#Moon da Mermaid/Siren? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ceralmillkandstars · 2 years ago

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a beautiful ring pt 2 (namor x siren!reader)

excerpt: 500 year old god and a young, enchanting mermaid who acts like an absolute gremlin- she refuses to act any different in front of the man who could slice her in half. and he’s absolutely enamored by it.

welcome to part two :) thank yew for all of the support i’ve gotten from you guys so far. def slowly but surely buildin up here. part three is in da works as we speak, praying for some smoochy time cuz smut is my fav thing to write.

here we goooooo

You were raised to love the sea, but your home was the surface.

And by the gods did you need a shower.

Your back was sore, your hair stiff from the sea salt, and the slowly dying adrenaline rush was leaving your eyes droopy and body hunched over. Flying back to Chicago in the dead of night after returning from East Hampton’s beach killed you, your victory of stealing from a god seems meaningless when there is no more energy left to boost your own ego.

You found yourself surprised when you made it to your condo's doorsteps in downtown Chicago safely, in awe that you were just that good. Winding the prize out of your pocket, you gingerly look it over before laying it on your vanity desk, giving yourself a once over in the mirror after you beelined towards your room.

The east coast truly brought out the freckles under your eyes. You glowed, blowing yourself a kiss before trudging into the bathroom. Inhaling the crushed eucalyptus leaves affixed by twine atop of your shower head, you turn the knob as hot as you can stand, beginning to strip from the salty slip dress and undergarments.

A melody begins to hum from your lips, effortlessly wrapping yourself in a protective transfixion as you step into the shower. A groan mixing in with the angelic sound emits from you while the steaming water droplets pelt your back. You lean your head back, running your now goldless, godless fingers through your hair, gingerly tending to your scalp with lavender shampoo and tea tree oil.

You don’t quite know what you are, but you are too unique, too important, to not nourish.

Twirling your conditioner-soaked hair into a clip, you lather yourself with similarly smelling soap that reminds you of the tide pool you once bathed in as a girl, singing hymns that reminded you of the ocean floor you visited today. Twisting and swaying your hips to the song, you let the water turn ice cold once you cleaned yourself sparkling, your hair soft and relaxed, ready to be brushed and braided for the night. The frozen pellets encourage your fears, your inhibitions, the fear that you might have not been forgotten, swirl down the drain, the song coming to an end as you turn the dial off.

Lavender lotion, face oil, floral spaghetti strap and matching undies, french braids with rosemary elixir being soaked by your scalp- the perfect night.

Pizza would make it better, though.

You plop yourself on the bed, back on the mattress, legs raised and pointed towards the air as you dig for your phone to dial whichever place had stuffed crust and pineapple.

You are not alone, the moon murmurs to you, allowing a black sludge of dread to pool within you. Your body jerks up, and you cross your arms over your chest. Eyebrows furrowing and lips jutted, you scan your room.

My kitchen, my kitchen.

Who is in my kitchen?

If another absolutely rancid, stupid boy who couldn’t take the hint and throw away your condo key (you’d never admit that was your fault), you were drowning them. Even if you had to hull their unconscious bodies to Chicago’s murky waters to do so. Even if that’s never happened before.

That’s never happened before.

With a paling face, you slide off the bed and storm into the kitchen. Sometimes, you prayed that the moon would foretell you important information before such an event occurred.

“Listen, Chad, or Jason, or Elijah, who-fucking-ever, if someone ghosts you and doesn’t call you back that doesn’t give you authority to come into their home even if you have a key. I’m going to count to ten before I lay you flat on that countertop and remove your most important ligaments from your body because I am just so fucking tired- oh..”

Your fears did not travel too far down the drain while you showered. Your protection hum was not enough. In fact, the unease of being out of control slithered back up and wrapped itself like a serpent around your neck in a chokehold, for the moon did not whisper to you soon enough that he had followed you back home.

Your protection song was not enough. Usually, something so simple would cause an intruder to burst into a billion water droplets. Usually, you would have just come into the kitchen to discover a puddle and smile to yourself knowing that an idiot got what was coming to them. You did not need the moon to warn you of robbers, of shallow one night stands who can’t get enough of your hypnotic stares, of anyone coming into your home without permission.

And yet, this god stands in your kitchen, seemingly perplexed by your adornment of antique plates and cups poorly stacked in the open cabinets, not one of them the same. His fingers trace along adjacent jars, reading to himself each herb and spice labeled and put away on the wood shelf. You mirror his annoyed expression as his eyes wander near the sink, finding a ripped open, half eaten, chocolate bar.

“I wasn’t expecting company,” you murmur, taking soft steps towards the barrier of your kitchen. You find your fingers smoothing down the base of your floral tank top, giving an angsty stare towards the pair of matching panties acting as a second skin.

Well, at least it didn’t look like you were lying.

He did not change, his gold armor tightly affixed to his shoulders, spear tightly bound in his hands. The large, gold-plated necklace and larger than life pearls, other finely varnished necklaces stack upon one another and his curly, damp, yet neatly toppled hair with those earrings had your cheeks heating.

Very rarely does one of your stature, your nature, become seduced themselves.

Or so the moon tells you.

“Do those earrings hurt from wearing them all day, or does swimming in the water help with the weight distribution?” You blurt, cheeks red, back straight.

The god simply turns, giving you a slow once over. Quiet rage, curiosity swims in his eyes, a deadly demeanor flowing from him to you, you to him.

Exposing pajamas and random questions being unanswered won’t stop you from making his atoms implode with a whisper, for disrespect is a sour taste on your tongue.

Could you even kill him? Leave a scratch on his cheek?

Internally, you scoff. You won’t kill a god. You might steal from one, but it would be purely selfish of you to kill this man. The moon has whispered secrets of an underground world since you were a child wishing to sleep sooner, and it would be against your very nature to slaughter the man who leads a dream world.

