of his plan, brother,” osburt’s posture betrayed the stoic front he tried to maintain, as even looking into his brother’s eyes felt sickeningly foreign in this moment, “a plan which you were not competent enough to complete. but in my reign, i will see to it that the scourge be eliminated from our pastures forever.”

“no one actually believed those distorted rumors.” osburt quipped.

“no one has to believe anything,” ælle returned, the usual boisterous quality back in his voice as it boomed through the hall, “when facing decent, christian opponents, of course there is an unspoken code to be followed. but northmen have no codes, they know no rules nor limits to their cruelty. so, who’s to say they can’t be responded to accordingly? father believed it’s simply the price that comes with choosing not to believe in the lord almighty, jesus christ.”

ælle finished his rhapsodizing by leaning smugly back in his seat, the fur cushions behind him like clouds on his back. osburt simply grabbed at his bowl, his stomach finally ready to pick at that gruel once more.

suddenly, a frantic knock on the large wooden doors cut through the atmosphere.

“not now, wigstan, your father and i are speaking.” ælle roared.

the doors opened regardless, as the two armed guards stationed in front of them had let in whoever was outside.

“your grace,” an out-of-breath soldier came bustling into the room, removing his helmet and bowing to the king, “i come bearing news from my scouting duties in bamburgh.”

“what is it then?” ælle seemed quite unbothered, for a man just rambling about his hatred of northmen.

“a peculiar vessel has been sited on the seashore. it looks to be the mark of the northmen, but it is beached in a location quite far from any monasteries.” the scout reported.

“ha! looks like we’re dealing with a particularly dim group of them. how long might it take you to lead a battalion of men up to handle the matter?” ælle chuckled out.

“departing from your grace’s court, it will take about half of one day to arrive in bamburgh.”

“excellent. then, be on your way, and if the barbarians can be dispatched in a timely manner, you’ll be home in time for a hot sunday supper.”

with a dismissive wave of the king’s hand, the scout bowed again and was ushered out of the dining hall. ælle leaned into his plush furs once more, as if to pat himself on the back, the next sip of cider tasting even sweeter somehow.

-

the sunday church bells rang incessantly, but served almost as a beacon, drawing ragnar and his band to their source. a small village not far from where the raiding party made camp, was particularly empty. men’s voices singing alien songs were heard echoing throughout the dirt streets. and upon finding the epicenter of all these noises, arne tapped ragnar on the shoulder.

“loðbrók,” he whispered sharply, “this building must be their temple, and look what they have left outside of it.”

he gestured to the front doors of a modest yet decorated structure, leaning upon which were at least 20 swords.

“you will pack up our campsite and return everything to the ship.” ragnar doled out an order to his friend, naturally garnering the attention of everyone else. and to them, he merely placed a finger before his lips.

torstein, rollo, and flóki all cleared the swords from the doorway as quietly as possible. the church bells rang out once more, prompting ragnar to roll his eyes and ready his sword.

a loud thud interrupted the church service as people gasped, fainted, and screamed. the faces of the intruding vikings were barely visible as the sun shone brightly behind them in the narrow opening. raiders ran inside, killing, mutilating, fighting any of the defenseless townsfolk they saw fit, while others busied themselves clearing anything valuable off of the tables and altars. rollo ran straight for the man at the center of the room. he wore such fanciful attire, his robes woven with red and white fabrics, while beads and crosses adorned his neck. the man was older and trembled as he pleaded for his life, though rollo simply responded by allowing him to gently remove his beaded necklace, before the neck was sliced through with a dagger.

ragnar sent a breakaway group to roam the rest of the village in search of gold elsewhere, as the people inside the church who offered no opposition were lined up and patted down. at times, some of the saxon men would work up enough courage to tussle with their captors, but to no avail.

in all the confusion, gyda had been off to the sidelines, preferring to watch instead of fight, though she was certain she could take on an unarmed saxon. but something compelled her to turn around and look behind her, and as she did, she heard movement coming from behind a tall covered table.

moving the table slightly away from the wall, she found three boys huddled together, each wearing similar robes to the main priest, but perhaps less of an eyesore. the one closest to her was definitely older than björn, but arguably not much older than her. he had big blue eyes that begged for mercy, with long eyelashes, and similarly dark brown beard stubble that almost made him look like a man. the other two boys hid behind his back, far younger and scared into oblivion. gyda was perhaps equally as startled, her eyes widening in their signature fashion, though she held out her axe in front of her in an attempt to look menacing.

