#oooo they are rotating in my brain

[sankttealeaf]

mermaid rue getting captured by pirate gortash and then telling him complete lies about how merfolk operate.

hes in the corner like "interesting. you say your diet consists only of men who you hate? do i fall into that category?" and then kicks his feet and twirls his hair when she says yes and tries to bite him

shes stuck in his room, probably tossed in a barrel of water to keep her hydrated and wants to rip his throat out with every passing day

im thinking about them... how to make them worse... this is so silly i can just put them into situations and no one can stop me

[thatlovelydove]

I NEED people to understand that ‘just a girl’ by no doubt IS A RAGE SONG!!!!

Aka me Listening to my childhood fav songs (and lil me had taste tbh)

Like: “im just a Girl living in captivity”

^thats a real lyric

I WANNA SEE PEOPLE MAKING RAGE ANIMATICS WITH THEIR FAV GIRL CHARACTERS! 

GRGRGRGRGRGRGRGGRGRGRGRGRGRGRGRGGRGRGRGRGR

[dilatorywriting]

Monster Mayhem: Siren's Song

Gender Neutral Reader x Vil Schoenheit Word Count: 6.1k

Summary: What do you call a deaf pirate? Not 'Siren Food' apparently, which is really sort of hilarious when you've been kidnapped by a hungry Siren. Not for the Siren though—he's definitely not having a good time.

A/N: *rushes in at the 11th hour* Happy Mer-May!! I've been back and forth with clinical rotations and also working on some commission things and Leona's Part 4, but like, it's a fanfiction holiday. I couldn't miss out. And for one of my favorite tropes nonetheless. So here we are.

[PART 1] [PART 1.5] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [PART 5]

There was a legend that floated throughout the Sage Island Seas of the Pirate With No Ears. Which was ridiculous—half because such a tall tale managing to survive so long and so wildly really showed just how pathetic the rest of the gossip around here was, and half because you still had ears. They just didn’t work very well was all.

Some said you’d been deafened by a prowling sea sorcerer who had tricked you into trading away your once keen sense for some mortal foible or other. Others whispered about how you’d been trapped in an ice cavern, surrounded by electric eels and sharks, and that the only way you’d been able to weasel your way out was by cutting off your own ears so that you’d have enough wiggle room to escape from your bindings. Which made absolutely zero sense at all.

In reality, all you’d done was stand far too close to a canon for far too long when you were far, far too little, and ever since all you could hear was the dull ringing of post-battle silence. Sometimes it was a bit sad. When the waves crashed against the shore, or when the gulls flew overhead—you were sure all those things sounded very lovely. You remembered music and laughter and sometimes they echoed in your head at a distance—a memory not quite forgotten but certainly fading at the edges. But other times, like now, where your fellow crewmates were bawling into their ales and wailing about lord knew what… well, it was always nice to find a silver lining in these sorts of things.

One of the tipsy lads tottering around the deck of The Rose Queen tripped and landed against the wood with something that looked like it’d be a very loud smack. Your brain helpfully filled the silence with some nonsense noises and park-play-style laughter instead. You watched Cater stumble by out of the corner of your eye. He patted your head and said something that twisted his mouth into a gaping ‘uuuuu-eeeee-oooo’ before he puttered away to leech off First Mate Clover instead. Ace threw a drunken arm around your shoulder and burbled something against your cheek that popped with the scent of stale booze, and you decided to pretend that you were as alone at sea as your muted senses would like to think.

The party raged on long into the evening and you stared down at the rabble contentedly from your perch in the crow’s nest. They were a good bunch—dullards though they may be. You’d heard (hardee har har) that they were planning to raid the Port o'Bliss, and something must have gone terribly right. You only really hung around to scrub barnacles off the paneling and keep an eye on the tides well enough that Deuce wouldn’t run the lot of you ashore, so you weren’t really sure how the whole ‘pirating’ business actually went about. But clearly they were doing a pretty good job of it.

You rested your chin on your crossed arms and sighed into the salty breeze. The night was warm and pleasant, and before you knew it, you were nodding off against the rough fabric of your sleeves. You weren’t quite sure how long you spent dozing there tangled in the ropes of mast, but it was long enough that by the time you snorted back awake the festive lights had dimmed to embers and most of the crew had sidled away below deck to either keep drinking themselves blind or collapse in a pool of their own colorful vomit.

There was a lone figure swerving towards the bow—precariously close to the railing for someone so clearly unsteady on their own legs, if you did say so yourself. You squinted suspiciously at his mused lavender hair, not entirely sure you recognized the head bobbing around below you. But perhaps The Rose Queen had picked up some fresh recruits at the Port, or maybe the crew had gotten a bit too booze happy with some dye. Purple Hair leaned up against the rails and tipped forward on his toes like he was thinking about diving in, or maybe barfing. Either or, you sighed and shimmied your way down to stop him from tumbling into a watery grave.

“Oi!” you called, the shout vibrating up and out of your throat, and the kid jumped half a foot in the air. “What do you think you’re doing? Get away from there. Riddle’ll have your head if we have to send out the rescue rafts this late at—”

The kid turned to face you with wide, wide, glowing eyes. Your own went round as dinner plates as you watched his too-dark pupils pulse like drumbeat. They were so bright, practically illuminating the whole of his delicate face, but there was no light to them. Matte and sleek like a shark’s eyes.

