#rip wooden pier

[gwenllian-in-the-abbey]

this pier is gone now Folly Beach, 2018 photo by me @gwenllian-in-the-abbey

[daichiduskdrop]

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆·˚ ༘ *𝙎𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡 ⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚

Chapter 28

Pairing: BTS Ot7 X fem! reader

Genre: A/B/O AU, Fluff, Angst, Strangers to lovers,

Warnings: none!

Words: 3370

Taglist:@thelilbutifulthings @ilovemoneymorethenmen @singukieee @cherrysainttt @felicityroth @mageprincess7 @lucis-noctiana @danielle143 @osakis-gf @girl-nahh @vintageoldfashion @neverthefirstchoice @juju-227592 @silentreadersthings @i-have-no-life-charlie @everyonehatesshani @iamkookiesforyou @dragons-flare @fangirl125reader @roseidol @frieschan @popcatx0 @liz67900 @exfolitae

Previous:

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You and the pack members spend some time in the meeting room for sure, with the alphas carefully discussing all of the details about the filming.

While they have gone to similar locations before, this time the filming would be held in a completely different space, which required a bit of information for sure.

The manager, Sejin, showed them all a few photos of the place, mostly overlooks of the spot where you would all (hopefully) be staying.

The photo, taken presumably via a drone, showed a beautiful, healthy-looking forest surrounding a large, modern villa.

There were many things around the area, including a very well-kept tea garden and a large wooden pier leading to water. You weren't sure if it was the ocean or a lake, but the water was a nice dark shade of blue and teal.

On another photo, taken from a different view, you could see a part of a beautiful pool, partly hidden inside a building. Was it also indoors?

There was a beautiful patio, and behind the house was a nice view—mountains ripping through the ground, forest, and trees mostly all the way around.

„We won't spoil you everything, but just know it's a similar style or even better than last time. I think you guys will like it. We also decided that you guys could include more activities this time since it's not lockdown anymore.

We have ordered you all a stay at the traditional spa, and one day we will take you there for a few hours. I'll call in later to see if it's okay to bring Y/N too...”

The older man said gently, smiling at you all. Seriously, a spa too? You didn't get to really visit a proper one ever, since it was always sort of classified as a useless expense, so you never went.

But after seeing a few visits to traditional spas online, you wanted to try yourself. Maybe you would enjoy it!

„It looks nice, hyung." Jin murmured, looking over the photo on his phone since they received it through email.

The alpha, just looking at the place for a few glances, felt satisfied. Neither of them would really complain under the given situation; this was treated partly as a vacation for them; therefore, it already had them excited as it is.

But if they would travel with you, to which all the points have been looking so far, it would mean you would have to get settled in the place well.

After all, they would leave to record in a few months, which most likely will mean you will already, hopefully, be settled with the pack, used to their scents and the packhouse.

The pack members weren't sure how well you did with travelling, especially long distance.

Sure, they were planning on taking you to their families some time soon if everything would go well, but that wouldn't mean you might do well in a completely new area.

Since they took you to Hybe this morning, you have been quite timid and unsettled; don't think they didn't notice.

Of course, it was given that it would happen, and the alphas were neither angry nor disappointed with you and understood that it also had to do with the many staff employed.

With all the new scents of people you didn't know, the giant majority of them were alphas and sometimes betas, and that was okay.

But still, would you be okay if you went with them to their homes? How about the new cities? If you would go to visit Hobi's home in Gwangju, that would be the farthest from Seoul and therefore their packhouse.

The scent would naturally be quite different, and it might be difficult for you to adjust in the short time frame. They were hoping to spend a night with their families too; would that go okay?

The eldest alpha knew that any of them would pack right back up and be on their way to the train station if they noticed you were not adjusting well.

Maybe one of the family members wouldn't be nice to you, though Jin hoped that wouldn't happen. Maybe you would just have a bad day overall; the train ride was not smooth and too long for you to sleep through, and you just wouldn't be happy at all.

Or maybe you would miss them too much, the sudden separation too quick and harsh on your small, gentle, and sweet little heart.

You could start crying and just fully drop on them if that would happen, and the alpha was so sure if that would truly happen, though he prayed for it not, they would all gather as quickly as possible.

The alpha felt his thoughts run quickly, thinking about all the possible issues and problems that might occur.

Of course they would take you with them. You seemed to be so excited that it made him want to give anything to you to make you happy again, but still, naturally, he felt some worry.

„Yeah, it's nice. Would you like to go to the spa too, princess?” Gently running his fingers through your hair, Jimin softly smiled at you, his eyes gentle.

Nodding a little bit, you shrugged your shoulders. There was a possibility you wouldn't be able to go at all after all, so what was the point in getting too excited?

„Alphas will take you then, little kitty.” Yoongi whispered to you, pecking the top of your head as a gentle gesture. Rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, the alpha smiled softly at you.

It didn't take much longer for them all to go through the tremendous amount of details—they had to discuss how many hours of footage would be filmed every day, if there would be cameras installed, then where, and go over the staff and security members included in.

The camera team would stay in a smaller cabin, close but still far enough to be out of range to really see, where they would go over the recorded footage and help with any issues if needed.

After Sejin told them about the den room, they could get prepared for them if they wished for it to be in the location too. After having you whisper out a soft 'yes, please', the alphas were quick to get a little worried about any cameras in the area.

The packmembers could imagine you being shy and quiet in front of the cameras, and while they would try their very best to keep you calm and not too worried in front of the seemingly very intimidating devices, you might have a hard time adjusting in such a short while.

It would be only about 14 days after all, and even when they hoped you wouldn't just feel too timid in front of the camera team, they had already started thinking about the possibility you would be.

In such a case, a space for you to just bundle up and rest for a while without any worries or stress for you to endure would be key. They had to have that possibility for you; it was very important.

And therefore, after a short discussion about only the very minimal footage that would be taken in the den, and only if you all agreed and there would be permission to film, Sejin agreed, quickly writing himself a note to make sure to remember.

The packmembers didn't want you to get worried over the fact that your nest—something so visibly and obviously vulnerable to make and keep for omegas—would be shown to, frankly, to millions of strangers.

Soon, the documents have been signed after minor adjustments were made. Taking your hand in his, Jimin gently pulled you from the table, leading you to the doors after discussing a few things with Sejin and the other manager too.

„Come on, my princess, do you want to go home already? Or do you want to stay here for a little while longer?” The alpha asked you softly, both of his hands placed near your temples as he watched you fondly.

„Can w-we go home, please?” You whispered softly. You didn't really like the building too much. You were getting used to it now that you have been here for a longer time, but still, the many, unknown people passing by and giving you odd glances got to you a little.

Pecking your forehead gently, Jimin pulled you to himself for a few moments. „I'm sorry, my sweet precious baby, but alphas will have to stay in for a little while longer. I have to go to a dance practice, princess, but Taehyungie can take you home. How about that?”

Gently telling you, the older man watched how a small, obviously dissatisfied frown settled on your face. Giggling to himself, the alpha pecked the small scrunch formed between your eyebrows, smiling widely.

„O-okay, oppa...” You whispered, hoping to go home with all of them, but it was okay. They would get home eventually. When did you start calling the packhouse your home anyway?

Hugging you close to himself, Jimin let his soft scent linger on you. He was gentle and caring as he said his sweet goodbyes.

The other packmembers soon also left, a mingle of: „Stay close to Hyung Little Bunbun; Alpha will see you soon.; „Be a good little kitten for alpha."; „We will be home soon, Sunny-Bub, don't worry!” ringing through the hallway as Taehyung took your palm in his, leading you over to the entrance.

After you both got over to the lobby, with the alpha already calling one of their personal drivers, the man gently hugged you, sighing softly, his chin tucking your head under his face.

You were left in a small surprise, shocked at the blatant display of affection, even though you were both standing quite close to the reception desk.

Though the calm beta sitting behind the computer didn't pay either of you much mind, the gentle clicking noise of the keyboard was soft to your ears.

„What would you like to do, baby? It's only the afternoon still, sweetheart. We can go somewhere if you want." Taehyung asked you softly, smiling from ear to ear at how close you were to his scent gland.

Gently running his fingers through the very tips of your hair, the alpha kept his voice gentle, even though the naturally deep rumble was quite far from it.

„Okay, oppa,” you answered softly, breathing in his heavy scent. Happy that you agreed, the alpha's phone softly dinged, notifying you both that the driver was in front of the building.

Adjusting your coat for you, he found a mask in his pocket, helping you put yours on, smiling sweetly at you, and giggling softly. „You're adorable, my baby." He whispered gently, kissing your forehead in a quick peck.

Hiding most of his face himself, Taehyung adjusted his coat, taking your hand in his as he led you through the doors outside, the suddenly much colder air hitting you both like a tidal wave.

There was a black car right in front of the building, its engine running. Opening the back doors for you, the alpha gently helped you slide behind the passenger seat, bending over to adjust the seatbelt around you.

Smiling so widely you could see it in the alpha's eyes, he closed the doors gently, making sure the sound wouldn't be too harsh.

Sliding into the passenger seat next to the driver, the alpha buckled up himself, turning to you and checking if everything was okay. You were looking out of the car; the windows tinted for privacy.

Telling the driver to just take him to their packhouse for now, Tae looked through the available music and radio stations, though there wasn't really anything.

Sighing softly, the alpha hoped he could make the drive pleasant for you, but hopefully you would be okay. He prayed.

Their drivers, and mostly all of their security guards too, had to wear scent blockers so their scents wouldn't accidentally stick to the alpha's clothes.

They wouldn't necessarily mind, but it could be unsettling and agitating, and now that you were with them, it was even more important.

They could imagine you not liking the scent of another alpha on them or yourself, and so it was a good precaution to take.

The driver was quiet, not really striking up a conversation, only making sure to drive extra safely after Taehyung told him he needed to be careful with you in the car with them.

The vehicle stopped in front of the house, the engine turned on as the alpha climbed out of his seat, opening the doors for you before he helped you undo the seatbelt, seeing your fingers struggling.

„It's okay, babycheeks; Alpha will do it, sweet baby.” He whispered gently, his arms then wrapping around your waist, pulling you up to his chest.

He didn't let you stand on your own; the freshly fallen snow and the ice hidden underneath were worrying him on the inside too much to let that happen.

And so, the alpha gently pulled you closer to his body, helping you wrap your legs around his waist. Holding you close to himself, he softly chuckled at how close your face was to his scent gland. The slight tickle made him feel sweet.

Waving the driver off, the car soon backed out of the driveway. Taehyung took you to the packhouse entrance, putting in the long passcode and then using his key to unlock the door.

Switching on the lights, he sat you down on the floor carefully, shutting the doors behind you. „Come on, babycheeks, let's go rest for a little while.” He whispered gently, helping you untie the cute, fluffy boots they chose for you.

Setting them aside, the alpha hung your coat up before he quickly got rid of his own and his boots too. Seeing you waiting for him, a soft yawn escaped your lips had him smiling once again.

„Are you sleepy, baby? Aigoo... cute... Come on, let's go, babycheeks..." He said gently, picking you up once again, not letting you even have a chance to go on your own.