“please!” the oldest boy cried out in a desperate whisper. and gyda could understand him perfectly.

it was her worst fears being realized; so much so that she nearly forgot to take note of the bizarreness of his haircut, which left a complete bald patch in the middle of his head.

“i beg of you, spare these two boys! do with me whatever you please!” the boy with the strange haircut was growing frenzied, the sides of his nose crinkling as he pleaded. gyda studied him, finding it handsome in a way she couldn’t have fathomed mere minutes earlier. although she was still unnerved by the fact that the saxon tongue was indeed so similar to her own.

“i have been to norway, i speak your tongue!”

now gyda was utterly baffled. her eyebrows furrowed in shock, as she tried her best not to stammer, though her lips couldn’t round up enough words to choke out a reply.

“we have barrels of ale in the cellar! i would give you all of them to let my brothers go!”

“brothers…” gyda found herself repeating the boy absentmindedly. though, feeling as if she’d shown too much leniency already, she grabbed the boy by the collar of his robe and pressed her axe against his throat.

“take me to the ale!” she demanded loudly, so that all of her fellow pillagers heard.

but with her free hand, she quietly pushed the table back up against the wall, and beckoned the two younger boys underneath the table cloth.

“good ferocity, girl!” her uncle rollo cheered. he was a bit preoccupied examining a group of about four saxon women, each sobbing silently before him. gyda looked away, pretending not to know what his intentions were.

she focused herself on seeming threatening to the boy in front of her, pushing him around with her axe still raised until he led her behind a closed door and down a short flight of steps.

“she is a real shieldmaiden in the making.” helga looked on proudly, carrying a sack full of golden candlesticks that once stood on the stone church altars.

“she appears to be a shieldmaiden yet.” ragnar muttered in return, not mirroring helga’s expression of adoration, as his face exposed his concern. eventually his raider’s - or perhaps father’s - intuition urged him to follow gyda.

the young shieldmaiden found herself in a cool, dry room lined with barrels. closing the door behind her and her hostage, gyda finally lowered her axe.

“i will make certain that no harm befall your brothers.” she spoke lowly, but with authority, causing the priest boy to nod timidly.

“and what of me?” he croaked.

“are you trying to torment me?” gyda barked, though the remorse behind her eyes was palpable.

the boy only shuffled backwards, his hands trying to grip the wall, perhaps for comfort.

“father said anyone captured alive should be taken into slavery,” her eyes drifted to the ground, “but what kind of northman would want a slave like you? who can understand our every word, and reply back with praises of the christ god? i know what christians like you are meant to do, when the men in expensive dresses send you off to places like my home.”

“if you should spare my life, i would do nothing of the sort.”

“this is a heavy burden to place upon me, right after saving your brothers too.” gyda pouted, still incapable of looking him in the eye.

“well, those are not my blood brothers. that is just what men of the clergy call each other.” the boy’s tone became more calm and soft, probably sensing that there was a way to reason his captor.

but, gyda’s expression contorted, “so you lied to me?”

the boy’s eyes darted to her axe, which was now hanging facing the ground, and with a mixture of cockiness and desperation, he lunged for it. gyda caught his initial movement in her peripheral view, swinging the axe behind her body and using one of her feet to sweep his shins. falling backwards onto the hard stone floor, the boy put his forearms up to block his face, one of which gyda skillfully grabbed and pressed behind his back. hearing screams of pain, she picked up the boy’s body weight and nudged him forward until his front side was flush against a wall, his other arm helplessly flailing about.

once gyda had done this full rotation of the room, she was met with her father’s figure where the closed door had once been.

“any broken bones will make him far less valuable.” ragnar snapped jokingly, sending his daughter a quick smirk of approval before returning to the others.

gyda leaned into him, applying her full weight to increase his discomfort, “what is your name, priest?”