So you continue on, filling in the bloodless silence as he turns to your dining table, “I like how you wear your oceanic garb on the surface. I think it’s neat.”

Is he going to take the ring back? Kill you? I mean, if you were him, you’d kill you if caught. Maybe you should go get it.

“I will not conform myself to the surface when I step foot onto this land.” The silky, calculated, deliberate cool tone reverberates around your home, the tranquil atmosphere melding into an eerie fog.

You pucker your lips, nodding.

The moon must be humored by your calmness before the very man whose spear could impale you before you could send another twinkle. Or horrified. Her daughter lackadaisical, wearing floral panties and a small, matching top in front of the serpent god.

He stares at you for a second longer, his eyes melting any confidence, any tranquility left in your body. A small girl with a knack for pretty things quivers before the god.

“I have heard rumors of the ones who are creatures of the sea. The creatures that can return to the surface world if they wish, full-bodied at their will. The creatures who can manipulate, who could conquer the world at their whim-”

“The moon does not wish me to conquer,” you bite, chin upturning. You turn, beginning to move towards your room. If you’re going to be interrogated, it better be with pizza.

A gasp pelts from you as his spear shoots out in front of you in a swift, presiding motion. The sharp metal kisses your cheek, the flesh of it nearly missing being sheered off.

Whiplash consumes you as you turn towards the god, face shot.

You guess it’s not the right time for pizza.

“The moon?” He quizzes, eyes narrowing, utterly fixated upon you. He observes as your chest heaves, your wide eyes staring down his spear, watching as you fight between looking at his face and that skillfully crafted weapon. There hasn’t been this powerful of a man so close to you before.

You gulp, nodding, wishing you could straighten your back, turn up your chin, more,“Yes, the moon.”

The spear slaps back to his side, and he moves away from you, continuing to contemplate your home. Your living room, your dining table, the half eaten dark chocolate bar sitting on the counter from the other night. Flowery, ethereal, a little messy. You strived to bring as much essence with you to the surface world as you could, finding incandescence in each piece you brought back to your condo. Stolen or not is long forgotten by now, all you know is that this is your home.

A god is looking around your home. Cheeks heated, you pray to the Mother to take the embarrassment and hope he is even the slightest bit impressed.

He strides towards the velvet couch, and you cringe as he sits. It’s unearthly to witness a sea god attempting to relax into your couch. It seems he feels the same way, unable to sit in an indestructible way, so he settles for resting his elbows on his knees, gazing up at you.

“Do you have velvet couches at home?”

It is not a request when he states, “tell me about your moon.’

“It is not my moon,” you begin, tiptoeing towards the adjacent couch. You grab a small throw pillow, shielding your peaking, freckled stomach as you sit down. Any wrong moves, any innuendos you’d fight him in your apartment would mean slaughter. The moon warns you of this as you cross your legs and force yourself to face the god. “She is simply the moon. She holds the energy to the waters, and water is within us all- no matter the level. I serve her and her me.”

His gaze gives away he is not satisfied with this information, and you shrug your shoulders. There is little information you wish to give away tonight, your growling stomach and fluttering eyes urging you to find a way to end this conversation and get this man on his way.

“What more is there to know?” What a teasing answer, and his brows rise in the slightest. You’re both struggling to keep your composure, this god used to his world bending to his will and your sleepy, angry hunger fueling whatever delinquency was about to arise.

“How do you serve her?” You nearly groan at that demanding tone, it’s what- midnight? There’s no food, emphasis on no food, in your stomach and you wish to curl under your freshly washed winter duvet to borrow away until the upcoming afternoon instead of being questioned right now.

“I am tired,” you feebly admit, voice soft like silk and edged glass. A fine balance for a soon-to-be tantruming moon child. You prayed to her to not let him see you act a fool after stealing his ring.

A fine price to pay for not being powerful enough. “Can we continue this conversation another time? You know where I live. I just want some pizza- what? Pizza is good.”

You nearly scoff at his grimacing complexion. Slowly deteriorating, your once gentle, feline gaze began to melt into a matching stare as he replied.

“The surface world food is vile.”

“Have you ever had stuffed crust pizza?” Gods, arguing was going to get you nowhere. What can you do to get this god to leave?

He is not leaving, child.

“How do you serve the moon?” He repeats, straightening his back.

He just won’t quit. You ponder how it turns out for someone to push his button; a fire ignites in your stomach at the thought.

“I’m in my undies right now, I’m hungry, I am exhausted, and I don’t even know who you are. Come back in the morning once I’ve eaten my vile food,” you spit, “and I’ll think about telling you all my cute little secrets.”

Incredulously, his mouth gapes open in the slightest before standing up, bolting to tower over you faster than you can recalibrate yourself. Before your gaze can linger on his thighs for more than a moment's notice, you find a tight grip on your jaw, cheeks squishing and your lips pursed in the slightest. Dread consumes you, and you feel the moon shake her head.

“You dare,” he begins, staring down at you as if you were less than the scum under his feet, “speak to me like this as if you did not steal what does not belong to you in the first place- siren.” You return the fever, glaring back at him, clenching the chair’s cushioning and pushing yourself to meet his face with yours.

“It was pretty,” you seethe, “and I am not a siren.”

He tuts, clenching your jaw harder between his thumb and forefinger, twisting your neck as though you were the ring you plucked from him in the ocean, “Little surface girls taking things that do not belong to them, claiming they belong to the moon.”

Mother forgive me, you silently beg, the rage allowing one last particle of energy to surface. You let yourself blow out a soft sigh that you hope, you pray, feels like peppering kisses all over his face and neck.

Peppering kisses turn into boiling beads of sweat pilling along his temples in mere seconds, your silent will urging his blood to cook beneath you. Boiling blood and a dark, unearthed lust surfacing in the form of a longing gaze and heated skin. His grip molding soft, lips parting.

