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ghouljams · 6 months

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Regency AU with Price (as always the gif does not represent the reader, only the vibe)

Tags: first meetings, social faux pas, love at first sight, British imperialism mention, classism, a little period typical misogyny, Price keep your hands to yourself please

You've never deluded yourself into thinking you're marriage material, never concerned yourself with your lack of marriage prospects. The child of a doctor with no title to his name, and a midwife with even less. You're in good standing, but you know well enough that among the delicate fingers of the noble ladies, you're a sore thumb.

A captain is certainly out of reach for someone like you. You don't mind, of course, you're perfectly content to remain single and eventually take over your father's practice. Still, you do look up with the rest of the crowd when the announcement is made. Captain John Price. He's young. Too young to have made such a commission, but his eyes are old and the stern set of his brow, the tight lipped smile, speak to a man who has seen more in his short life than most men will by 80. His eyes meet yours and you look away, snap your fan open to distract yourself from the boiling heat of the greenhouse the party is being held in. That must be what makes your skin prickle.

You bemoan the fact that your friends have lost all interest in conversation in favor of tittering over the new arrival.

"Fresh from the colonies, I hear," one of your friends whispers, "he hasn't been home in a good few years."

"I heard he's going to be made a baron," your other friend whispers back.

"I hear he's rot his dick clean off from scurvy," you grumble.

"Did you now?" A voice rumbles with amusement behind you. You squeeze your eyes shut for a brief second and curse yourself before plastering on a smile and turning to face the man of the hour. You flutter your fan in front of your face and hope it looks more demure than your mouth would suggest.

He's better looking up close. His eyes sparkle, and his smile seems less forced, more open. It's the hint of teeth that break up his lips, different from the tightness he'd given upon announcement. You curtsey, as is proper when meet a man above your station, which is just about every man here. Money can buy you an invitation but not the good will other women may have.

"Captain," you have no follow up for that, so you attempt to mean it as a greeting, "I meant no harm."

His fingers tighten around yours when you try to pull them away, but he does straighten up, apparently unbothered by the surrounding crowd's murmurs. He must have hit his head and been sent home due to madness. You're sure that's the only explanation for the heat in his eyes and the smirk on his lips. A man who's lived a life of violence and still holds himself so tall shouldn't bow his head to you.

"Of course not," he holds his hand out, and like a fool you place your fingers against his. He doesn't raise your hand to his lips like so many other men, he bows to it. Bows to meet your knuckles with his lips. Bows with his arm tight behind his back and his eyes lowered. As if you were the queen, and not some doctor's daughter. Your face bursts with heat and you glance around to be sure there aren't any eyes on you.

"Please don't do that," you tell him quietly, whispering it furtively to try and stem the murmurs. His grip on your hand shifts, drops your fingers to hold your wrist.

"Perhaps you'd prefer something else?" He pulls your arm up, turns your hand over to press his lips against the thrumming pulse in your wrist, his gaze holds yours all the while. Your stomach flips pleasantly. The tips of your fingers brush against his dark hair, and you imagine you can feel it through your gloves. "A dance? Or an apology?" He kisses further past your wrist, pulling you closer, "Or perhaps I should be asking for one from you." Another kiss, just below the bend of your elbow.

Was there a crowd? You can't imagine there's anything but you and the captain? No one in the world but the two of you standing in front of each other as his lips skate the top edge of your glove. The feeling of his skin against yours is like touching the inside of an oven, a short shock that makes you want to pull away, a heat that lingers long after the touch is gone. Have you ever wanted to put your hand in a fire so badly?

"Would you like me to apologize?" You ask him, pushing your voice out even past the breathless bubble in your chest. He closes his eyes, tips his head to run his nose against your skin with a sigh.

"Never."

It's so simple a word and yet it drops like a heavy weight into your stomach. It roots you, binds you, when his hand touches the small of your back to pull you closer you go without a second thought. Spellbound.

"God," he breathes, "I'd have come home sooner if I knew you were waitin' for me."

"You don't even know me," You smile, feeling like you've been let in on a joke only the two of you know.

"Oh sweetheart," something in his voice is cloying sweet, something in his eyes -so stormy blue you'd think he bottled the ocean tides just to see through their colored glass- that speaks to a promise you never hoped for, "I've got a lifetime to learn."

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schattenhonig · 1 month

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The A in LGBTQIA+ doesn't stand for aspec because they're not repressed!

(please read the disclaimer at the end of this post)

Ummm, excuse me? Would you mind telling me what your definition of repression is, then?