He shouted something at you so whip fast that you couldn’t even begin to make sense of, and then he was glancing nervously back and forth between the roiling waves at his back and the encroaching deckhand at his front—making all sorts of nonsense gestures that had you sighing behind gritted teeth.

“Look,” you said, interrupting whatever indiscernible gibberish he was spouting, “I don’t know who you think you are. But you’ve picked the wrong ship to try and—I don’t know—seize? Pirate? You can’t pirate a pirate ship! But either way, you—”

Then the kid opened his mouth like he was screaming, and you frowned again. There was strange prickle along your arms that had goosebumps crawling up your skin and the hair raising at the back of your neck, but you shook it off and moved forward with another weary sigh. You pulled a length of rope from the belt slung around your hips and held the limp bundle of salt-soaked mesh up like a threat.

“I will throw you overboard. And hogtie you first,” you promised cheerily. “So you actually sink.”

Purple Hair just looked like he was trying to scream louder, and you were sourly tempted to stick your fucking tongue out at him and make petulant ‘nyeh nyeh nice try’ noises at him, but then there was a heaviness behind you. A creak in the wood that you could feel if not hear. You rolled out of habit—tumbling across the deck just in time to avoid a nasty swipe along your back. And oh no. The thing crawling up over the railing was worse than any lavender would-be ship thief. The black tipped claws and flared fins were telling enough, but the sharp-toothed grin was somehow more so. It tilted its unnaturally lovely head at you and spoke politely—clearly and very, painfully, slowly.

“What’s—this—perhaps—” you were able to vaguely make out. Maybe. The dark and your panic were both a terrible hindrance to putting shapes to sound. His lips curled into something wicked before parting far more smoothly than the younger man’s had. Singing. It was singing, not screaming. Hauntingly green eyes glowed bright and you felt the tunk tunk tunk beneath your feet of the rest of the crew starting to move around beneath you. Around you.

Then there were more of them—crawling up over the railings, trilling into the night air. All far too lovely and far too sharp to be anything but predators. The moonlight illuminated their fangs and scales in a ghostly white glow. There were shivers running along your spine, but otherwise nothing but silence echoed through your head. Small mercies. You watched several of your fellow crewmates rush out of the cabins only to double over with their hands clasped over their ears. Others stuttered and tumbled forward towards the railings as if they were being dragged along like puppets on a string. You cursed and ducked between them—looping your rope around their legs as you went and tugging them to their knees like a line of falling dominoes.

You let your hapless comrades collapse to the deck and curled the last throws of rope around your fists. You were decent enough with a knife when it came to dueling an unmoving, completely unaware foe—like a barnacle or some rusted over door hinges. But real people? Sirens?Fucking literal blade-tipped-merfolk straight out of every sailor’s nightmare? No thank you. So the teeny blade stayed sheathed at your hip and you dove into the fray to find something rope-wrangle-able.

At the other end of the bow, you watched Purple Boy straighten from a crouch. There were new, silvery blue scales crawling up his neck and forearms. He was still tottering around on legs that he clearly wasn’t all too used to, and you watched as the little guppy started to make a furious beeline for Captain Rosehearts. Which—no. Absolutely not. You were never one of those pirates who was like ‘oh, Captain, my Captain~’ but Riddle was good. He was tough, and taciturn, and could throw a tantrum that could bring down an entire harbor. But he’d written out all of his ridiculous six hundred rules by hand so that you could have them. And the teeny furrow in his brow as he staunchly taught himself hand sign after hand sign so that he could yell at you in earnest was so endearing that you’d protect that little firecracker for as long as you breathed.

So you went after Lavender Head, and then of course Lavender Head turned and tried to shout at you all over again. When that continued to not work at all, the Siren began to backpedal in earnest. He turned his head and squawked at whoever was around to listen, but in the chaos of the attack there didn’t seem to be many of his pod free to lend him a hand.

You descended on the little snake, rope at the ready and perfectly happy to make sushi out of the fucker, when something big overshadowed the both of you. Another Siren crested over the side of the ship, larger and clearly more impressive than the rest of its kin. Which matched your stupidly terrible luck just fine. Ah, yes, Mister Big Bad. Please. Go for the deckhand rather than the literal trained mercenaries less than ten feet away. Brilliant. The Siren bared its fangs like some great, terrible, beast and tore into the paneling with its curved claws as it attempted to drag you down to your watery grave. You cursed, and kicked, and yelped in a panic when the thing managed to get one of those cold, pale hands around your ankle.

Despite the fact that all of it surely happened in less than a few seconds, your descent seemed to progress in steps. First, the Siren tugged you over the side. Second, you smartly flipped the loops of your rope up to try and lasso yourself a handhold. Thirdly, you outright missed the ship and instead tangled the spools of thin rope all around your Murderer To Be. Said Murderer’s eyes widened in shock as your unintentional trap wrapped the both of you up like a mess of bugs in a spider web. And finally, the pair of you crashed towards the churning ocean in a knotted-up heap and slowly sank beneath the waves.

.

.

You rubbed the grit and salt from your eyes and sat up with a groan. Where were you? Not too far out at sea, hopefully. Washing up ashore had been nothing short of a miracle, and you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth if it meant you got to avoid becoming chum for another day. The sand beneath your fingers was soft and white, and it slipped beneath your palm like water. You moved to push yourself to your feet and froze—a blur of amethyst swiping out and knocking you back onto your ass with a splash.

