#less than 500 words

[addictedtopepsi]

Immortal!Male!Reader x Cole Cassidy (third person)

cw: passing mention of an explosion and reader getting hurt

I mean what's better? Getting to see Overwatch in action or getting saved by the Cole Cassidy?

Y/N would never admit it, but he was obsessed with Cassidy. For as long as he could remember, that cowboy was all that he could think about.

Who cares if he just almost got killed, Cole Cassidy was standing right in front of him! His back was, anyways. Y/N was on the ground, his back against a wall from the initial, but small explosion. Y/N had been the lone victim in this crime.

"Everything alright?" Cassidy asked, turning to look at Y/N, he looked like an angel the way the setting sun backlit him, Y/N violently nodded, unable to mutter a single word.

"Are you sure?" Cassidy asked, getting closer, "yeah!" Y/N replied, panicking a little, trying to scramble back, but being unable to. "you do know you've got shrapnel lodged in your shin, right?" Cassidy then asked, crouching next to Y/N.

"Huh?" was all Y/N could mutter as his brows furrowed, his eyes trailing down from Cassidy's eyes to his own shin.

Lo and behold, there was a large chunk of metal lodged in his shin.

"Huh." Y/N hummed. He had lived a few lifetimes and this one was the first time he'd actually gotten severely hurt. He could tell Cassidy was freaking out slightly, "hey," Cassidy said, catching Y/N's attention, "what about you keep your eyes on me?" he said, that was pretty much code for 'that is way too serious for me to help, i'm going to distract you until help can arrive'.

"Okay..?" Y/N hummed, but not really doing what Cassidy had asked him to, and directly looking at the wound once more. "hey," Cassidy said, bringing his finger beneath YN/'s chin and pushing it up, "are you gonna listen to me?" he asked in a joking manner.

Y/N could swear he was as red as a tomato from the gesture, "Mercy's on her way, just try to keep your eyes on me 'kay?" he said as he removed his hand, taking off his hat and placing it on Y/N's head, "so, kid, how old are you?" Cassidy asked, keeping his mind occupied.

Y/N didn't really know how to answer that, by literal years he was around 126, but saying that would make Cassidy question him, "26." Y/N replied, removing the 100 from his age, it seemed the best choice.

Cassidy chuckled "so not really a kid anymore, huh?" he joked, Y/N chuckled "you could say that," he said, "but i'm still a kid at heart," he continued, "yeah i get you on that, i feel like a kid myself sometimes" Cassidy replied, turning slightly as Mercy got there.

[starrynightsky15]

I posted another fanfic.

summary(sorta):

You've grown so much.

You were just a young girl looking for a fantasy romance.

Now, you're a hero.

How does that feel?

[the-hopeless-fanboy]

And I can’t let you go~ Batjokes drabble

Joker's nails press into the hard leather of Batman's boot, tightly gripping his feet and cape. He was breathing heavily. He was hurt and bloody, they both were. Joker couldn’t even lift his head up to look at anything but the bat's boots and his own blood mixing with the rainwater and seeping into the concrete.

Batman stared down at the clown clinging to him.

His fingers continued to dig into Batman's boots as if holding on for dear life. It was as if Joker's very existence depended on clinging to Batman. Like the Dark Knight was his lifeline. The blood on him and the ragged breaths escaping his lips revealed the physical toll their intense battle had taken on him. Every labored breath was a reminder of the pain, yet he found solace in the proximity of his bat.

The sight was both unsettling and poignant. Going on far too long. Everything they had done brought them to this moment, where Joker, in his weakened state, found solace in clinging to the very person he had just been trying to kill. It was a paradoxical display of dependence and defiance as if Joker's survival hinged on his ability to hold on to Batman.

His grip was leaving imprints on the Bat’s boots. The weight of their history seemed to bear down on them, the culmination of countless battles and encounters. Usually, when the fight was over, that was the end of it. The Bat would cart him off to Arkham or hand him off to the police.

This may have been the first quiet moment they had together like this. The only sound was Joker’s ragged breathing and the rain.

The air was heavy with the tension between them. There was this unspoken understanding, the only reason Batman hesitated to kick the clown off. Joker's grip on Batman was not just physical, but emotional. It was as if he clung to the Dark Knight to anchor him here with him. It was a desperate grasp at stability, a fragile thread that kept them both from spiraling.

And so there they were, locked in this macabre embrace, the hero and the villain bound together by the fragile threads of their damaged minds and damaged bodies. Joker's grip was unyielding as if he couldn't bear to let go.