Because I feel repressed when a doctor asks me about my sex life, and if I say I have none, it gets marked down as a symptom without being asked if I suffer from it.

I feel repressed when my gyn tells me I can't get a hysterectomy yet despite losing so much blood on every period that I need to take iron supplements all the time, because I could change my mind about not wanting children (which is a whole other post, I know, but it's most likely linked to sex).

I feel repressed if I can't use dating apps or platforms because my sexuality doesn't even exist there, and the one time I tried, I got called names because I didn't want to meet for because it was clear where this date would go, despite my explicit "what I'm looking for".

I feel repressed when I think about how recently a paragraph was finally abolished in my country that considered sex a vital part of a marriage, basically entitling the spouses to having sex with their partner (both gender neutral, because entitling people to having sex with somebody else by law is wrong. It's basically a rape permission).

I feel repressed when I can't watch any film or show without it being about love and/or sex, no matter if it fits the narrative and furthers the plot.

I feel repressed when I plot my own stories and automatically put a romantic couple in there as main characters, even though I have no idea why this would be important for the plot. Not even my own stories, my own thoughts are mine.

I felt repressed when I was asked accusingly in a relationship if I wasn't missing something before I even knew asexuality as a spectrum was a thing, and having to lie about this being a side effect of my medication instead of genuinely not feeling attracted to someone in this way.

I feel repressed when I can't tell people I'm not sexually attracted to them because they will take this personally no matter how well I explain myself.

I feel repressed when everywhere I look there's advertising relying on naked skin, suggestive posing and objectification. Why are expensive cars still presented by women considered beautiful and tempting? It's not like that's necessary to convince people of spending so much money on a thing that gets you from A to B. Couches with women in smart dresses and high heels. That's not what a normal person looks like on a couch. But the worst is a truck in the town where I live: it's from a small fruit and vegetable stand, so whenever I see it, it comes from the warehouse, delivering groceries. On it is a woman clad in very little, presenting fruit. I'm sorry, but why? Does a misogynistic picture convince you of the necessity to avoid scurvy?

I feel repressed when I tell people and get the answer "you just haven't found the right person yet", because there are two possible assumptions from that point: I'm either not trying hard enough (so it's basically my own fault) or something about me is not right, appalling even (which circles back to I'm not trying hard enough or frames me as a victim of my genetics, upbringing or circumstances to be pitied).

Do not tell me how I feel. Do not try to tell me everything is fine and I shouldn't complain or ask for acknowledgement if everywhere I look, I'm reminded of how odd, how weird and how not normal I am. How much it inconveniences you to even acknowledge my existence, let alone respect any of my traits, views and choices.

And while I can only write from my own asexual point of view, I wrote this with all kinds of flavours of aspec in mind, so I'm explicitly including aromantics, aroace people and every shade of the spectrum in this. Not all my examples may apply to you, but I hope you can find something to relate to.

ETA: please feel free to add your own experiences of repression!

#asexuality #somewhat of a vent #asexual #ace pride #ace #acespec #aromantic #aroace #read disclaimer at the end of post #aspec

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tagyourcitrus · 2 years

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People fucking hate it so much when you are able to have control over your body enough to be safe with specific diseases. They want you to have to rely on things and think you dont have control over the way your body reacts in order for them to control you instead. I can literally never tell anyone irl that i have scurvy because they will freak the fuck out and say i am going to die. It’s been 9 months. Im fucking fine. I’m micro-dosing. Im coping. I hate the fucking doctors and psychologists and shit and i hate my fucking parents. But i cant move out because its not safe to live on my own. But despite all of this, i need scurvy. Its literally a part of me. They can never understand this. I have to have scurvy or i will die. Its scurvy or s*icide. Pick one.

#tw suicide #scurvy #scurvypride #pro scurvy #tw vent #tw eating issues #tw disordered content #tw vitamin c #tw doctors #vent #triggering vent

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focsle · 9 months

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I get so annoyed when people are like ‘oh those 19th century idiots with their silly understanding of things that were killing them lol’ when half of it was like…

They knew there was harm but because of various things, be it manufacturing happening out of their control, or what their access or lack of access looked like, or what assurances they were given by whom, what have you, that harm mitigation became more challenging.

Like, people knew that scurvy was treated by access to fresh fruits and vegetables (though there was sometimes a mistaken identity of believing acidity was indicative of something that’d help you, such as vinegar, which is a logical conclusion when you don’t know about vitamin c). But sometimes one still finds themselves in a place or job where that access can’t happen.

