actually i cant remember if this is action or island but well

pastelmogar  asked:

Basically, it's a Stranded Deep au where Mark gets shipwrecked (for reasons I can explain later) and spends three days on the open ocean before he reaches an island. While on the island, Mark does his best to survive, but every once in a while, will notice a shadow lurking in the water, a shark. Or so he thinks until a merman decides to stop by and say hello. Short version: Merman Jack annoys the cute human while Mark lives on an island. *jazz hands*

God u dont know how much i love this holy shit my dude.

Like this is honest to god the worst thing thats ever happened to him; its his absolute worst nightmare fully realized and the longer he sits there floating on this small piece of wreckage, the more hopeless he becomes. Theres no island in sight and he can spot the early signs of a storm heading his way. He can technically try to swim but his near-debilitating fear of the ocean prevents him from doing so.

After being stranded for 2 days with no sign of a helicopter rescue anywhere,the looming threat of a thunderstorm closing in, he gives up. He lays down on his backside and stares up at the rapidly darkening skies. Part of him wants to scream and cry, pound his fists into the wreckage with reckless abandon. How does this shit happen? How does this shit happen to GOOD people? He doesnt deserve this, no one does…

But part of him is just so at ease with the inevitable. It frightens him a little; shouldnt he be fighting? Kicking and screaming until his last breath? As the sky darkens and the stars come alive, he asks himself why hes so okay with this. Starving? Dehydrated? Has he finally lost his mind? Why is he so resigned to his fate?

As if trying to ease his guilt, he shouts for help, screaming as loud as his lungs will let him. He knows its futile and he probably wasted whatever little energy he had doing that taxing action but his conscious is a bit clearer knowing that he at least tried to help himself, tried to survive…

When he wakes up, he blankly stares up into the now beautiful blue, sunny skies with extreme confusion.

‘Am I dead?’ He questions. He looks to his left and right and gives out a long drawn out sigh when he sees nothing but water surrounding him. ‘If I am, this is fucking bullshit. Why would I still be stranded?’

He gazes at the skies above when suddenly, something clicks in his mind. The storm; its gone. Or it at least passed by him by but he quickly dismisses the idea. The storm was massive and his 'boat’ was heading straight for it. With the freezing cold air and rain, he wouldve died from hypothermia, theres no way he couldve survived it though…

“But here I am.” He mumbles. Hes still here and hes still stranded and all this does is remind him that by some sick twist of fate, his inevitable death has just been prolonged. He wants to cry, ot maybe think of some nice final thoughts before it happens but these fucking birds flying above him are cawing too loud for him to think straight.

He stills, as he realizes what he just said. Theres birds, circling above him. And if theres birds, then that means theres land nearby…

He shoots up, back ramrod straight as he frantically looks around him hoping to see some kind of land or ship standing out against the horizon. He looks behind him and fuck, if he didnt believe in a god or miracles before this moment, well… he does now.

The island is fairly close and with back facing towards it, its understandable how easily he missed it. If hr paddled for maybe 20 mins tops, he would be on the shore and finally out of the water. The entire time hes paddling hes crying his eyes out in a mix of disbelief,shock, and extreme relief.

As he gets closer, he notices that the island isnt as small as he initially thought; he might actually have to explore and see what else is inland. He spies some bushes and trees and he already sees some little sea critters scurrying around the shoreline.

The first thing he does when he stumbles onto the hot sand is collapse to his knees and laugh. He cant remember anything in his life that even compares to the overwhelming wave of happiness and relief that hes feeling in this moment.

He knows more than just the basics to survive and hes so glad he took classes and read up on different guides for worst-case scenarios. Hed admit that it was a bit dorky at the time but now that hes in a dire position to exactly what he needs to do here, he doesnt regret it.

His first night on the island is fantastic; hes hacked off some pretty big palm tree leaves for shelter and hes got fire going and some food with some to spare in the morning. For the first time in the past 4 days, hes falls asleep soundly.

The next morning, hes jolted awake by the sound of water splashing to the left of him. He snaps his attention to the sound only to see the water calm back down as if nothing had disturbed it. He hadnt noticed any other predators on land but he had completely ignored any possible ocean predators he may encounter…

Periodically throughtout the day, he would hear splashing sounds while he was out foraging. Each time, he would snap his head towards the noise but without his glasses, trying to pinpoint something so far away from him was nearly impossible. He hated the feeling that was coiling in his stomach… the feeling of someone watching him; of someone stalking their prey…

Whenever he ventured towards the sea, there was always a shadow floating right below the surface and everytime he would try and walk towards it, it would dash away into the ocean depths.

After a couple of days, he decided to try and risk fishing; theyre were super healthy and if he managed to be able to fish properly, he would last alot longer than with a diet of just coconuts and crabs. Besides, whatevers been 'stalking’ him is honestly too scared to attack him when he’s conscious, hell be fine.

