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dulaman-na-farraige · 7 months

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Tagged by: @fareehaandspaniards @undefeatablesin Thank you both for tagging me! :D

Tag Game Rules: Shuffle your on repeat playlist and post the first 10 tracks, then tag 10 people.

1. Turn the Page - Blind Guardian

2. High Horse - The Crane Wives

3. Зов крови - Мельница

4. A Past and Future Secret - Blind Guardian

5. Bad Moon Rising - Creedence Clearwater revival

6. Skalds and Shadows - Blind Guardian

7. Mirror Mirror - Blind Guardian

8. Burning Piper's Hut - Beltaine

9. Dúlamán - Altan

10. Riptide - Vance Joy

Edit: tbh tho idk if you'd like to participate or not but tagging @trucbiduleschouettes @samarqqand @immaboutodosomthn @ancientbeast

@fading-shade @den-with-6-ns @kushanahime @orfeoarte @wekky-ceej

#blind guardian hyper fixation #seaweed song #seaweed song tag #for everyone who doesn't know yet #9. is where my username comes from #i also use Farraige as a name while it's just a word in Irish

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seaweed-snowflake · 5 days

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Relationships: Song Lan/Xue Yang, Song Lan/Xiao Xingchen Rating: E Chapters: 7 Word count: 32,255 Main focus tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, university adjacent, mermaid Xue Yang, aquaphobic Song Lan, working through trauma, reframing of canon events, polyamorous main character

Song Lan was born on an island, and he's always loved the sea. But now, due to a traumatic incident that left him unable to speak for years, he has trouble even looking at it. When his university friends end up on that very island, he decides it's time to face his fears and return home. Being able to see his grandmother again is enough to make the trip worthwhile, but there is definitely something lurking beneath the waves— and not just his mind playing tricks on him. With the addition of a curious young islander who seems a little too interested in him, Song Lan doesn't know whether he'll sink or swim.

Written last year during mermay, figure it's time to make a promo now! Seaweed's first chaptered fic! 🧜‍♀️

#Song Lan #Xue Yang #Xiao Xingchen #SongXue #SongXiao #MDZS #Mo Dao Zu Shi #MDZS Fanfiction #Seaweed Fic #No idea if this'll show up in the tags but!#If you want to support us please consider a reblog! :)

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the-toybox-general · 1 year

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Have you...

Listened to Penny's Theme??

From Pokémon: Scarlet/Violet???

It's an absolute banger

Spooks, a Wandering Scribe (please don't feel forced to answer-)

DO NOT WORRY! I never feel forced to answer anything :3 I enjoy asks and answer them when I can!

I have listened! It's an absolute banger FOR SURE. I think I prefer the Team Star Boss music over it personally, but I could be bias towards vocals in songs like that (*￣3￣)╭ !! But god they didn't have to go so hard with the music as a whole !!!

#Pokemon Spoilers #scarvio spoilers #Pokemon Scarlet and Violet Spoilers #does this even fully count as spoilers #ask to tag if i missed a catch all term heeee #General's Response #Arven battle theme my beloved also . its so good #songs that make me move like a piece of seaweed #cant describe it it just is #BUT team star boss is my favorite above all else. its sooo ingrained in my mind

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 10 months

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Songs That Sound Like Sea-Foam (III)

AU MASTERLIST || FINAL CHAPTER

PAIRING: Fisherman!John Price x F!Mermaid!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 7.1k

WARNINGS: Angst, blood, death, violence, swords & firearms, abductions, hurt/comfort, torture references, nakedness, needles, gore, etc.

A/N: Alright, and that's a wrap on this mini-series. Biker/mechanic!Ghost is next on the list.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You hit the water and immediately push back to the surface, ignoring the burning of your open wounds.

“John!” Your high and panicked call can’t be heard above the yells to arms and the distressed wails. “What are you doing?!” Bodies get chucked from the side of the ship and all you can do is watch as they meet the water around you—skin cut open and eyes dead.

While the sea was numbing your pains, your heart was hurting enough for all of them; hands flailing to try and help keep you above the waves. But everything was so dark, only the light far above giving you a sliver of perception.

“John!” You scream again, eyes snapping back and forth along the ship. Your arms burned with heat.

“Go!” The words ring out and make you cringe, graveled and ragged—an order. But how could you? Vile grunts and skin meeting skin sound out, no more shirking blade edges or the boom of pistols. Fists meeting ribs, bared teeth.

“The Mermaid was wearing tags! He’s part of the King’s forces!” The leader. “If we can’t have the beast, we’ll have the coin from a turncoat!”

“Deserter!”

“Traitor!”

“Tie him to the post!”

Your ears twitch and pull at the horrible words, lungs near hyperventilating and black waves going red. If you weren’t able to ingest water, the way your head was slowly sinking would have left you sputtering and choking.

What will they do to him? Why can’t I help? It was the only part in your life where you regret having a tail, because now you can’t save John in the same way he saved you. Your eyes lock helplessly to the upper deck, far, far above. You can’t drag yourself up or even find the energy to stay above water.

Your strength was waning quickly—you needed to be tended to; healed. But it felt worse than a betrayal to see not even a glimpse of John’s brown hair or his large arms. To not feel the hold he kept on you. You wanted his lips and his flesh to be pressed into you, to venerate your image as he always did.

A Hierei that worships at the shrine that is you.

“Curse you,” you say aloud to the men above. The ones that tie your raging love to a post; you hear his low growls and biting expletives like blades in their own fashioned way, the sea garbling your words. “Curse your greed and your violence!”

But no one listens, and with a heavy and weighed heart, you have to let your dead muscles rest as they give out completely against your will. Sunking under the battling waves, you feel like dead weight; no different than the various bodies around you that John had dispatched.

You felt useless.

Above you was John, being tied up and taken—taken to a King that wants your species dead. You don’t want to leave, but the current is snatching you away like seaweed, limp and broken. Whatever John had done to your wounds, the fabric of his shirt was holding fast to your shredded flesh, but it didn’t stop the agony or the inner conflict.

He was right above you…why aren’t you strong enough to help?

Your eyes flutter, hair and arms floating.

Everything grows dark, but John never once leaves your mind. Perhaps the Fisherman was worshiping you, but you did the same unto him.

The eyepatched leader’s words loop in your brain, paired with storm-blue eyes. Gentle praises.

“...I think he loves the beast!”

Your body sinks with the rest.

—

The sand under you is coarse and dry as your eyes barely open, chest rising and falling but shakily, stuttering in its course. Small noises groan in the back of your throat, fingers like stones beside your face.

Everything hurts, but something has woken you up. Noises. Muttered speaking.

“Now why would she have these?” There was a moment of clinking metal and a low huff.

You groan louder and curl into yourself more, only to stop when the tears in your flesh pull. Your lungs inhale sharply.

“Oh, Christ,” the accented voice is smooth as it gets closer. “Easy, then, Ma’am. Shite, I was hoping you’d stay under a bit longer, I’m not bloody done yet.”

Forcing your eyes open, you hiss at the burn of morning light, laying on your stomach with…your brows tighten…were you wearing a tunic? A hand meets the back of your shoulder and you cry out, jerking.

“Woah!” More force is applied to keep you down but it only makes you struggle more. “Please, I’m trying to stop the bleeding!”

You stall at this revelation like a bird, panting. Muscles tight, you cautiously look over your shoulder to weakly stare at whoever this man was.

Brown eyes meet your own, and a dark-skinned complexion over an oval face. They blink at you with concern and hesitation, sparing only a nervous smirk and a chuckle. You stare widely, saying nothing.