Doctors and journalists were sounding alarms about the dangers of heavy metals in dyes and makeup. But If your understanding of how something caused harm didn’t match with the actual currently-not-understood dangers (such as thinking that arsenic kills something when ingested, but not knowing about dust or outgassing) one might not be alert to the danger of it. The power of advertising, and labels, and assurances could also sway people as much as they do today.

There were journalists who wrote on the dangers of adulterated food cut with inedible materials. But if, like heavy metals in dyes and cosmetics, it was embedded in the manufacturing process, and if there was no system in place to hold those manufacturers accountable, there wasn’t much you could do. Especially for poorer families who didn’t often have access to food that WASN’T adulterated. They couldn’t afford food that wasn’t adulterated. You still have to eat.

Some doctors also sounded the alarm about the use of mercury / calomel treatments for various ailments, saying that they did more harm than good. But if that’s the most widely available treatment, if it’s the only option open to you when the alternative is ‘inevitably die horribly from syphilis anyway’, people may have taken their chances. Especially when it was also being pushed by other authority figures as being an effective miracle cure.

Idk all this to say that capitalism always kills, ordinary people trying to get through their lives are always trying to do the best they can in the circumstances they find themselves in with the knowledge they have and what’s available to them, and like…look in a mirror or something. I don’t want someone calling me an idiot 200 years from now, if humanity is still here, because my organs were full of microplastics. There’s nothing I can do about that. Criticize the greed and structures that put them there.

#idk I get uppity about Dumb People From History Poisoning Themselves jokes cos….those are people…and the same shit is happening right now #my furniture is outgassing formaldehyde as we speak…

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homunculus-argument · 5 months

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The great thing about Tumblr is the anonymity. Nobody knows who anybody is, it's like a masquerade ball but instead of gathering together to commit Lewd And Sinful Frivolities, it's just people saying shit like "I swear to god if my mom touches my hamster again I will commit domestic terrorism", "I paused this show mid-frame and this fictional man's dental alignments look like those of somebody with a lifetime of scurvy and getting fucked in the face, therefore he is canonically vitamin deficient", and "hey is it possible to be so dehydrated that your piss is red instead of orange, or do I need to go to a different doctor this time".

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tarjapearce · 9 months

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~Iridiscent (Pt. 3)~

PirateAU! Miguel O'Hara x Mermaid! Reader

WARNINGS: Historical figure use, historical figure research, Historical timeline inaccuracy just for the sake of the plot. Angst, betrayal, GORE, feels, slow burn.

Summary: Enemies rise, loyalty is shaken and a new purpose is born.

Disclaimer: Edward "Ned" Low belongs to history ✨

Pt. 4

His men were nowhere to be found, And the sailing time approached. He'd go to Kingston, and then sail up towards the Honduran coast to get a hold of a Spanish brigantine. The wood extracted from the country were surely one the best, after all many of the carpenters used it to repair their ships.

Even though he said two nights the urge to go just sunk in deeper, not because of the mermaid, but rather for safety. He never remained more than 3 days in a same place, not when the Spaniards and English men were hunting and executing pirates, and press ganging the remnants of the crew.

He went to a tavern to get something to eat. He wouldn't waste the chance to try good food, cause once on board fish would turn into his main protein source.

Mostly of his crew were men that just like Mundaca had once said to him, were people that were pushed into a life of piracy due poverty and lack of chances at a modest yet deserving life. Most of them used to be underpaid farmers, workers, common people that none would actually believe to be now pirates and ransackers that preyed on spaniard and english ships.

The Red Eyed Demon had a penchant for attacking the english navies, after all, the man that had killed his biological mother was one of them. In fact, the first thing Miguel oathed to himself to do once he'd turn into a feared pirate, was to plunder and destroy as many english ships he could in name of his mothers.

An english man had killed his mother, an english boat had brought Adia to his old home and it was an english doctor that had left him without hope since he refused to actually give any further aid to his daughter.

With the spaniards he meddled little to nothing, unless they had valuable cargo. Sadly for him, most of the valuable cargo seemed to be slaves. Slaves that whenever he could, would free them, and drop them in the nearest port.

He'd been there, in their tattered shoes and sullied flesh. Some flogging scars were still etched into his back, always reminding him where he came from.

Some of the slaves would stay with him and offer their lives in gratitude. As messed up as their logic was, he wouldn't waste the talents offered to him.

But right now, he couldn't see none of them, but a few passed out in the tavern. The supplies were being loaded into his ship. Flour, a couple of live cattle and farm animals to keep fresh food on board, and of course, grains and legumes.