“æthelstan!” he cried, between uncontrollable gasping breaths.

“well then, aðalsteinn, as that is what your new owners will be calling you,” feeling a newfound confidence, gyda used the wooden end of her axe to brush the stray hairs out of her face, “make your good arm useful and fetch me a mug of ale.”

she released him forcefully, elbowing his kidney area one last time for good measure. peering through the now open door into the other room, gyda scurried over to the tall table and discreetly checked to see that the two boys were still safely hidden under it.

by the end of their time at the church, ragnar’s raiding party had taken away at least 10 sacks of gold and jewels, three slaves, and countless skins full of dark ale. the three captives walked in a single-file line, their wrists all tied with one rope. ragnar carried on not far behind them, trailing close enough to even touch the shaved circle on æthelstan’s head.

“you and i have much to discuss, aðalsteinn.” æthelstan could feel the beams coming off ragnar’s unforgiving, icy glare, even from behind him. the boy silently gulped as he was shepherded away from his home.

-

the late afternoon sun shone blistering yellow beams, distorting the image of the ocean from the cliffs just behind the beach. ælle’s men had only arrived in time to witness their marks departing triumphantly, their shrinking silhouettes seemingly raising their arms, as if toasting one another.

the scout’s brow trembled at the thought of having to report this to his short-tempered liege.

-

“helga,” ragnar reached over to poke the woman in question, who was no longer sitting with gyda and was instead being cradled by her betrothed, her face a poignant red from the ale, “when we arrive in kattegat, make haste and tell your brother that i shall fund his first project.”

he pulled two ornate rosaries out from his pocket, dusting off the crosses before giving them to her. helga and flóki giggled at the sight of them, the inebriation causing her to bury her face into his chest, with the chainmail still on.

gyda sat alone near the front of the ship, where the three captives were huddled on the floor. æthelstan sat with his legs folded against his chest, along with two other saxon men that ragnar deemed strong enough for farm work.

“do not sit there sulking so loudly,” gyda remarked, herself holding a half-empty mug of ale, “your hot, disdainful breaths are getting on me.”

æthelstan let out an annoyed sigh, “you northmen are going to desecrate the sanctity of so many holy items. you condemn yourself to an eternity of flaming torture, yet display such apathy toward it.”

ragnar suddenly appeared, looming over gyda, his own face displaying what could be perceived as apathy. although, the expressions of a man whose mind ponders so many emotions at once would be rather difficult to interpret; at least for those around him, it was.

“tell me then, what do these things mean to you?” the pirate asked so calmly, æthelstan found it chilling in a whole new way.

“they represent penitence and forgiveness…” æthelstan fumbled his way through his own words, “such were the teachings of our lord, jesus christ.”

“so, your god is not a god? he was simply a man who taught his own beliefs.” ragnar sat on the bench next to his daughter, his tone of voice perhaps denoting that he was stern in his beliefs, though he hoped to egg the priest on to keep talking.

“he was, at one point, a man like you and i, yes. but he was born as the son of god, and would later rejoin his holy father in the kingdom of heaven.”

ragnar put his forearms on his knees and twiddled his thumbs, “but, what if some have said i was the son of a god?”

“mother has said something similar.” gyda’s lips formed a shy smile, perhaps simply relieved to be in her father’s company and done with the fighting.

“why would anyone say that?” æthelstan asked, too intimated to let on just how aggravated that notion made him.

“some said it after i slew the serpent. for which, i wore a pair of shaggy breeches, thus i am called ragnar loðbrók. to win the hand of my wife, i slew a bear and a great hound which both guarded her abode. and now… some may say it after we return from this voyage: that i have truly proven myself the son of allfather óðinn.”

“then, to prove you are a god, your allfather will have to choose you to return from death and join him in heaven.”

“heaven is not something i have heard of before,” ragnar rubbed his temples, giving the impression that this conversation bored him, “but if it is anything like valhöll, then it is not a fate to be dreaded. i could go on for hours about it.”

gyda snickered to herself, as even with her slight disorientation, she knew her father well enough to understand what a rare occurrence it was when he enjoyed speaking to someone. the remnants of a smile remaining on her face, gyda accidentally locked eyes with æthelstan, whose expression softened. she turned away before her father noticed, but she couldn’t stop the pink blush that made her drunken cheeks even warmer.

if ragnar was so certain things would never be the same, perhaps he would be the first domino to fall.