“Return tomorrow, and I will answer your questions,” whatever sultry notes left in your voice bellow in his stomach, your eyes hooded, skin glowing as you summon the moonlight to cast against your goose bumped skin.

Bend to me by the order of the moon, bend to me and go home.

He longingly looks over your moon-kissed cheeks between his hand, down to your collar bones, the dip of your chest begging to pour out of your small tank top, tracing your navel with his eyes and they linger on the embroidered panties, your throw pillow long gone on the floor once you sat up fully to fight for yourself- for your pizza- tonight.

But because the way he was returning your devilish look, you might not be hungry for just pizza.

Bend to my will, sweet king. Let me continue my night, you may question me in the morning.

And then he has the audacity to reel back and laugh, letting you jerk away at the expense of your own mortification.

Heaven forbid, it didn’t work.

Dark red embellishes your cheeks, your nose, your neck and chest. Blotchy.

Your cooler hands find your cheeks, urging them to quiet, and you curl back into your chair. Looking down at your newly polished toes and back up towards him with pure fury, you couldn’t feel more humiliated.

The moon did not let you win.

There is no victory, no satisfaction when you are angry, she murmurs, synchronizing the gods movements as he lifts your chin again. It is gentle, testing. You are met with a curious, cautious, nevertheless impenetrable stare. His eyes travel between your cheeks, watering eyes, your pink, pouty lips.

“I will return in the morning, when the sun rises.” He promises with a nod, “hopefully you will be as enchanting as you are described in the books with a full stomach and long nights rest.” There is a soft laugh, the god not yet letting go of your face, observing the pink splotches of shame along your neck. “I did not think the definition of moon children would be so literal.”

You could not manipulate this man, and he is calling you a child.

You are too angry, too tired, too defeated to rebuttal that you are the goddess, the justice, the love and power of the moon.

He did not ask for his ring back when he let go of your face, gathered his spear, and took flight from your open balcony window, giving you another short, determined once over.

A loud groan escapes you as the transparent, pink-hued curtains sway with the wind.

You want to chuck that ring out of that very window, you decide.

Before you went to bed, you ate a whole box of stuffed crust pizza.

He kept his promise.

After failing to have a good night’s rest, tossing and turning, waking with cold sweats and dreams of cascading down a rabbit hole, you understand why your sleep was disrupted in the early morning.

There he sat, across from your bed in another lounge chair seemingly miniature while he shuffles about. He twirls one of your small shell in his hand, and it seems as though he took a good chunk of time out of his night to look through nearly all of your trinkets.

You sigh and roll over in your bed away from the man in the chair, pulling the duvet over your head. A groan reverberates through the sheets when you shove your face into the surface of the mattress.

This is not how you imagined your morning after East Hampton. You allow yourself to daydream for a moment, pretending you wake in the sun alone, stretch, cum with one of your previous vibrators, and make an omelet with the mushrooms you got from the market just the other day. Cheese and mushrooms and eggs, maybe a coffee, maybe a chai.

With a final groan to ground you, you flip the covers and force yourself to sit up. Your braids are tightly wound, the natural lighting from the window causing your hair to glow and your freckles to surface and sparkle. From your tank top, a large tshirt covers you, fabric folding over your stomach and thighs, barely covering your underwear.

Should you say hi? Should you act like he’s not there and get on with your morning routine?

You decide the latter, swinging your legs to hang off the of the bed and scoot for your feet to touch the floor. Your arms raise, and you stretch, looking towards the sky as you silently thank the moon for allowing you to see another beautiful morning, letting the gratitude bathe you.

He simply stares.

You let him as you wander into the bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth.

There is no way you’ll be less than presentable in front of a god, you whisper to the moon as your examine your small closet. Your eyebrows furrow- you cannot remember a time you contemplated looking presentable for someone else.

You can hear the moon giggle as you contemplate wearing one of your prettiest dresses that you specifically use for full moon nights. Or the new moon? What kind of energy are you bringing into this conversation?

Energy, your lips quirk. May he be enamored, for it is not about the dress but jewelry that adorns you.

You place yourself in lacy garments, a shimmer of silver and a soft green, puffy-sleeved, translucent blouse and lightly washed, high-waisted jeans. Matching, lacy socks and a silver necklace with a curled shell.

Glamoured rings slide themselves onto your fingers, and you inspect the finery wrapped around your flesh with a grin. Silver and gold bands with crystals wired around them and dipped into moon water and rose oil bound to convey any man to serve you. Hopefully a god, too.

Gold glitter smears across your eyelid, your cheekbones and a tap on your nose. Clear mascara and brow gel brushes its way on as you glow at yourself in the mirror.

Wetting your hair and re-curling your golden ringlets with a serum, you place two pearly clips to push aside the front pieces of your hair on each side, framing your face in the most pleasing way.

Terrifyingly beautiful.

I am dreamy, I am translucent, I am a child of the moon.

With a deep breath and another prayer to the moon, you’re gliding out of the bathroom.

May the moon bless this day.

“I’m hungry,” you state as your feet patter towards him sitting in the chair, his body did not move an inch, now holding one of your hair clips. You stand in front of him, nearly at eye-level. Perplexed, angry, annoyed, curious, lustful- all the emotions you could sniff out as he gave you a slow, deliberate look over.

“Would you like to join me for breakfast?” You breathe, refraining from twirling your fingers together. Asking, not taking, was not a talent of yours. It makes you blush, makes you sweat.

“Tell me how you serve your moon while you eat.”

You find yourself agreeing with the slightest of smiles.