He ate a stew, some bread, cheese and rum. He wasn't picky with his food, life at sea supposed a vast array of issues, inanition, dehydration, scurvy and other sickness. As soon as one of his men presented symptoms of incurable disease, he'd put him down and throw him over the plank, even if they had been there for more than six months.

Life at sea was slow, like time had froze. But in land, changes were always happening. And of course he'd adapt to survive.

Right now his food was all that mattered, unbothered by the raucuos carousing around him, he ordered another plate, until his appetite was satisfied. He left a couple of gold coins and headed to his ship. A man however bumped into him, red eyes fixed on him but quickly dismissed him, knowing his conflictive nature.

"Watch your step" Edward Low mumbled as he deepened into the tavern. Miguel left, not really in the mood to give the man the attention he craved.

A few of his crew members were rounded up in the threshold of a hut, they seemed to be discussing but one of them shut up as soon as he saw Miguel walking to his galley.

The rest just watched him with unreadable expressions on their faces. Their captain, always busy and so reserved, but a good and fair captain nonetheless.

A bit too good at times for their own likings. Specially when he treated slaves as equals.

But none of that mattered as their gazes trailed up behind him, their goosebumps making a presence in their skin as none other than Captain Edward 'Ned' Low waltzed his way towards the dock, in the same direction as Miguel.

They rose and followed Low's little group from a safe distance, watching and ready to jump if needed.

"Oi! O'Hara!" Low called as Miguel stopped, annoyed brows furrowing deeper.

"Mind to share where'd ya'get this... beautiful shiny pearl?"

Hijo de puta (son of a bitch)

His mind cursed, and of course reprimanded himself for not paying enough attention. Edward had been a petty thief his whole life, but pick pocketing was his best attribuition. The bumping back in the tavern was enough for his nimble hands to scourge his pants pockets.

Miguel wasn't really interested in the pearl, he could have it. What actually had pissed him off was the audacity the man, although tall by everyone's standards still seemed small compared to him, had to actually tried and pick pocketed him.

"Merchant back there have more of those." He turned to face him, hulking figure stepping closer, hand stretched towards him with a glacial stare.

"Give it back."

"Didn't know you were into this mermaid nonsense"

The men behind sneered at him, as Low toyed with the pearl with his fingers.

"Do you know what I'd do if I ever get my hands into one of them?"

"Kill them in a horrible way only you know?" Miguel’s face showed nothing but boredom at Low. He had heard about the many and different kind of torture methods he used to get people's information, and even those who surrendered peacefully ended up being treated abominably by him.

Thirty four years, just like himself. Same age, yet different mentality. Same age yet different motivations. Low's was madness and making a name for being a possible psychopath. Miguel's was more purpose oriented, a call that he had attended long time ago.

"You seem to know me, sweetheart" the last word was spat with venom, "Mind if I keep it?"

"Give. It. Back." Miguel seethed, and even still kept a calm attitude. The least he wanted was to cause unnecessary trouble or to draw attention. But Edward surely was making it difficult. The day seemed to have risen with the only purpose of annoying him.

"Just looking, just-" He munched on the pearl trying to prove it's authenticity. Much to Miguel's dismay the pearl was coated in his saliva and sand as Edward spat it in the floor.

Miguel kneeled to pick it up, and it was the perfect chance for Edward to attack, or at least attempt to do so. Miguel connected the first punch in his stomach knocking the air out of him, but Low wasn't giving up that easily. He connected one on Miguel’s jaw.

Both men seemed to be fighting but in reality, Miguel was just containing him. A hard butt head on his forehead however made him grind his patience to dust. He took Low by the collar of his shirt with one hand to punch him square in his right eye. Low cackled as Miguel bared his teeth at him. Some gasped upon seeing pointy canines underneath his lips.

"Como vuelvas a intentar robarme, me aseguraré de que nunca vuelvas a usar tus manos de nuevo, ¿¡Entendido?!" (If you ever try to rob me again, I'll make sure you're never able to use your hands anymore, understood?)

"Sorry mate, can't understand shite!" He tried to punch Miguel again but his arms only flailed. A click of a gun was pointed at Miguel and it only unleashed a domino effect as everyone pulled out their guns and pointed at eachother. O'Hara crew vs Low's.

A knife however was thrown in between the two. Red silky lace flowing at the end of it; a clear warning to behave.

Sheng Hyun pulled the knife back and glared at the both.

"Edward Low..." Miguel threw him on the floor as he went back to his business. He'd let Sheng to deal with him.

"The fuck y'want!?" Edward spat as he staggered while standing up.

"This is your second warning. We will not tolerate your instigations any further."