[cosmonaughty]

The Lucky Ones. chapter 2

I neglected to post chapter one last week, so you get one and two this week

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During the summer, Claudia was left primarily to her own devices after her chores were finished, provided those devices were “godly” enough for her father’s liking. What did and did not meet this standard seemed to change with the weather, so she did her best to keep to herself and stay out of trouble, which in this case meant spending her summer haunting the public library and occasionally going to the playground, though always late in the day when most other kids were expected to be home. When she was younger, Leonard would take his daughter with him when he went to the church during the week and would leave her in the care of Dahlia Gillespie, or any other woman who was willing to watch her. Those days were some of her most treasured, since she'd been able to spend them with Alessa whenever the older girl's mother had them in her care. Sometimes she missed spending her weeks at the church while school was out, but whenever her father would agree to take her along she would realize that it hadn't really been the church she missed.

One morning in July, she was making her way up the steps to the public library when she spotted a sign on the door that read: Closed for structural repairs. Sorry for any inconveniance. For a while, she simply stood and considered the sign, wondering what repairs were being done and what the sign’s typo said about the quality of the library itself. With a fraught sigh, she turned back around and sat on the steps. She didn’t have any money to justify hiding out from the heat in one of the local shops. It seemed likely that the playground would be vacant in such weather, and for good reason. She could practically feel her skin blister when she thought about what the metal slide must feel like underneath the hot sun. She wondered if the lake shore might be tolerable for once, eventually deciding that, even if it was crowded, it was considerably better than sitting out on the sweltering concrete, so she began to make her way in its direction.

It came as a pleasant surprise to her to find that there were relatively few people at the lake, at least compared to what she would have imagined on such a suffocating day. By the time her feet had touched the rough sand on the shore, her cotton dress was heavy with perspiration and clung to her back like a second skin. She felt compelled to walk directly into the water to cool off, but quickly thought better of it and contented herself with letting the water lap at her ankles as she wandered up and down the shoreline in search of shells and interesting rocks.

When she arrived at a section of the beach that was more populated than the direction she had come from, she turned to head back but was stopped by the sound of someone shouting her name. At first, she imagined that the call was intended for someone who happened to share her name, or at least one that sounded similar, but as the voice drew nearer to her she found that she recognized it and turned to find its source just in time to see Vincent stumble in the shallow water and fall directly onto his face. He briefly disappeared under the opaque surface of the lake before popping back up as though nothing had happened.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” He panted, removing his glasses and attempting to shake water and silt off of the lenses before putting them back on. Claudia stared at him as he attempted to sort himself out.

“Are you okay?” She asked.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I meant to do that. How long have you been here?”

She had her doubts about his explanation but simply shrugged.

“Not long. I came from that way…” She pointed behind her.

“By yourself…?” He asked, craning his neck anxiously to make sure that her father wasn’t going to suddenly materialize from amidst the pilings and rocks behind her.

“Yes.”

“Oh," He returned to his usual relaxed posture. "Okay, cool. Mom, look!” He waved over toward his mother, whom Claudia hadn’t noticed before but who was reclining on the beach not far away. “Claudia’s here too!”

Charlene Smith looked like a movie star to Claudia, with her lean, tawny legs stretched out in front of her and her thick brown hair pinned up underneath her sunhat. Her skin glowed with a light sheen of suntan oil and from where Claudia was standing she appeared to have cherry red tint on her lips.  She lowered the paperback she had been focused on and peeked over her sunglasses.

“Sure enough!” She beamed. “Where’s your bathing suit, Claudia?”

“I don’t have one.” For a moment, she felt self-conscious, wondering if there was something wrong with the simple calf-length dress she had on. The woman leaned forward to get a better look at her son’s friend and folded her freckled arms over her knees.

“What’s that you’ve got there?” She asked. Claudia looked down at her hands and realized they were still full of the rocks and shells she had been collecting.