“I…I’m just trying to stop the bleeding. Whoever got you,” this man trails off, glancing down at your tail. “Well, they did some proper damage.”

“Who are you?” Your voice is damaged from all the screaming you’d done, cracking and frail. You stifle a cough and survey the land with frantic snaps of your orbs. This wasn’t your cove.

Where were you? What had happened to the ship? To John? Your hand travels to your neck but lands on nothing. It’s like the world stops turning.

The necklace.

“My name’s Kyle, Miss, but I’m just as well off being called Gaz—” Your hand snaps to his shoulder, wrenching him down in a violent slam to the sand; with a shove of your ailing body, you cross an arm over his chest to pin him.

Brown eyes widen, and one hand easily raises in a placating manner. You don’t bother to look at the other, your head broken into bits of instances and images of horror.

“Where is it?” Your lips hiss out. You didn’t know you could make a sound like that.

Kyle, dressed in a fine outfit of a Bookkeeper, furrowed his brows at you. He didn’t look off-put by your brashness, or by the fact that you were of the Merfolk.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am…I’m not following. Where’s what, exactly?” There was a glinting at his throat, and you snatched at it with a glare and snarl of ‘thief’ on your tongue.

A blade presses into your side and you freeze. Kyle stares up at you with a frown on his face, body tight. “I think you should let that go, Miss, yeah?”

The metal discs are the same as John's, but they hold a different name entirely.

“Kyle Garrick, Sergeant, 141st company under the King.”

“One Hundred and Forty-First?” You whisper in a hushed voice and the blade loosens from you. Mouth opening and closing, you forget for a moment what Kyle is. Your eyes go glossy with hope. “You know John?”

Eyelids blink at you in astonishment and all at once the knife is sheathed at his hip once more. Gaz gapes, his slight stubble shifting on his face as he talks slowly.

“Yes, I do…how do you know the Captain? No offense, but I didn’t peg him for the type to run off with…well…” he trails, chuckling. “Not run exactly, then, is it?”

You glower and push back, flinching at your aches but waste no time in speaking frantically to the man as your tail flaps. If he was on the same ship as John was, they certainly knew each other well; Kyle had to assist you.

“Please, you need to help me,” The man’s face goes serious and he pushes himself up, “—there’s been a terrible event. John has been taken, don’t you understand?” Your hands grasp at his collar, forgetting to ask about the missing necklace in your mounting hysteria. “They took him. They’re bringing him back to the King and it’s all my fault!”

You don’t know if it’s the pain or the fatigue, but your emotions spill from you in droves, silver tears falling like drips from a blacksmith's smelter to the beach of this foreign place. Your body feels unable to hold itself up—so much blood lost.

Gaz gains a sheen of panic at your state, gripping your shoulders lightly above the given tunic.

“Now, now, Ma’am, steady. You’ve lost a lot of blood, eh? We need to get you sorted.” But internally your words disturbed him. John had been taken? His Captain? And he had known a mermaid?

“I don’t need to be sorted,” you mock, shaking him, “I need my John back! And you’re going to help me.”

Kyle gazes around awkwardly, clearing his throat and trying to comfort you as his upper half gets forced back and forth.

“First,” he stops you with a firm squeeze on your shoulders, “we’re getting you stitched and wrapped, Ma’am. If what you’re telling me is real,” Gaz pauses, glancing at the sea lapping at your tail, “then I need to get in contact with the others.”

Your body slightly sags, panting and shaking. While you should have asked who the others were, your adrenaline was too great to allow you to think above the fact that Kyle was going to help you. He had known John—that was enough for you to know he was a good person.

“Easy,” the man mutters, face pulled in concern. There’s a moment of tense silence before Gaz shifts a hand to the pocket inside of his tweed frock coat, slipping to the side of his green notch vest. He blinks his brown eyes at you before he lightly takes John’s necklace from the depths of his clothes. Kyle presents them as your shoulders loosen with a small sliver of comfort. “I believe you were looking for this, yeah?”

He spares a friendly, boyish, smile.

Your fingers brush his as you delicately take the metal up, fingertips weeping with torn flesh. Staring at them, you bring the item to your lips and kiss it gently after a moment of agony, a few more tears slipping down your cheeks.

“Oh, John,” you whisper, “you fool, what have you done?”

“I’ll be needing to move you, Ma’am,” Gaz clears his throat and looks back to the grass-coated road. The beach where you had washed up was near the bottom of a slight hill, and along with sand, there were a lot of pebbles. The wind was chilled. “I was just finishing up with a temporary binding when you woke. We can speak more when I get the larger wounds stitched.”

You see his gaze fall down you once more.

“I’d think there’s a lot to catch up on.” Shuffling John’s necklace over your head, you allow Kyle to take bandages from his Gladstone bag which he had brought down from the road with him. He says he found you on the beach unconscious not five minutes before you woke back up as he takes out John’s tunic strips before packing the wounds with fresh material.

“You stopped?” You ask quietly, body shaking. “Why?”

“Well, I left the same time that the Captain did,” he explains, looping fabric around your tail as you shudder and clench your teeth at the long cuts over your scales. Kyle spares you a glance before continuing. “Same reason too. The minute innocent beings were being hunted, everyone in the One Hundred and Forty-First deserted. They weren’t too happy with us, I’d imagine. I do what I can to help anyone, regardless of species.”

Gaz pulls back and finishes up, brushing his hands on his folded legs and sighing.

“We all separated and led our lives the best we could—got jobs, hid ourselves, the like.” While the story was fascinating, as John was rare to talk about the King or his service beyond a clenched jaw, you truly were suffering from blood loss.

Every moment it became harder to keep your upper-half vertical and your eyes open. Gaz’s words slurred in your eardrums as the sand under your hands got pushed back by pressure like a rock being dragged. Your head must have swayed, because the next moment you’re being lifted with a grunt and a steadying of feet.

“Can’t say I’ve ever carried a mermaid,” Kyle grumbles to himself, blinking down at your form as our head rests limply on his chest. “Certainly not one that knows Price of all people.”

You focus on your breathing as he ascends the hill, going slowly and holding your form tight so as not to drop you. While not John’s size by any means, the man was still strong in a more lean and lithe way where your Fisherman’s was upfront and bare with it.

You’re carried down the trodden path to a lone house on the upper hill above the water, small and quaint, it’s only a single square room.

Truly this event speaks to your luck—how on earth had you found perhaps one of the only men on the planet that knew John and sympathized with magical creatures?

Kyle sets you back on his bed softly, pillows pressed into indents of your head and cheek.

“Alright then,” he sighs, “let's get this figured out, yeah?”

You’re offered food and water, but all you care about is sleep. Your tail hangs off the end of the bed and your fins ache with torn skin. Without even looking at your scales, you know they’re damaged immensely. Most will be left with great scars.

Merfolk could be called vain in their lifetime, and the sentiment wasn’t entirely untrue. You were beings of elegance and beauty—ethereal lustfulness hardwired into your DNA. Image was important to you, and this loss was great.

But the loss of John hurt more than any torture someone could inflict on you; any wounds. You needed him back.

As Gaz prompted you to tell your story, which you did with failing consciousness, your hand traveled to your necklace to grasp it tightly. Lips quivering. When the first push of the man’s needle entered your hard flesh, you never even felt it.

—

You awoke for the second time, once more, to the sound of speaking.

“Well, he’s sure gotten up to it while we’ve been away! Fuckin’ bastard.” This accent didn’t belong to Gaz, and thus your eyelids pushed back with slight unease. Had John’s Sergeant sold you out? With a struggle, you blink back to reality only to find a pair of bright blue eyes stuck on you.