@angeli-fucking-cat <3

#namor x reader #namor x you #namor fanfiction #tenoch huerta namor #namor smut #namor imagine #mcu imagine #mcu fandom #marvel universe #marvel headcanons #marvel writing #marvel fanfiction #my wreck this journal #writing #i hope so so much u enjoy #again.. dunno where to go from here! lemme know how you feel #if u got ideas plz send them my way

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mermaidenmystic · 2 years ago

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lara by Anetteprs Illustrations

artist note: Iara. Iara, also spelled Uiara, Yara or Hiara or Mãe das Águas ("mother of the waters"), is a figure from Brazilian mythology based on ancient Tupi and Guaraní mythology. The word derives from Old Tupi yîara = y ("water") + îara ("lord; lady") = "lady of the lake" (water queen). Depending on the oral tradition and the context of the story, she can be seen either as a water nymph, a siren, or a beautiful mermaid that lives in the Amazon River.

The indigenous people of the Amazon region tell that Iara was an excellent and courageous warrior. Her brothers were jealous of her, for her father praised her greatly. One day, the brothers decided to kill Iara. She heard the plan and decided to kill the brothers as a form of defense. After doing so, Iara fled into the woods. Her father pursued her and managed to capture her. As punishment, Iara was thrown into the river Solimões (Amazon region). The fish that were there saved her and, as it was a full moon night, she was transformed into a mermaid. Another version say that her brothers managed to kill her and then dropped her body into the river, where she was transformed into a mermaid by the moon goddess.

I went with a more green palette with her because greenery reminds me of the Amazon waters and forest. Hopefully she doesnt come across too much like a serpent!

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faithblob-says-things · 3 years ago

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Opinion on... one of your own ocs?(if you have any) o_O

:O!!!

Oh my gods okay okay okay

I have a character that I just remake a lot of times called Lepus. They're like a sona but I throw them into different scenarios and like change the personality age powers ya da ya da ya da you get it

All of my Lepus bullshit is going under the cut but first!

My other bullshit!

Obey Me Mc:

Very cool. Very chill. Very tired. Give them a break please also get some sleep you can see the stress marks and eye bags from across the room

Twst Mc:

They are not payed enough for this please someone help him he is exhausted and over whelmed constantly and this close to beating someone with his camera [holds up hand to show the fingers touching]

I have a few more twst ocs but biting my tongue at the moment

All my Yugioh Ocs

God save this weird as fuck bloodline

Blue: Go granny, get it bestie

Lillian: Let this woman punch someone.

Star: Fatherless behaviour /j /j /j

Pandora: Stop letting this woman punch someone.

Lily: There is arson in your eyes

Eve: Thank you for being the token (kinda) normal one

Mecha: Pint sized (affectionate)

Kate: Stop burying your feelings challenged

Pokemon Ocs from when I was like, 11 but still love

God save this weird group of cousins/twins

Galar: Adohira: dON'T BITE PEOPLE-

Aloha: Rose: Very mentally ill and cool looking

Kalos: Yvella: Chill. Emo. Xina: Not chill. Peppy.

Unova: Brittney: Oh my sweet summer child how are you not getting stains in those white clothes? Whittney: Oh my sweet lanky child how are you not over heating in all black?

Hoenn: Ruby: Oh my sweet summer child who looks so innocent, stop trying to kill your brother. Sapphire: Hey asshole (/pos) stop trying to kill your sister.

Luke of like any variant

My sunshine boy <33333

Nessa and Vincent in any au

(In the most thick and over the top country accent ever) Ma'am, Sir, would you do this country boy the honor if having your hands in marriage please?

ALRIGHT TIME FOR MY MENTAL ILLNESSES TO SHOW :DDD

Manburg Radios Lepus

The og, the beloved. The cool vigilante with the powers Crystals. Stop accidentally destroying cars when fight Wool. Also wow that's some trauma-

Radio Waves Lepus

Wilbur Kinnie.

BLR smp Lepus

Ha ha old bird

God au Lepus

STOP ADOPTING PEOPLE CHALLENGE /j (keep doing it bestie, soon you'll have the whole server and pantheon /j)

Apocalypse au Lepus

Give this man a break

Candy/Sugar Rush au Lepus

Capitalist (derogatory)

Cyberpunk au Lepus

Very cool android resistance leader

Dimension hopper/Train au Lepus

Curious like a cat

Genshin au Lepus

Wine Aunt energy

Ghost au Lepus

All politicians go to hell so you really dodged a bullet huh? Also cool ghost rat

Ghost Hunter au Lepus

Cool vampire guy pretending to be human and helping run a ghost show

Halloween Town au Lepus

Very cool vampire who's is just trying to live with his kids Passerine and Groovy

Horror Town au Lepus

Hey nice demon arm! Don't go in the catacombs! :D

Horror Troupe au Lepus

The only person ever to shoot the murderer and make SURE they're dead. Oh yeah and he faced off with a demon and lived that's cool I guess

KNY au Lepus

Little Starry boy with some swag

Law and Crime au Lepus

WET LOOKING RAT WHY YOU LOOK LIKE THAAAAAAT

Siren au Lepus

Little Mermaid Kinnie

Moon Town au Lepus

Camera and sibling angst go brrrrrrrrrr

Plague Apocalypse au Lepus

Bastard and hot

Plant au Lepus

Very threatening. It's tempting but don't kill someone (again) please

Pokemon au Lepus

Get some sleep bestie

Racer au Lepus

LAWYER COMMITTING CRIME GO BRRRRRR

Royalty au Lepus

School au Lepus

My little delinquent <3

SCP au Lepus

Scientist challenged God, met repercussions

Space Planet au Lepus

Disappears for millions of years, refuses to elaborate

Alien au Lepus

My little alien <3

Spiderman au Lepus

Uh oh

Things in the Woods au Lepus

Eldtrich god/horror just chilling in the woods with their two kids that are also eldritch horrors/gods, Passerine and Groovy

Trickster au Lepus

Come one, take a dip with the funny Eel man, he doesn't bit too hard :)

Urban Fantasy au Lepus

MIL

MILF and Lady Dimitrescu kinnie-

Virtue and Sin au Lepus

Sin of Lust being a surprisingly good parent to four kids

Wizard au Lepus

Funky star person wizard who lives in a funky wizard tower with his little brother trauma here ha ha right?.... right?