You spluttered and spat, and had just barely managed to flip yourself over like a turtle who’d been upended on its back when you caught sight of the absolute last creature in the world that you’d ever wanted to see again.

The big Siren had washed up nearby.

Because of course it had.

The creature narrowed his eyes at you and immediately set about lashing his rope-twisted tail against the sand like a rattlesnake. He bared his pointed teeth in a hiss and you were dowsed in a barrage of saltwater ammunition.

“Stop! Stop!” you begged, spitting out wayward chunks of seaweed, and shells, and gods knew what else. “I get it! I won’t come near you, jeesh! I wasn’t planning on it to begin with!”

The Siren curled his lips unpleasantly, putting that wonderful row of dagger-like pearly whites on display. He spat something completely indiscernible—the line of his mouth so harsh and flat that you couldn’t have even begun to pick up the shape of things if you tried—and you scooted as far back as you could without toppling yourself over again.

He dug his clawed hands into the sand and said something else, just as clipped and tight. You assumed it was an accusation. You were very used to recognizing the glare that accompanied those. When you didn’t respond, his brow tugged down low and he snapped something else—this time jabbing those pointed, black, nails in your direction. Ah, so definitely a complaint then.

You cocked your head at him out of habit and that griping turned into a snarl so ferocious that you could feel it racing up your skin like static. Which was definitely pretty trippy.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you told him honestly. Which just made the spiked fins flatten all along the side of his head and another wave of those zippy sneers dance up your arms. “Literally,” you tried. “I—”

The Siren opened his mouth and that sparky static from earlier amplified into something near painful. It was strong, and prickly, and left the imprints of invisible shackles all along your already aching joints. You could feel his voice carrying on the breeze—brushing against your cheeks and playing with hair. Thin, icy, fingers digging their way into your brain and yanking. But there was something missing from all that ethereal hypnotism. Something pleasant and sweet to complete the circle of temptation. A voice, you’d guess. There had to be a call after all, or else it hardly mattered how deep and all encompassing the need was to answer.  

When you didn’t immediately, like, fall to your knees in subjugation or drown yourself in the inch and a half of tepid water pooling at your hips, the Siren’s eyes dimmed with something that almost looked like hesitance. His brow pinched tight and he parted his red lips wider. A seagull dropped from the sky. Three different crabs crawled out of the sand to bow down.

“I can’t hear you!” you tried again, loud enough to have your teeth aching. His mouth went wider, and an entire ass tuna beached itself to flop pathetically near your ankles. “It’s not a challenge!” you wailed. “My ears literally, actually, do not work, you fucking overgrown anchovy!”

The static disappeared all at once, and the Siren’s lips slipped into a small, surprised sort of ‘o.’ He blinked his too-long lashes at you and stared you down like you were some sort of escaped alchemical experiment.

“There,” you huffed. “Finally.” And then went quiet and a bit concerned. Because apparent Song Immunity or otherwise, the thing was still hugely impressive and scary looking. His claws definitely wouldn’t have any problem picking the leftover bits of you out of his teeth, and you knew well enough that if he dragged you into the depths with that powerful tail of his, there would be no resurfacing.

The Siren too was using this time to glare at you like you were somehow a threat to be taken seriously. Which was half flattering, half pretty funny.

“Well…” you said after a long moment. “I should get going, I suppose.”

You made your way to your feet in the mucky sandbar and started heading off to see where you’d been stranded. You could feel the Siren’s heavy gaze on you the whole while, and decided he was probably trying to figure out if you’d taste better paired with seaweed or a nice jellyfish spread.

.

.

The pair of you had been stranded on a small, crescent, islet that couldn’t even rightly call itself an island. You were able to walk from its curling east to west coasts in just under fifteen minutes, and that was at a meandering pace where you stopped to peer into all kinds of little grottos and rocky formations. There was some vegetation at the heart of it—short palm trees and tufts of grassy knolls—and thankfully a few deep divots that had collected some still rainwater, but otherwise it was entirely boring and stupid. Not even any weird tortoises or anything meandering about to make friends with.

By the time you circled back around to your original stranding point, you had fully expected the Siren to have flipped you the metaphorical bird and fucked off back into the ocean, never to be seen again. Instead, he was still stretched out in the shallows of the bay, carefully fanning his long tail out in the seafoam and picking through the mess of it with his pointy claws.

He reminded you of a beta fish—with wide, flowing, fins that looked far more like silk than skin or scales. The tips were a deep, plum purple that gently faded from near black to violet and finally a vivid sort of lilac at their junction. The bulk of his tail looked like it could be made from literal gemstones with the way it shimmered in the morning light (gems that had perhaps been a bit dinged and/or literally torn out in chunks from where he may or may not have been smashed into the rocky shore curtesy of your terrible hogtie, but who’s to say).

There were jagged cuts lining the right half of his pale torso. They oozed a strange sort of silver ichor that was probably some kind of mystical merman blood, but you absolutely refused to get close enough to try and find out. The fins framing his pelvis were tangled and thin looking, and the sweeping ones that trailed all the way down to the tip of his tail were battered and torn. Clearly pulled to bits by your handy, dandy lasso skills. Which… was still tied up at the base of them. Huh. You’d assumed he’d be able to slice through all that knotwork without issue. But maybe…

You approached the Siren cautiously. You caught the exact moment he must have realized you’d returned because the fins along the sides of his head flattened like the ears on a pissy cat and he turned on you with a very dramatic snarl that probably sounded all sorts of menacing.