For a moment you startle, those shades so similar to John’s that for a moment you had forgotten what had transpired. Then the pain in your tail strikes up and you balk back sharply.

“Soap!” Gaz hisses, grabbing the large and built man away from the bed. “Get the hell away from her, would you? Christ, she’s been through enough without having to look at that face when she wakes up, Mate.”

“What in the hell does that mean?” Soap, as he’d been introduced, was the epitome of a blacksmith—ash still on his square jaw and his large black apron tied at a stiff waist. His arms were as bulky as your head and while he was shorter than Gaz he made up for it in sheer muscle.

Blue eyes darken with annoyance before they swivel back to you, but they lighten just the same when they spot your fear-spiked expression.

“Sorry about that, Little Lady. Just curious, is all.” You swallow the saliva in your throat and turn to look at Gaz in question. “Not every day somethin’ like this happens.”

“Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish,” the man offers, rubbing at his neck apologetically. “Served with John and I. You can trust him.”

You blink and turn back to Johnny, and, sure enough, around his neck were the common silver discs that Gaz and John wore over the tunic and apron.

“A…” You try to remember what your Fisherman had told you about human customs. With a frown, you carefully extend a hand and hold it aloft while your tail rests and your other limb keeps you up. “A pleasure, Johnny.”

A wide grin meets your eyes and a hand is clapped into your own; shaking it firmly as yours remains limp.

“Ah, please, the pleasure’s all mine.” When his grip leaves you look down at the various stitches and thick wrappings around your body before thinning your lips and gazing back at Gaz. He stares and tilts his head when you lock eyes with him.

“Thank you, Garrick. I…I owe you a large debt.” He’s already shaking his chin at you.

“Negative, Ma’am,” Kyle denies. “The only thing we need to be focusing on is getting the Captain back. Simon should be along by the evening.”

“Sure the man’ll show?” Johnny raises a brow and stands to his full height, going over to the small table in the middle of the room and sitting down with a huff. He picks up a flagon and takes a sip of ale. “He’s far off cuttin’ stone.”

“I sent a rider out and said it was urgent. He should be getting it about now, yeah?”

“Well, hell, I’d sure hope so else we’re out of our favorite Ghost. Can’t have that.” You watch and stare at the ease these two converse with the other, years seem to bleed from their mouths like waves in water. They had it all figured out, and noticeably, they weren’t at all panicked.

“How are the both of you so calm?” You can’t help but ask. Brown and blue turn to furrow their brows at you.

“They took the bloody Captain. Only person worse than that to steal away would be Simon.” A chuckle. “I’m more worried about the bastards themselves than him.” And it was left at that.

At times throughout the day, Gaz would bring you bread to nibble on to help settle your stomach, water, and ale whenever you needed it. When the dryness of the air and the fireplace got too warm for you, Johnny would be the one to carry you down the hill to the water where you’d soak your wounds in the surf. In those moments you could finally take in the pure silence under the waves and let your anguish take hold.

But you always had to break the surface at some point, shimmy into the dry tunic that Soap offers with respectfully averted eyes, and let him carry you back with his bulky arms.

As it always did, the water let your wounds heal far faster than a man’s, though the aches were still intense.

John’s eyes would not leave you. His crown of stars or the lantern light on his face—the way he whisked you away from danger and put himself dead center into it. Keeping you to his large chest as he held aloft a sword in your honor.

“...I think he loves the beast!”

Oh, and you loved right back and you hadn’t told him.

It’s hours upon hours later when the door is shoved open as you sit up in the bed; tail limp and dim on the floor below. You look up in shock at the man whose frame nearly takes up the entire doorway, shoulders wide and thighs vast under work pants and a large tunic, cowl over his head and clasped with a brooch at his left pec. Under shined a deep brown gaze and pale brows, but his entire lower face was covered by cloth.

Intimidating, his visible expression was entirely blank. You wondered if perhaps a vampire had walked into this place without proper entry, but then you remembered the man Johnny and Gaz mentioned.

Simon. Ghost.

Well, he certainly fits the part, stone dust on his clothes and large boots stacked with scrapes. A Stonemason.

“There’s the man!” Johnny exclaims, raising his hand which has another cup of ale in it as he’d downed the other some time ago.

“Where’s Price?” Deep was Simon’s voice, and he spares you a glance but nothing more. Gaze falling down your tail with hidden flickers of intrigue and wafting back up to stop at John’s necklace. His brows pull in as he turns.

“Gone—taken to the King,” Gaz explains from where he leans against the fireplace, face serious.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Simon grunts, walking in and closing the door behind him. “Where was he last?” It’s mildly amusing to you that he doesn’t seem bothered or even surprised by a mermaid in Gaz’s home.

“Just off Harpies Nest,” Johnny pipes in, itching at shaved sides of his scalp. “Where the old beasts used to fly from.”

“I’m guessing she’s the reason for that, then?” Everyone was anxious to act, even you. These men were close, and while circumstance had forced them away from one another the loyalties still lay.

“Affirmative. Price’s been in good company, seems.” A stale glare is sent his way and he chuckles and puts up his hands.

“Is there anything we can do?” You ask, looking at each in turn. Seeming to still hold that ingrained ranking that all men in the service do, Johnny and Gaz look to Simon. Brown eyes blink slowly, turning to look at you in a narrowed thought.

After a while, he speaks in a monotone.

“They’ll be bringing ‘em to the castle to stand trial. We’ve already lost a day’s time and there’ll be no ship that can sail as fast as we need it to.”

“By land?” Gaz wonders. Johnny’s shaking his head.

“How do you expect we get the Lady through that?” Eyes turn to your lack of legs. Body stiff, you huff and grit your teeth. If they thought you weren’t going along, that was foolish of them.

“I can swim to the docks,” you pause, “but you’ll have to tell me the way, for I do not know it.”

John had talked about docks—places ships went to rest. You’re sure you can make it, even like this. You had to.

Johnny stares before he chuckles twice, sharing a glance with the others and motioning to you. “I like ‘er.”

Gaz and Simon look at one another with a side-eye, before Kyle sighs and shakes his head. Simon hooks his thumbs into his pants and huffs out, “Sure you’re up for that?”

“I’m helping John.” Pushing, you meet those brown eyes head-on and steel yourself. “I need him back.”

There’s no further fight, and Ghost takes everything you say at face value. “Fine.”

And that was that.

—

The plan was so stupid you wondered if these men had gone brain-dead, but inside the castle dungeons, John had no way of knowing that.

He frowned deeply as his pounding skull tipped back to connect with the cobblestone wall, blood dried over the right side of his face. A growl on his lips as the chains keep his hands high above him and hanging as his backside stays seated on the floor. His limbs had long since gone numb, circulation cut out in an uncomfortable state of numbness.

But inside of him, there was a sense of accomplishment despite everything. He’d gotten you away from dirty hands—away from hooks. Away from danger.

John could die happy with that.

On the ship, before he’d been brought to the castle, the crew had tied him to the mainsail mast with a ragged rope that had skinned his flesh in just minutes of the rocking waves. They’d taken his vessel as well, and all of his belongings were confiscated in the docks. From there it had been amused jabs at his stomach with fists and knife-throwing practice.

John had cuts along the sides of his arms and the meat of his thighs—clothes shredded and torn from blades. His forehead had a long gash from the scalp to the temple, dried now but pulling with red aggression.

The fisherman hums under his breath and thinks only of you.

It was a fact that you had brought music into his life; a melody of waves and scales that could not be denied. Songs that sounded like sea-foam and a lapping of a tail across the water. When he’d seen you that day from behind the black rocks, John had lost a piece of himself to your wide eyes and tilted head. That spark of connection.