Zodiac au Lepus

Crab

Plague au Lepus

Funky little plauge man who is clinically insane

Creator au Lepus

What is a puppet who broke from it's strings? What is a god without a heart but still learned love? What is a god who was never supposed to live but survived? What is perfection to a god who was never perfect? What kind of mother is destined to kill his own child?

There are a few more (one I really wanted to put on here but did not because of a promise i made) but sadly I did not put them because most of them don't have that much going on other than basic concepts (minus the promise one that one has a LOT)

#that last one is for you Y #i do it all for you bestie <3 #afhejvdjv #if anyone wants more in depth thing i can and WILL ramble #blobus answers #anonymous ask #anon ask #ask

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brazilianwitchy · 4 years ago

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INVOCAÇÃO DO ELEMENTO ÁGUA🌊

"Here and now, I invoke the elemental force of Water, the fluid of infinite shapes and forms; Flowing source of adaptability, emotion and life;

I seek the pure spring within, that I might drink deep of change, relationships, nourishment and grace. I call you forth to wash away all the needless binds and to move fluidly in this world.

Ocean and River

Ripple and Rain

Water, I call the hence."

Aqui e agora, eu invoco a força elementar da Água,

o fluido de infinitos formatos e formas;

Fonte corrente de adaptação, emoção e vida;

Eu busco a pura primavera interior, para que eu possa beber profundamente de mudanças, relacionamentos, nutrientes e graça.

Eu te invoco para lavar todas as correntes e para mover com fluidez nesse mundo.

Oceano e Rio

Ondulação e Chuva

Água, eu clamo a ti.

GREAT MOTHER - Mãe d'água

"I call upon your depth and strength;

May my inner world be as diverse as that which swims beneath your waves. May I swan like your tides to the moon's distant pull.

May I feel your crash against my spirit even as you kiss the embracing shore. Teach me of hidden things and ancient realms. Fill me with your surging strength and wash me ever closer to that I which I seek.

Sisters of the tides are we

bound by sand, and salt, and sea

selkie, mermaid, siren daughters

priestesses of the holy waters"

Eu clamo pela tua profundidade e força;

Que meu mundo interior seja tão diverso quanto aquele que nada por baixo de suas ondas. Que eu possa nadar como as suas correntes com a força distante da lua.

Que eu possa sentir sua batida em meu espírito quando você beijar a costa. Me eduque sobre as coisas escondidas e reinos antigos. Me preencha com a sua força e me leve cada vez mais pra perto daquilo que eu busco.

Irmãs das correntes nós somos

Ligadas pela areia, pelo sal e pelo mar

Filhas das selkies, sereias e sirenas

Sacerdotisas das águas sagradas.

Aquela parte final que tem beach witchcraft eu vou fazer em um post separado

#elemento água #água #invocação #invocação da água #grimorio #wicca brasill #water #water element #chant to water #water claim #water spell #water magic #bruxa #bruxabrasileira #bruxaria

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trashlord-007 · 4 years ago

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Ancient or Modern // Bitter and Sweet // Chocolate and Vanilla // Coffee or Tea // Create or Destroy // Day and Night // Early Bird and Night Owl // Freckles and Dimples // Gold or Silver // Greek Mythology or Egyptian Mythology // Macarons or Eclair // Hot and Cold // Thunder or Lightning // Typewritten or Handwritten // Secret Garden or Secret Library // Spicy or Mild // Dark Magic or Light Magic // Virtue or Vice // Ocean or Desert // Mermaids or Sirens // Known or Unknown // Rough or Smooth // Moon or Stars // Rain or Snow

Tagged by my new qtpie moot @2ya2yao ~ thank you!!

I have a single dimple that has developed over time and it's kinda cute. And I have hella freckles, I hate them. Also chocolate all the way except for ice cream, then it's deffo vanilla.

Tagging the Usual Suspects;;

@dazedaurora @billie-harper @eunseokki @waterlillyoz @rosy-wooyoung @sun-moon-n-yunho @sixdaysofashyeeting @squishy-yamdumplings @cottoncandyjisung @gustingirl @papillonsgf @cpalice @pastelyoongi @peaches-of-1 @exo-alldayeveryday @winwxn @puffpuffluv @magicbehindwords @johnnythirst @smiling-yuta @seoulmates98 @kpop-in-new-albion @gingerpeachtae @atinybang @7shadesofhoe @butterfly-hua @bbinie @3-racha-chan @sleep-is-4-da-week @cutebutapsychoo @theshadowslikeme @cherry-toxic

& if you don't wanna be tagged in these (or if you do and I haven't been tagging you!), lemme know ♡

#tag game #thanks bby!!

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wes-as-free-as-fishes · 4 years ago

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Sorry I haven’t posted in a while... but I got tagged! By @depressed-musical-weeb!

Rules: Choose between 2 words and make the chosen one bold.

ancient or modern · bitter or sweet · chocolate or vanilla · coffee or tea · create or destroy · day or night · early bird or night owl · freckles or dimples · gold or silver · greek mythology or egyptian mythology · macarons or eclairs (ngl I’ve never and either of these so I can’t rly pick) · hot or cold · thunder or lightning · typewritten or handwritten · secret garden or secret library · spicy or mild · dark magic or light magic · ocean or desert · mermaids or sirens · known or unknown · rough or smooth · moon or stars · rain or snow

@crutchie-with-a-y

@elmers-glitter-glue

@1899-newsboy-strike

@ijustfellupthefrickinstairs

@newsies-hit-da-streets

And anyone else who wants to join!