Taehyung walked you both over to the couch, too lazy to go upstairs to his room. Settling you on the sofa, he crawled next to you, laying behind you.

Pulling you close to his chest, the man gently let his chin and cheeks rub against your hair, his scent fully covering yours. You smiled a little, basking in the affection with your eyes closed.

He scented you for a few seconds, his lips occasionally meeting your cheek and forehead, but after he noticed you getting more and more sleepy and tired, he slowed down and rested himself.

Turning on the TV, he gave you the remote, letting you choose whichever movie or series you wanted to see.

Covering you both with a soft blanket, Taehyung let you rest against him, slight rumbles coming from his chest in content.

„Narnia? What a great choice, my sweet babycheeks! I haven't seen that in a long while...” The alpha whispered, pecking your temple as you rested your eyes. The noise turned on just quietly.

You found comfort in the movie, but since you were used to watching it in Japanese as your brother was obsessed with it when you were young, you never heard the Korean dubbing.

It sounded quite weird to you, but after you realised the dialogues really just stayed the same, you settled well, Taehyung's hands gently caressing your sides and arms, sweet and gentle.

You soon fell asleep—a nap that you didn't even know you needed comforting. When the alpha noticed you were in dreamland, he smiled widely, so happy you let him rest with you.

Having you close to himself while sleeping, he felt his deepest needs and wishes he didn't realise he even felt—until now—fullfill.

There was something so deeply satisfying for him, and honestly, for all of them, in having you let your vulnerable side fully out in front of them, leaving them to protect you and take care of everything while you napped.

There couldn't be much of a better feeling than this, the alpha realised, pulling you even closer.

Well, maybe if it were in the den. They seriously needed to get the room started, considering how much both they and you seemed to start to need it.

He could already imagine it so well—all of you falling asleep together in a soft, cuddled-up, warm mess, invited into your nest if you would let them.

They might not need the blankets to cover themselves with; after all, even though it was very cold this December, most of them slept with a summer duvet that was thin and not too heavy.

On the other hand, you had been carefully tucked away into many thick duvets, blankets, and pillows, the alphas making sure you wouldn't wake up from coldness.

Sometimes, when Namjoon would take them out on a camping trip, they would bring hammocks to sleep in.

In theory, they sounded quite comfortable and nice to lay around in; they were a lot less heavy too, so their backpacks wouldn't be that big and bulky.

But when it got to the aftermath of the sleep, most of them would have issues falling asleep in the night.

Sure, Yoongi or Jungkook did drop out within a few minutes; they are just naturally tired, and both could sleep anywhere. But he or Jin sometimes struggled with going to sleep.

And on that one trip, the one that they had this may, the nights were so unreasonably cold that it reminded him of late autumn weather.

During the day, it was more than fine; the occasional breeze was nice to feel as they would get too hot and sweaty otherwise throughout the hike, but as it got into the night, it wasn't that pretty.

They had sleeping bags and even brought the heavier ones, but still, not being able to sleep because of the cold wasn't that nice.

The packmembers wanted to take you camping; they might do it early this spring when it would get nicer out and would be possible, but a hammock was out of options for Taehyung.

The alpha didn't want you to grow cold during the night like he did. He wanted you to sleep comfortable, warm, and with no reason to worry; after all, they would take care of everything now.

He didn't want you to fall asleep because of pure exhaustion, like they would sometimes do in their earlier, more stressful years.

Tae knew that Namjoon would very happily plan a two-day trip for all of you, and while Yoongi would usually grumble and say how it's unreasonable and they could just stay home, the young alpha also knew that if you would look forward to it, which he could imagine you doing, Yoongi would not say a word.

The packmembers would bring a tent then, most likely, maybe two or three, so they wouldn't have to worry about the large space the giant one would take up.

Well, maybe you would like to sleep as a pack, and then they would carry it. But it was okay; that was only a small issue to worry about.

Taehyung knew he would keep you well warmed up during the night. It would be most convenient for all of you to bring sleeping bags, and so you wouldn't be able to truly cuddle during the night like you all might want to do.

But the alpha knew that if you would wake up during the night, the air too chilly and cold for you to rest properly, shivering with your lips blue, he wouldn't hesitate to zip you up into his own sleeping bag.

Just the thought of you being cold and uncomfortable had him hold you closer, his hands gently caressing your sides in gentle circles.

„My babycheeks, it's all good now...Alpha is here."

He whispered gently, more to calm himself, as his imagination felt too real for a moment there, the need to comfort you too strong.

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Next:

[soulshards]

FFXIVWRITE 2024, PROMPT #1: STEER tw: none • words: 1029

guide or control the movement of a vehicle, vessel, or aircraft

The sea’s around Limsa were quiet, a light wind blowing through white sails as ships came and entered the harbour of the city state. Emblems upon banners, flying high the Maelstrom flag and many others from across the realm, it was the peak of trading season. The markets bustled with bodies, people carrying large crates to and from their desired locations as the many ships lining the docks were unloaded and reloaded with their wares.

Feet scrambled upon stone as small legs would sprint across towards the harbour, dusty hands clinging to a loaf of bread as shouting could be heard in the markets, a booming voice telling people to stop ‘the brat’ from getting away with his bread. Either people did not listen, or they did not care - this was not an unusual sight to see urchins stealing to survive.

Maybe it was a hint of sympathy that let the small form of the Miqo’te dart through the crowds and down the wooden planks to the harbour. The dark haired Miqo’te cast a glance over her shoulder as she ran, the path paved out in their memory as they slipped from the edge of the higher decking to drop down to the pathway underneath and slip by the stoned walls towards the end of the pier.

She just needed enough time to eat.

An unmarked ship sat towards the end of the pier, it looked like it had recently docked, as cranes began to load and unload its spoils, men and women in tattered clothing moved around the deck of the ship, busying themselves with this and that. No one seemed to really notice as the small girl snuck through and towards the ship and scrambled up the stairs to the top deck. It was a little quieter up here, ears perking up as rounded iris’s peered around before she’d head up the stairs to the uppermost deck.

The large helm that was used to steer the mighty vessel seemed as good a place as any to rest, as she settled before the wooden post that held it in place. Her back to it, tail sweeping around her, she’d start pulling the bread to pieces and shoving it into her mouth at a feverish pace. Her stomach growled, hunger deep in the child's core, as dirtied fingers tore at the still slightly warm bread and placed it in pointed fangs.

So engulfed in her meal she didn’t hear the heavy footsteps that closed in, she was still young, barely even ten, and her life on the streets had yet to prime her instincts to be more aware. The shadow loomed over her small, thin, form as a very large man leered. Tanned skin, long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, embellished in gold and littered with scars. To her, he was a little terrifying.

“Wha’re you doin’ ‘ere, lass?” His words came out gruff. She scooted away rather quickly when he opened his mouth to speak, the noise causing her to flinch and drop the remnants of the bread she was just devouring.

Wide eyes stared at the man, looking over his attire. He didn’t look like the Maelstrom or a Yellow Jacket. He didn’t look like anything, but he had an air around him that was, unmistakable, someone in charge.

“...eating,” she spoke quietly. It was the truth, after all.

The Highlander let out a chuckle, a deep sound in his chest as he reached for the discarded bread and picked it up. He brought himself to stand fully, peering out into the city for a moment before looking back to Deeza with a small cant of his head.

“Did y’steal it?” He asked, holding the bread up. He didn’t really sound like he was asking.

The Keeper gave a slow shake of her head, pushing off her hands in order to stand up. “No.”

Another chuckle, he brought the bread over in a long stride and held it out. “Wha’s yer name?”

The small Keeper reached for the bread, practically ripping it from his grasp in case he tried to pull it away from her. She scooted further away, towards the railing of the ship, peering down to see how far the drop was. Her brows knitted softly. “Dee,” she’d mumble out, as those wide eyes moved back to the man before her.

“Dee,” the man started, his tone growing a little firmer as he spoke. “Do m’ah favour ‘n get ov’ me ship.”

The Keeper gave a very quick nod, and in a hurried motion she’d pass by the wheel of the vessel and back down the stairs in which she’d scampered up, making her way through the ship and back towards the pier in a light jog. It didn’t seem like he was being completely unreasonable in asking the girl to get off her ship, no one wanted a stowaway, after all. And, he at least gave her the bread back.

A cautious glance was cast over her shoulder as she’d walk back towards the main bulk of the harbour, peering up to the open deck to spy the large frame of the man who had been some semblance of kind towards her, his back turned - carefully watching his crew work.

The Keeper gave a small sniff, wiping at her cheek with a messy hand before she finished eating the last of the bread. It didn’t seem to bother her that it had been on the floor. She got to the end of the pier, looking at the busy harbour as she stopped. A sway of her lion-like tail, ears gave a wiggle, and a grin split over her features. She turned on her heel rather quickly, thin legs sprinting her back down the pier she’d just been chased from, towards the boat where the man still stood at the helm, hands upon the wood that had steered this vessel all across the high seas.

She sucked in a large breath as she ran, still grinning all the same, as she came to the rear of the ship and bellowed out: “Hey! Can I get a lift!?”

Sometimes it didn’t hurt to ask.

[bullet-prooflove]

Hiya 🫣 I have an ask for Nik Sabatino ❤️ The prompt is: #16 “Well we know I’m going away And how I wish - I wish it weren’t so.” Thank you so much.

Companion piece to Burn and Calling Card

References to upcoming Choices!Series

Nik hates this. He hates the fact you’ve been sleeping in the Boatshed, that you’re living out of shopping bags, that everything you own can be packed into the leather brown satchel you were carrying when the house exploded.

The two of you are sitting on the pier outside watching the sun rise in the distance. Your legs hang over the edge of the wooden ledge as you listen to the waves crash against the stilts below. Nik’s arm is wrapped around your shoulders, his face buried in your hair as he clasps you close. The scent of smoke still clings to your skin despite the fact you’ve showered and changed your clothes. It’s a reminder of how close he came to losing you tonight, how his actions had impacted your life as well as his.

“Nik…” You say and he knows what’s coming.

The reason you’re sitting on the dock is because Sam is on his way with the boat. He’s going to take you up the coast under the radar, all the way to Portland. A Navy SEAL friend of his has a cabin off the grid. Sam’s going to stay with you, protect you if it comes down it. Nik just hopes that it’s enough. Ferris is known for being relentless when he’s in pursuit of a target, it’s one of the things that made him such a good operative. The same could be said about Nik.

He thought he was done being Sabatino but he was wrong. He needs that version of himself, the ruthlessness of the persona, the ferocity. He’s going to hunt Ferris down like a fucking dog and then he’s going to kill him.

“Nik, I don’t want to go.” You tell him, tipping your chin up towards him. “I don’t want to leave you here, dealing with this alone…”

“I know.” He whispers, his thumb chasing along the line of your jaw. “But Alana, I need you to do this for me ok? I need to know you’re safe.”

“Nik…” You begin again but he shushes you, cradling your face between both of his hands as he looks into your eyes.