And the bat let him.

[elitheaceofalltrades]

Zinnia Cottage - Excerpt (323 words)

The gentle sounds of nature filled the air as the sunset on Picari. The birds played their final chords before the cicadas would start their section of Gaia's melody. The wind rustled the leaves and the brook babbled away as their accompaniment.

Rowan leaned against the open doorframe, caught up in the splendour. The view of the blend of oranges, pinks and purples from the hilltop was always astounding. It took your breath away no matter how many times you saw it. A flock of sparrows flew past, probably heading to the trees to rest. They were symbols of perseverance, community, and hard work here and reminded Rowan of the occupants of Zinnia Cottage.

Glancing inside showed Ainsley sprawled on the recliner, book fallen shut in his lap. Adair & Sinclair sat facing each other on the couch, signing away rapidly. They were having another pun competition if the giggling Monroe was anything to go by. Cheyenne was puttering about in the kitchen, a light hum heard under the pots and pans. The overturned board and scattered pieces by the entry were the only signs of Cedar and Cassidy. Rowan decided not to wonder if they were fighting or causing mischief; it was 50/50 either way.

Turning back to outside, Rowan felt a little teary and a bit breathless. This time not because of the view but from fondness and the awe of the domesticity. The eight of them had overcome adversity, loss and betrayal and survived. They'd made a new home, made a new family, chosen each other over and over and over again. If someone said 3 years ago that they'd end up in this town, with these people, none of them would have believed it. Now, with everything that has happened in that time, all Rowan can do is bask in it. The view, the peace and the promise of dinner, laughter and joy to come.

It felt warm.

~Eli

Ace of All Trades, Pro at None😆

Buy me a coffee

[cheralith]

cw: gn!reader, no pronouns used, but use of word "wife"

you make a marriage pact with childhood best friend karasu at age nine where you pinky promise to each other that you won't let each other die alone, that by the time you're thirty-three and if both of you are single, you'll marry each other.

you ignorantly think that it's enough time for you and him to find someone to settle down with, but adulthood topsy-turvies you in ways you don't expect and after an abundance of up-and-down failed relationships, you find yourself single just a two weeks shy of your thirty-third birthday when your boyfriend tells you that "this isn't working out."

karasu has been by your side through it all; he's had his fill of partners too, but after his latest relationship, he figured to take a break for himself from dating.

it's not until you and him get drunk one night at a bar where the alcohol suddenly fizzes up a long-lost memory that you and him completely forgot about until you slur it out to him.

"you still wanna marry me?"

karasu blinks. then cocks his head. "come again?"

"the big ol' three-three is coming up," you mutter blearily. "remember what we said?"

it's only then that karasu gets shot back in time, to when you and him were hiding in a playground slide one summer afternoon, giggling and whispering secrets to one another, where you and him made that pinky promise he always kept in the back of his head.

he won't tell you, but he's thought about more often than he should. that little ghost of what-if always whispering to him.

"oh, yeah," he swallows thickly, gulping some beer down to try and smooth his senses. it backfires—creates some sort of film in his throat that makes it pass through a little harder than usual. "... um. depends. you still up for it?"

"we're not getting any younger," you sigh with a loose smile. "i'm down for it if you are."

karasu can't help but mirror your grin. stupidly so, just like whatever events are about to play out.

what unravels next is made up of a drunken proposal with an onion ring on your finger with karasu in his inebriated stupor loudly announcing he's engaged to the bar that whoops and shouts in celebration.

and karasu suddenly finds himself standing at an altar only several months later, in front of a small batch of shared friends and families all the familiar with a pressed suit at the ready. otoya fidgets with his tie at his side as best man, with yukimiya as the officient on his other arm.

out of all the things he didn't expect to come out of this year, being married to his longterm friend was certainly not one of them—and yet here he is. watching you as you delicately float down a tiny aisle with a cheap wedding dress you carelessly picked out for the sake of time and budgeting.

somehow, you make it look regal. the polyester spins to silk when it drapes on your skin and karasu finds himself itching to leap from the alter, lift that veil, and kiss you senseless.

he pauses. odd.

he finds that tightening feeling in his chest as he stares at you walking down in the aisle rather odd. he shakes it off, thinking it's just those pre-wedding jitters he's felt for the past couple of months.

yukimiya lets you unfold your vows to each other and say "i do", and it's only then that you share a kiss to seal the deal. it's brief, but it's warm and soft—a tender thing. it leaves a effervescent feeling on his lips that he's never felt before.