He had never been so thankful for choosing a new place to cast his nets, because he’d unwittingly caught the greatest creature he ever could have—one people have been running after for years.

You.

John’s lips pull in a tiny smile, eyes going soft. Above him his chains rattle and his arms flinch, wounds burning, but for the life of him, he can’t stop smiling. Wherever you were, he hoped you were safe and that he gave you the best chance of survival. He hoped you could forgive him.

Footsteps echo off the ground, and John looks over to the iron bars of his cell stiffly, mask re-falling to his stern face like a curtain. Two guards in armor clink down the hallway, expressions hidden by hoods and cloth. One produces a rusted key from his belt and slips it into the door, the metal rattling as it gets forced back and forth until the telltale click signifies the opening of the lock.

“Finally letting me out, then?” John speaks dryly, voice holding a rasp.

No one answers, and soon John’s chains are dropped and his arms seized. Yanked up, the fisherman grunts in pain as his legs drag behind him across the cobble—being taken somewhere. Probably, if John had to guess, the noose.

Desertion isn’t something you can get out of shy of a life sentence; to hell or to a cell was entirely up to the King. And the King wasn’t entirely fond of John and his One Hundred and Forty-First.

John was forced out into the open courtyard, a dichotomy of brightly flowering bushes and expensive finery to the platform placed in the very middle. The brunette's lips thinned at the sight of the large and imposing body made of wood and rope belonging to the gallows, a grim reaper of earthly material. There would be no great fight from him, no roar of a death rattle, just a kicking of his feet and tight wheezes, but no more.

He knows his final thoughts will be of you—what you’re doing right now, how you’ll live the rest of your life. John hopes you don’t cry for him.

The two guards shove him forward, and already a crowd has formed below the viewing platform for the monarch himself, who sits in all of his finery. Wyvern leather for his gloves, unicorn horn for a scepter, and…John’s eyes go tight, scales that make up a crown of opal and gold. Vibrant scales.

Unmistakingly Merfolk, anyone who’s met one of the species would know it. It has the same shine as the one John holds in the pouch on his belt; the fisherman clings to the fact that, against all of it, you were still with him in even a small sense. You’d be with him.

So John grits his teeth and glares up to the dias defiantly as the guards hold him under the noose, shoving his head to the side to grab the rope. He feels no fear.

“Fuckin’ watch it, Muppet,” the fisherman hisses, snapping his head to the side to stare into the glinting brown eyes from under the hood. He pauses, brows furrowing. “What…?”

As his hands are forced behind him, they’re not tied as the excited murmuring from the crowd begins, the King’s forward-leaning attention.

They’re given a knife.

John hides his surprise and looks over to the other guard as he fits the noose over his neck. Amused blue, and around his neck the glint of silver discs.

“Oh, bloody hell, you’re takin’ the piss,” the former Captain growls lowly. He knows those damned eyes, just as he knows his former Lieutenant’s.

MacTavish and Simon.

“Chin up, Captain,” Johnny jokes under his breath hidden by cloth. “Show’s about to start. Let’s give ‘em a proper scare, yeah.”

Blue eye glare, but they lack the venom. A barred-teeth smile grows. How had this happened? Johnny steps back and goes to his side, the wood under their feet creaking. The crowd falls silent, looking to the King for the verdict.

The King’s fingers raise and John memorizes his face in that instant…because it’s only then that he sees Gaz.

Gaz, who was on the upper terrace of the courtyard’s walls, holding a musket with the stock trained to his cheek; body still and ready—tutored to a perfectly motionless trance. There aren’t any guards to be seen near him. It’s a moment of pure silence, a ruling energy. The crowd is waiting for the King to verbalize an answer that he’s never able to give.

As the monarch’s lips open there is an eardrum-bursting boom that shatters the call for John’s doom and instead spells his own in his very castle from one of his former men. A poetic ending, John would say, but he’s unable to verbalize it as he’s suddenly falling through the gallows hatch as Simon reems on the handle.

“Knife!” It’s all the Ghost yells in warning.

With a rush of air, there’s a split second to cut the rope before it breaks his neck, and with a snapping motion, John perfects it in an instant—instinct as sharp as any blade that could be put into his hand. He hits the ground with a loud grunt of pain and struggles to sit up until Johnny and Simon jerk at him from where they’d jumped down as well. Not a second too soon, as lead balls from rival guns were already hitting the gallows.

Not all the guards were dead, then, and apparently, the three had known that would be a possibility.

John would have to scold them later.

“What in the hell is going on?!” The fisherman barks, but he’s being dragged before he shoves their hands off of him and follows to where they beeline into the fleeing crowd.

“What?” Johnny belts out laughter. “No ‘thank you?’ We just saved your neck!”

“Left!” Simon shouts, and although John’s body can’t take much more, they all dart into the cover of the castle walkways. “Make for the docks—the Sergeant’s meeting us there.”

“Bloody fucking Christ!” John growls but quickly goes onto the most important topic. “She’s behind this, isn’t she?” Johnny’s smirk only confirms it.

“Proper girl you’ve got there, Gaz found her on the shore. Else we’d never have heard about it all before you were dead and gone.” John blinks at him. “Getting reckless without us, now?”

The former Captain ignores the remark. “Where is she?”

“Oi!” Ghost hisses, looking over his shoulder as the three hurry on as shouting rings from behind them. “Get your head in the game. Focus on not getting shot, yeah?”

Brown meets blue.

“You’ll see ‘er soon.” Simon ends, dead eyes shifting to a form that rampages through the hallway behind them. “Behind!” He calls loudly, and John ducks just as a knife is thrown with pinpoint accuracy. A sound of a body hitting the floor echoes over the distant screaming and calls of alarm.

The King is dead.

All of the men reach their destination by sheer luck and the knowledge of how to use a blade, cobblestone leading to open streets and back alleys. Finally, the wide stretch of sea was visible, and a shadow slinked out of a corner quickly.

“Hell,” Gaz blinks at them, “do you think I’ll ever be let back into the castle?”

Johnny pants a laugh. “You’ll be lucky to get into the province, ya sneaky Bastard. Fine fuckin’ shot.”

Simon looks at them. “Gaz, Johnny, get to it.”

They’re by the open water of the dock, long wooden walkways stretching out with ships shifting in the waves. John wonders if his boat is here in the back of his mind, but his eyes are already combing the waves greedily in search of you.

Were you here? Oh, he hoped you weren’t. You’d be placing yourself in the middle of a very real and present danger.

“Get to what?” John questions, looking at each man in turn. “What ‘ave you planned, eh? Seems I’ve missed the meeting where we decide to assassinate the bloody monarch in broad daylight.”

Gaz places a hand on his shoulder as he shimmies past. “Best to leave the heavy lifting to the ones who can stand fully, Captain.”

“Aye,” Johnny confirms. “You’ll want to be here more than anywhere, bet ya.”

Simon shares a look with the blacksmith and grabs John by one shoulder, leading him to the water as Johnny takes the other. The brunette blinks quickly in confusion and grunts an expletive.

“Get your hands off of me you pair of—!”

“Have fun!” Johnny and Simon both shove him into the water with a final push and dart off like wisps.

Water rushes into his ears, covering his head and soaking his clothes before it drags him under. John’s arms flailed to propel him back to the surface. A jolt later, his head is breaching the water with a venomous glare and a barked order on his lips to a vacant audience. The boys had already sprinted off to who knows where.

“Son of a…” John trials, weak legs kicking to keep him afloat. Something brushes his thigh as water drips from his nose, cleaning away the blood with a reddish tint to the liquid.