Except, chucking a makeshift spear in the water to try and catch a fish is way fucking harder than he imagined. He had the tools just not the proper skill and if he wanted to survive out here long, he was gonna have to learn real quick. For now though, he gives up and decides to try his hand at it tomorrow.

When he wakes up the next day, he picks up his spear and heads for the ocean again. Hell give it one more shot and if he cant do it, hell go foraging for more supplies and just try again later. As he approaches the water, he notices not one, but two decent sized fish laying in the hot sand. They havent been out here for long he notes as he eyes the huge watery trail behind them thats yet to dry up in the morning sun.

As he stares at the fish he hears a splashing sound ahead of him. He glances up only to see the tail end of a fish quickly swimig away from him. Did they see him coming and accidentally drop their meal in a panic? Well, it doesnt matter how he got the fish, what matters is that he has the fish and he has an extra meal for later.

This strange occurence happens every morning and afternoon for the next 3 days. Hell go and try to fish at the crack of dawn only to have some already sitting there in a pile. In the the late afternoon, another pile. He feels like, someone is trying to help him… and he is so sure hes gone crazy at this point to even consider it but he cant explain why theres food just laying there for him every morning and evening as if to make sure hes never on an empty stomach…

Hes so determined to understand whats happening and hes willing to risk his own damn life to do so.

Instead of sleeping by the trees inland, he pulls his makeshift cot by the ocean water and prepare himself for the worst. He slides underneath it and falls asleep.

When morning comes, rather than waking up, he sits there absolutely still as he breaths as slowly he physically can. He hears a splash and he squashes his instinct to flinch at the sound.

He can he chattering and clicking as the creature swims back and forth from the water to shoreline. On the third trip, Mark takes a deep breath and flips over, lunging at the creature with his bare hands. The second the adrenine pumping through his veins dies down, he notices that whatever this thing is is green. Well its hair is green…

The creature is staring at him with wide eyes, crippling fear etched onto its features as they nervously click in the back of their throat. Mark looks down at what hes grabbed and realizes that hes grabbed the wrists… of a fish…

It doesnt take him long to realize that its a fucking mermaid, that much is obvious but he has no idea what it want with him. But theyve clearly been helping him for the past week or so, and for that he nods his head in approval.

“Thank you” he forces out, his voice raspy and dry from lack of use. He lets go of the mermaids wrists, unclear of what to do at the moment and from the look of it, the mermaid is just as confused.

“You asked for help…” It muttered, eyes wide as he spoke. The clicking noises in the back of his throat have subsided and now Mark can hear his voice clearly now.

“Help?” He questions. He honestly cant remember saying anything since he got here.

The mermaid quickly nods his head.

“Yeah, in the water, you were on a boat and you yelled at someone to help you. I was gonna swim away because of the storm but when i heard you, i turned around and dragged you with me.”

Mark stares at him and smiles. “That was you? I knew i wasnt supposed to survive that but not i know why…” He laughs and rakes his hand through his hair.

“I cant believe that worked, i cant believe-”

He looks at Jack and gives him a soft smile. “Thank you…” Mark leaves the sentence openended…

The mermaid takes the hint and shouts “Oh!”

“Jack, m'names Jack.” And yours?

“Mark. Just, yeah just Mark.”

Emma Swan has more than enough to deal with. For one, her son believes the entire town of Storybrooke is cursed. She definitely doesn’t have time for the mysterious pawnbroker, Killian Jones, even if Henry insists that he’s the prince she’s meant to be with. Cursed!Killian AU

Thanks to @lyriumrebel for editing this with me! | ao3 | from the beginning


Chapter 37

Henry and Neal’s first conversation hadn’t lasted too long. Emma had stood by the door to the loft as they spoke in awkward, halting sentences and tried to get to know one another. Eventually, they had decided to try again the following morning, when Henry had time to prepare himself and Neal had thought of more to say.

And so, after having the best night’s sleep she’d had in a while, though that wasn’t saying much, Emma walked Henry to Granny’s diner and the two of them joined Neal in one of the booths. It was just as uncomfortable as it had been the night before, at least until Neal brought up the original Star Wars trilogy and the two boys actually started to communicate.

After noting they seemed a little happier, Emma suggested leaving them alone to talk. Once she’d told Neal to make sure Henry got on the school bus and given her son a kiss on the forehead in goodbye, she ordered breakfast to take out instead.

Keep reading

First Love- Kyungsoo Valentine’s Day Scenario

In which Kyungsoo is a bit of a sleaze because he can’t get over his first love.

POV: 3rd


Warnings: A bit of smut, a lot of implied sex. 

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Her scent wafted along the breeze, overpowering his senses blissfully, even more than the pink flowers hanging low above their heads and blanketing the ground like a soft snowfall. Kyungsoo pulled her closer where their bodies connected, causing her shoulder to lightly brush against his bicep. She hardly noticed, continuing to talk softly of the magnificent Japanese scenery. Kyungsoo would always remember the way her wavy hair clung to her whenever a gust sprang forth and showered their bodies in momentary pleasure from the hot spring weather. He would always remember the way her eyes twinkled, recalling some fact of the garden he cared not for. There was only she in the garden; that was all he had been concerned with.