clumsily, you both pull back and share the same stupid smile that you gave each other at the bar, as if to say, "we really did it, huh?"

the night lasts longer than usual, as if time slowed down to help you savor this moment that you thought would just run over like a work meeting. but you find yourself having fun, talking and laughing with loved ones with karasu holding your hand throughout the entire night.

each time you look at him, you find him looking at you softly with a twinkle in his eyes, something that makes your stomach flip about. it doesn't help that he's always smiling so delicately—dare you say, with adoration, even.

and it's not the platonic kind that you've grown accustomed to.

you shake it off when the thought arises.

you can't be fooling yourself like that—this marriage was more of a business deal than anything. you know what he likes, who he likes. and you're far from the usual mold he finds himself going back to.

but it's hard to keep that affirmation grounded when it's time for the couple's dance, where karasu still has that sweet look in his eyes as he stares at you, hands settled on your hips to sway you to a sweet tune that you and him have loved since you were snotty-nosed brats.

you thin your lips to keep yourself from smiling. "do i have something on my face...?"

he hums, blinking slowly, affectionately. "yeah. ya got a little smear of beautiful right here, i think."

his thumb wipes away nothing on the high of your cheekbone, a smirk blending in with his grin. you snort with a slight simper.

"didn't know my husband could be so cheesy," you press on the foreign word as you roll your eyes.

"i like the sound of that," he murmurs. "'husband.'"

you falter and pause in your tracks a little. karasu is quick to pick you back up, pulling you a little closer to him.

"yer my wife now," karasu takes the word out for a test drive, the word melting like sugar on his tongue. sweet, palatable. it's fitting. "that okay with you?"

"you're asking me that on our wedding day?" you raise a playful brow.

karasu barks out a laugh, the rugged one you've heard and can play by ear at this point. a melody you suppose you're not tired of.

he caresses his thumb over your cheek, hand cupping your face. you realize he hasn't removed it yet from your face.

"no harm in askin'," he shrugs. "just wanna know what my wife thinks, that's all."

"you like that word, don't you?"

karasu drums his fingers on your hips. "feels good to say."

the lights sparkle around you, a gentle warmth flittering on your skin and creates almost this dazzling halo-effect around him. he brings your face closer to him and your breath hitches. he stops just a few inches shy of your face, his hand blocking everyone else from view to properly let you and him have some alone time for a few spare seconds.

you can feel the warmth of his breath on your lips, sharing the air.

"... can i kiss my wife again?" he whispers.

it's the way he says it that makes you wonder about your initial thoughts with all of this—this supposedly "platonic" bond between you and him that you've agreed to seal off.

you've always loved karasu; he's always held a part of your heart since your first bicker on the playground at age seven when you and him fought over your turn on the swings.

but you think something new has bloomed for him now, amidst your wedding day out of all things. an odd predicament to blossom such a newfound love, but regardless of how you got lost and tangled along your way, all the roads still led back to him.

you nod shyly.

karasu quirks his lips up in a spark of excitement, one that makes you bite your lip to keep from laughing. he sighs breathlessly, just before he kisses you again—this time, just for you.

[mydogatemymotivation]

Ok I wanna talk about the Zeb of Kalluzeb cuz sometimes I feel like he gets a little overlooked, but I have thoughts. A lot of people, when they're talking about Kalluzeb, talk about how Zeb can see the light in Kallus that he can't really see in himself all the time, and that's true, of course. But the extent of the discourse around Zeb is about Lasan, and I'm not trying to dismiss that or anything, but there's more to it than that. I think Zeb, the people around him, and the fandom, honestly, have this idea of Zeb that boils down to "good for a laugh, good for a drink, good for a game of sabacc, and good in a fight" and that makes a lot of interpretations of Zeb a little one dimensional.

But think of him this way: he was the Captain of the High Honor Guard on Lasan and he's a Rebellion Captain, and part of an ancient Lasat prophecy. These are all very noble, very honorable things. So how bizarre was it for him, then, to resonate with Kallus. If Zeb can see the light in Kallus then I think it stands to reason that Kallus can see the darkness in Zeb. And I think it would be so much more interesting to see Zeb react to that, because that shakes the foundation of who he thought he was. He sees himself as the white knight character, proud and honorable. So why does he like the fight so much? Why does he find kinship with a man soaked in so much blood? To see this happy guy who's always down for drinks and cards be so enamored with someone from Imperial High Command, I think it would rattle a lot of people, including Zeb.