“Hello,” you greeted, and the merman spat something that you assumed was probably a very polite ‘fuck right off.’

You nodded because, well, fair enough. And then pointed to his injured fins and the waterlogged ropes still twisted up around the heart of them.

“I can get that off if you promise not to eat me.”

He shouted something no doubt very indignant and then was back to hissing at you. Which definitely didn’t sound like an agreement not to immediately murder you on the spot.

“Alright,” you shrugged. “Your loss, I suppose.”

Well, your loss, really. Keeping a wounded Siren around was just asking for trouble. Their pods were viciously protective for one thing, and that wasn’t even taking into account the poachers and rivals who’d be more than keen to come sniffing after the fresh trail of blood in the water. Maybe you could find a big stick or something and just, I don’t know, push him back into the ocean and be done with it.

The thought must have shown on your face, because suddenly he was smacking his tail against the sandbar and spitting something that you very much assumed was a demand along the lines of ‘you are going to take accountability for this.’

Which absolutely no way in Hell. He’d kidnapped you sort of, so that made you his problem, thank you very much.

You felt your stomach gurgle, and it must have been pretty loud going off the stink eye he sent your way. You turned your nose up at him and went about collecting the various critters that had been washed ashore in his tenor’s tantrum.

“Thanks for the food!” you chirped petulantly as you worked on scaling the tuna with the knife from your belt—making long, pointed, eye contact as you did so.

The Siren sneered at you and went back to grooming the shredded ends of his fins.

The rest of the afternoon became a sort of pissing contest between the two of you to see who could earn the title of Bitchiest Beach Bitch. You thought you were definitely winning with the whole ‘eating something that could have been his long-lost cousin’ thing, but then he went and swamped the entirety of the small fire you built (and all of said ‘cousin’ being cooked over it) with one sweep of his tail, so now you were at the very least tied. You set up a nice little shaded hutch out of driftwood and ferns to escape the sun, he called down seagulls to shit all over it and pick it to pieces. He tried to roll around to reach some of the tighter fibers tangled in his pectoral fins, and you chucked rocks at him until he reared on you with a scream that had all the hairs on your arms standing on end. Y’know. Perfectly mature things like that.

That night you curled up beside a tall, jagged rock just at the outskirt of the bay—determined to get some shut eye but to also keep within range of your newest pest in case he decided to try and pull something sneaky. But every time you’d just about settled in to sleep, the shallow tide would lap against your toes in harsh shush shush shushes that had you furrowing you brow until you finally had enough and sat up to see what all the hubbub was about.

The Siren was tossing around in the shallows like a fish in a net—throwing his long body against the bindings and flailing like his life depended on it. And as much as he’d definitely deserved to get caught up in your unintentional hogtie, watching something as large and no doubt powerful as he was wriggling around like a worm on a hook was… Well. Something soured a bit in your gut as you watched him give one, final, great buck against his bindings before collapsing back into the shallows in a circle of seafoam. He panted against the surface of the water, the tips of his pale hair dripping down in a curtain around his haggard face, and you could see a fine tremor running along his shoulder blades.

You turned back to your rock and ground the heels of your palms into your eyes, fighting the absolute batshit insane urge to feel bad for a monster who had literally tried to drag you to your death less than twenty-four hours ago.

The water was calm and still for the rest of the night.

.

.

The next morning, you picked up a few of the crabs who had crawled up to shore and went about getting them clean and fit for eating. You glanced at the Siren, who was busy preening over his janky fins and fussing over his hair. It was entirely unfair that you probably looked like a half-drowned rat, and yet this creature that wasn’t even meant to exist on the surface was somehow managing to put himself together well enough to rival the courtesans you’d seen meandering around some of the wealthier coastal towns.

You stared at the crabs. There were three of them. It wasn’t really sharing if it was meant to be a bribe to keep him from eating you whole. Or at least, that’s what you reassured yourself as you cautiously tiptoed back to the water’s edge.

The Siren swiveled on you with a snap of something that looked sort of like a ‘What?!’ and you held up one of the gutted crabs in offering.

“I don’t know if you all eat fish or whatever, but…” You waved the limp crab awkwardly.

The Siren rolled its purple eyes and said something fast and sharp that you couldn’t really parse. Something, something, not, something, something, are crust—Something, something, are you that stupid? (you recognized the impressions of those words well enough to mouth them even in your sleep).

“Look, do you want it or not?” you interrupted, and he bristled—all those delicate, violet, fins flaring up like a porcupine’s spikes.

The Siren crossed his arms stiffly and pointedly turned in the other direction with a mutter of something you had no hopes of catching.

“Whatever,” you snapped and went to bite into your meal. Only to immediately forget that these pointy little fuckers still had their shells on them. You reeled back with a yelp as you stabbed a million, tiny, carapace-shaped holes in your tongue.

The fucking Siren had the gall to turn back around so that you could see him laughing at you.

.

.

That night he was back to flipping around in the shallows like a miniature hurricane.

You counted out the waves sloshing against your heels, telling yourself you’d intervene in his self-destructive tsunami once it hit one hundred. And then it became two, then three. You shifted hesitantly to peek over the rock’s edge and watched him curl into himself like some terribly wounded creature before shaking himself out of the fog of pain that had clearly settling over his nerves, and then continued with his nonsense.