The fisherman startles, head snapping down just as your hands grasp at his abdomen, sliding up as you press your lips deeply into his in one swift motion. He gasps, grip instinctually moving to hold onto the small of your back.

You press into him tightly, pushing every emotion into the locking of your mouths with desperation and longing. Sighing deeply into the kiss, John melts into you as your tail brushes his legs, torn fins visible and shimmering stitches pulling at flesh. Scales glint somewhat brighter under the waves, water dripping along your shoulders and wetting your hair.

John brings you closer when he realizes it’s your form around him, eyes fluttering closed and fingers weaving behind the base of your skull. It’s as if the world stills for that quick and reverent second as if everything is right. The both of you break the kiss with soft eyes, and after a moment of staring your chest releases a chuckle; hands coming up to capture your fisherman’s cheeks, weaving through those beard hairs once more.

The brunette stares at you and lays his forehead into yours, not knowing what to say. A smile plays on his lips.

“...It seems my fisherman had more of a reckless side than I anticipated,” you speak for him, whispering into the air. Your eyes flicker over the cuts and bruises visible on his pale flesh and a flash of fear alights in your expression. “Oh, John…What have they done to you?”

“Just scratches,” the man reassures delicately. “It’s alright, Love. I’ll live.”

But you both know this conversation can’t happen here. With a few more pecks of kisses to his lips, you ask in an ethereal voice, “Do you trust me?”

Your hand is locked to his wrist, pulling him along the waters as your head tilts at him and tail sliding along his flesh.

John wastes no time. “Of course.”

Lips flicker to a small, loving, grin and then you drag him under the water.

—

“Do they hurt?” He asks you carefully, running a calloused hand along the tears in your fins you know will never heal fully. You sit on the rocks below Gaz’s home, the water still dripping off of both of your bodies.

Out farther in the water the three other men are sailing back in John’s fishing boat, a few minutes out. You blink down at him and move a hand to shift his jaw upward to you, humming.

“Not when you touch them like that,” confessing, you keep close to him, held tightly under the crook of his arm and breathing in that scent of rope and wood oil. You practically vibrate with comfort, all of your worries able to be put aside at last.

John looks down at you and chuckles, putting a deep kiss on your scalp and taking a deep inhale.

“Cheeky,” he teases. You smile.

“And yours?” Your voice speaks out in question as the water brushes your tail.

The man peels back to look down at you slowly. “Already better…I owe you, Sweetheart.”

Huffing, you shake your head, “You owe me nothing. The only reason you were there was because of me.”

John’s brows furrow, taking your chin in his fingers and tilting your head back to him. He stares into your eyes for a long while until your face starts to heat with emotion, blinking up at him innocently. His blues dart over the healing cuts and marks with hidden emotion.

“I’d do it again,” John whispers. “A million times over, you hear? I’d be a bloody fool not to.”

He kisses you as you both wait in the setting twilight for the others, bloody and beaten—more scar tissue than anything else—but still your John.

“Thank you,” he mutters into your lips, and then again when he nips at your flesh. The man plays with his necklace at your collarbone as he traces patterns in your scales and smirks when you shiver.

He wonders how he got so lucky when the others anchor the boat near the shore, hopping off and wading the rest of the way to the beach. John kisses your forehead and says he’d be right back.

You watch him with glinting eyes as he walks over to his men, taking each in a heartfelt handshake and conversing honestly. Your eyes blink at the care they display for one another and raise a hand when they peel off, back up to Gaz’s home to rest.

They reciprocate and disappear atop the hill.

What’s he doing? You ask as you watch John climb aboard his vessel and rummage around his fishing barrels, opening some and tossing the tops to the deck. Hands shifting along the rocks, you can’t hide the amusement or affection in your eyes at the sight of his ramping annoyance. What was he looking for?

Your fingers go up to play with his necklace and watch.

You can’t say you feel much heartache at the loss of your cove—even with the king dead, you were still hunted for your scales—though you had grown to see it in a new light. The place was only a home when John was there, and you knew wherever you went as long as he was there it would be alright.

The both of you wouldn’t let anything happen to one another.

John comes back carrying something tucked in cloth, a small parcel held in one hand and longer than it is wide. Your interest is immediately piqued, curiosity straining your eyes.

He holds it out to you with a mischievous glint and a smirk.

“Go on,” John motions. Blinking at him, your brows furrow as you carefully take the item from his hands, settling it in your lap before you shift the cloth away.

Your fingers go to cover your mouth, small gasp entering the air.

It was a golden box, engraved with movements that resemble lace and waves—shimmering in the low light.

“John,” you stutter, “what is…?”’

“Open it,” the man insists, kneeling down in front of you as if his muscles didn’t ache. “It’s the reason I was late that day.” John grunts, rubbing at the bottom of his beard and watching intently; crinkles beside his eyes.

You stare for a moment with burning tear ducts before you grasp ahold of the lid and open it after running a digit over the make.

Inside sits blue velvet and, strangely, your own scales, but atop that…the blinding gold of a pair of twin cuff bracelets—stones the same shade as your tail. It was perhaps the most elegant piece of jewelry you had ever seen.

For a solid minute you’re rendered speechless, mouth opening and closing as your tail hangs limp in the low tide. Chucking, John takes the pieces out and your ears twitch to the sound of your scales clacking together like glass.

“Why would you…” You can’t make sense of it.

John slips them over your wrists and you gape in wonder. They fit just perfectly.

You look up into your Fisherman’s face and feel tears drip down your chin. A hard hand comes to wipe them away as you laugh through a sniffle.

“Do you like them, then, Love?” He asks lowly, beard pulled back in a smile.

“Yes,” you say immediately, giggling. “How could I not? John, they’re lovely. Far too beautiful for me.”

The former Captain grunts and his brows pull in, frowning. “Now why would you say that?” He brings your hands to his lips and kisses your knuckles. “You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. Can’t make me change my mind on that, eh?”

Your eyes bore into him, lips parted. After a moment your face feels like it’s on fire and you cover your cheeks.

John laughs loudly, grabbing your arms and lightly squeezing the flesh before taking your grip back down to your lap. You smile so widely you’re afraid your face might crack open.

“No need to hide,” he hums. “Let me see that face.”

“You’re good to me, John.” His face softens, wrinkles fall away, and his chest swells with pride. You kiss his lips and whisper, “I bare my soul to you.”

It wasn’t an ‘I love you’ but something far more precious.

The man’s face deepens with devotion, gruff figure more than easily leaning over yours as you’re carefully laid back to the tiny pebbles behind you—a hand behind your head and at the swell of what would be a hip.

In the darkening night, the sun shines its dying light across the waves just like the extending fingers of John’s firm grip; dragging you into him as sea-currents would. Wrapping you both in kelp and a salty grave. His voice is the grating of sand, the slide of a rope across a wooden deck.

“Then I’ll take care of it for as long as I live.”

Your fisherman damns you to a crypt of land and air, and you couldn’t worship it more. To live and to die beside him is to have existed just as you should have.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

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rerefundslocals · 1 year

Text

ADORE YOU [J.JK]

Summary: jungkook just wants to cook for you and love on you as a newly married couple.

>>pairing: husband!jungkook x wife!reader (she/her)

>>trope: established relationship

>>genre: fluff, fluff and fluff

>>word count: 917

>>warnings/tags: jungkook is just cheesy, mentions of jungkooks past with cooking(that one run bts ep), some tears of LOVE and Joy, short brief kisses, they're just vv cute :( lmk if I missed anything!

a/n - welll, uhm, I liked the live but damn bro at 4am? 😭 anyway, please enjoy this short piece of work, I'll be gone for a while. Please send feedback through reblogs or asks, it helps authors stay very motivated <333 {work is not proofread}

{Listen to 'Adore you' by Harry Styles as this is inspired by the song.}

~★~

"You don't have to say,you love me

You don't have say nothing

You don't have to say ,you're mine

Honey, I'll walk through fire for you

Just let me Adore You."