One thing everyone knew about Low was that once his derangedness started, nothing but blood could stop it. He lurched for Sheng, that as gracefully and fatal she was, neutralized him with a kick at the last minute, knocking him against the wooden board, Sheng's right foot stretched enough to reach his throat, pressing tightly against him, refraining herself by crushing it completely.

A set of curses in her native language flew out of her mouth as she hurled Edward to the ground. She was small, but vicious and lethal. Exactly why she was part of the council and perfect for her role as the peace keeper. Miguel understood that men like Edward, pushed people's buttons too fast and too rough. It was pathological at this point.

Edward enjoyed torture and the bloodshed, it was rare if ever when he showed mercy.

Miguel’s crew finally gathered up after the ruckus and immediately tended to prepare his ship.

"I'll fucking hunt you down, O'Hara!" Low kicked dirt as he yelled his promises.

"And when I do?! I'll take everything you hold dear away from you, you mixed bastard!"

His eyes settled on Low for a moment, red eyes cold and sneering

"La vida se te adelantó en eso." (Life beat you to it)

Ignoring the ongoing provocations of Edward, Miguel sailed away. Rested with a restocked ship, ready to get the wood for future upgrades.

------

The soiled pearl was washed from all impurity and tucked back into his pants.

"We gotta fish out, Cap!"

"Set the course. Tighten those rigs well cabrones!"

By the position of the sun he'd guess it was around midday, their usual fishing spot would take them another hour to get to. Some of his men still recovered from the hangover and the excess of enjoyment they had the previous night.

The quarter master, Elliot Jackdaw, the few of the english people he actually tolerated, approached to his office.

"Men are quite confused, Cap. Thought you had said two nights, why leaving so soon?"

"A hunch."

"Oh..."

Miguel's intuition often served as a life saver, and the crew soon learned to trust him. And if his intuition deemed necessary to go, he would.

"Right. I'll let them know."

"Elliot?"

"Aye, sir?"

"After restocking, set the course to Honduras. Wood exportation season just begun."

"Aye, Captain."

He remained inside, removed his hat and half tossed it on one of tables nearby. He removed his coat and pulled out a little thin gold necklace, a little shell shaped locket. The only tangible memento he had from his little girl.

The awestruck and dreamy eyes she gave him when he showed it to her for the first time was still burnt into his core memories. Gabriella loved to hear the stories about the mermaids, something her long gone mother had told her in hopes to quiet her down. The locket had been a bit too large on her small neck, but that didn't stop her from wearing it.

It'd be quite the disappointment to tell her, if she'd had the chance of surviving, that they didn't exist. His hands rubbed his face, and then tucked the locket inside his pants as well.

Miguel’s nose flared, exhaling tiredly at his upcoming thoughts. He removed the weaponry off his body. Belts filled with little knives he used to throw at front coming enemies, gone. His gun attached to his hip, removed and placed on his desk. The arm braces loosened and removed, leaving his wrist bare.

His armoring was stripped off his body, the ever human reminder of his flawed and sullied flesh thanks to life's hardships only made his lips to curl softly. He had many scars that were worn proudly, each of them an experience that made him who he was.

Leaning to his chair, he closed his eyes and gave a final shaky breath before letting tiredness to take over him. It was little times like these that allowed himself to be weak enough to be unguarded and physically vulnerable.

---

The clicking of a gun jolted him awake, eyes snapping open as he saw three men standing before him, Elliot in the middle, sneering at him.

"Sorry, Cap, but I think we need a new administration aboard."

Miguel's hands fisted in anger, but knew that retaliating was futile. His weapons were out of reach and his men knew his fighting style. But the two weren't his men, surely had snuck in as the ship was getting restocked.

" Just when I was getting a change of heart about your english scum fellows you just prove to be the worst of them all."

"Get over it, Cap. Pretty sure you'll end up with an english woman."

"Your point is?"

"It's not personal, Cap."

"It feels very personal to me, Jackdaw."

"Too fucking bad. Do you know how much the english and spaniards are offering for your head alone?"

The hollering outside at a bounty fishing made the ship to tilt to the right.

"Captain! Come see this!"

The distant voice of the cook he knew so well called him, and that's when he realized, The mutin had only been planned by a few insiders, it still hadn't reach outside. Or it all could be a trap.

None really was safe from the mistrusting fits that took over Miguel.

He tried to stand on his feet but another clicking of a gun echoed behind him, he was surrounded. He was forced to stand up and pushed out of his quarters, guns aimed to his head.

"Alrit' you fuckin' city rats. There is a new Captain in this fucking ship!"