“Just some nice stones.” She explained as she began tucking them into the pockets of her dress. Charlene hurriedly put her book down and extended both of her hands.

“Why don’t I hold onto those for you until you go home.” She offered in a tone that was gentle but implied that she was not making a suggestion. Timidly, Claudia moved closer and held out her hands with the collection of treasures in them. She had seen Vincent’s mother from a distance a number of times, but the two of them hardly interacted. Now, the woman smiled faintly as she set the small collection down on the beach towel beside her. Claudia noticed that her fingernails were painted coral pink and she had a visible tan line above the top of her strapless bathing suit. She remembered the number of things her father had said about Charlene, about the “type of woman” she was, which was to say: the wrong type. Deep down, Claudia felt a twinge of guilt and embarrassment that Charlene would be kind to her when her own father had such unkind things to say. 

As Claudia was retreating back toward the water, Vincent’s mother waved him over and whispered something to him before releasing him to join his friend. After the two of them had strolled away in the direction of a nearby sandbar, he confided what she had said.

“She’s worried you’re gonna drown yourself.” Then he quickly added, “By accident. Because of your dress.”

“What’s wrong with my dress?” She knew she shouldn’t feel offended but she couldn’t help it; besides, feeling defensive was better than feeling ashamed, which seemed to her to be the alternative.

“Nothiiing,” He assured her, moving to the driest part of the sandbar and sitting down. “It’s fine, but if it gets wet it’s gonna drag you down like cement shoes.”

Despite her efforts not to think of it, Claudia couldn’t stop the image she suddenly had of herself weighted down to the bottom of the dark lake, with her hair flowing up toward the surface like white smoke. She shivered and moved away from the water, planting herself in the sand next to him.

“I wasn’t going to get in.” She insisted. “I’m just going for a walk.”

“Seriously? You must be crazy, it’s like a hundred and eighty degrees out here!”

“Don’t call me crazy.” She glowered at him. Her pallid cheeks were flushed pink, though he couldn’t tell if it was from anger or simply the effect the sun had on someone with such an icy complexion. “I’m not crazy. I just don’t want to get wet.”

“Okay, okay…” He turned his face away from her but still watched her anxiously from the corner of his eye. “I didn’t mean it. Sheesh, though, what do you call it? It’s hot as hell out here.”

“It’s not so bad…” Even as she argued, she scooted closer to the water so she could dip her toes in.

“I heard the whole planet is getting hotter.” He looked toward her to see if she had anything to say on the matter and when she didn’t, he continued, “If that’s true, maybe we’ll become a year-round resort town instead of just seasonal. Like the Salton Sea.”

“Where’s the Sultan Sea?”

“The Salton Sea. It’s in California. It used to be pretty popular, I guess, but they got messed up by some hurricanes a couple years ago and now scientists are saying the lake might disappear.”

“I thought it was a sea?” Claudia looked at him over her shoulder, trying to discern how much of what he was telling her was being made up on the spot.

“Yeah, it’s a big lake.”

“Huh?”

“Look, the point is, the planet’s supposed to be getting hotter and now the Salton Sea is disappearing. Like a puddle dries up after it rains, I guess…”

“Do you think that could happen here?” She turned her worried gaze out toward the dark blue expanse of Toluca Lake. How hot would it have to be to dry up that much water, she wondered. Surely too hot for any human to survive. She looked back at Vincent, who didn’t appear to be concerned.

“I don’t know…. maybe in like a hundred years. Nobody really knows.”

 “Where do you even hear these things?” She huffed.

“Around.”

“I think you just make stuff up to scare me.”

“Oh, don’t be scared, whatever you do.” He stared at her with eyes wide to match his grave tone. “Because every time you get scared, the temperature increases by one degree- ow!” He scrubbed furiously at his cheek where the mollusk shell she had flicked at him made contact.

“Now I know you’re lying.” She rolled her eyes and stood up, brushing sand off her dress as she stepped into the lake.

“Hey, where are you going?” He leapt to his feet and hurried after her.

“I’m going for a swim.” 