•★•♥︎•★•♥︎•

"You're gonna cook for me?"

"Of course. who else is gonna cook for my wifey?" Jungkook leans down at your figure sitting on the couch, placing a peck on your lips.

You both had just got back from your honeymoon and this is the first night in your shared home, and after a whole day of grocery shopping, Jungkook had decided to stand up and make a meal for you both.

You simply chuckle at his antics, deep down feeling a wave of worry as the last time Jungkook had cooked for you both, the food had stuck onto the plate.

"McDonald's can cook for us too, Kook and it'll be ready in no more than 30minutes." You suggest, hoping he would catch on.

But he doesn't.

"No, that's very unhealthy, we had nothing but unhealthy food during our honeymoon, so let's have something different. Hmm, Wifey?" He asks, head tilting to the side as he awaits your answer.

Looking at him draped in his White Nike shirt, that you suppose he got from Japan and his Grey Joggers ; you pout at him, hoping to persuade him.

Sighing you let out, "argh, fine. Promise you won't poison me?" As your response.

Fists meeting the air in victory and a funny walk that has him tilting to the side all the way to the kitchen, he let's out a strained response, "Don't worry, Princess! You're in good hands."

"Okay, My Prince Charming!" You shout back.

During the time that you scroll through the smart TV and your phone, it's clear to hear the tunes your Husband sings in the kitchen and it has you smiling from ear to ear.

What a beautiful voice he has. And he can sing to you all day and night, cause he adores you that much.

You're pulled out of your thoughts when Jungkook hardly places the pot on the countertop, making you flinch at the sudden hit.

"Come, Princess!" He ushers.

You walk to the kitchen, dressed in something similar as him. Grey sweats and a oversized Prada shirt that belongs to Jungkook, while your hair is styled the way you like.

"Hmm, what's this, baby?" You question, peering at the meal in the pot.

He smiles at you, feeling proud and it had you feeling shy because of how he stares into your eyes when he explains.

"So, Princess. This is my famous Seaweed rice, with fried rice mix along with chicken breasts mixed in with sesame oil, soy sauce and gochujang. And that all for my Wifey." He finishes, lips meeting yours for a loving peck and when he pulls away, you almost want to dive right in for more.

Deciding to tease him, you walk closer to him, hands going around his neck, playing with the hair by his neck. In response his hands wrap around your waist as they rest above your ass.

"Am I the only one you've cooked this for? Just asking since it's so 'famous'."

"Yes, Baby. I used to eat this in college before I met your pretty ass." He responds coyly, Smirking at you, gaze never leaving your figure.

"Mhm okay, l-let's eat." You stutter.

You quickly let go of him, feeling hot all of a sudden as you grab a spoon to eat.

"Wait- let me show you how to eat it." Jungkook stops you, gently taking the spoon out of your hand.

He scoops some rice first and goes over to the pot, scooping his mix into it as well, and when he's done with that, he brings it up your lips, ushering you to open your mouth.

"Open, Princess."

You can't help but ask, "you sure this ain't poisoned, Mr Jeon?"

"Yes, Mrs Jeon. Now eat, you look very hungry, my angel." He chuckles.

You open your mouth to where the spoon can enter and he shoves the food into your mouth.

You chew it up, savoring the flavors, while Jungkook watches with doe desperate eyes waiting for your- preferably praises and compliments to his food.

Lowering the hand covering your mouth as you swallow, you dramatically wipe your hands, head nodding like a food critic.

"Its so good! Give me more." You burst into giggles as you watched Jungkooks eyes relax when you give him a compliment as loud as that.

He questions, "it's good, baby?"

You nod at him as you scoop the mix onto your rice, "soo good! Cook this for us everytime okay?"

Jungkook nods at you, making a cute noise with his mouth as he joins you, eating from the pot.

He feels very happy at this moment with his newlywed wife, in the kitchen eating from their newly purchased pots, in their newly purchased home that they worked very hard for.

"I adore you so much." He whispers in your ear, making you shiver from the baritone in his voice.

You shyly cower as you swallow the last bits of your food, "really?" You look up at the taller figure, staring deep into your eyes.

"Really. I love you so much, Mrs Jeon. Thank you for allowing me to be your husband."

"Aww, Kook. You're gonna make me cry- !I love you more." Tears build up at the corner of your eyes and you hide them by kissing Jungkook senseless.

It's not filled with tongue or the desire for sex, just filled with love and feelings.

Cause in this moment he just wants to adore you and you want to adore him too.

~♥︎~

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apollos-favorite-child · 3 months

Text

Hey! It’s Kayla, Apollos favorite child :)

my main acc is @imobsessed123

I saw will and dad joining this app, so I thought I would too!

☀️ Everyone ☀️

Sorry if you’re not tagged I’m too lazy :)

@the-song-of-the-moon loml

@why-did-i-get-acne dad :)

@apollo-god-of-prophecy also dad..?

@the-god-of-sun dad??

@thatoneprophecyguy how many accounts does my father have???

@will-solace-aaaaa My brother!!

@moththecabin7kid my fav sibling

@jason-graceeeeee is dating a brick I think?? Is dating Leo

@percy-jackson-is-a-seaweed-brain main character vibes

@best-dam-huntress Hunts with Auntie :)

@calypso-daughter-of-atlas she deserves better than leo

@leo-valdez-graaa the fire guy

@theonlycoachhedge slightly concerned for him 😬

@nico-the-ghost-king Dating my bro!!

@the-argo-2-matchmaker she’s pretty ngl

@bow-down-to-rara she has the lady Gaga name lol

@lukemessedup …

@the-amazhang-teddybear dating hazel

@grover-eats-cans has a godly digestive system ig

@thrower-of-hairbrushes-official she threw that hairbrush

@everyone-is-a-punk daddy issues

@tyson-the-cyclops really nice!

@silena-styles I thought she was dead??

@magnus-falafelking loves falafel more than his fiance

@that-hijabi-loki-spawn one of the few normal people here

#Kayla Talks #percy jackson #pjo

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why-did-i-get-acne · 5 months

Text

BEHOLD IT IS APOLLO

sorta, here's a haiku to explain

I was once a god

No longer am I a god

Because Zeus is dumb

Hi, I'm Lester Papadopoulos

(Did I spell that right, I have been in this body for so long, yet I still can't get it right)

I'm pansexual and my pronouns are he/they

My tag is #all hail apollo

Also there's:

Jason Grace, my brother from another mother (and technically father), @the-best-superman-oGod's. mpus Percy Jackson, Olympus's savior, @percy-jackson-is-a-seaweed-brain Annabeth Chase, I'm scared of her mother, @annabeth-is-a-wise-girl Thalia, I'm scared of her too, @best-dam-huntress Calypso, I may have forgotten her..., @calypso-daughter-of-atlas Hedge, isn't he a table or something?, @theonlycoachhedge Nico Di-Angelo, who's dating my son (tho he is a son of hades who also scares me) @nico-the-ghost-king, Leo, creater of the Valdezinator, @team-leoo, Piper, her dad is hot, @the-argo-2-matchmaker,Will, MY SON, @sunny-boy-solace, Reyna, her initials spell RARA, like the lady gaga song, @bow-down-to-rara, Luke, I thought he died, @lukemessedup, Hazel, Hades other kid, the one he broke the pact for, @hazel-the-diamond, Frank, the one with like 5 backgrounds, @the-amazhang-teddybear, Grover, he gets along with Meg too much, @grover-eats-cans, Rachel Dare, my oracle, @thrower-of-hairbrushes-official, Clarisse, who is that again? @everyone-is-a-punk, Tyson, I still feel bad about the tattoos, @tyson-the-cyclops, Selena, the daughter of Aphrodite, @silena-styles

[My personal blog is @wii-music-on-repeat]

#All hail apollo #percy jackson #pjo hoo toa #pjo series #pjo fandom #percy jackon and the olympians

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hufflepuffwritingstuff2 · 4 months

Note

Could you write the siren villain singing the hero to sleep prompt? I love siren characters hfkfjffhd these prompts are giving me life right now ❤️

Hi anon! I’d love to! Thank you for requesting this, here you go!