“Alana.” He says firmly. “You are the most precious thing in the world to me. If anything happened to you I would never be able to forgive myself…”

If you disappeared from this world, he wouldn’t be far behind. He’d stick around long enough to wreak havoc on the people responsible but a life without you…

It wouldn’t be worth living.

“The last thing I want is to be away from you, especially after so much time apart.” He tells you, his gravelly voice lowering an octave as he guides your palm to where his heart beats in his chest.  “I need you to promise me that when that boat comes you’re going to get on it and go with Sam. Promise me alright? Promise that you’ll do this for me.”

“Nik…” You implore.

He hears your voice break and something inside of him cracks. He’d spent six months living in purgatory, training his replacement. He’d had no contact with you throughout that time, no phone calls, no texts, just the belief he held in his heart that he was working towards a brighter future, one filled with love, happiness. He’d promised you a life when he left the CIA, one where the two of you could be together and now he’s driving you apart. Again.

“Alana, please…” He begs, his voice rough with emotion. “I can’t lose you. I just can’t…”

His forehead comes to rest upon yours, his eyes stinging as his lips brush over the corner of your mouth. There’s an agony in his chest, every breath feels like he’s being stabbed in the heart, the jagged blade ripping through the intricate vessels until he bleeds out into the depths of his chest.

You see it, he knows you do. He’s never been able to hide anything from you, no matter how much he may try. He hears your exhale of resignation, feels the fight ebb out of your body and he knows he’s won.

“Alright Nik.” You say softly, your fingertips trailing over his cheek. “Alright, I’ll go.”

@kmc1989 @words-and-seeds @novamariestark @whateversomethingbruh

[brighterdaysarebeforeus]

Still Hobie!! (^.^) side note, we’re just gonna have lots of Peters, hahahaha. We’ll use the Spider nicknames to differentiate. (^.^) also, Ham is an actual like…person in this. They’re not running with a random pig, hahaha

Ok enjoy!!

@hobiesgender @royallydivinelesbian

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

The rendezvous point was on the abandoned pier, by the dried up portion of the river. There was a boat, a foot or three below the wooden pier, still tied off to it like the thing would float away on the dirt. Nobody ever came out here, because there wasn’t much out here aside from a long abandoned boat and the depressing sight of the riverbed; it was the perfect hideaway, and honestly sometimes Hobie thought it would be easier if they could stay on the boat full time and not just meet up there every so often.

Only issue was, he had spent his entire life looking over his shoulder for guards; he couldn’t stay in one place for more than a night or two before he started getting paranoid and twitchy. Best to keep on the move and save this place for a backup location when needed.

“He’s here!” Peni yelled down, waving at Hobie from the top of the sails. She liked climbing all the way to the top, despite multiple warnings of slipping or falling or the mast breaking, and she was the perfect person to ensure he hadn’t been followed by anyone. If he had been, she wouldn’t have said anything, but there were calls they’d agreed on to indicate followers. Hobie waved at her, ducking through the cloth they’d hung in place of a door.

“Thought you’d finally got caught.” Gwen said loudly when Hobie made his way onto the boat. She was in her look out corner, facing the doorway and staring pointedly at him as he entered.

“Who, me?” Hobie pointed at himself and grinned proudly, pulling the hoodie off of his head and tossing it at her face. She squealed in surprise when it hit her, and she yanked it away from her with a gag as soon as she could. “Nah, Miguel would never. My guy can only dream of catching me one day, a dream that will never come true.”

“That’s what you say now,” Margo said from her post; she was on the ceiling, sitting on a ledge that stuck out partially from the wall. It was long enough for her to lay down if she wanted to, but only just low enough from the ceiling for her to sit. Her buns were pressed flat against her head, but she didn’t move from where she was leaning and staring down at them. “But one of these days, Hobie Brown, your luck is gonna run out. What are you gonna do then?”

“My luck ain’t gonna run out.” Hobie called back, flopping over onto the couch in the center of the room. Ham was curled up in the armchair, staring at him with wide eyes. He was a somewhat newer addition, snarky and quippy when he wanted to be but still fairly quiet and shy. He usually tended to stick with Peni when he could, though Gwen was a close second for him. “If it does, I’ll be dead and you lot will have to figure out how to carry on without me.”

“Not funny, Hobie.” Gwen jumped over the back of the couch and landed on him, making him grunt and wheeze as he tried to get her off. “Here.” A bagel landed on his chest, and a muffin, and Hobie lifted an eyebrow at her right as he shoved the top part of the muffin in his mouth.

“You rob a bakery or something?” He asked her. Gwen shrugged.

“Ducked through someone baking shit on the way here.” She said. “Thought you would’ve been smart enough to grab your own food, but I guess not.”

“Not my fault.” Hobie said, even as he leaned back to offer the bagel to Ham. The kid looked at it for a moment before snatching it from his hand and ripping it in half. He bit down into one of the halves, watching them both with wide eyes. “Kid and his mother got kicked outta their home. Had to give them something.”

“I am also a kid that got kicked out of their home.” Ham said. “Does that mean I gotta give up my food to strangers all the time too?”

“It’d be nice if ya could.” Hobie said. “Gotta look out for ours since no one else will.”

“There’s a whole royal family who’s job it is to look out for us.” Gwen reminded him, and Hobie met her gaze with a raise eyebrow. They had a silent stare off before Gwen cracked, snickering into the palm of her hand. “Ok, ok, that’s fair.” She leaned back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. “Any other plans for today aside from running from the guards?”

Hobie thought about it for a moment, swallowing his food so that he wouldn’t get lectured from Gwen for talking with his mouth full.

There were several soup kitchens he knew were open. Mrs. Aguilar down the block from the library who probably needed help with groceries or her heating; woman was always needing something, but she had no one else to look out for her and so they stepped in where they could. Miguel was likely still organizing the guards to find Hobie again, especially since they’d gotten so close to catching him today.

“There’s lotsa stuff that can get done today.” Hobie said finally. “What’s the time?”

“About 1:45.” Margo called from ceiling.

“We got time.” Hobie said. “Let’s make a game plan and get to it.”

[yeehawbvby]

My First Kiss (Went a Little Like This) | Piers x OC Maxine

Rating: Teen+ (Explicit Language, Suggestive Themes)

Summary: "In the most cliché, teenage rom-com fashion imaginable, Piers and Max came to an agreement.

If neither of them had their first kiss by the time they were both 21, they’d have it with each other.

It was corny, and they denied it would even come down to that… But here they were. "

Author's Note: I've been completely brainrotted by the friends -> lovers these two have going on lately and HAD to write about it >:3 This all takes place in the past and pre-SWSH.

In case anyone is curious to learn more about Max, her tag on my page is “oc maxine”!!

I hope y'all enjoy this, I had a lot of fun writing it! x

Check it out on ao3!

This is part of a series of one-shots! Please see my SWSH Masterlist for the recommended reading order.

The walls of Max, Piers, and Marnie’s shared apartment were paper thin. It was to be expected. Spikemuth’s never been known for luxury. That said, Max was laying on her bed, her Rotom phone hovering over her face, when she heard a baritone “Oi” from just outside her door as opposed to a knock. 

She checked to make sure her sleep shirt was long enough to not flash her panties at anyone. Had to scoot it down a little bit. Once in the clear, she answered, “What’s up?” 

When Max didn’t hear a verbal response, but rather her dingy doorknob turning and the dragging of socks against the wooden floorboards, she looked to the source. Piers, still in his dark ripped jeans and loose blue muscle tank from the day, offered a lazy grin which Max reciprocated.

She grabbed her Rotom and closed the manga app she had been browsing. Then, she sat up and let the device float over to her bedside table before leaning back onto her palms. Her absurdly long hair, not tied back into its usual low pigtails, got a bit wrapped up around her arms in the process; and as Piers sat down beside her, he helped detangle it.

“Everything alright?” she asked, eyes focused on her friend’s pale fingers. 

Piers grunted in place of an answer. After finishing his work on her hair, he playfully insulted her, “How’s it feel to be an old hag?” 

Snorting, Max lightly tapped his right side with her right knee. She met his eyes, squinting her own. “Not even an hour after my birthday and you’re already bullying me?” 

“You did the same thing last month.”

“Yeah,” she explained, “you were an old fart last month.”

“And now you’ve caught up t’me.”

“And I’m as young as can be,” Max wistfully retorted. Piers rolled his eyes, his grin betraying the action. “You come in here just to harass me, or what?” she asked.

“Quite the opposite, actually.”

Max tilted her head to the side. Some stray hairs fell into her face, which she quickly tucked away behind her ear. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Piers sighed, looking down. He almost looked a bit shy. “You remember that little pact we made a few years back?”

Max scrunched her nose. “We’ve made plenty of those.”

“Well, yeah, but… jus’ think about it.” 

Max looked up, trying to recall which one he was talking about specifically.

There was that one where Piers promised to hire her as gym and concert staff if she couldn’t find a steady gig (that wasn’t illegal), but they were past that point by now. She’d been at his venue for a few months.

Another where she told him that, since he took her in, she’d do the same for him and Marnie if it ever came down to that and she was able. But they were up to date on bills, so she doubted that was the case this time.

Hmm… 

Oh. 

It was just over two years ago. Her and Piers were sitting in her tent — her home at the time. Snacking, listening to music, chatting while they watched the denizens of the city go on about their nights. 

Marnie was at a friend’s sleepover play-date a few blocks over, Max’s Misdreavus was curled up and sleeping on her crappy blow up mattress, and all of Piers’ Pokémon were tucked away in their balls for the night. Piers’ 19th birthday was coming to an end, and Max’s would arrive exactly one month later.

They had both been lamenting the fact that they’d gone so long without dating anyone, let alone having their first kisses yet. How pathetic they were, how much it sucked, how they felt like they were so far behind other trainers of their age because of it.

They acknowledged that it made sense — sure, Piers was an up-and-coming rockstar and queued to be the new Dark-type gym leader after the current competitive season ended, so he had far more chances at romance than the average person... But he was an introvert, through and through. So was Max. She’d never really put herself out there, so she didn’t stand a chance.

In the most cliché, teenage rom-com fashion imaginable, they came to an agreement. If neither of them had their first kiss by the time they were both 21, they’d have it with each other. They found each other attractive and felt comfortable enough in their friendship that they didn’t think it would be weird at all, so it kind of just made sense.

It was corny, and they denied it would even come down to that…

But here they were. 

There was a short silence as the memory hit Max like a freight train, her cheeks gradually growing rosier. “Oh,” she chirped, still zoned out with her gaze off of Piers.

He laughed, bringing Max’s attention back. “There ya go,” he teased. “Knew it would come to ya.”

She looked down at her lap, smiling and playing with a piece of her hair as she batted his side with her knee again. “So, like… now, huh?”

“Only if you still want to,” Piers reassured her. “I’d be wounded by the rejection, but I reckon I’ll live.” 

Max appreciated the lightheartedness of his approach. She took a deep breath, then looked up at his face. His was a little pink too. Well, what she could see of it, at least.