Vincent’s mother had been insistent on driving Claudia home, but the girl wouldn’t budge. Claudia told herself that she just didn’t want to put Charlene out of her way, that her refusal was simply a personal preference and had nothing to do with her unease about the possibility of her father seeing her with an “immoral woman”. For her part, Charlene seemed to realize that Claudia couldn’t be persuaded, although she tried her best.

“But it’s such a long way.” She fretted. “Oh, and your poor feet…”

“It’s alright; I don’t mind walking, and I’ll be dry by the time I get home.” Her plunge in the lake had completely soaked her hair and dress, but the sun was still high and would remain so long enough for her to at least not track water into the house. She had thought it through carefully before making her decision to swim, although Vincent seemed incredulous, as usual.

“In this humidity?” He commented. “You might as well try to dry off with a wet towel.”

“There’s a breeze.” She pointed out. “And anyway, I’m already halfway dried off just sitting out here. It won’t take so long.”

The two of them had joined Charlene on the shore after Claudia began to tire under the weight of her dress and she had sat on a rock, diligently wringing out the hem while Vincent told her about a book he had found at the school library that had more swear words than he’d ever seen in any book, some of which he’d never seen at all before. He added under his breath that he wouldn’t repeat them because his mother was there, to which Charlene replied serenely from her spot on the towel nearby,

“You shouldn’t repeat them without me here, neither; Claudia is a lady, you watch your language around ladies.”

Claudia instinctively felt like she was being made fun of, the way she did when anyone paid her any compliment, but the sly smile she saw Charlene give her made put her at ease. It seemed to her that the two of them had an understanding. It wasn’t often that she had any kind of agreeable interactions with women; Dahlia was still around, of course, but her father did his best to keep them apart as much as possible. Claudia was certain it was jealousy; after all, Dahlia had been more of a parent to her than Leonard ever was, save for his best days which were vanishingly few. If he didn’t even want her, why couldn’t she go live with Dahlia, or Charlene, or anyone else for that matter? What did he care?

She realized halfway through her walk home that these dark thoughts were obscuring what had otherwise been a bright day for her. Although she tried to turn her outlook back around, this realization made her resent her father even more. Even when he’s not here, he’s ruining my day. She thought bitterly.  Sighing to herself, she wished she had accepted Charlene’s offer after all. If it added only a few more minutes of joy to her day, those minutes would have been well-spent. 

“Imagine having to live with Leonard Wolf.” Even after driving home and changing her clothes, Charlene was still vexed. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor of the living room and brushing out her hair, laying her bobby pins in a neat row on the scuffed coffee table in front of her.

“Ew, do I have to?” Vincent paused in the middle of flipping through a magazine to look up and express his displeasure.

“If you can believe it, one time, years and years ago, someone at the church had the- the I don’t know what to suggest that he and I should get married.”

“No, don’t tell me that!” Vincent groaned as if in pain but hurried to unearth more information. “Why? Did they say why?”

“Well, since his wife died and I wasn’t married anyway and we both had young kids to take care of and blah blah blah-” His mother huffed, as though the memory of the conversation were as aggravating as the original offense. “I said, ‘I don’t think you know me or Leonard Wolf all too well if you believe that would be a peaceful arrangement’. Fortunately for us two, he doesn't think much of me. But I do wish I could get the poor little girl out of there…”

Vincent watched her sit for a minute in silence, dragging the brush through her hair, momentarily lost in a maze of thoughts and emotions before she found familiar territory once again. She looked over her shoulder toward him. “But we don’t mention it to her, right?”

He knew that in this case, as well as most others, “we” meant “you”, and he tried to feign naivete.

“Mention what? I’d never tell her about all that, I’m already trying to forget it.”

“You know what I mean, wiseacre.” Charlene stood and stretched before going to the armchair her son was draped over and leaning against its back so she could be sure he was looking at her as she gave a stern reminder. “Don’t let her know about what you know. It’ll just make her feel bad. Well…worse. She’s a little kid, but she’s already got a strong sense of pride, probably even more than you, if you can believe it.” She gave his still-damp hair a tousle, which he lazily tried to swat away. “Let her have her dignity, okay? For some folks, that’s all they’ve got.”