Twinkling memories of young love darkened his mood forever on this day, to this day, for no one had ever come close to his unique spring flower. She reverberated everything he loved, everything he hated. Repeating her name was to re-live the most wonderful and the most painful moments of his young life.

But now he sat alone. No garden was waiting for him outside, no orchard of pink bliss. No bubbling girl to share in his somberness, no girl to rest her head against his shoulder as they walked hand in hand along the cobblestone path towards a long-forgotten shrine. No girl to speak of her heritage while he failed to listen, mesmerized by the charming worrying of her lip that seemed to be habitual whenever she touched on trivial oration.

He did not think of her often-it would be unbearable. But once a year, every year he failed to replace her yet again, he allowed himself indulgence on the memories he made with her. It was only two seasons, a short six months. A fling, his friends would say. They were kidding themselves, Kyungsoo knew that. He gave up sharing his adoration for the long lost girl with his bandmates quickly. They were too wild, too careless. They wouldn’t understand her gentleness, her sincerity. Her intelligence was beyond them-how could they comprehend such a being? And her smile-oh, how it killed the singer. He could compose ballads to rival the best, just about the curve of her lips and the diamond shine of her teeth whenever he somehow earned a laugh from his soft goddess.

She was not of this world, Kyungsoo decided. She couldn’t be. Even now, although the memories of her were so vivid to him, he wondered if she had actually existed, or if he had just concocted her from his loneliness, his awkwardness, his failure to love someone tangible.  Her perfection was so vast and inexplicable. No other woman could place a finger to her. Or perhaps, Kyungsoo never bothered to look for another.

He had taken part in other women since, not romantically, but intimately. They were nothing. Incomparable to the nights he had spent with the blossom. Idols sought his number, he played them like a drum. But he could never stay by their side. He could never settle. Countless times he was questioned over his actions, and countless times he created excuses. Some petty flaw of the girl being criticized. Jongin especially made note of his pickiness. “You’re never going to get married with an attitude like that.” Well maybe I don’t want to get married, Kyungsoo said to himself. At least not to anyone who isn’t her. He tried not to think of this, since the thought of her existence being false always left a sour taste in his mouth.

He yearned, lusted for absolution. Couples walked in and out of the bar like clockwork, while Kyungsoo sat at an end table with the same glass of red wine fermenting in front of him. The sight of intimacy unfolding before him caused him to long for her touch, just like how he wished he would wake up to her instead of some random woman the next morning, although he knew his fantasy would amount to nothing. If she had existed, and she had not been a fantastically sculpted fragment of his imagination, she was far away. He would probably, unless for some chance miracle, never see her again. But again, he tried not to think of this.

Instead he thought of her under the moonlight. The two of them sat on the bamboo patio, enamored by the movement of the other’s lips against their own. Her hand on his shoulder, the other resting on the back of his neck, keeping him close. His hands rested on either of her hips, pulling lazily at the fabric of her loose-fitting blouse. Neither of them knew how they ended up this way. They had only just met the week before, and yet it felt like they had known each other for an eternity. The second they were alone, passion enveloped the couple.

He pulled her blouse over her head, tossing it to some forgotten corner of the patio, and gently pushed her back against the soft carpet beneath them. A musical sigh left her swollen lips as he crawled over her, knee comfortably resting in the space between her legs. He returned to her lips for a moment, then focused on marking the porcelain skin of her neck. He peppered her with kisses, soft and hard alike. Hands with minds of their own removed clothing left and right, until nothing separated them from becoming one.

He was always gentle with her, afraid of hurting his little flower. Making love to her was different than having sex with some idol who had pursued him first. Her moans and gasps were prettier, while their exaggerated cants of pleasure awakened an animalistic anger inside of him. They called him a rough fuck, when tattle-tale ears were out of range. His goddess was naive, innocent aside from the intimacy they had shared of his six months on that special island. She had known no man before Kyungsoo, and shuddered in response to every loving touch.

Their love was mostly pure, with the exception of lust-filled gazes as he thrusted into her. He relished in the sight of her slightly-parted lips and eyes that would never leave his own until he bent forward to kiss her again. Always reassuring himself that she was fine, he didn’t want to hurt her. How ironic that seemed to him now, since he felt his heart be ripped from his chest at the sight of her tear-laden eyes the day he said goodbye. But even then, she didn’t stop him from leaving.

She too, knew the memories of Kyungsoo would always plague her. Dates would come and go, but no lover shared his affection towards the little flower. No other man could treat her as softly as he, no other “I love you,” offered as much sincerity as Kyungsoo’s. Maybe they were both selfish. Maybe their standards were too high.

But neither could explain the synchronization of their heart beats when her eyes met his from across the grossly decorated bar, 6 years later, on the seemingly most romantic day of the year. The day they had both known of first love’s deathly poisonous kiss.