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notallthosewho-wanderarelost · 5 years ago

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Get to Know Me Meme

I was tagged by @klaineharmony. Thanks for tagging me!

ancient or modern · bitter or sweet · chocolate or vanilla · coffee or tea · create or destroy · day or night · early bird or night owl · freckles or dimples · gold or silver · greek mythology or egyptian mythology · macarons or eclairs · hot or cold · thunder or lightning · typewritten or handwritten · secret garden or secret library · spicy or mild · dark magic or light magic · ocean or desert · mermaids or sirens · known or unknown · rough or smooth · moon or stars · rain or snow

I’m going to tag @rebelqueenofthediscovery @quirkyrogue @kiebs @casuallyotaku @neveryi3ld @ngol27 and anyone else who’d like to do it!

#tag games #either or #tumblr friends #klaineharmony

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let-it-show · 5 years ago

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Right, so I’ve been double-teamedtagged by @the-awkward-feistypants and @elsa-agdardottir ! You guuuuys. how it works: choose between two words and make the chosen word bold, pass this game on to those whose answers would tickle your fancy. ancient or modern · bitter or sweet · chocolate or vanilla · coffee or tea · create or destroy · day or night · early bird or night owl · freckles or dimples · gold or silver · greek mythology or egyptian mythology · macarons or eclairs · hot or cold · thunder or lightning · typewritten or handwritten · secret garden or secret library · spicy or mild · dark magic or light magic · virtue or vice · ocean or desert · mermaids or sirens · known or unknown · rough or smooth · moon or stars · rain or snow HOW DA FUQ AM I SUPPOSED TO CHOOSE BETWEEN THUNDER AND LIGHTNING??? STORMS ARE MY FAVORITE BECAUSE OF BOTH OF THOOOSE Hmph. Also I would keep SO many bugs in a secret garden it would be the BEST. Uuuh idk who to tag overall let’s go with @scuttlepantsworld @hellodemoiselle @snowflakewing @lumicuous I DON’T KNOW WHO ELSE and apologies if any of you are already tagged/have done this, I haven’t even scrolled though my dash yet heh

#one of them taggin posts

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taste-thewaste · 5 years ago

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Tagged by @aziraphale-is-ace to bold my favourites. Thank you, love! <3

ancient or modern · bitter or sweet · chocolate or vanilla · coffee or tea · create or destroy · day or night · early bird or night owl · freckles or dimples · gold or silver · Greek mythology or Egyptian mythology · macarons or eclairs · hot or cold · thunder or lightning · typewritten or handwritten · secret garden or secret library · spicy or mild · dark magic or light magic · virtue or vice · ocean or desert · mermaids or sirens · known or unknown · rough or smooth · moon or stars · rain or snow

Tagging: @radio-da-da @hcnkycat @whatisevenagoodusername @skylinepigeon @colewald

#tag game #blog

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kenobion · 5 years ago

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@radio-da-da tagged me in two of these so I’m going to put them in one post, thank youuuuu 💖

Playlist tag

Rules: We’re snooping on your playlist. Put your entire music library on shuffle and list the first twenty songs. Then tag some victims. Spread some song recs!

Cologne - Ben Folds

Invidia - deadmau5

United States of Eurasia/Collateral Damage - Muse

Drive the Cold Winter Away - Baltimore Consort

The New Year - Death Cab for Cutie

Shiver - Maroon 5

Uruguay [Tropical house remix] - Nora En Pure & Sons of Maria

White Nights - Oh Land

Digital Love - Daft Punk

Witchcraft - Bill Evans Trio

Clair de Lune - Flight Facilities

Nice ‘N’ Easy - Frank Sinatra

Real Joy - Fono

Fonk - The Family’s Jam

Violin Concerto in G Minor (The Four Seaons, Summer) - Vivaldi

While(1<2) [Part 1] - deadmau5

Pixel Empire - Madeon

Doing All Right - Queen

It’s a Raggy Waltz - Dave Brubeck

What You Meant - Franz Ferdinand

I’ve been tagging a lot of people lately so I’m going to skip it on this one 😅

#tagging games #random

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docholligay · 7 years ago

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The Siren and The Centaur,part One: The Reflection of the Moon on the Water

Another Patreon release!!This is the commission from Elaina/Rhio! I hope all of you enjoy it, and if you do, tell her! Maybe she'll commission the continuance of the story, though I think this is plenty readable as one standalone, too. 2.840 words.

She loved the world she lived in. She loved the way the sun and the wind made the wheat into a sea when it grew tall enough, the way it rolled and danced like an ocean made of sunshine. She loved to run the entire length of the island, to the edge where the water splashed up against the rocks and roared. She loved the crisp smell of the forest in winter, when the snow laid upon the branches and the birds were still.

She loved the stories the old folks told, about the things that lived on the island, the different peoples who lived mostly on in each other’s imaginations. The pixies that lived at the far garden fields to the south, and the bright and colorful world there, with parties you could see at night, if you looked, tiny dancing balls of colored light over the deep grass. The serpents of the high rocks, whose claws could crush a centaur without effort, who could breathe ice and fire and who sometimes soared over the island. And the mermaids, the mermaids were her favorite, dwelling in the deep unknown of the sea--she had been to the rocks, and she often went to the garden fields, but centaurs, as a rule, did not go to the sea, and it contained all the tales that thrilled and frightened the colts.

She even loved her little town, and her little job in it, working as an apprentice blacksmith, spending her nights going to the little bar where her friend Mina worked slinging ales and ciders, where her friend Mako would bring leftovers from her little bakery. All was small and all was perfect, and very rarely did Haruka ever feel that something was missing from her life. Even when she did, she could not have conjured what the answer to the riddle might have been, and would have simply taken another ale, and another honeycake, and thought no more on the matter.

But even the sun enters the sea, sometimes, they say, and Haruka did occasionally fall into melancholy as dramatically as a rock falls into the ocean, and just as difficult to reclaim.