Piers’ hair, now longer than she’d ever seen it, draped down to the middle of his back, with side bangs reaching just below his right cheek. It was styled half-up today. He’d been experimenting with how to maintain it, wanting to grow it out for his ~brand~ but struggling to figure out a good style with how thick it was.

It looked… really, really good like this.

He cleared his throat. Max blinked, realizing she’d been staring. 

Oh god.

Why was her heart beating so fast?

“Alright there?” he grinned.

“Yeah, sorry,” she answered, shutting her eyes. Took another deep breath. “Um… yeah,” she nodded, a breathy laugh escaping her. “Let’s do this.”

“Cool,” her friend responded, still grinning.

“Cool.” Max smiled sheepishly. She was growing more excited about this than she cared to admit. “So, how do you wanna go about this?”

“Well, I figured we could just mash our faces together and see what happens.”

Max got up onto her knees and rotated a little, shimmying herself closer to Piers. She sarcastically remarked with a laugh, “Oooh, you’re so smart!” while lifting her hair out of the way of her legs. 

She sat down onto her calves and dropped her brown and pink tresses while Piers angled his body more towards her’s, only slightly adjusting from his previous position as he quipped, “S’about time you noticed.”

As Piers lowered his right hand to the mattress, he gnawed at his lower lip. Swallowed hard. Max watched the bob of his Adam’s apple and wondered if he knew that he looked as antsy as she felt. She wondered if she looked as antsy as she felt, too. The thought made her more nervous, so she began fidgeting with the bottom of her oversized tee.

“Ready?” Piers breathed, his gaze flickering to Max’s lips for a moment.

All Max could manage to do was nod. Her grip on her shirt tightened when Piers leaned in a smidge. His eyes lowered to her lips again, and stayed there, which made her tummy tingle.

Max looked at his lips too. Has Piers always had such nice lips? They looked so smooth… and served as a subtle reminder for her to wet her own. She didn’t want Piers’ first kiss to be with sandpaper.

He smirked at the action, and for some reason, that made her breath hitch. Piers leaned in a little more. So did Max. She could feel his breath on her face now. She felt like she was going to die. Why was this so nerve-wracking?

A little further… and their noses were touching oh my god it was really happening! 

Max chanced one last glimpse up at Piers’ eyes just as he decided to do the same. His pupils were huge. Was that normal? She had read about eyes doing that when you look at someone you think is pretty, but she didn’t think it was real.

Were her pupils that big too? 

She slowly looked back down, and felt an amused huff against her lips.

Piers angled his head a little to the right, and Max mirrored him, parting her mouth slightly and letting her eyes flutter shut. Their lips touched, and lingered there for a moment, before Max and Piers simultaneously locked them together.

After a few short seconds, they separated. Neither of them spoke as they hovered just in front of each other. Max was unsure of what Piers was doing, but she was still staring at his lips, as if in a trance. She could see both of their chests heaving slightly in her periphery. To her surprise and delight, Piers dipped back down. 

He kissed her with a little more confidence this time. It felt nice. Max smiled against him as she reciprocated, hoping it wouldn’t ruin anything. Her worries were quelled when Piers did the same. The solidarity made her smile more toothily, and he followed suit.

They tried to kiss through it anyway. Their teeth bashed together a little, and they both laughed quietly about it before resuming. Rather than pulling away again when they unlocked this time, they simply repositioned, testing the waters of how it would feel if they’d both leaned to their respective lefts.

…Yep, still good.

But not as good. They silently agreed to go back the other way.

Max felt the bed shift a little, followed by the warmth of a large hand against her cheek.

Oh, she really liked that.

She parted her lips again and kissed Piers deeper, removing her left hand from her lap and placing it on the bed in front of her knee; giving herself some leverage to lean in closer. His hand slid a little further back, his thumb remaining on Max’s cheek while his fingers brushed her neck and tangled through her hair. He matched her energy, kissing her harder, and Max sighed dreamily through her nose as he began gently nudging her backward.

She took it in stride, leaning back on her right hand for support while repositioning her legs in front of her. To assure him that she had no intentions to break their kiss as she moved, Max used her left hand to brush Piers’ hair away from his right eye, keeping it between her middle- and forefinger while placing the rest of her hand against his cheek.

Max’s mattress dipped around her as Piers finished lowering her down to her pillow. He kept his body to her right side still, but his right hand was now caging her beneath him. His other hadn’t left her head. Now that she was fully prone, Max got a little cozier, keeping her right leg flat but bending her left knee. She also brought her now-free hand to Piers’ other cheek. She subconsciously brushed soft strokes against his skin with her thumb, which he absolutely loved . 

Considering this was both of their first kisses, Piers wondered how it was going so perfectly. For now he would chalk it up to the fact that he was kissing his best friend. Because obviously the person who knew him best would know how to kiss him well… right?

Piers decided to savor the moment now, question it later.

Besides, his thoughts were broken by a blissful, almost heady sigh from Max.

He pulled away a bit, reveling in how Max craned her neck up a little in an effort to chase his lips. When he opened his eyes fully, looking down at the scene he’d caused, he was caught off guard.

Max’s mane was splayed around her, looking soft as ever. Her eyes sparkled with a glint he hadn’t seen in them before, and likewise, her pupils were blown wider than he could’ve ever expected. Her lips were red and swollen, still parted as she softly breathed out through them before closing them together. Cheeks were redder than they had been earlier, too. 

Max was just as starstruck by the view above her. Piers’ cheeks had more color than she’d ever seen in them, given how ghostly his skin was. His hooded eyes had a certain look about them that she couldn’t pinpoint. He looked… enamored by her.

That wasn’t right, was it?

She ignored it, favoring how almost ravenous Piers looked as well. God. 

Just like her own lips, his were swollen from all the use. She kept her hands on his warm cheeks. Played with the hair between her left fingers a little as she watched him watch her.

His lips twitched, and she perked up in anticipation. 

“Can I try something?” Piers asked, his voice quiet and slightly hoarse.

Curious, Max nodded. “Okay.” 

Piers lowered himself down again, but as he did so, he repositioned his hand lower on her face. His pointer remained against her jawline while most of his other fingertips laid on her neck. His thumb rested against her chin, though. Max didn’t close her eyes just yet, curious about what her friend had in mind.

Piers chastely kissed her again. She kissed back, like the gentlewoman she was. Then, he added pressure to her chin, gently using his thumb to tug Max’s mouth open. Her eyes widened as she felt his tongue slip past her teeth and against her own. She shut her eyes again, but the noise that came from her throat as Piers experimented was downright embarrassing.

He sealed the kiss in favor of laughing quietly.

Shit.

“You like that?” he whispered, his gaze hungrily flickering between Max’s eyes and lips.

Oh.

Oh.

Why did he have to say that like… like that?!

Max’s mouth opened and closed a few times before she settled on simply nodding again, humming “Mhm” for some extra confirmation. 

“Good,” he murmured before repeating the action.

Max was a little more responsive this time, now that she was more prepared. She did her best to swirl her tongue around his without overdoing it. A strong sigh left Piers and she figured she was doing something right. Her hands traveled further, both her fists tangling into his hair. Tugging a little as they all but sucked each other’s faces off. 

Satisfied with their new rhythm, Piers tested the waters some more. Tentatively, he brushed his hand down Max’s throat and onto her collarbone, then down her side. Repositioned himself so that his right leg was between both of hers. He shuddered as she lightly sucked his tongue, then felt her shudder as he cheekily tugged her bottom lip between his teeth.

He squeezed her hip, and thought he was going to fucking faint when she – subconsciously, he assumed – rutted against his thigh a little.

It was then that he noticed their breaths were getting heavier and louder, and their hair messier. He also realized that, at some point, Piers lifted Max’s huge shirt to her tummy; that he was squeezing her bare hip, only slightly clothed by some soft cotton panties. He didn’t even mean to do that. Either she didn’t mind, or she was too lost in his lips to notice.

At this rate, Piers thought, things might go too far if I don’t calm the hell down.

Reluctantly, Piers pulled back. Unable to resist, he left one more lingering kiss against Max’s lips before actually breaking off. His palm was still against her hip, now rubbing soft circles against her skin.

Max sighed, slowly opening her eyes. Looking into Piers’ through her lashes. Seems like they had the same idea, as they noticed each other trying to settle down a bit. Piers pressed his forehead to hers, and they both shut their eyes again.

“We should probably stop for now,” Piers suggested. His voice was barely there, and Max took note of how somber his words had come out. 

“Yeah,” she whispered, opening her eyelids again.

Piers sat back onto his knees, and Max leaned up, her position similar to how it had been when he entered her room. Just much more disheveled this time. Shamelessly, Piers scanned Max’s body. He’d seen her stomach plenty, given her taste in clothing, but… this was…

Oh god. He had to leave.

Max, watching as Piers checked her out, felt frozen. She wanted to cover her face, but opted to keep staring right back at him. Her throat felt dry.

“Um…” She got back on her knees, sitting in the same position Piers was in. “That was… that was cool.” She giggled a little, fully aware of how dumb she sounded.

Piers couldn’t help but laugh too. “Yeah?” Max nodded. “Yeah,” he finally agreed, “it was.” 

“Yeah…” Max looked down at her lap – now covered by her shirt again – and resumed her earlier fidget, playing with her hair. “Not too shabby for our first.” She looked up, a playful glint in her eyes as she held a fist in front of her.

Piers snorted and bumped it with his own. “Nerd,” he commented.

Max switched it up, now flipping Piers off. He did it back. They often greeted one another this way.

Slowly, Piers got back on his feet, still facing Max as he backed away from the bed. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” 

Max nodded. Again. He’d never seen her this shy, at least since back when they were barely acquainted. 

It was cute.

“Yeah.” Max had a super dopey grin on her face.

It made Piers happy.

He had no idea that he was sporting the same look on his own features, nor did he know how happy that made Max as well.

Piers turned to approach the door, but looked back over his shoulder after opening it. “G’Night, Max.”

“Night, Piers.”

Once alone, Max flopped back on the bed. Her hands covered her face and she rolled onto her tummy, freeing her hands only to squeak her feelings into her pillow.

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

This coin operated viewer has been banged up, inoperable.

To: Roundabout North

To: Capeside apts, Martinaise pier

The ad reads: 'Broken Window? Tibbs has windows!'

You hear the distant squall of seabirds.

"C'mon... (hic) the night's still young."

Attempting to talk to this sleeping drunk will only net a single sentence of random dialogue. However...

We can take this plastic bag.

This plastic bag has "Frittte" (sic!) written on it in a dynamic, forceful manner that implies great prices. As you crack it open a malty gust of air flies in your face. Smells of yeast and beer. A perfect place for tare!

Equipping the bag allows us to pick up tare, which we can take to Frittte in exchange for small change.

A splatter of bullet holes lines the wall.

COIN-OPERATED VIEWER - This coin-operated viewer is facing southwest. Its coin-slot is full of fossilized bubblegum, rendering the machine permanently inaccessible.

"Poor little viewer..." (Pat it.)

"Vandalism." (Shake your head.)

Look inside.

[Leave.]