You hurled a big, pink seashell at his head and he whipped on you like a rabid dog, practically foaming at the mouth and raring for a fight. When he lunged forward with the waves—seething with hatred, and blame, and nearly crashing onto his already shredded front in the process, something angry in your snapped.

“Look, fish face! You were the one who attacked me! You!” you demanded, stomping perhaps a bit closer than would be rational. “So stop acting like I’m some scheming shithead who was planning to trap you like this from the start!”

The Siren roared something back and slapped his tail in the surf. Static zipped along your cheeks and you grit your teeth. He glared at you bitterly and then began to repeat one word over and over—slow and angry.

‘Eeeeehhh-Pppe-llllll’ said his lips. Strong and harsh with the shape of it.

And then he was back to spewing all kinds of rapid-fire vitriol that you wouldn’t have bothered to keep track of even if you could. Something in his expression shifted almost quicker than you could notice and he lifted his massive tail out of the water. He smacked the fins in your direction and pointedly jabbed a clawed finger at the creases of them—where delicate, silky, tendrils met strong, gem toned, muscle. Where the purple was light and clean. A pale, shiny, lavender. Almost just like—

“That kid?” you frowned. “You attacked me because of Purple Head?!”

He sneered again and pointedly sent a splash of seawater into your face.

“You—” you grit your teeth. “He was still attacking us first! He was going after my friend!” you snapped, kicking your own wave back. For all the good it would do. “You don’t get to act all noble and protective, and like any of that makes any difference when you all were going to eat us!”

The Siren’s face twisted up like you’d force fed him soured milk, and he looped back around with a dramatic fwoosh of water to dive into the shallows. It was maybe two or three feet deep at best, and he was barely submerged. Not to mention how utterly ridiculous it looked to see a creature that was no doubt usually the peak of grace and athleticism reduced to flopping belly first into the waves with his proverbial legs tied up behind him. But you recognized a door slamming in your face when you saw it, no matter the species. Fine. Let him be a petty bastard. He could rot away in the sandbar for all you cared.

.

.

The next day you woke up with goosebumps crawling up and down your limbs.

There were all sorts of gulls crash-landed in the sand around you and more sad, little, sea creatures gasping on the beach than you dared to count. You shoved a particularly chubby octopus back into a tidepool as you passed and wondered just what sort of nonsense your co-strandee was getting up to now.

The Siren was circling the bay with his head held high above the low waves—lips parted and clearly caterwauling like a dying porpoise. The surface of the water trembled with whatever was making its way out of his mouth, and he looped and looped around the shores. It reminded you of the time you’d seen a whale calf separated from its pod. It had gotten trapped in a shallow inlet when the tides had changed, and your ship had been anchored just off the same coast. You’d watched it circle and circle, lifting its heavy snout to snort sharp jets of water into the air. Deuce had passed you a scribbled note when you’d asked him what it sounded like.

‘It’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.’

There was a moment where the Siren paused in his paces and tilted his head. The fins there flared out to the side, like he was listening for something. But after a long moment the spines drooped back against his damp hair and he went back to his singing an aria to no one.

‘It’s looking for its family,‘ Riddle had signed to you when you’d asked him why the calf didn’t simply leave once the tides had turned in its favor. ‘This is where they last saw it, so this is where it will stay.’

“Maybe they forgot about him already,” you mused petulantly, turning back towards the center of the islet to try and scavenge up something to eat from all the poor creatures who had collapsed beneath your nemesis’s wailing.  

The bitter thought wasn’t nearly as satisfying as it ought to be.

.

.

That night, the waters were still.

You squinted suspiciously at the merman curled in the shallows of the bay. He’d pulled himself half-out of the water, resting his more human looking bulk in the soft sand as gentle waves lapped at his tail. He slept on his front with his arms crossed beneath his pointed chin—his unbound fins sticking up behind him in a way that deliriously reminded you of bedhead. You watched him carefully for nearly an hour, searching for any tightness in his muscles or change in his breathing that might indicate he was faking it. But as the evening stretched on and he never lurched awake to try and gauge your eyes out, you assumed he might actually be properly resting.

He'd been swimming in circles all day—the aborted, stuttering, beats of his bound tail looking painful even by your non-tail-having standards. Eventually the tremors along the ocean had grown stuttered and strange, like perhaps his voice was giving out on him. And once that had happened, he’d curled up exactly where he was now. And hadn’t moved since.

You stared at the Siren hesitantly. He was certainly in enough of a state that you could probably pull off that whole ‘shoving him into the depths with a stick’ thing. He’d probably just let you do it—sink to the bottom in a mess of shredded fins and tangled twine and never rise again.

You gnawed at your lip, feeling something unpleasantly hot and sticky twist up your stomach.

The knife glinted between your fingers and you thought of crying whales and of the crew that you already missed so much that it felt like a gnawing chasm had opened in your chest.

You huffed out a miserable sigh and lamented for not the first time in your life that you really were just so fucking stupid sometimes. And then you were cautiously making your way down towards the waterline and the sleeping Siren sprawled out in the sand. Slowly—so very, very slowly—you tiptoed towards the mer and tried to get a quick glance at what amounted to the worst of the damage.

The rope had been thin and long, and the more he’d struggled, the more he’d dug the twine into his fins. You reached forward at half speed and slipped the blade into one of the too-tight creases beneath the bindings. You winced a bit in sympathy at the raw, pink skin beneath. No wonder he hadn’t been able to just rip the fibers away. He’d probably just ended up tugging them over and over against the oozing wounds beneath.