I think Zeb hides a lot underneath his jovial nature, even from himself, and to have Kallus hold up a mirror to all the parts of himself that Zeb tries to hide would make him feel so exposed. Idk how many of you have watched Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but I was thinking about Spike and Buffy (I have a point, I promise, stay with me) and this is very much their dynamic. Buffy, who tries to convince herself that she's 'just a girl' and that she doesn't like being the slayer, likes Spike because he holds up a mirror to all the darker parts of herself. She likes that he's dangerous, she likes that she can be herself, she likes how rough he is, she likes that Spike can see all of that and that he still loves her despite those things, or even because of those things. And I love that dynamic, and I see some of Kallus and Zeb in it. Zeb likes that Kallus is dangerous, he likes the thrill that comes with loving him, he likes that Kallus resonates with darker parts of himself, and that's scary for him.

Kallus gives Zeb an outlet for his anger that can go toe-to-toe with him, he likes that he understands the pain of wanting vengeance and the pain of what happened on Lasan. It feels like, sometimes, the rest of the Ghost crew doesn't quite know what to do with Zeb (and this is no hate to them, I love them, it just bothers me), no one knows how to help him through the anger he has, no one knows how to talk to him about Lasan and he ends ups so alone, even with his family, because how could they understand that kind of darkness. But Kallus does because he was there. (And I don’t mean any disrespect to what Kanan went through, but he had Ahsoka for a long time. And he has Ezra who he can pass the teaching of the Jedi onto. He still has Jedi temples he can go to; we never see Zeb go back to Lasan. He’s also surrounded by other humans, but Zeb’s species itself was under attack. No one else in the rebellion is even breathing air the same way Zeb is. It’s incredibly isolating.)

I keep imagining the two of them in a fight, on the same side finally, and Kallus, being basically a living weapon, is covered in someone's blood and Zeb's first thought is, wow, red really is his color, followed immediately by OH MY GOD WHO SAID THAT. WHO SAID IT. NOT ME. …then again… the way his manic smile reflects off his blood-soaked knife is really - mmmmmnope. Nope,nope,nope not doing that. Not doing it. No thank you. He sees exactly what Kallus is and is incredibly into it. And that would be so distressing for him because he sees himself as this kind, noble person, and he is, but he doesn't want to deal with what it means to love Kallus. And everyone around him sees him as a kind, noble person, so when he starts having feelings for Kallus, he gets pulled to the side by a few who say, "hey, are you okay?" not in a comedic way, but in a genuine, this isn't who you told us you were, what's going on? And Zeb doesn't have any answers because this isn't who he convinced himself he was, either. Everyone put Zeb on this pedestal, but Kallus grounded him, and it’s like everyone is finally seeing this guy at eye level instead of at a distance and Zeb just has to stand there and take it.

Even in Buffy, though, it takes her a long time to accept her feelings for Spike because of how scared she is of herself. When she finally admits to Tara that she and Spike are having an affair, she fully breaks down. Like, she's on her knees sobbing, begging Tara not to forgive her for what she's doing because she wants to be punished by someone, anyone for the way she is, but Tara does forgive her, and she just cries harder. And that kind of shell-shocked, I'm actually as dark as he is, and I don't like that he saw it before I did kind of angst is what I'm talking about.

It's not just Lasan that they have in common. Zeb doesn't just balance Kallus, Kallus has to balance Zeb, too. And that realization that the sunshine character is not the sun at high noon, bright and unobstructed, but rather, the sun at twilight, tinged with darkness and teetering on the edge of falling is so good and there's not nearly enough of it with these two. I mean. Listen. People talk about Kallus' poor mental health but that scene in the finale with the shield generator. That wasn't ~noble sacrifice~, that was an attempt and no one talks about it. I mean, he just lost another member of his family and immediately tried to sacrifice himself. He needs to address his own darkness and work through it because he's not doing any better than Kallus.

Zeb sees the light in Kallus and Kallus sees the darkness in Zeb. They need each other.

[booksandberries]

hirakagi fandom may i offer you a drabble in these trying times (Japanese release we can't access yet)

They're adults, aaaand no further context needed

“Oh, Hirano.”

“Hirano-sen—?”

By the time Hirano looked up upon hearing his name, Sasaki had already covered Miyano’s eyes. “Uh, what the hell? Don’t cover his eyes while walking, he’s gonna trip.”

“Okay, but it’s your funeral,” Sasaki said and let go.