COIN-OPERATED VIEWER - The metal feels cold and wet under your palm. It looks unhygienic.

2. "Vandalism." (Shake your head.)

KIM KITSURAGI - "Probably some kids..." The lieutenant inspects the rigged slot.

3. Look inside.

COIN-OPERATED VIEWER - A thick layer of graffito covers the lenses -- you spell out the word "ONUC" written on the other side -- with N and C scribbled backwards.

Shift your focus to the background.

COIN-OPERATED VIEWER - Under the graffito a sea of blues and greys appears -- behind the water lies a coast studded with concrete and reeds. On it -- a church on stilts, lanky weather-worn wooden planks, an x-shaped cross topping its tower.

INLAND EMPIRE [Medium: Success] - The church looks old and weather-worn. There are no lights in the windows.

4. [Leave.]

COIN-OPERATED VIEWER - This coin-operated viewer is facing South. The instruction manual says to insert twenty five *centims* and pull the handle while looking inside, then use the focus knob to zoom in if necessary.

We do need money, but... it's 25 cents.

COIN-OPERATED VIEWER - Your money disappears into the coin-slot. A clunk, the ring of metal...

Pull the handle and look inside.

COIN-OPERATED VIEWER - The curtains on the display open. You lean in to catch the view -- it's blurry, different blues and greens. In the middle of the shimmer stands a drab grey shape, like a ghost.

Turn the knob to focus your vision.

+5XP

COIN-OPERATED VIEWER - The lenses shift, the ghost sharpens into an islet in the bay. In the ruins a man-made structure is visible: a half-sunken sea-fort, its concrete almost reconquered by nature.

It looks as if it was abandoned quite some time ago, nothing but a rotten tooth remains of the anti-aircraft tower. A lonely birch tree grows out of it.

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] - Its leaves ripped from it by the winter wind...

"Hang in there, little one..."

"There are ruins of some kind of building there..."

[Leave.]

COIN-OPERATED VIEWER - The little brave birch-tree seems to wave back in the wind.

2. "There are ruins of some kind of building there..."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Really? I don't have the eyesight to make it out..." The lieutenant takes off his glasses and cleans them.

3. [Leave.]

A lonely cormorant surveys the sea, indifferent to your approach.

[ultramaga]

In Iain M Banks works, the life expectancy of those in his utopia was set to a thousand years, because he believed people would tire of life. Well, I am, rounding up, one century old, and if my body was repaired, would be happy to live a thousand centuries, even with a perfect memory, so long as I was fit and free. There are many joys in life, simple and complex, and the simplest are not the least.

Admittedly a bit of money can make things more fun...

But some of the happiest moments of my life have been doing simple things. 

I’d find great joy in playing old games once more. 

It would be bliss to be as I was, and bounce up stairs and run down hills, and feel the boundless energies of youth. 

I used to do this walk and think nothing of it, and the steps would blur under my feet. I spent years dreaming of places like this when I moved away from Manly. 

The rock steps that loosely shuddered underneath, the clonk clonk as my sneakers impacted wooden bridges. I would see people doing this on chilly mornings. 

I thought they were mad. I would buy a hot meat pie or some chips, and sit on a wall, bothered by seagulls. My grandfather was an iceberg, and it was a point of pride to leap into the waters of winter, which I barely managed as a boy. Imagine being able to do that again, to be young, and free, and dive into those numbing waters, and laugh as a towel large enough to wrap your whole body is your reward, and a square pie smothered in tomato sauce your breakfast. I miss the past. I’d go back if I could, even if it was just virtual reality and just a recreation. 

Everything I knew at Manly has disappeared now, almost. I look up, and even the Australian flag has been gone, to be replaced by the Leftist one. I’m surprised they have not put the ‘rainbow’ flag up as well - maybe they have since then.

It was falling apart, but oh I loved it. The old Manly Fun Pier. I miss the relatives I had, the family, and a recreation couldn’t bring that back, but to walk the humble amusement park of the 1970s would mean a lot to me. Plus, I miss the casual toplessness of the women at the beaches. Or the braless hussies. You don’t see that any more, alas! I don’t miss the old pubs. 

The violence, the desperation, the stink of cigarettes, spilled beer and piss. But the simple pleasures of the transportation, oh yeah, take me back to that! 

I can’t tell you how much of a thrill this used to be. I hear the government is talking about forcing everyone to go back to sail, and abandon the freedom of fossil fuels. 

No more ferry rides for the peasant class. Sometimes it wasn’t much fun. 

But as a child, the ferry opened up the world to me. I’ve always had trouble with buses, they make me feel very sick, but for some reason I could cope with ferries, even if the ground swayed terribly afterwards. 

Five Bells Deep and dissolving verticals of light Ferry the falls of moonshine down. Five bells Coldly rung out in a machine's voice. Night and water Pour to one rip of darkness, the Harbour floats In the air, the Cross hangs upside-down in water.

i love small joys so much!!!! yes i love my coffee in my favorite mug!!! i love the sun spilling in the window!!! i love the wind on my face!!! i love my blanket over my lap!!! i love the clouds in the sky!!!! i am seeking joy in every moment!!!!

[lyanmeart]

Dessa Callamoon and Fenris Eyolf

........

Peering out from behind a wooden box within the alleyway, Dessa saw a group of people on the pier.

"We're done." Fenris growled as a glow surrounded his body for a moment, swiping his clawed mimicked hand inches from the other man's body. Ghostly claws ripped across the man's chest seconds after. Once fearful eyes, the light drained and dulled as his head fell. With a swipe of Fenris's hand, his men tossed the man into the ocean. No more would be taken in the dead of night, sold off to unknown lands, the monster was gone. A relief washed over Fenris as instructed everyone it was time to go.

Dessa was terrified at the sight she saw, pulling back a nail fell to the ground, a ghostly wolf ear pointed in her direction. Immediately she ducked back down.

Fenris looked over but didn't spot anyone, however a scent of honeysuckle caught his attention and he knew someone had seen everything. The spirit didn't feel the need to send off alerts. The person wasnt threatening. He called his men to go home without him, opting to walk instead. If they saw him use his powers, he'd had to dispose of them quickly. Annoyed someone was even awake at this hour.

........

Fenris Eyolf embodies an ancient wolf's spirit. Being able to use it's claws like weapons, ears for heighten hearing, a tail for extra balance and agility. Originally a curse within his family from his mother's side, he learned how to cooperate with the noble spirit. Now he works to rid the city of his's father more unsavory criminal underside and those refusing to change their business model to be more morally light grey than dark.

Loves ginger flavored snacks, has a major sweet tooth and loves to snuggle animals.

........

Dessa Callamoon is a reporter and a physical fitness trainer. Always curious about the world around her. Unable to calm her thoughts she enjoys the relaxing sounds of waves and almost dead silence on her night runs, however a slight commotion caught her attention ad she passed an alleyway leading to the docks. Immediately her journalistic side kicks in as she goes to investigate.

Obsessed over folklore and urban legends. 💕

[blue-opossum]

How Ichabod Crane Came to Life at the Library

        How Ichabod Crane Came to Life at the Library

        Tuesday morning, 31 October 2023

        Common Trope Correlation: When my real-world consciousness is "unplugged" in sleep, so is my body (REM atonia).

        The Pier:

        Walking on a pier or bridge over water has remained a predominant dream state entry trope (including offset outcomes in a different mode) for over 50 years. It encapsulates my directive of imaginary leg mobility to move above (or through) the "waters of sleep" without real-world emotions or physicality. It is a blissful and peaceful mentation and recognition of the relaxing dynamics of sleep and the beauty of dream state illusions.

        There is a predictable and typical point at which Zsuzsanna and I walk on the wooden slats about an inch below the water. I enjoy the slight movement of the boards under my feet (as in virtually countless previous dreams). The water is about an inch under our knees at one point.

        Britannia Bridge and Proto-Cognizance Staging:

        The pier begins to integrate with a distorted version of Britannia Bridge. I find myself in a sizeable library that is part of the bridge. (Libraries are the predominant setting resulting from proto-cognizance, that is, the focus on dream state mental modeling in contrast to imaginary physical modeling.)

        REM Atonia and Precursory Consciousness Modeling:

        A statue of Ichabod Crane stands in the recess of one wall. There is only a vague association with Halloween ("Tales of Washington Irving," the 1970 cartoon I used to watch each year growing up that also included "Rip Van Winkle").

        (The second image - if available - is only a representation. In my dream, the white plug-in panel was smaller and about an inch below the statue's knees, which was the depth of the water in the previous scene. It also created a glow in an otherwise unlit area.)

        I press a white panel on the lower right that features the black silhouette of a plug-in that faces left, thinking that a Halloween theme will appear, but nothing happens other than the sound of a doorknob suddenly turning.

        Eventually, I see Ichabod Crane at the service counter. I feel puzzled because he was unattractive in the story and the cartoon, yet he would likely be considered handsome in this scene. I sense that some unfamiliar people in the library are checking out books about climate change.

[greywoodrpg]

𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕪 𝕝𝕒𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕤𝕜𝕚

he was born thirty-three years ago, is a werewolf and lives in the outskirts as an aspiring carpenter, and is in no pack. he looks an awful lot like arin hanson.

“If isolation tempers the strong, it is the stumbling-block of the uncertain.”

tw: violence, attack, injury, gore

Grey grew up on a disused farm. Although there were no animals to care for, there was always something that needed to be worked on; and so Grey spent most of his childhood collecting sticks and rocks. Whether it be to mend a fence, keep a fire or create playful worlds of fantasy with a wooden sword, he was almost always outside, covered in mud and uninterested in anything else the world had to offer. He was generally a quiet boy and was known to have a big heart, but not a lot of brains. He dropped out of high school and got a job at a warehouse at the edge of his hometown, looking out onto the marina.

He worked there peacefully for several years, having no real aspirations or need to earn more. His parents didn’t mind him staying at home as he was almost never there. Even as an adult, he spent his days outside. He was a keen woodworker, hut builder and fisherman. Sometimes, he’d be gone all weekend, only to return late Sunday evening more mud than man. These days were long and peaceful and he looks back upon them with a fondness.

Things changed for Grey one summer evening. He was walking home from work and noticed a gull down by the marina. It was trapped in netting that was hanging off of a moored yacht. Thinking only of the animal, he took a whittling knife out of his pocket and began to cut it loose. As the freed gull took to the skies, the sudden change of pace knocked Grey off balance and he fell off of the pier and into the sea. When he looked up again, there stood the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life. She didn’t help him out of the water and kept her distance from him at all times, but they spoke briefly. She introduced herself as Bea. She had seen him from her family’s yacht and thought he was very brave. This faint praise was enough for Grey to be smitten. Every day from then onwards, he made sure to walk past the marina on his way home from work. If she was there, they would wave to one another and talk briefly and it was the highlight of his day, every time.