The men quieted down as they stared both in surprise and in awe as Miguel was brought to the deck, circled slowly bit by bit, by not only the traitors but those who had held a silent grudge against him for quite the time but were patient enough to let a chance like this to rise.

" Set the course for the American shores, we're dropping him to the english, we'd get paid and split the loot."

"And you think an english man betraying his captain is a good example of good faith?"

"Shut yer'gob, you bastard. You know how humiliating is it for us to have a mixed bred slave to boss us around?"

"Then make it quick, cabrón. If I am to die here, don't waste your fucking time and do it!"

"Gladly so, Cap."

As Elliot pulled out his gun, the fishing net, full, wriggled violently, the rusted chain creaked until it snapped under the weight. Several fishes flailed in the air as everyone stared at the bulging fish mountain that moved, as if something was trapped underneath.

Some men were cautious enough to drag with long tridents the fishes above, Elliot however approached, gun in hand. Sidling around the fish mount that was slowly descending in height.

Miguel's hands were contained, shackles adorned his wrist, chains clinked. But his feet remained steady on the floor. Eyes settled on the fish. His heart thumped miles per hour as a collective round of gasps echoed through the ship.

Bit by bit the fish were removed, only to reveal the biggest fins a man had seen so far. A fin that was attached to a long tail, clad in scales that none had seen before; pearly white, green, rose gold scales, intricately dressing it, the rainbow's grandeur making a show of its presence as the light shifted on them. Iridiscense at its finest.

The men marveled at the colorful pearls that seemed etched into the creature's skin. Hair cascading off her shoulders, her hand, donned with a little see through membrane between her fingers. Her torso seemed designed by a superior being as it was adorned and covered with pearls.

Miguel's eyes couldn't widen more cause they'd surely pop out of their sockets.

A mermaid. A mermaid laid before them. A creature he had refused to acknowledge a good chunk of his life, was now there, before him and the crew.

A creature that seemed confused, a beauty that surpassed everything he had know so far. His eyes tried to blink as little as they could, not wanting to miss any detail of the being that seemed to have swam out of a fairy tale and dragged into human twisted fantasies.

Everyone's breath stilled as her eyes settled on Miguel. The courtesan was right, He could see the stars on them, and to be acknowledged by such thing, bestowed his mind with something he couldn't quite explain. None really could.

"H-Hello" Elliot tried as he approached. Miguel swore that the mermaid's irises narrowed into a sharp slit as she saw the weapon, but quickly went back to their full round shape as Elliot put it away.

"I... I won't hurt you. It's ok!"

The mermaid stared at him, eyes tracing his form. Crouching, broad shoulders, pale skin that seemed to burn red under the sun, blue eyes, short beard, prominent nose and dirty blond hair. A gentle grimace in his face.

The Mermaid extended a hand towards him, and the ones that had weapons, pointed it at her. A defenseless face made Miguel to shout an order. To leave her alone. Her gaze once more on him, and his skin crawled.

"Elliot, step away" Miguel ordered but Elliot was gone. Too enthralled by the siren's beauty to actually pay attention to what Miguel was saying. Even worst when the mermaid seemed to caress him.

A soft tune played in his head, a tune that only Elliot seemed to hear as he relaxed. Another collective gasp as the creature slithered to where the quarter master was. Hands cupping his cheek to finally deliver a kiss on his lips. Everyone was in awe, looking at eachother, unsure of what to do. They looked at Miguel that seemed too stunned to actually do something.

His muscles however twitched once the kiss ended. The mermaid licked her lips and smiled, revealing a harrowing sharp smile for teeth. It was the exact moment Miguel knew Elliot was doomed for good. The lovely irises he was initially met with turned into this sharp slit again, face contorted into something wretched, wicked and evil.

Her tail recoiled behind, ready to pounce, the prey was subdued, and her hunger only seemed more evident the more she crawled onto him.

"ELLIOT!" Miguel shouted but it was no avail, the mermaid pounced on him, biting with sharp pronged teeth at his mouth, ripping his tongue off with a bite. The men around them recoiled to themselves, genuinely scared as the creature kept on devouring Elliot.

The man could only wail in pain as chunks and pieces of his own flesh were munched away and devoured. The initial beauty was tarnished by the cruel reality that were behind the romanticism a mermaid portrayed.

Her pearls were smeared in blood, just as her scales. Dainty fingers were now donned with elongated talons that tore flesh and held the prey still.

The iridiscense was now tainted crimson, and to everyone's horror the light in Elliot's eyes was dulling as the being took a hold of his head and munched with a lurid crunch on his throat, finally stealing the vitals from his body.