“What?”

Miyano pulled Sasaki’s arm down, saying, “Shuumei, why did y—HIRANO-SENPAI IS THAT KAGIURA-KUN’S JERSEY?”

Before Hirano could tell Sasaki to control his boyfriend, Miyano had darted around him to see the back which, yes, had the name KAGIURA written across it.

“It is!” Miyano crowed.

“So what?! Got a problem with me supporting him?!”

“Is that actually his jersey?” Sasaki asked, meandering over at a much more relaxed pace.

“Why would I wear his actual jersey? This is just merch; we’re just heading home from a game.”

“Still!” Miyano said, barely keeping his voice under control. “It’s YOU wearing it, do you get it?!”

Hirano looked at Sasaki, who had the nerve to laugh at him. “What the hell are you on about?” he demanded.

“You have his name on you! It might be nothing and normal for fans who don’t really know him, but I bet you anything that Kagiura-kun sees you wearing his name and is overwhelmed with the feeling of ‘He’s mine’!”

Which was, of course, right when Kagiura got back from the crepe stand. Hirano stared at Kagiura’s bright red face, ignoring Miyano’s squeaky “Kagiura-kun!”

“...Do you?”

Kagiura looked away in an extremely blatant manner. Heat rose rapidly in Hirano’s cheeks, and somewhere off to the side Miyano made a noise as Sasaki dragged him away.

“You seriously... So I’m yours, huh?” Hirano closed the space between them.

“Isn’t that fine?” Kagiura asked, pouting at him.

“I dunno.” Hirano swiped his crepe from Kagiua’s hold and teased, “If this is giving you funny ideas, maybe I shouldn’t wear your jersey anymore.”

“It’s not giving me any funny ideas,” Kagiura said, only a little defensively. He grabbed Hirano’s hand, running his thumb over the silver band on Hirano’s finger. “After all, it’s normal to share a name when you get married, right?”

Cream spilled over Hirano’s knuckles as he accidentally crushed his crepe. “Who said we’re using your name?!”

Kagiura grinned cheekily. “Well, my name is famous.”

“All the more reason to use my name. You can have a stage name or whatever.”

“Hmm, I guess ‘Hirano Akira’ doesn’t sound too bad, either. ...Do you get it now?”

Hirano snapped his head to the side so he wasn’t staring at Kagiura anymore. “...I’m never wearing your jersey again.”

“Come on! I play better when you do,” Kagiura cajoled him.

“I thought you played better because I was watching.”

“That, too!”

“Then you don’t need me to wear the jersey.” Hirano took a bite of his crepe and started walking, dragging Kagiura along by their linked hands.

“Please keep wearing it, Taiga-san!”

Hirano only smirked at him.

“Taiga-san!”

[wisteriasymphony]

Thinking about Adrien and his dead parents this new years

hey guess what i literally just unleashed from my ao3 drafts

[jfkisonthemoon]

its been nearly a year since i made a post about yoohankim and received multiple replies explaining why han sooyoung is not as important as kdj and yjh and i cant even count how many posts complaining about their responses ive drafted since then

[s0fter-sin]

i can’t believe how proud i am of my ghost judgement of solomon ficlet and now it’s up on ao3!

[frick6101719]

First draft of the next chap of IMKM is done, maybe? Weighing in at a cool 14 527 words, but if I had to place a bet, I'd say we'll end up with 500-1000 words less than that in the final draft.

@im-doing-hot-girl-shit want to set an over/under? Loser buys a round of chocolatines aux amandes from Première Moisson?

[stellamancer]

I want to write ×××××× but I have to do something else first.

[twopercentboy]

Ooh you rethemedbyour blog

yes I did !! :D it seems to gray out the dark blue on mobile (at least for me) but on web it's awesome 🫶 I don't usually change themes so often (only had the jayce one for a few months compared to my usual year+) but I figured once batfam got me to start writing fic again it deserved to be the blog theme

[passthroughtime]

i've finished writing the first half of chapter 6 btw, but that's not because i'm so lazy and slow, it's because it turned out to be a little more than 11.000 words.

[chesters-ocs]

Sandy Beaches

wc: 1k

Clear, endless skies display thousands of twinkling stars above the quiet, empty beach.

A lone man walks along it, lost in the vast expanse above. Mentally he maps out constellations and invents new ones on a whim, naming them after things he holds dear.

Deciding the rickety old dock is the best spot to stargaze, he makes his way towards it. Lazily, he brushes some of the wet sand aside and sits down, his legs dangling freely.