The first strand broke beneath your fingers with something that almost felt like a pop. Like seams ripping on a shirt. You glanced quickly at the sleeping Siren to confirm he was still lost to the world and not gearing up to bite your fingers off at the knuckle, and then continued making your way through the worst of it. It reminded you a bit of the time Ace had accidentally snared a sea turtle in one of his fishing nets and the lot of you had spent the better part of an hour slowly working the thing free of the seemingly endless tangles. You delicately worked the tightest edges away from the harsh indentations they’d left against his scales and peeled back the muckier bits with enough gentleness to avoid mangling anymore of his already battered fins.

The last of the rope finally came away with a satisfying, wet weight and you let it fall to the sand beside you with a pleased nod. Now you could let Mister Merman swim away in the morning with no unpleasantly gross sense of moral obligation weighing down your consciousness. Maybe he’d even be thankful enough to look at you with something other than a venomous glare for once. Certainly nothing like the one leveled at you right now. And—

Oh.

You didn’t even have time to properly gasp before you were being flipped and pinned into the wet sand. The Siren loomed over you, digging his black claws into your shoulder until you could feel the first pricks of blood breaking the surface. He snarled in your face, the curtain of his pale blonde hair shadowing his eyes in something so dark it was nearly black. The brilliant purple cast off his glowing irises were like little spots of stars in an otherwise empty night sky.

He leaned forward, teeth bared, and then some sort of tight expression flickered over his face. He paused, brow tugging together steep and angry. He hunched down once more, fangs at the ready, and then ducked back out. He shook his head, like he was trying to clear fog from his brain, and then he was snapping his canines at you all over again.

The Siren reared back with a booming snarl that sent ripples through the soft tide lapping at your ankles. He turned with one, final, icy glower and dove back into the shallows, disappearing beneath the surface in a flash of amethyst scales. He flicked his tail sharply as he went, and one of the tattered fins snapped against your nose with enough of a crack to make you yelp.

You sat up in disbelief, rubbing at your aching skin and watching in outright consternation as the great predator of the oceans swam tight laps beneath the warm waters of your little lagoon—fins occasionally cresting over the surface to smack pointed fistfuls of water into your gaping face.

Deliriously, one of The Rose Queen’s hundreds of nonsensical rules bounced about your head. Happy to fill the otherwise entirely empty space behind your eyes.

‘Never save a Sea Serpent on a Sunday,’ Riddle had demanded, hands at his hips. ‘No Serpents, or Sea Horses, or Sirens to speak of.’

‘Man,’ you thought wildly, brain high on adrenaline and static as you watched one of the aforementioned Sirens swan about like he hadn’t probably just been a half second away from gnawing on your literal bones. ‘If I get out of this alive, Captain’s definitely gonna collar me this time.’

.

.

.

[TAG LIST]

@marvelous-maxi, @ilikefanfics4, @jackalope08, @crocwork-clockodile, @cosmicobubisi, @buttplugs-stuff, @pomefleur, @decemebercircus, @ailynyan, @genzombie, @meliade-ot, @sunlightocean, @theofficialantitherapist, @hermiona18, @sailorenthusiast, @fantasy-dating-sim-trash, @thefiasco-onyourblock, @insideous-beez, @its-clockwork-princess

@novaloptr, @imlost-sendhelp, @matcha-berry @preciosayorgullosa @whoretaglia, @kookygirlwholikescookiesandcoke, @nanauedorian, @trixeraptops, @voxnipop, @starkling25, @thedum1, @horcrux-alchemist, @sleepykitty21, @apathicace, @instantregret101, @nekanecorvus, @looney-mori, @re-ducing, @my2phetaliaheadcanons, @naughtybodypillow, @rendy-a, @carmen-404, @candy284, @thealiennamedterry, @their-name-is-fake, @huetolog, @glacticrose, @seraphinariddle, @rabioa, @sn00zl4x, @dreasimping, @jeidoreech, @ai-dev, @galaxyshine24-7, @fatally-incorrect, @juulranch, @camrastuff, @nocteetdie, @stargaryengirl,

[turnstechgodhead]

i was thinkin about brogatory (as one does) & I remembered the earlier posts where Bro was in The Water™ for a while.

Then I recalled that part in pesterquest, during Dirk's route when he tells (candy)Dave that he fuckin hates water/the ocean (<- not exact words but something similar he's tired of it lol) and. I know they're not the same version of the guy but it made me see those posts in a different way for a moment💭 (the thought of 'what if'. some things carrying over the different versions of himself even if they experienced different lives?? idk)

oooo

< lad who has not played pq

i am sooo thinking about this. rotating this in my brain. (i thought dirk ating the ocean was just a hc [one that i had tbf but])

i cant decide if bro hates the ocean or likes it

[xxe123spiderfreakxx]

spoilers for tmagp ep 22:

whoaaaaa. whoaaaaaa AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

name drops amirite ladies? 💥💥💥

also what the fuck was up with that brain shit? yuck tastic. it was giving resident evil eepy creepy o~o <333 i love. i have no fucking clue what is fucking happening im just oooo the horrors! what next u weirdos???

also. I'll say it again....sam and alice gotta gotta gotta gotta gotta gotta gotta stay broken up pls theyre so messy <3 but i hope they can make up and be good friends again <333 before someone fucking dies CHRIST