From this prompt pack

Hero staggered into the cave, their clothes soaked through. They collapsed against the cavern wall, breathing heavily. That storm was no joke, it had practically torn their ship in two. They only hoped the rest of the crew had managed to survive. Their hand rested over a gash in their side, red seeping through their chilled fingers. Pink decorated their cheeks as the early stages of a cold settled in their chest.

Hero stared into the pool of water fed by the ocean at the cave mouth. They tilted their head as the pool started to ripple. A scaly face poked their head out from under the surface. Hero stumbled back, reaching for their knife strapped to their thigh.

“You!” Hero shouted weakly, “get away from me!”

The siren, Villain, rose a few more inches out of the water. They looked Hero up and down with their slitted eyes.

“You’re hurt,” Villain said.

“And I bet you just love that, don’t you?” Hero snapped, “bet you’re desperate for a taste of me-”

“Well yes, but not in that way,” Villain smirked.

Hero ignored them, continuing to fuss.

“Bet you just loved watching my ship go down. Bet your little friends had the time of their lives snacking on my crew-my family- you just came here to get the last snack, that’s it, isn’t it!?”

As Hero spoke, tears started to sting their eyes. Their whole crew was probably long gone thanks to the sirens.

“Hero, calm down,” Villain said softly.

They hauled themselves out of the pool and sat at Hero’s side. They gently wiped their tears.

“I called my brethren off,” Villain said, “your crew is fine. They all made it to an island not far from here. I came here to fetch you.”

“Ha,” Hero scoffed, “more like they all made it to Davy Jones’ Locker! Leave me alone, I’m not falling for any of your tricks!”

Hero curled in on themselves, sobbing quietly. Villain took another look at their wound; it looked pretty bad, they needed to treat it, but they got the feeling that Hero wouldn’t let them anywhere near it. Not to mention, they wouldn’t be able to move them with an injury like that.

“Hero, stop, please,” Villain said gently, “if you work yourself up, you’ll make your injury worse. Let me just take a look at it and-”

“No!” Hero shouted, “go away! For the last time!”

Villain bit their lip and sighed. It looked like there was no other way. Villain opened their mouth and started to sing. It was soft and gentle at first, then became a little louder. Hero turned to look at Villain, and their eyes glazed over. Villain beckoned them forward, still singing. Hero crawled over to them, entranced. Villain laid Hero’s head in their lap and started to stroke their hair. They gently closed Hero’s eyes for them. Hero drifted off to the sound of Villain’s song. Once they were sure they were asleep, Villain gently maneuvered Hero back onto the cave floor and got to work.

…

Hero woke up with a start. They felt grains of sand sticking to them, and a soft pressure around their torso. They looked down and saw seaweed wrapped snugly around their wound.

“Hero!”

Hero turned and saw First Mate swiftly approaching them. They bent down and hugged them, careful not to aggravate their injury.

“We were so worried about you,” First Mate said, “when Villain’s sirens brought us here, no one could find you. We thought that you- well, it doesn’t matter. Villain found you and brought you back.”

Hero’s mind was racing. Villain was telling the truth? The last thing they remembered was yelling at them to go away… how did they bring them here? Villain watched the reunion from a safe distance. Their Hero was safe, and that was all that mattered.

Patreon

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Tags: @mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog

#hero x villain #heroes and villains #siren villain #human hero #shipwreck #writeblr #writing #creative writing #snippet #as requested #mind control #fantasy #fantasy whump #mermaids #siren caretaker #hero whumpee

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the-starryknight · 2 months

Text

last lines of longest fics

thank you for this tag, dear @magpiefngrl <3 this was an interesting exercise! of course, few of my fics are all that long, but some patterns emerge here nonetheless.

A Room Up There (And You In It) (drarry, T, 60k) It felt glorious. It felt right. It felt like home.

Meet Me at Midnight (drarry, T, 57k) Draco smiled, eyes crinkling. "Good morning, Harry."

“Good morning.”

Two Zinnias and the Scent of Lemon (drarry, M, 17k) The gallery entry was filled with a team of half a dozen Aurors at minimum. Harry cast first, hands moving, sending a powerful Protego around them.

And they were off. Back into the fray.

Sleight of Hand (drarry, E, 15k) “Like I said,” Malfoy drawled, eyes over the coffee cup to Harry, steely gray and deeper, more serious than they had been so far. “We make great allies.”

Saltwater Stain (drarry, M, 9k) The water spray intensified, blue-green and wrong coming from the showerhead. Harry reached for the door behind them but found it locked. Draco took his hand; they were one, unbreakable.

Harry held him. What could it possibly offer them? They were together, a sturdy mast to weather any storm. The scent of saltwater filled the room, seaweed gurgling in the drain.

Split Figs in Summer (drarry, E, 8k) Under the sky full of glittering stars, Harry whispered a promise into his skin, “We’ll work on tomorrow together.”

Any Way You Slice It (wolfstar, E, 6k) He kissed me then, tasting like butterbeer and oranges and the June sun, and I would swear the world just held its breath for us. There was no war, no noise. Just the wind ruffling through his scruffy hair, and his hands on my hips, and his lips on my nose. Just the two of us.

The Art of the Matter (drarry, E, 6k) Draco pushed Harry onto the bed with a final shove and Harry went willingly, joyfully even, laughing as Draco knelt between his trousered-legs. Draco smiled at that too, skin singing with the thrill of their success. He kissed Harry with no hesitation, smiling into the kiss. Draco murmured against his skin, “As if I could ever be finished with you.”

Of Mirrors, Myths, and Men (drarry, E, 5k) “You’re beautiful,” Harry said, kissing his forehead. “I didn’t realize how much I wanted you till I started looking.”

I thought mates were a myth. Like the glass knitting itself back together, Draco thought they must belong like this, two shattered halves made whole. As if in any universe, they’d end up right back here, naked and breathless on the hardwood floor, a wing curled over Harry’s sleeping back.

“And now?”

“Now, I’m never going to stop.”

Surface Texture (Harry/Teddy, E, 5k) For the first time, I feel confident in asking. He wants me, and I him, and inside these doors, we have each other. Maybe I’ll draw us like this next, laid out together on the carpet, skin singing the same song.

patterns: evidently, I like ending with them lying together in bed/on the floor, or in an ambiguous "something more is about to happen but the central plot has been resolved" with no real in-between. lots of ending dialogue! there's even more of that in some of the shorter ones -- maybe a quality of my preference for the shorter form? something i'll be thinking about.

tagging whomever wants to play along! have at it, tag me if you feel like it.

#starry writes

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lukemessedup · 5 months

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Hey, it's me.

Luke Castellan. Yeah, I know what you guys are thinking. And being very honest here, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt and I lost sight of what I was trying to do in the first place. I let my wrath get the better of me.