Both the sky and the ocean collide and blur into one black entity, littered with specks of white both above and below.

He was sure that if he kept looking at it, he would truly end up getting lost there. Lost in the beauty of the world surrounding him.

And for a moment, he did.

He listened to the waves, the wind, and for a moment he pretended the cricket songs were of the stars themselves.

And as another tune joined the choir of the night, he couldn't help but look around.

A chirp seemingly came beneath him. Beneath the rotten wooden dock.

'No way a dolphin is so close to shore, right?' he thought, brows furrowing, craning his neck forwards.

Brilliant sparkling eyes meet his and the chirps continue.

He can't help but jump backwards in shock and surprise, not having seen nor heard the young girl approach.

A thought of 'why is she in the water?' passes by him.

"Hello?" he asks softly, after steeling himself, and peers over the wooden structure back into the water. It's just a child. What could she do?

Her eyes light up again, and taking initiative, she grasps at the slippery wooden support beams, and pulls herself upwards. Enthusiastic sounds escape her, though he understands what none of them mean.

And only when she has got her upper body on the dock, does he realize what he's looking at.

Glimmering scales litter her body, but distinct patches cover her shoulders, her cheeks and forearms. Were it daytime, he could have made out the soft purple hues of them all. The hands gripping at the old boards showcase a translucent webbing between each digit.

A quick glance over the edge of the the construction reveals a short, stout tail, also covered in the same scaled pattern. It ended in wide, opalescent fins.

The stargazer could only stare at her in awe.

Old tales of these creatures come crashing back down on him, how people often seek out islands like his own in hopes of finding one for themselves. No sane person thought merfolk would be real, but it'd be a lie to say their myth didn't make for some damn good tourist activity.

The girl outstretches her hand, toying with the wood, seemingly fascinated by it. Her hand lies flat on it, and she traces circles along the wet, worn down material, taking it in.

Her yelp seemingly startles them both, as she recoils her hand quickly, flapping it uselessly. Discomfort and pain is evident on her face.

'She looks so... human.'

"Hey, hey," he decides to call out to her, outstretching his own hand, wanting to see what happened. A likely situation already playing in his mind.

"Shh... It's okay. Give me your hand," he speaks, voice deep as he reaches for her slowly, doing his best to at least look inviting.

Grasping her hand, he looks at her palm.

Lo and behold, a splinter. Bad enough to also draw blood, if the running substance means anything.

"Shh," he continues to soothe, and with precision, removes the small bit of wood, brushing it to the side. The high-pitched squeamish squeak escaping the girl reminds him of the patients he takes care of on the island.

He barely has anything on him, having just expected to be by himself this evening. But something in him refuses to let this marvelous little child escape his grasp without at least bandaging the small cut.

Still holding her hand, he rummages trough his pocket for any spare gauze he may have forgotten to take out.

Luckily, the faiths seemed to shine on him once more this night, and he pulls out a strip of it. With as much gentleness as he can muster, he wraps it around her hand. The process also gives him extra time to admire the way it looks, with sharp, pointed claws in place of nails.

"There. All better now. Be more careful next time!" he can't help but chide, having been used to doing so.

Though, the girl ignores him, or perhaps doesn't understand him. Instead, after inspecting, and even sniffing, the (to her) strange thing covering her hand, the brings both of them up to her neck.

A necklace made of shells, seaweeds and peals is pulled from her neck, and extended his way.

"Is that for me?" he asks.

She only blinks, wiggling her hands a little, as if waiting for him to do the honors.

As he is about to reach out and take it, another, much louder, chirp is heard, and both of their heads whip it's way.

In the distance, theres someone else surfacing above the water by the huge, mossy boulders, which protrude from the ocean.

The other being is perched on the smooth stone, repeating the strange, almost dolphin-like thrills.

Without giving him much time to think, the girl just quickly pushes the necklace in the man's arms, before returning into the safety of the waters below, causing ripples in her wake.

By the time he tried to look back up to the figure by the rocks, it was already gone.

In the morning, when he wakes from his bed and inspects the necklace further, he notices that he's seen none of the shell types in his books, nor does he recognize the types of seaweeds used to craft it.

For now, it will remain safely tucked away. Until he can hopefully see the otherworldly creatures again.

With the increased walks he takes by the sandy beaches, he hopes it's sometime soon. And that it was not a one-off instance.

[benjhawkins]

me clenching my teeth, thats not what 'easter egg' means