Mrs. Lena Kelly!!! who the fuck is her partner and pls tell me she's yet another horror shithead sapphic??? I NEED <333

also also i would love alice to start interrogating gwen (not just bc im a dyehard head LMAO) since she went to colin's for answers and i feel like that's the next step since she doesnt know celia has her own drama happening and also shes more on sam's side(?) rn.

celia is hard to read. im like...o.o like im also on the alice train of "mysterious hot lady" and i dont fully know her intentions. but i like her (and then i get (in)directly murked bc of her) <3

but anyway omg??? would love some messy hurt/comfort dyehard thatll probs end in a fight even if they say some raw caring things?? pls throw it into my starving maw erghhhhhhhh toxic yuri train woot woot

but my actual speculation...like it's nothing new, but what is the purpose of notating whenever someone lies? like? is the person keeping track making notes for themself or ominipotently knows they are full of shit and putting it on record for clarity? like it bzzzed at sam when he said he could take care of himself, and that tbh felt more like a read than just recording misinformation 🫵😭😭😭

i dont understand why the recorder/alexander j. newall wants us to know that? like i can figure out a lot of those are lies based on my own prior knowledge/context clues so it has to be something right?

i might be over thinking it but i dont get why it's there. like i get it, i saw some dope theories about [ERROR] being a former archivist??!! that shit is so cool, and is ink5oul injured or dead now? what's up with the possible smirke ritual with architecture? yeah yeah i get it those are for smarter folks to speculate. they are rotating in my brain and i will read everyone's thoughts desperately on them...

i just am so hung up on the lying radar. like why why why why erghhhh im wringing my handddsss

[symbiotic-slime]

that's a lot, but still: for the fanfic ask game: ❤, 💥, ⏰️ , 👓 , 🦋 , 🦈, 💭, 🧪, 🔥, 💘,💡, 🔎, 🎨 .

SORRY, THAT'S A LOT!!! 😭

hi I’m so so sorry it took me a bit to get around to this 😭 also never apologize for sending too many, I am professional yapper and will take every opportunity to talk about my fics :D

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?

oooo this is tough! I have to go with this line from the fic I’m working on right now, which kinda goes too hard for a fanfiction that involves a man falling in love with mold

💥 What is one canon thing that you wish you could change?

Eddie Brock being the King in Black. I know there’s a lot of people who think it’s cool and like it, but to me it just feels out of place for him. like he should just be A Guy™️, not like the commander of all symbiotes and able to move through time or whatever the hell is going on right now in the current run.

⏰️ Do you like to post fics on a schedule or at random?

they’re definitely at random! it’s just whenever I get bursts of inspiration, I’m trying to be more regular (especially with VenomFest— I’m trying to keep up with it being weekly) but yeah, there’s no schedule 😅

👓 What helps you focus when you write?

this is gonna make me sound like an iPad baby but I love having videos I’ve already seen on in the background while I write! if Coffeezilla isn’t explaining a scam on my tv while I write on my phone/laptop than I am operating at like 50% efficiency 💀 It’s so bad 😭

🦋 Which character is your favorite to write?

I absolutely love writing the Venom Symbiote!! they’re such a goober it makes them so enjoyable to write! also it’s so fun to write about human things from the perspective of a guy who’s confused by them all the time.

🦈 Which character is the toughest to write?

Don’t know if he’s actually tough to write but part of the reason I haven’t written any symbiOT3 fics is because I’m scared of fucking up Flash 😭 I get like that with new characters, I get so petrified of writing them even though I find when i actually do write them it’s not as bad as I think. like it took me a while to build up to writing comics!Eddie, even though he’s not that hard to write (imo) and very fun to write!

💭 What inspires you and your writing?

LGBT delusions /j

my genuine answer is honestly not far off from that though— Venom and Eddie just exist in my brain all the time and writing about them helps me from just rotating them in my brain all day.

🧪 Do you research for your fics?

a bit? it depends on what I’m writing because most of it isn’t stuff that requires research, but if I ever get around to my Malevolent/Venom crossover I’m going to have to figure out how investigations actually work.

🔥 Have you included any sexy scenes in your fics? If yes, do you find them easy or difficult to write?

I have written them and I find them lowkey difficult to write 😭 I love writing them— all the ones I have published right now are x reader fics but the TMA au does get weirdly horny. listen okay im not crazy the corruption draws on sexual horror so it’s narratively compelling for Eddie to be horny for mold— [I am dragged out of the room by armed security guards]

💘 Is it easier to write angst or fluff?

fluff!! I find it hard to write angst— I just want all of them to be happy and gay and live happily ever after

💡How many WIPs do you currently have?

Currently I have two WIPs! I’ve got my Magnus archives AU, which has three WIP chapters, and I started writing a Eddie/Venom/Reader smut fic >:3

🔎 Does anyone beta read or edit your fics?

some of my irl friends beta read and edit my fics!! @fist-of-vengeance and @cyborg-empress are what keeps me from publishing fics with typos and just overall issues, I cannot thank them enough!!

📚 Is there a fanfic or fanfic writer you recommend?