It was on an occasion such as this that Mina found herself rapidly losing patience with her gangly golden friend.

“Haruka,” she put a chipped ceramic mug of ale on the long wooden bar, “I promise you, by the time Harvest Festival rolls around you’ll have forgotten all about...whatever it is you’re upset about.”

Haruka’s head shot up from its place on the bar. “You don’t even know??”

“Who can keep track? Hey Jesper.” She held her hand up in a brief greeting as the man entered the bar. “The usual?”

He nodded gruffly and laid a coin on the bar as Haruka continued, Mina half-interestedly pouring a mug of cider.

“Oh, it’s NOTHING, I GUESS,” she threw her arms out dramatically in front of her, “just that...I’m obviously meant to go through this world,” She stubbornly jutted out her chin, “I guess I’m meant for something else. Something more. And if I have to be alone, and I have to help this world myself...I--”

“Oh, this is about Illinka being out last night with Pallavi.” Mina rolled her eyes. “Maybe your big dramatic quest is to actually ask a girl out instead of just waiting around and being dramatic in front of her.”

“I am not dramatic!” Haruka thumped her fists against the bar, knocking over her ale onto her shirt. “God...dammit.”

“Kay.” Mina tossed a bar rag at her.

“Don’t say okay that way, Mina.” She frowned heavily, wiping at her shirt.

“Listen,” Mina continued, “I’m going up to Percheron at the end of the moon. Tons of girls there. Haflinger’s just...small. There’s someone out there for you, my moody blonde friend.”

“Met my husband at a sale up in Percheron.” Jesper added, in his helpfully grumpy way..

“See?” Mina gestured. “Percheron. Great place. Come with me, we’ll hook up. Kind of the only place I can meet guys. Social deviant and all.”

Jesper shook his head disapprovingly.

Haruka nodded. “Percheron it is, then.” She shrugged. “I guess.”

Mina leaned over the wood of the bar, leaning her elbow on it. “We’ll have a hell of a time, Ruka. Percheron parties to rival a pixie. And who knows? Happiness might be where you least expect it.”

And that, Haruka would concede for the whole of her life, was very true.

___

But there were weeks before the end of the moon, and while Haruka had resolved herself to go to Percheron with Mina, she had not quite been able to shake the simple melancholy that had settled over her.

Haruka was a contradiction in herself, people often said. She was powerful and strong, and one of the fastest centaurs in town. She was delicate in other ways, her Da and Pere had often said, the kind of girl who would uncomplainingly break her arm, and whose heart broke at an the smallest rejection. She had tried very hard, over the course of her life, to become the tough, brash, calloused thing her body and her mouth clearly wanted her to be, but her heart had trouble cooperating, and maybe it wasn’t so hard to see why Illinka hadn’t chosen to return her affections.

The swampy forest at the end of the island was the stuff of nightmares for many a colt. And Haruka, in her adult life, knew there were good reasons to frighten them off--the roots jutted unevenly out of the marshy ground, the dapple of the sun through the heavy foliage could be disorienting, and if you fell and broke your leg, no one might find you. Centaurs had lost their lives in this bog.

And Haruka had, quite without realizing it, wandered there.

Normally, at this point, she simply would have turned around, headed back to Haflinger, and maybe stopped in at Mako’s bakery for a cookie and a bit of comfort, and then maybe she would head off to Mina’s house of a chat, and her life would seem about as pleasant as it generally was, and she would hold the promise of Percheron in her heart.

But there was a small light that caught her eye, in the dark there, that might have been a will-o-the-wisp, and might have been a spot of sunlight streaming through the branches, and which the answer was didn’t really seem to matter, as Haruka’s hooves seemed to move on their own.

The shadows played against the deep green of the swampy floor, where mosses seemed to pass for grass, cushioning strangely the step of Haruka’s hoof, giving way as if she were stepping on a mattress, springing back as her hoof left it. The little points of light came like confetti, dancing across Haruka’s back and shoulders.

This was a foolish idea, Haruka knew. She’d told no one where she was going, or how lo9ng she might expect to be there. She had a habit of that, that had long annoyed her Da and Pere, who sometimes, when she was a child, had spent too many dinnertimes calling out into the tall grass, wondering where their impulsive and wayward daughter had gone.

And still she drew deeper, as if called, as if sang to in the tender lullaby of this dark land.

A beam of light appeared, in the distance, and Haruka cocked her head as she looked at it.

She could hear the fall of water, and though she knew she could not be far from the ocean, not now, it seemed somehow different. Like the waterfall at the edge of the serpent’s rocks, almost although Haruka knew that could not possibly be true. This place was too deep to have such a think, the soil too wet and soft to have the jutting rock with the silver water spilling down over them like a veil. She had been fascinated by it, as a child. Mina’s Ma once had to pull her back, when she had gone too close during a picnic.

Centaurs drown easy, she had said

___

Michiru was bored, much of the time, but much of it she considered her own fault. It was not that there were not a dozen entertainments in her kingdom, all easily had and ripe for the taking. The sea was a land of plenty, and there were always lavish banquets and dances, concerts to hear and art to be made. They cavorted with the dolphins and drowned the humans and took their treasure, and all should have been well in any siren’s world.

And she could admit all these things, that her world was lovely and bright, and filled with endless treasures, and her people were jovial and elegant, and that she had no reason to feel even the smallest bit of malaise at her station in life. From the time she was young, she had found no fascination with the brightly colored trinkets and magical songs, always looking for something else, something more, and nothing had ever found that magical place in her where excitement was kindled, true and real, like the land’s fire, that she had seen from afar, never burning under the sea.

On this day, she let out a deep and low sigh, reclining against the rock in her bedroom.