Even though he was shackled, Miguel took the weapon of one of the traitors and fired at the air, stopping the entity's attack. She snarled at him, only to give an inhuman and shrilling wail, before chomping down on the corpse and dragged it to the border.

"Don't let her escape!" Miguel ordered and the few that remained on his side, dared to throw one of the tridents at her, but missed. Miguel fired again and this time the bullet grazed one of the upper fins, making it bleed, but no matter how much of a ruckus they made, the mermaid's task was seen through.

Talons dug through a man's throat, killing him instantly, blood oozing like a pipe had exploded. It made some men to slip and fall. With a final glance at Miguel, the Mermaid smirked before going back to the sea with a body trapped in her mouth.

Men rushed to peek their heads, carefully, overboard to see if they saw any traces of their old quarter master.

Another splash was heard, as Miguel's tried to keep himself a float.

"Captain!" Some of the men were shot immediately as they tried to save Miguel. Their bodies were thrown over the plank board.

Miguel's eyes could only witness as his ship, a ship that he had worked so hard for, a ship that he named after one of the biggest heartbreaks he had ever experience, the last memory of his skewed father figure, sailed away without him to command, without him to look after it.

Keeping himself a float was harder when his hands were heavy and the constant struggle was wearing him off. His head collided with a loud thud against the moving ship.

His ears didn't hear anything after the hit. All sound was drowned, and his lungs felt a burning sensation, distant heartbeats turned weaker, his blood obscured his sight, nothing but darkness below. Darkness that seemed to pull him closer and deeper into a deadly embrace.

His arms felt caged in a hug, and the sea waves lulled him to sleep.

Fight

The distant cry of his survival instinct thrashed in his mind.

Wake up!

Darkness and calm were way too inviting for him to turn his back on them.

Not your turn yet, Papa

His eyes snapped open. Stars above him, like a distant blanket that refused to fall ontop of him yet. His lungs were no longer burning, even though his head still spinned. His body was drained of any traces of energy.

The soft coming and going from the waves, kept him grounded. Anchored to life. He was alive. Pulled away last minute from death's grasp.

He was on land.

---

Taglist:

@nerdykat @munixumai @raiirai @sarapaprikas-blog @deputy-videogamer @rizahawkeye1380 @littlenyx @marit332 @iz-iplier @mad-hatter-rici @viriexo @obi-mom-kenobi @allysunny @tayleighuh @lishdfish @not-ur-average-fangirl @freehentai @darksidecorner @winteringfalls @ellasarich @eustashh @nyxismoon

@murnsondock @pluviophilis @oooof-ifellforyou @tojismommymilkers00 @plusultrayokai @teacoffeeflavored @ctizu1 @dickfartcheesy @s0lm1n @vonev

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #pirate au #mermaid au #t writes✨#spiderman 2099 x reader

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candycandy00 · 3 days

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Could you please do some hcs of how pirate sukuna would react to reader being pregnant and how he’d handle the pregnancy ? 🙏💖

I love the series so much I’m sad it had to come to an end 💖

Okay!

Sukuna wouldn’t be too surprised to find out Reader is pregnant. He’s been giving her cream pies every day after all. He’s never had to worry about it before because he normally gets rid of women before it could become an issue, but he was aware that it was definitely a possibility with Reader.

Now this might get a little dark, so beware. My headcanon is that the first pregnancy ends in a miscarriage. They’re out on the open sea, they don’t have the best healthcare or nutrition. There’s a doctor on the ship but he specializes in injuries and scurvy, not pregnancy. Both Sukuna and Reader would be sad about it, but I think they would both feel like maybe they should be more careful from then on. So Sukuna would be upping his pull out game.

It would be around a year before another pregnancy. It wasn’t on purpose, just a case of Sukuna not pulling out in time. It happened occasionally but this time Reader got pregnant. Once they realize this, Sukuna decides to make every effort to ensure a safe pregnancy. The first step is getting Reader off the ship. Sukuna joins her in a port town friendly to pirates. He stays with her throughout the pregnancy and makes sure she has the best care money can buy.

He refuses to leave the room for the birth, despite the doctor asking him to. When Reader is screaming and crying, he doesn’t give her the expected comforting words. Instead, he reminds her that she’s the great Captain Sukuna’s woman. If she can handle him, she’s strong enough to handle anything!