With Bea’s family only mooring there for a few weeks in the summer months, Grey’s life was otherwise stagnant. This cycle repeated for a few years until Grey plucked up the courage to offer Bea a gift. It was a hand carved wooden figure of a rabbit holding a heart. He couldn’t really read her reaction, her face seeming more unnerved than he’d been anticipating, but he thought no more of it until the next night. This time, Bea was off of her family’s boat and once again down on the pier. She greeted Grey warmly and hugged him for the first time. Whilst they were hugging, she whispered in his ear. She asked him to run away with her, saying she could never be with him under her father’s watch. They would leave at midnight that night and would meet under the biggest tree on his family’s land in the light of the full moon.

Midnight arrived and Grey was waiting for Bea alone in the cold, but she never came. It was a trap. From deep within the long grass, a pack of mysterious shadowed beasts appeared and leapt at Grey, beating him savagely. Their claws raked his skin and their fanged mouths ripped hairs from his head. In the midst of everything, one beast’s overzealous fangs pierced Grey’s neck. He doesn’t remember any details from the rest of that night. However, he came around the next morning in a patch of dirt, beaten and alone.

From then on, Grey was even more quiet and reserved than before. He quit his job and spent almost all his time outside working on various projects he’d cobbled together, selling handmade furniture if he ever needed a top up on cash. When the full moon came around once again, it was made clear as to what exactly had attacked him all those weeks before. His body changed against his will until what was left in its place was little more than a wild animal. An oversized timber wolf with the temperament of a puppy dog. He looked nothing like how he remembered the savages that attacked him, but, perhaps his memory failed him in the dark.

Grey tried to move on from what had happened, keeping his newfound lycanthropy to himself. But, every time he thought he could relax, an unfamiliar scent or unrecognisable track would bring him right back to that very moment of pinpointed fear. In early spring, in the dead of night, Grey heard a chorus of howling carrying on the wind surrounding his home. Unable to think rationally about anything or anyone, he fled off into the night, paws meeting dirt until they could run no more. He collapsed in some bracken miles away from anything and everything he’d ever loved. He never returned home, spending months travelling wherever his nose took him. He grew to rely on his lycanthropy, his heightened senses aiding in hunting and gathering and his fur keeping him warm when the cold seasons settled in. He hadn’t spoken to anyone in a long time and as his routine wore in, he missed company less and less.

Grey eventually settled in the outskirts of the, aptly named, Greywood. Having stumbled upon the sleepy forest, he’d felt a peace within it. A peace he hadn’t felt for a long time. With the fog offering cover, he decided to settle down the best he could. Over time, he built himself a rudimentary shelter, just enough to keep out the wind and rain and store a bed and other basic necessities. He spends his days hunting and collecting supplies to either use or attempt to sell. More recently, he’s been seen skulking closer to the town, as if unsure as to whether he even belongs amongst his fellow man anymore.

“what power did he attain when settling in greywood?”

None.

penned by... magpie

[toweringclam]

Tusitala the Dancer (Octopath OC)

"I will never be your slave, so long as I can dance."

Links to previous: Osanna the Cleric, Clyde the Merchant

Name: Tusitala Job: Dancer Gender: Male Element: Fire (Spell: Torch) Latent Power: Mana Dance (Using dance skills grants random party buffs) Appearance: Big. REALLY big. Like about 2/3 a Maui big. He's inspired by various polynesian cultures, especially the Maori. Bare (and VERY broad)-chested. He wears the remains of a boiler suit, stripped to the waist and legs ripped off at the knees. The sleeves are tied around his waist like a belt. Friendly Action: Allure Unfriendly Action: Tale (Gain information by breaking them. Instead of his normal attacks, he has a suite of different attacks to represent the fact he's telling a competitive story here, not just beating them senseless) Starting Region: Noland. Noland is an artificial region created by a mix of concrete piers, wooden boardwalks, sargassum mats, derelict ships, and the occasional small, overdeveloped island. It's a mix of high and low technology that has accumulated over time. It's also the seat of the Noland Republic, one of the main antagonistic forces of the game. Starting Town: Fleeton. This city is one of the oldest and therefore most decrepit parts of Noland. It's mostly made of old ships and sargassum mats so thick you can walk on them. The sun rarely shines here due to the thick smog created by the factory, the only part of the town built on a stable foundation. Starting Story: Originating in the Cloud Islands, recently arrived at Fleeton as a less-than-willing immigrant due to causing trouble back home. Flashbacks to him as a child and teen show him learning the traditional dances of his people, before the Noland Republic moved in and "civilized" them. Wears a boiler suit for the first part until he pops the buttons in the boss fight, when he decides he's done with this and escapes from the factory. Goal: To fulfil a legend he remembers from his childhood, that anyone who can dance the four corners of the earth will be a great hero in his people's time of distress. By dancing the four corners, he can liberate his people. Battle Motif: "To Restore Freedom," a driving and intense number incorporating traditional instruments like slit drums.

Tusitala is probably my favorite character and what started this entire thing. I wanted to make someone who was as different from other dancers as possible. Strong and powerful rather than light and graceful. Not as dark as Primrose, but not as light as Agnea. I see him as being boisterous and energetic but also having a dark side filled with anger at what has happened to his people.

It wasn't until I got started writing this particular entry that the Noland Republic really gelled for me. The thing about them is, they see themselves as the good guys and the underdogs. Starting out as exiles centuries ago, they've had to fight for everything they have. And now they're one of the dominant forces in the world, but they still see themselves as the underdog. Their form of domination is more soft power; economic, cultural, etc, compared to their rivals (who I'm still working on), who are all about hard military conquest.

The biggest change from his initial concept is the boiler suit. Originally I had him in more traditional gear, but when I came up with his starting region, it seemed right to put him in something a little more fitting. Also, having him start in bondage emphasizes the plight of his people , when originally I was gonna have him start on the Cloud Islands

[mikesdiveblog]

I just did a terrible dive, and I loved it. It was an unseasonably warm New Year’s Day – bright sunlight and 53 degrees at the Jersey Shore.  I had already done my traditional Polar Bear Plunge at noon, along with our friends and their kids.  High slack tide was at 3 PM, and the vis report from the day before was fantastic.  Over 10 feet (very good for a shore dive) and some of the surfers were saying that the water in the inlets was as clear as they had ever seen it.

 So even though I had packed up my gear for the season, and was looking forward to hitting the slopes for the next few months, I figured I would do a dive.  I coordinated with Jason – someone I found on the local shore diving messaging group – to hit the Shark River inlet in Belmar around 2:30, entering from the beach jetty.  Jason had scouted out the site and reported very few fishermen on the pier, which was a good thing – I had been hooked there once before.  Since the current would still be running in, the plan was to ride it up to around A street and then turn back and swim to the entrance/exit point on the slack or outgoing tide.

 We typically enter the water off the Jetty from the Belmar beach, just east of the southern abutment of the Ocean Avenue drawbridge.  The bridge has two large concrete towers (called “piers”) which support the roadway and the mechanism of the “bascule leaves” that open for larger ships.  The piers divide the waterway into three portions, directing traffic to the center of the inlet (between the piers).  Wooden pilings and planking protect the piers from boats and vice versa.   Divers try to stay closer to the riverbank and out of the central channel – with varying degrees of success, as we shall soon see!

 The beach jetty entrance is one of the harder ones in the area, especially if you are carrying a heavy camera (which I always do).  But I eventually made it down the slippery boulders and dropped into the water.  The vis was clearly not what it had been the day before.  I could barely see the tips of my fins, which meant maybe 5 feet.  Oh, well.  I told Jason that if I didn’t see him again during the dive, I would see him on my phone in the message group.  I dumped air from my BC and dropped towards the southern shoal of the Shark River inlet.

 Several things became immediately apparent.  The vis at depth was much worse than on the surface, maybe 2 feet at best.  The current was ripping – we must have gotten in a little early – and I was being blown through the midwater murk with no landmarks.  And Jason had gone back to being just a name on the GroupMe app (I can never do these dives with a buddy anyway, so at least that part was going according to plan).

 That was all OK, I was having fun!  I knew that I was heading west, under the bridge and into the Inlet towards A street. My awesome Seac Komoda 5 mm wetsuit (they don’t pay for this product placement) kept me warm and comfy in the 45 degree water. I even tried to take a picture.  It probably won’t make the cover of National Geographic, but hey, it’s a nice memory for me, so I included it in the album at the top of the page.

 But eventually I had had enough.  The only life I saw on the whole dive was one lonely little crab who must have been left behind when his buddies headed to Boca for the winter.  Time to head back to where I parked my car, by the entrance point on the beach jetty.  The current was still running, but it had started to fall off as high slack tide approached.  I moved slowly east with a combination of finning and puling myself from rock to rock on the bottom.  It got dark, which told me that I was back under the bridge.  And then I found myself swimming through a bunch of nasty looking uprights, including pieces of steel rebar with sharp rusted ends that were part of the bridge substructure.  I threaded through them, upcurrent, but something didn’t feel quite right.  

 As always when in an active waterway, I was towing a dive float, which is a flag on a Styrofoam base tied to some strong string, known as “line”.  I use a special reel for this line, running out enough to reach the surface with a little bit of scope (extra line to compensate for the angle to the surface from diving in current).  I clip the reel to my hip, and I have a small breakaway link where the line is tied to the float, so if it ever got snagged by a passing boat, I wouldn’t get towed away on a wild ride.

 I got the sense that this line might have gotten snagged in that bridge structure.  Now that is potentially dangerous.  We have a saying: “line is evil”.  That primarily refers to slack line floating loose in the water, where it can get tangled around a diver’s gear and legs.  It’s less of a problem with line that is under tension, but that’s always an issue.  This is one of the reasons that I always carry two cutting devices – a trauma shears on my belt and something called a “trilobite” on my dive computer wrist strap. This is especially important when you are diving alone, not only in case you get snagged in your own line, but wherever discarded fishing line is a risk.

 My float line wasn’t entangling me (yet), but I saw it going down into the murk of the bridge pilings. Huh, normally it’s supposed to go UP! I just had a bad feeling about this, so instead of following it back down - alone into the muck, current, line and rebar - I surfaced.  I kept close to the bridge pilings to stay away from boat traffic, letting more line out as I went.

 I surfaced on the north side of the south pier, just at the upstream side of the bridge.  Yes, that meant I was in then central ship channel, I must have gotten blown across the river bottom a bit.   Suboptimal. I was holding on to the pilings and planks, and I looked across this open structure to see my flag on the south side of the pilings, with the line heading to the bottom.

 I didn’t want to lose the expensive reel, and I didn’t want to navigate the channel without a flag, on the surface or at depth.  I also didn’t want to cut the line until I was ready to re-secure it to the float. So I unclipped the reel from my waist, tied it off to the planking, and then went around to the south side of the pilings, hand over hand on the structure (the current was still pretty strong).  I cut the float free with my shears, dragged it back to the reel, and tied it to the line again.  With a new functioning float, I made my way back to the exit point.  I then managed to drag myself, my scuba rig, my float, my fins and my camera up those slippery jetty boulders again, and happily made it to stable sand.

 I looked up and saw Jason walking towards me on the beach.  Turns out he had gotten swept up the river with no functioning light and decided to bail out at A street.  He left his gear there, walked back to his car, and drove back to pick it up.