“I don’t know what you’re complaining about, your father is the emperor.” Rei picked at her metallic red fin, and looked back up at Michiru, annoyed. “It must be so hard here, in your giant room in your giant palace.” She picked up a stuffed piece of sea cucumber, rich with sea cream, and considered it.

“God ahead and take them, they were from a suitor who thinks I will somehow care for her if she brings pointless little treats.” Michiru remained reclined on her rock, teal tail sheening with navy as the light played over it. “The scarf, as well. “

Rei picked up the scarf, a silken length in purple and red, danced with golden trim. “This is a rarity, you know, and plenty of sirens--”

“Rei, you tire me.”

She still clutched the scarf in one hand, fist balled. “Oh, you’re tired! I’m the one who has to put up with your bourgeois apathy, every single day, when you have everything, everything! You could possibly--”

Michiru turned up onto her hand and looked over at Rei. “So I shall take that as a rejection of these gifts as well? No matter, I’m sure Mohini will happi--”

“I didn’t say that,” She tied the scarf in her hair, “I mean, someone should be using it, I think, and it goes really nice with my fin.” She picked up the cucumbers. “I’ll give these to Usagi.”

Michiru laughed. “Of course.”

Rei tilted her head, and made the rare choice toward compassion at Michiru’s melancholy boredom.

She swam over to her, eyebrows knitted in thought. “Do you want to go down to the shipwreck, on the other side of the island?”

“It’s not strictly necessary to attempt to cheer me, Rei.” She twirled the shell necklace against her collarbone.

Rei threw up her hands, annoyed, finally, though not defeated, she would never say defeated, just playing hardball. “Well fine,” She snatched up the box of sea cucumbers, “I’ll just take Usagi. You can sit here and pout in your palace.”

“Yes,” Michiru laid back down on her bed, “I believe I shall.”

It was a lie, of course--the palace was too full of bothers and interruptions for her to think properly, with servants and her parents and an endless parade of very boring and useless suitors. It was, very likely, not incorrect, the things Rei said about her--that she was spoiled and decadent and had no idea of the kind of advantages she had--but also, she cared little. Her life was a string of moments, each more stunningly boring than the last. The music and art adn poetry and dance of the palace meant nothing to her.

But, at the very least, she had her lagoon, which she favored so well, and in which she found a certain amount of peace and reflection, and it was there that she planned on going, never to tell a soul that it existed at all, buried as it was through tiny caves where eels slipped in and, only to surface in the turquoise jewel of the light-flecked lagoon.

She tucked her hair into a gold band, and swam off into the sweet deep of the sea.

___

Haruka entered the clearing, the trees tightly knit around the edge of a deep and crystalline pool, the waterfall bubbling lace into the deep blue. It was an oasis in the deep of this swampy forest, and Haruka was pleased to have found it, even if there was not much here for her. It seemed to drop off right at the edge. It must be connected to the sea, somehow, although the water looked fresh. She had heard of this, little pools filtered by the sandy loam that lived at the edge of the island, but she had never seen one before.

She knelt by the edge of it, letting her fingers drag through the water. It was cool and sweet, and the light danced across it in little jumps and hops, springing to her eyes like fireworks.

It was a nice place to be alone with her own thoughts, to think forward on the trip to Percheron, on what she would wear and what she would say to the mares there, wordly and impossibly beautiful. They couldn’t want much with a country bumpkin from Haflinger, but she was determined to try. At the very least, she had promised Mina she would try.

She opened the bag slung around her and took out a thick sandwich she’d prepared that morning. She’d told herself she didn’t plan to be out long today, that she was going to stay home a bit and help with the garden out back, but the bag she packed had said differently, her thick sandwich and the small bottle of drink with its thick cork in the top, loosed with a satisfying pop.

She brushed a few crumbs off her shirt, licking a bit of mustard off her finger. Not a bad way to spend an afternoon, her shirked responsibilities, which she would surely catch hell for, aside.

There was something else, though, some sense in the air of being watched. She looked around, but nothing seemed to be lurking in the deep of the trees, and there was certainly nothing that could be seen by the pool.

She shrugged. It was nothing, she was sure. Mina was always accusing her of being jumpy.

She brought her sandwich to her lips again, when something burst out of the water in front of her, breaking the surface in a smooth silver motion, not two feet from where Haruka sat at the edge of the lagoon.

She sprung to her hooves and reared, accidentally stomping her sandwich as she came back down.

“Oh!” Michiru cried out, “I had no intention of frightening you so. I apologize.”

The softness of her voice and her extended hand made Haruka feel a little silly, as her hooves still stomped impatiently on the ground. “I wasn’t scared.”

“No, of course not,” Michiru looked up at her, her teal hair making ribbons in the clear blue water, “just surprised, I imagine.”

“A mermaid.” Haruka stared at her in amazement. “I’ve never….I’ve never seen one before.”

“Mermaid.” the word fell off her tongue with raw fascination. Yes, of course, that must be what they called sirens. It was ugly and didn’t go with her, in any way that she could conceive, and yet, she could not remove it from her mind.

It was not so unlike the horsegirl who stood before her now, looking at her with wide grey eyes. She had never seen one before, not up close, only running on the coastlines of the island she lived so near. She had been told they looked the most like sirens, out of any of the tribes of creatures in her world, but that seemed a lie, so close. Her body was broader and more muscular than a siren’s, even the great strong ones who guarded the castle. It made sense, she supposed, matching the body they shared with horses.

Did she know about horses? It was on the far side of the sea where they lived, where men rode them as beasts of burden, where they did not have the cleverness and wit of a real creature. It was very likely that she did not, horsemen did not sail, not that she had ever seen or had ever been written in a textbook.

The horsegirl was still staring at her wordlessly.

“Michiru,” she said, “My name is Michiru.”

“Haruka,” she put her hand to her chest, almost surprising herself by the introduction, “That’s what they call me.”

#happy birthday haruka #LATE

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