A healthy baby girl is born. When Sukuna holds her for the first time, he knows instantly that he wants to prioritize her safety over all else. So he stays with his girls for a couple of weeks, then departs on his ship, deciding that being away from them is the best way to prevent them from being targeted. He visits them sometimes, always being very discreet so no one will realize the connection, and he makes sure his girls have plenty of money. Until they meet again on another ship… (see other headcanons)

#sukuna x reader

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propertyofkylar · 7 months

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Normally I send Whitney asks (probably will send one later) but I need to give my baby Kylar some love. Poor thing needs a good home cooked meal, he needs fruits too bc he has scurvy from his awful diet.

every time you say kylar has scurvy it makes me CACKLE it's so fucking funny. because it's so true.

but you're right giving kylar a homecooked meal needs to be more than just the headcanons i wrote before it deserves a full fic so let's fucking GOOOO

m!kylar x gn!pc, no cws just wholesome, tooth-rotting fluff ^_^

"Sit down and be patient, Kylar."

Your boyfriend sulked, but sat down in the kitchen chair anyway. You paid no mind to the fact that he pulled the chair directly next to where you were standing.

"S-sorry," he mumbled. "It just smells so good!"

You rolled your eyes affectionately and placed a hand on his cheek. He immediately beamed and leaned into your touch.

Ever since you had started spending more time at Kylar's manor, the amount you worried about him had only increased. The boy was almost always alone, staring at his six computer screens and only ever seemed to be eating instant ramen or fried food he bought on the way home from school. It was a miracle he hadn't suffered some severe nutritional deficit yet - though while you were certainly no doctor, you were pretty sure he was anemic.

So you had promised him you would make him a homemade dinner, and he had reacted as you had anticipated: by crying and thanking you repeatedly.

Now, here you were, cooking in Kylar's kitchen. It was pretty fun, honestly. Not only did you get to spend more time with Kylar, you got to do something you rarely got to do in the orphanage. Here, there was no Bailey to yell at you.

You had opted to make Kylar a katsu curry. Something simple that you were sure he would like, and something you could pack with veggies to make sure he got plenty of vitamins. Of course, you were pretty sure Kylar would have eaten anything if you were the one making it. But you figured you couldn't go wrong by appealing to his love of Japanese things.

"Do you want a taste?" You asked, dipping a spoon into the pot. Kylar eagerly nodded and jumped up. You guided the spoon to his mouth and he happily took it, grinning widely at you.

"It's good!" He said. "I knew my love would be a fabulous cook!"

You smiled at his over-exaggeration. "Okay, go grab a plate. It's ready."

He did as he was told - grabbing an extra plate for you as well - and you served up the dinner.

The two of you took a seat at the table, but the way Kylar was practically bouncing in his chair made you stop before you could begin eating.

"What's going on?" You gestured over to him. His excitement was palpable.

"My love made me dinner! We're eating it together! It's like we're already married..." Kylar sighed dreamily, gazing down at the plate.

You shook your head, but you were smiling, too. "Come on. You gotta eat before it gets cold, or you won't get any dessert," you teased.

He nodded seriously and starting digging in, a little too enthusiastically. "It's so good!" He choked out between bites.

"Kylar!" He paused and looked up at you. "Slow down. I don't want you to choke."

Kylar nodded again, making sure to slow down. "Sorry," he said sheepishly. "It really is that good..."

You took a bite of your own, pleasantly surprised at the taste. "Huh. I guess you're right."

"Thank you," Kylar said, staring at you lovingly. "My love is so good to me!"

"Then I'll keep cooking for you. God only knows what vitamin deficiencies you have. You probably have scurvy," you joked. But what Kylar had said before was ringing in your mind. Being married to Kylar...it might be pretty nice, actually. You had never been able to think about a real future, one where you weren't trapped under Bailey's thumb. Maybe one day you would be able to actually live here with Kylar and you could cook for him every night without worrying about where your next payment was going to come from.

Kylar noticed you zoning out. "What are you thinking about?" He asked curiously.

"How much I love you," you replied, and were pleased at how his face instantly flushed bright red. It made you laugh. "But really, I'm glad you like my food. I had a lot of fun making it and getting to spend time with you."

Kylar smiled, but seemed flustered still. "T-then...I'll be in charge of dessert..." his hand came to rest on your thigh and started to move up.

"Let's finish eating first," you said, and Kylar drew his hand back, looking disappointed.

"R-right..." he mumbled, going back to his plate.

You laughed again and pressed a kiss to the side of his head. "I'm looking forward to it."

#dol #degrees of lewdity #kylar the loner #dol kylar #kylar x reader #writing #the world needs more kylar fluff. ignore the fact that he is an absolute creep and LOVE HIM!!!!!!!!!!!

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