 OK, so it wasn’t the gin clear waters of a Mexican cave.  There were no schooling hammerheads like in the Galapagos.  But it was my home field.  I went diving and only had to leave the family for an hour or so. My carbon footprint was negligible, and my buddy and I both got in the water for the cost of an air fill.  Half of an air fill.   AND, we both got some good practice in solving problems.

 And THAT, my friends, was a good day in the water!

[seahymns]

𝗃𝖺𝖼𝗄  𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌  𝗁𝗂𝗌  𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌  𝗈𝖿𝖿  𝗈𝖿  𝗋𝗈𝗌𝖾  𝖿𝗈𝗋  𝖺  𝗌𝗉𝗅𝗂𝗍  𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽  and  does  the  one  thing  that  he  should  never  do  and  immediately  regrets  —  glances  down  at  the  foaming  waves  below.  a  shiver  races  down  his  spine,  muscles  tensing  all  at  once.  the  same  lake  that  he’s  loved  and  admired  ever  since  he  can  remember,  his  best  friend,  is  now  his  greatest  enemy.  the  water  is  extraordinarily  cold  at  this  time  of  year,  and  crashing  into  it  from  this  height  and  straight  into  those  waves…  jesus.  it  would  be  no  different  than  colliding  with  a  concrete  wall  at  full  speed.  all  he  can  think  of  is  —  i  don’t  want  to  die.  he’s  faced  his  fair  share  of  hardships  in  his  rather  short  life,  and  yet  he’s  still  clinging  to  it  with  everything  that  he  has.  life’s  too  precious  to  waste  it,  even  when  it’s  not  always  easy.  he  takes  a  deep  breath  and  switches  into  survival  mode.   ❝   i  won’t  let  go,  rose!  i’ll  never  let  go,   ❞   he  repeats  his  promise  from  a  few  seconds  ago,  finding  nothing  but  comfort  in  this  mutual  reassurance,  the  unspoken  truth,  that  even  if  they  fail,  neither  will  be  alone  in  their  final  moments.  

seeing  rose’s  struggles,  jack  feels  more  helpless  than  ever  before.  he  can’t  really  lean  over  the  railing  without  risking  losing  his  footing  and  in  the  process  the  grip  on  her  forearm,  neither  can  he  pull  her  to  safety  as  long  as  her  dress  remains  tangled.  maybe  if  he  tugged  hard  enough,  he’d  be  able  to  rip  the  material  off,  but  he’s  not  thinking  clearly  now…  he  grits  his  teeth  and  holds  his  breath  as  rose  attempts  to  cut  herself  free,  his  heart  hammering  in  his  chest,  like  a  bird  in  a  cage.  he  can’t  feel  it  yet  because  he’s  in  shock  and  there’s  adrenaline  coursing  through  his  veins,  but  the  muscles  in  his  arms  are  on  fire.  the  rapidly  changing  wind  continues  to  throw  water  at  the  pier,  tossing  his  hair  this  way  and  that,  pushing  his  bangs  into  his  eyes.  he  can  barely  see  what’s  happening,  but  the  second  the  shiny  fabric  gives  way,  he  can  feel  the  change.  he  pulls  as  hard  as  he  can,  fingertips  digging  into  her  delicate  flesh.  the  whole  ordeal  only  lasts  a  second  or  two,  but  feels  more  a  lifetime.  it’s  only  when  his  hands  manage  to  slip  underneath  her  armpits  that  he  knows  they’ll  be  okay.  he’s  got  a  good  grip  on  her  now  and  there’s  not  a  chance  he’ll  ever  let  go.   ❝   i’ve  got  you.  i’ve  got  you,  rose.  hold  onto  me,   ❞   he  calls  out,  hoping  she  can  hear  him  over  the  sound  of  waves  crashing  against  the  wooden  structure.  he  curls  his  arms  around  her  waist  and  hoists  her  over  the  railing,  hugging  her  close  to  him.  but  then…  he  loses  his  footing,  stumbling  backwards  and  eventually  falling  onto  the  cold,  soaked  pier,  pulling  rose  with  him.  for  the  longest  moment,  he  can’t  speak,  can’t  even  catch  his  breath.

"okay,  i  trust  you,"  voice  quivering,  heart  pounding  at  the  terrifying  form  of  the  large  waves  crashing  in.  making  her  sharply  look  away  and  letting  out  a  yelp  when  she  thinks  she's  being  pulled  in  by  the  one  rolling  in  when  her  knees  get  splashed,  hand  clutching  the  strangers  with  a  DEATH  grip,  "don't  let  go."  she  pleads  even  after  he's  already  promised  in  case  this  is  the  one  that  takes  her  under  and  hopefully  not  him  with  her.  he  has  to  hang  on  to  her  and  her  onto  him,  so  if  they  get  pulled  in  they'll  at  least  be  linked  together  because  now  it  isn't  even  just  her  involved,  it's  a  matter  of  this  boy's  life  too  who  she's  endangering  from  her  foolishness.  she  HAS  to  do  something!  she  grits  her  teeth  and  pulls  harder  and  harder  until  the  material  begins  to  rip  in  the  slightest,  they  have  to  get  out  of  this.  one  more  wave  and  they're  sucked  into  the  powerful  lake.  "i'm  trying,"  she  cries,  forgotten  about  that  small  knife  she's  placed  in  the  inside  pocket  of  her  sheer  sweater  she  put  on  over  her  dress.  that  pocket  knife  she  keeps  stuck  to  her  person  ever  since  cal  showed  her  a  side  that  put  fear  into  her  being,  that  got  her  instincts  to  thinking...  how  is  she  supposed  to  defend  herself  if  he  tries  something  like  strangling  her  in  one  of  his  fits  of  rage?  not  with  her  bare  hands,  that's  for  certain.  so  a  weapon  is  what  she  idealized  to  PROTECT  herself  and  has  put  it  on  her  ever  since.  she  JUST  thinks  of  that  when  her  hand  leaves  the  hem  of  her  dress  and  she  sinks  her  hand  into  the  inside  of  her  sweater,  clumsily  fishing  it  out  and  flipping  it  open,  shredding  the  bottom  of  the  sparkly  material.  quickly  flipping  it  back  closed,  writhing  underneath  the  railing  once  she  finally  comes  free,  "okay!"  she  signals,  clutching  onto  his  forearm  with  her  now  open  hand,  letting  him  know  to  pull  now  IF  they  make  it.

[mistletouchunderthetree]

“Please don’t leave me alone.” ☺️

here's some angst with a hopeful ending! <3 (continues under the read more)

It had been hard to take the step onto the first plank of wood, but Buck had expected that. He'd watched his feet as they made the transition from pavement to boardwalk, avoiding the sign overhead that read Santa Monica Pier. He'd taken deep breaths as the smells of fried food and cotton candy and popcorn filled his nose, trying and failing not to think about the cotton candy he and Chris had shared that fateful morning. 

"You still good?"

Buck startled. Eddie's shoulder was pressed against his, his voice closer than he expected it to be.

"Yeah," Buck said, avoiding his best friend's eyes. They were walking past some game booths now and Buck let his eyes roam over the bored game attendants and excited kids trying to win big stuffed plushies. Buck was pretty sure they hadn't reconfigured the pier exactly the same as it had been before, so he wouldn't be able to find the water shooting game he and Chris had won, but the sight of the line of booths made his heart race and he was suddenly so painfully relieved that they'd made this first trip without Christopher. 

"Do we need to leave?"

"No," Buck said automatically, shaking his head. He hadn't realized he'd stopped walking, but now people were bumping into them from behind. Before he knew what was happening, Eddie had gripped his forearm and was pulling him out of the walkway and toward a bench, but Buck stopped short before Eddie could get him too close. "Not a bench."

Eddie didn't answer the request with words, just kept his grip on Buck's arm until they'd made it through the crowd to an empty table. Buck sat in one of the chairs and Eddie took one next to him, scooting closer until their knees were touching beneath the corner of the table. Buck let Eddie take both of his hands in his as he stared at the wooden planks beneath his feet.

"Maybe this field trip isn't such a good idea," Eddie started, and Buck breathed in deeply, shaking his head.

"I just gotta - it's overwhelming, I just need a minute."

"Okay," Eddie said quietly, not letting go of his hands. As they sat, Buck listened to the noises around them, from the sound of carnival games to the screams of kids on rides to the pounding of feet hitting wood. The last noise, the one beneath everything else, was the sound of the ocean, and it was like nails on a chalkboard to him in a way it never had been before the tsunami. He closed his eyes against the feeling, did some deep breathing, and only opened his eyes again when it felt like water wasn't rushing in his ears. Finally, he lifted his head (and when had he even put his head between his knees? When did his heart start racing in his chest? He wasn't sure, but it was fading now) and looked at the worried brown eyes in front of him.

"Better?" Eddie's voice was gentle, and somehow Buck still heard him over all the other noises surrounding them. He felt grounded by the feel of Eddie's calloused fingers against his own, their hands a tangled mess between them, clutching tightly to each other as though the water was going to come and try to rip them apart.

"Yeah," Buck said truthfully. He started to sit up a little and it tugged on Eddie's hands, and Eddie just let him. 

"I don't know that the field trip is a good idea," Eddie said again, then bit his lip worriedly. "I don't want you having a panic attack when we're in charge of six kids -"

"We still have two months to prepare," Buck argued, shaking his head. "And we just got here, I've got all day to expose myself."

Eddie snorted. "Would you stop saying it like that?"

"What? It's exposure therapy, Eddie. Let me expose myself."

"You're disgusting, I'm not holding your hand anymore -"

"No," Buck whined, tightening his grip. Eddie never made to pull away and Buck grinned. "Look, I'm doing better already. Let's keep walking."

"You sure?"

"Yes, Dad," Buck huffed, standing and pulling Eddie to his feet. "Now, c'mon, I want some popcorn."

It got easier after the initial panic, though the sight of the benches against the railing overlooking the ocean still made him a little nauseous. He and Eddie played a few games (Buck won at basketball, but Eddie managed to slam the hammer harder; Buck would be trying to get the image of Eddie's flexing arms trying to break free from their sleeve prison from his mind for the next week) but avoided the rides. They had decided on two more trips to the pier before they chaperoned Chris' trip just to make sure Buck was really going to be okay. They'd bring Chris with them the last time, because even though Chris claimed he'd be perfectly fine, they wanted any freak out to happen when his entire class wasn't around to witness it.

"We'll do the rides when we're with Chris," Buck said, shrugging off Eddie's initial suggestion that they try a few. He didn't notice the nervous glance Eddie himself gave the ferris wheel as they passed beneath it, too focused on Being Okay himself.

"Okay, so, can we stop for a minute?" Eddie asked, as they reached the end of the pier, where a large wall filled with plaques stood tall against the water.

"I know it's here, Eddie, I researched before we came." Buck didn't look at the wall as he said it, but Eddie couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from it.

"I know - I mean, I figured," he said, still staring. "I just - we don't have to look at it. You know? We don't have to go over."

"Well you're already very much looking at it," Buck pointed out, and Eddie finally looked away and locked his dark eyes on Buck's. 