To Vincent, it seemed like if things were so bad for Claudia, simply being nice to her wouldn’t solve much in the long run. He had said as much to his mother the previous time this subject had come up and she had reminded him that neither of them had the power to do anything else. If that was the case, he thought, maybe someone who did have that power had best step in. His mother had agreed that would be nice, but the way she had said it led him to believe that such a thing would never happen. It would simply be “nice” if it did.

[jacks-tracks]

Transition

2 worlds, 2 realitys. Somehow that plane ride bridges the gap,

Getting here was actually pretty easy,though i may come through Mexico city next year. A brief overnight might be preferable to the Huatulco taxi experience. Shuffled through immigration, glared at by the ugliest woman agent yet(hey it was Sunday night and everyone else was partying the end of Dia de Muertos). Actually got the green light, the sniffer dog detected the walnuts in my bag, but i said"No, No food" so no check,and the agricultural inspector was easy too. Yes I had a jar of peanut butter and a bag of sprout seeds, but I neglected to tell them. Outside in the heat of the day the taxi mafia wanted too much so I walked to the road where the more organized drivers wanted 1800 p to Puerto. Got a collectivo(shared cab with 4 others) for 1200($100). I,d imagined we,d drop people off along the highway, but no we went to Mazunte, a 1 hour crawl , dodging drunks and dogs, to spill our extra people, then zoom to Puerto. Seems if a taxi tailgates and flashes it,s lights before racing the oncoming trucks, everything goes faster.

2 hours to Dans, and the key was under the rock as promised. Hot shower, quick snack (Pete and Jill had kindly put tortillas and eggs out for my arrival-delicious!) and a welcome bed in #3 cabana. I spent Monday unpacking my 20 kilo bag and 10 kilo carry on. Seemed OK till I dragged my garbage bucket of last years stuff out of storage(stinky stale clothes despite packaging in Big ziplocks), and the box I,d had to add on my return from MEX, and the beach umbrella, and the beach chair, and ... Bit of a treasure hunt dipping into the bin, and found that I had duplicated many small items. Looks like I,m good for razors and Q tips for some years!. Probably left them off my left behind list last year, thinking"Of course I,ll remember them!" However, clothes hung in the sun quickly cured, and the extra shirts and pants will go to the charity sale here. the corner store had fruit, granola,yogurt and juices, so all set.

Tuesday I went to the Banamex for cash and the machines liked me, then up to the supermercado for bulk goods, a 40 pound load. $1000 pesos! Somehow i packed it all to the highway and got a combi home. I waited till Thursday to go uptown for fruit and veg from the oh so busy wholesalers, another 40 pound set of bags. Lots of walnuts, almonds, cashews, for snack feeding , and a double bollio for a cheese and lettuce sandwhich. All in all i went way over budget.

What is my budget? Well I get $1800 a month pension, so that should be the limit, but since prices have shot up here just like home, I,ll be spending more. Have enough savings to cover the overruns. Mexico is no longer cheap, but it,s still affordable. With health insurance,tickets, and higher costs I,ll probably spend an extra $1000/month, but that includes a trip to Belize in March and the 1000$ for the dentist. I could find cheaper accomodation, but right now I,m up on a shaded terrace with a surf view, sea breeze, and a very safe place. Bath temp lap pool, big room and kitchen, privacy and good friends to chat with...it,s worth the xtra. As the value of the dollar slides against the peso there,s the hidden cost of inflation, but that also means my saving are depreciating, might as well spend the dough while it has any value.

Did i say it,s sunny every day, hot and bright? What,s that worth?

The sticky humidity and 33 degree temp has moderated after the roaring thunder and Gods flashbulb lightening, and hot rain, so it,s still hot but the sea breeze in the day and the mountain breeze at night keep it tolerable. I sleep under 3 fans, gradually decreasing the volume as the air cools, until first light(6am) when a sheet is cosy,

And i have a volunteer cat, skinny black and white howler who I foolishly fed and now seem to be an adoptive cat dad. Prefers chicken, eats yogurt, never seen an egg, but relents when no snacks are forthcoming. Wild? Sure likes being petted!

Enough detail for now. I,ll try to be more descriptive next time, less day to day. Adios!