I use he/it pronouns and I'm not looking for any sort of relationship.

(Admin is NOT ALLOWING SHIPS!!)

(ooc im red and a minor and he/it/they pronouns, admin blog is @octavians-redemption )

I'll use the tag # castellan can talk

People that I know (will most likely have to be updated):

CAMPERS (and some others)

Percy Jackson - @percy-jackson-is-a-seaweed-brain

Annabeth Chase (I love you like a little sister) - @annabeth-is-a-wise-girl

Grover Underwood (sorry about the shoes thing) - @grover-eats-cans

Thalia Grace - @best-dam-huntress

Calypso - @calypso-daughter-of-atlas

Clarisse La Rue (she knows to keep herself in check) - @everyone-is-a-punk

Piper McLean - @the-argo-ii-resident-matchmaker

Will Solace - @sunny-boy-solace

Moth - @moththecabin7kid

Fin - @fin-the-child-of-hermes

GODS AND GODDESSES

Artemis - @artemisandhunters

Apollo - (why couldn't he have been mortal when I was trying to take over Olympus...) @why-did-i-get-acne

Aphrodite - @im-aphrodite-dearies

Dionysus / Mr. D - @dionysus-god-of-all-things-wine

EX-TITAN ARMY (sorry for lying to... well, all of you)

Silena - (sorry about the bracelet) @silena-styles

Kat - (sorry about alabaster, he got banished from chb) @cabinseventheaterchick

Ethan - (sorry about.. uh, well, throwing you off olympus) @lieutenant-of-kronos

Vi - (sorry about literally everything) @the-song-of-the-moon

Alabaster - (sorry about being the kind of reason you got banished from chb) @alabaster-c-t

Rowan - (sorry for leading you down the wrong path) @existence-is-pain-ahhhhhhhh

#castellan can talk #also um #red rambles a lot #percy jackson rp #pjo hoo toa

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seaweedstarshine · 2 months

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Thinking about River affectionately calling the Doctor her “madman in a box” only after he's called her his “bespoke psychopath,” and vice versa. They each were called these words by the other before ever using them to describe the other.

Thinking about the way they defy reality for each other. How modern psychiatry elevates objective reality to gatekeep full participation in society, yet they shatter objective reality with love — “I can’t let you die without knowing that you are loved.” and “You are always here to me and I always listen and I can always see you.”

Thinking about “What's the mad fool talking about now?” and how Gallifrey ostracizes those labelled mad, going so far as to see it as failure in children. Thinking about “A child is not a weapon!” “Give us time.” and how Kovarian equates psychopath with weapon as a tool of dehumanization and control.

Thinking about the way the psychiatric-industrial complex inflicts violence upon those who deviate from psychosocial norms. How their relationship was born in violence, but of madness — not madness in a post-Enlightenment framework of opposition to Reason, but madness as radical compassion that doesn’t demand so-called rationality — “Every time you've asked, I have been there.”

Thinking about how neither of them chose “psychopath” or “madman,” but they both own those words as instruments in their own agency.

#words by seaweed #(eleventh) doctor is neurodivergent tag #river song #eleventh doctor #twelfth doctor #antipsychiatry #madpunk #yowzah #doctor who #bc I've seen the discourse on whether river is ‘actually’ a psychopath heres your regular reminder that psychopath is NOT a medical term #it's madman but with a lack-of-empathy slant.#saneism #ableism #reclaimed language #actually psychotic #mental health #neuropunk #mad liberation #disclaimer: not a philsopher. can u tell I was a graphic design major w an incidental personal investment in psychotic ppl rights #anyway when I say ‘madness as radical compassion’ I don’t mean that madness creates compassion; but that this position #where participation in modern personhood is violently denied+ autonomy stripped due to weaponizing mental health interests (my river song)#elicits a different framework of compassion— one doesn't have to make sense or ‘fit’ into a convenient Narrative for compassion #the fact that they passing laws to make conservatorships easier to acquire in several states makes me shriek when I think sometimes #so uh tune in next time for me drowning my sorrows in my canon psychotic eleventh doctor evidence posts

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julysecnd · 10 months

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9 people you'd like to know better

ty @haasegawa for the tag !!! so sorry i didn't get around to this sooner qwq

Last song: mine

Currently watching: very slowly finishing pokemon journeys, leon is so delicious

Currently reading: stormbringer except it's taking forever because i have the jp and en versions and i'm reading both at the same time

Current obsession: bsd in general, particularly fixated on soukoku and the next gen fic that i'm writing

tagging : @cyber-seaweed @xarlutye @cinammonelles @cyrafoam @severaltuesdays @frostlineprince @bimalewife (first mutuals on the list ty for following!), and @sweebat @killjoy-prince !

#tagged

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percy-jackson-is-a-seaweed-brain · 5 months

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Hi my name is Percy!

My dad is Poseidon..i'm part of the seven. Blah Blah Blah, you all know that. Im Bi, Use He/They Pronouns and Nonbinary. My tag will be #seaweed brains speaks And here's my friends: Jason- @the-best-superman-on-olympus (i could take him(on a date)) Leo- @team-leoo (fire boiiii) 💙💙Annabeth💙💙- @annabeth-is-a-wise-girl (Wise girl( just a friend)) Thalia- @best-dam-huntress (part of #teamdamit) Coach Hedge- @theonlycoachhedge (Still mad about the stable thing-) Nico- @nico-the-ghost-king (Liked Mythomagic) Calypso-@calypso-daughter-of-atlas (Kidnapped me on her Island) Lester/Apollo-@why-did-i-get-acne (Flirted with Thalia..and let her drive his chariot..we nearly died) Piper- @the-argo-2-matchmaker(Her dad's like super famous) Will-@sunny-boy-solace (Glow-stick) Reyna- @bow-down-to-rara (RA-RA-RA-RO-RO-MA-MA) Luke-@lukemessedup (did i have a crush on him..NO!!!) Hazel- @hazel-the-diamond (her horse's mouth needs to be washed with soap) Grover-@grover-eats-cans (i hate the consensus song) MOM!!!!!-@percys-blue-food-vendor (i love her <33333) Rachel- @thrower-of-hairbrushes-official (kissed me once) Tyson- @tyson-the-cyclops (Baby bro!!)

and my real blog is @the-gods-dam-snack-bar

#pjo rp #seaweed brain speaks

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codywanfirstkissbingo · 5 months

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There's no need to abandon ship 🚣🏻‍♂️ on the kisses 💋 you've got left to post, even if you still feel like you're in the seaweeds of the details. Don't let the siren song 🧜🏻‍♂️ of abandoning WIPs draw you ashore-- our ship ⛵ needs you and the booty 🍑 your finished WIP will bring to our first kiss treasure chest!

You've still got oceans 🌊 of time to share more of that first kiss Codywan love!

Posts continue now through Dec. 31, 2023, 11:59 PM US EST to post fills-- and while that's not quite as many days as there are fish 🐟 in the sea, we're otterly 🦦 sure that everything you've still got time to post is going to be tentacular 🦑🐙!!!

We're having a whale 🐋 of a time sharing your first kisses-- and don't be afraid to fish 🎣 for compliments, either! Tag #cwfkb wip and @ us here if you've got a WIP you need help reeling in. We'll help you cast your net 🥅 wide, so you can bait 🪱 the audience with all the krilly 🦐 cool work you've already done.

Tag your completed posts with #cwfkb2023, and we'll sea 🌊 you in the tags! 💋💋💋

#cwfkb2023 #mod post #codywan #why is there no treasure chest or pirate emoji in android? emoji fail

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