"Okay, now I'm not," Eddie said stubbornly.

Buck huffed. "I should - we should -"

"You don't have to do anything."

Buck bit his lip and glanced sideways at the memorial wall. Eddie grabbed his hands again, taking a step closer; Buck's breath hitched.

"You don't have to do anything, Buck," Eddie repeated softly.

"I think I want to," Buck said, and as he said the words he knew they were true.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he confirmed with a nod, not letting go of Eddie's hand as they turned and stepped up toward the long wall. His eyes didn't know where to land first, and instead they just roamed over the rows and rows of names laid out in front of him. Names of people he couldn't save. He blinked against a sudden onslaught of tears, sniffling as he wondered which names matched the bodies that floated past him on that fire truck.

"I can give you a minute -"

"Please don't leave me alone." The words were ripped out of him before he could think, torn from his chest at the feeling of Eddie trying to pull his hand away.

"Okay," Eddie whispered, tightening his grip on Buck's hand. "Okay, I'm not going anywhere."

And then Buck was ducking his head into the crook of Eddie's neck, gasping against an onslaught of tears as Eddie's arms wrapped around his shoulders and held him close. Buck clutched the back of Eddie's shirt, shuddering through body-shaking sobs as his mind filled with images of floating bodies and reminded him of the terror he'd felt that day, thinking the next body he was going to come across would be Christopher's.

"You're okay, Buck," Eddie whispered into his hair as he slowly calmed down, and Buck let himself breathe in his calming scent before he pulled back. He wiped at his face and dried his hands on his pants, then turned so his back was facing the wall. Eddie was never far - he grabbed Buck's hand before he could take a step away and held on tightly.

"Thank you," Buck murmured, sniffling. He waved his hand around in a vague gesture. "For all of it."

"Nothing to thank me for," Eddie answered, his voice laced with a sincerity that made Buck's insides do somersaults. "Are you ready to head back home?"

Buck swallowed and nodded his head, then followed Eddie's lead as they made their way back down the boardwalk. He'd do better next time - it wouldn't feel so raw; he was sure of it. And he was sure that Eddie would be there holding his hand then, too. 

Maybe they'd even take a seat on a bench.

[softpadawan]

shark kanan shark kanan omg imagine if in this au of an au ezra is a fisherman who has trauma from the sea and is terrified of sharks, until one day he gets knocked off the pier and is saved by mer kanan, who predictably terrifies ezra

I took this idea and ran swam, anon 🌊

Ezra was beginning to think the captain hated him.

It hadn’t been his fault that the line had fouled on the block and tackle when they were hauling up the nets earlier that day, but Ezra was the youngest member of the crew, so naturally everything was his fault.

If he didn’t need this job so badly, he’d have told the captain exactly what he could do with himself. But Ezra did need this job, and badly—not many bosses were willing to hire orphans without papers, especially ones that were technically too young to work dangerous jobs like this one—so he’d kept his mouth closed and taken the blame.

Of course, if he hadn’t been so afraid of getting knocked into the water, into that bottomless blue abyss full of things that would drag him down and eat him, he might have kept a better eye on the line and caught the foul-up before it had happened.

But he hadn’t. And here he was, still out on the pier long after sundown, cleaning and repairing and folding and storing the nets for tomorrow, nothing but the sound of that black water licking at the hull of the boat and the barnacle-crusted legs of the wooden pier. He tried not to think about all the stories he’d heard as a young boy. Stories about hungry sharks that would follow the fishing boats back to harbor, led by the scent of blood, hoping to feast upon the offal thrown to them by the dock workers. They’d form gangs, these sharks; a pack of teeth and fins and soulless black eyes lurking below the surface, waiting for something to fall in the water so they could drag it down. Razor-sharp white teeth an inch long stabbing into soft flesh, pulling, ripping, shaking back and forth. The rest of them pitching in, tearing, ravenous. A cloud of red blooming among a flurry of bubbles; red in the blue, a watery scream of terror. Eaters of memory, emotion, complex thought.

And right now the only thing between them and Ezra was a few inches of wood. All it would take was an accident, one little misstep, and he would be gone. Off the pier, into the water, down to the bottom. Nobody would ever find him. Disappeared, they would say. Vanished into the blue. No—eaten. Every finger, every toe, every stitch of clothing. Gone. Gone without a trace. No grave, no funeral. No one would ever know what happened to a sixteen-year-old boy named Ezra Bridger.

Finishing his task with shaking hands, Ezra stood with a heaping armful of net and hurried toward the boat. A couple meters of it slipped from his grip and clumped onto the pier in front of him. He stepped into it, became entangled, and lost his balance. He tried to correct himself and ended up overcompensating, and he went over the edge of the pier.

His stomach lurched as he began to fall toward that black water. Too scared to cry out, he threw the net away from him and twisted as he descended, but that availed him nothing. The last thing he saw before he was enveloped in shocking cold water was the 70 pounds of fishing net falling on top of him—the thing that was going to drag him down to his death.

Sharks were only a fisherman’s second fear. The first was drowning.

And now that was going to happen to Ezra, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He managed to take a deep breath before the water closed over his head and he entered a salty, near-total darkness. The weight of the net pulled him inexorably downward, down and down, toward the bottom. He fought against the ropes, pulling, frantically searching for an edge—praying for an edge because he didn’t want to die, he was still young, he hadn’t even had his first kiss yet—

A flash of gray-blue-white in the corner of his eye caused Ezra to go still. The moonlight above barely filtered down through the water, but he saw it. The vertical fin moving in the black. Sharp, swift, and just a few meters away. Another glimpse—it was moving toward him, fast.

Even as he was sinking to his death, Ezra was consumed with the insane urge to curl into a ball within the net and let it protect him. Let him drown. He would rather die that way than—

Out of the shadows, something heavy slammed into him. He screamed. A cloud of bubbles escaped his mouth in a white rush—precious air, gone. The shark—and it was certainly a shark, not a dream or a hallucination—twisted, viciously fighting the net, trying to reach its prey. Ezra screamed again and floundered to get away. His limbs moved slowly, as if in a dream. His sodden clothes swirled as they followed the movements of his arms and legs. His heels scraped the muddy bottom at last, throwing up blankets of silt. Tears poured unseen from his eyes, becoming one with the salt water.

The shark thrashed. Something sharp scratched Ezra’s arm. His oxygen-starved brain wondered distantly why shark teeth felt so much like fingernails. A muffled snapping sound reached his ears—the net being ripped apart—and suddenly the water around him cleared. A curtain of braided rope fell in a heap to the sea floor. He was free.

Free to be torn apart and eaten piece by piece.

He didn’t try to swim to the surface. He knew he’d never make it. So Ezra Bridger closed his eyes and inhaled.

Salt water poured down his throat and entered his larynx, his lungs, burning, stretching, flooding.

The last thing he heard was a strange sound—almost like a cry of dismay—and he felt something wrap around him, something strong, two things that almost felt like arms, and lift him up.

Then everything went black.

Pain. Chest. Urge to—

Ezra woke with a jolt and heaved up a double lungful of seawater. Warm water poured down his neck and cheeks. He coughed violently, sucked in a wheezy, whistling breath, and vomited more seawater, this time from his stomach. He rolled onto his side, hacking, fighting for air.

His primitive brain registered that he was out of the water, and it was dark. The moon was in the sky above, a little lower than he’d last seen it. Sand was beneath him; he was on the shore. Somewhere. His vision was blurred, eyes stinging with salt.

He became aware of a warm hand on his back, rubbing. A male voice reached his ears, soft and steady: “It’s okay. Breathe. You’re safe now. Just breathe.”

At first he was startled by the voice. Then Ezra focused on the words, forcing himself to calm down, to breathe like the man instructed. He slowly drew a long, rattling breath through his water-clogged passages, gaining enough air to forcefully cough and clear his lungs. He did it one more time, spat, then sank onto his back in the sand, panting.

The stranger’s hand cupped his cheek. “Hey. Are you okay?”

Ezra opened his eyes.

The man above him was large. Large but slim, very muscular, and good-looking. Strong chin covered with hair, clean upper lip. Large, handsome nose, narrow eyes, sharp eyebrows angled up in an expression of concern. Long wet hair tangled around his neck and bare shoulders, skin glistening with water.

Right, Ezra reminded himself sluggishly. He jumped in to save me. Only—

Only.

Only he was the only one on the pier tonight. He was sure of it. How did—?

Ezra sat up unsteadily, eyes wide, and the man moved back a little. Something heavy shifted in the sand behind him, and Ezra noticed how strangely he was sitting—no, he wasn’t sitting, Ezra realized, he was lying down and propping himself up with his arms. And he wasn’t wearing clothes, any clothes. No shirt or shorts or trousers or anything on his lower half because his legs. His legs were—

His legs weren’t.

Ezra’s brain stopped working. He stared blankly at the vertical fin swishing back and forth in the surf. The fin where the man’s feet should have been.

If this were a man.

“Wha—” Ezra stammered. “Wh-wh-what—”

Dorsal fin. A muscular human torso blending into a muscular tail, slick and gray-blue. White on the underside.

“What are—you’re a sh—” Ezra was dangerously close to hyperventilating. “A sh—sh—sh—you’re a shar—ark—”

“My name is Kanan,” the man said calmly, soothingly. “And you’re going into shock. Come here.”

Ezra didn’t move. He was frozen to the spot, shaking uncontrollably.

The man—the half-man, half-shark—named Kanan came to Ezra instead, dragging himself forward across the sand to rest beside him. He pulled the boy gently into his arms and held him. For half a second, Ezra was consumed with terror—terror that he was going to be dragged into the water and drowned again, that he was hallucinating this man because the man wasn’t there, this was a shark that had followed him out of the water and had bitten him and he was bleeding out—

But sharks weren’t warm. Kanan was. Incredibly warm. The heat felt good on Ezra’s cold wet flesh. He nestled into the embrace, his eyes still glued to that long, powerful tail.

“That’s it,” Kanan murmured, combing Ezra’s messy wet hair off of his forehead. “Just relax. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

“How”—Ezra choked, cleared his throat—“h-how can you talk? How is a-any of this real? Am I… am I d-deh-ead?”

“No, baby. You’re alive. Just a little cold and scared. What’s your name?”

“E-Ezra.”

“Nice to finally meet you, Ezra.”

Ezra’s eyebrows came together in a frown. “Wh-what do you m-mean, f-finally?”

Kanan chuckled. The sound rumbled through his chest like the purr of a lion.

Somehow Ezra was comforted by it.

“I’ll explain everything later,” Kanan said. “Right now I just want you to breathe with me, Ezra. Okay? Put your hands on my chest and feel me. Breathe with me.”

Hesitantly, Ezra pressed both hands to Kanan’s warm, muscular chest. He felt it swell as Kanan’s lungs inflated, and then compress—in and out. Ezra concentrated on doing the same.

“That’s it.” Kanan slid his tail out of the water and curled it around the human boy, forming a living shield of fins and tough skin. “Breathe. I’ve got you. I’ve got you…”

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