OUGH there’s too many,,, I’ll try to narrow it down to just three of my favourites:

good old fashioned symbrock smut from Symby’s perspective:

symbiOT3 fic where Flash and Eddie are neighbours! it’s so adorable, I cannot wait for the next chapter:

and a fic where Venom is the monster under kid!Eddie’s bed! kinda heavy (it deals with Eddie being abused), but it’s so heartwarming to see kid!Eddie and Venom becoming friends and Venom protecting Eddie:

[quigzahhutt]

from the asks game! 🥤 🌿 🥐 -- wiz

yay exciting !!

🥤 - recommend an author or fic you love

oooo so I'm gonna do both because I have a lot of love to share :3

This fic by legolas (zweizimtsterne) has been rotating in my brain for MONTHS since I first read it

I'm lowkey so obsessed with the Alex/Max dynamic of 2020 because there was just... so much tension and like . it was very unhealthy and it makes my brain a little fuzzy. I think this author did a REALLY good job of capturing their dynamic while also making it like, romantic?? idk I'm just obsessed with this fic I reread it at least three times a month😭😭

and then one of my favorite authors rn is peachbellini. idk if they have a Tumblr cuz otherwise I would tag them but I think they do SUCH a great job capturing the likeness of everyone they write; i also just enjoy their writing in general and it's one of my main inspirations for my own work ^-^ (u should check out their sargebon fic never have I ever because it is SOOO GOOD I reread it a lot)

---

🌿 - give some advice on writer's block and low creativity

this is tough bcuz I lowkey haven't figured that out for myself😭😭 but something that I think personally helps me is just taking a step back from long form works and just let my brain rest for a while. I also like to do little one shots (anything between 300-600 words) to kinda get my creativity going, but honestly (as annoying as it is) time is really one of the best things to help with block. reading other peoples stuff as well and taking note of things I like about their writing and style also helps me with creativity/inspiration :)

---

🥐 - name one internet reference that will always make you laugh

the whole "cant park there, mate" meme in the F1 fandom is still so funny to me😭😭 I quote it almost on the daily it's actually a disease

[theblueflower05]

Oooo girll that drabble got me sanginnggg

"Sweets for my sweet, sugar for ma honey!" *Reggae version!*

YOU👏🏾 DON'T 👏🏾MISS

Hmmm what would I like to see in the development of this story? I'm cool with anything you come up with honestly but I'll add my lil dollar token. I know this story is focused on reader and Neteyam but I would love to see other characters brought up too. I love when family themes are brought into play, even if they appear with a couple lines or whatever. It warms my heart. And thats that really, looking forward to some Protective, Freaky, Sempul Neteyam hehe Mehbeh.

Side thoughts!

I can't help but think about being shacked up with Ao'nung during fertility season; and all I can think of is being his main side piece, the one he loves for pleasure when it comes to sex but also when he needs someone to talk with. Continued, before the season ends we both smoke some Mary Jane, and have some dazed conversations in all seriousness but still with the flirty bits and joking bits too. I can just see it, laying against his chest and talking about any and everything.

Oh I need to share this too and then I'll leave hehe. Ao'nung would have more sex appeal than Neteyam right. But Neteyam is the silent freaky type, you know what I'm saying. I'm saying like Neteyam in the bedroom is; you don't know what hit you until it hit you. Oh shit you can do that, oh you like it like that. Like he looks like he can be smooth when in the mood, but you didn't know that smooth.

Okay I'm out 🫶🏾

I want you to know that you made my brain short circuit. Oh my Eywa. All of this is so fucking FUN TO TALK ABOUT.

I also love when other characters are brought in. Mostly because I really like being able to see different POV’s around Neteyam and the Readers relationship. Like Jakes little snippet at the end of the last Part was so fun to write😂

THE FACT THAT WE KNOW AO’NUNG WOULD HAVE A ROTATION.

I’m glad that with his two lines in this whole story it’s very apparent that he gets bitches. Women adore him and he loves women.

Um this is such a good take! Him with his favorite piece, getting stoned and talking about life and he’s like huh I’ve never had the urge to make Tsaheylu during Fertility Season before but his kuru’s itching to connect. She’d leave his Mauri all fine and satiated and he’d be in inner turmoil.

Like what the fuck just happened???

lololol I love this. Ao’nung is one of my fave characters(I may or may not have a a little smutty one shot planned for him in the future)

Hell yeah Ao’s very confident in his sexuality. Every woman who he’s ever been with has been thoroughly pleasured-

The sounds he hears coming from you and Neteyam’s hut sometimes scares him. You sound like you’re being gutted. Ao’nung truly wonders what that skinny forest boy could be doing to you to make you sound like that.

[faemothra]

got tagged by @spinejackel (who has impeccable taste in music) for "5 songs you've had on repeat" (doing 10 bc my brain has too much space to rotate songs around)

eat your young - hozier

figment shifter - squid lid

vore - sleep token

climbing up the walls - radiohead

prowler - coyote kid

nihil - 3teeth

werewolf (synthwave ver.) - motionless in white

no guts = no masters - oooo

petals - chiasm

napalm - zheani

any of yall can do this if you want 🤸

[mossolantern]

Oooo? Ex duo member lore????? Feasting rn. Lydian is a little guy to me. Turning him into a marketable plushie to rotate in my brain - BB

hell yeah marketable plushie lydian <33

also yeah! other half of the former duo had some of that typical highblood behavior, but add that into a fervid disgust with any part of their fanbase that was under cobalt (and even that low was only barely tolerable)

which kinda sucked because lydian genuinely loves all of the fans

[a-gay-little-cat]

o yea i also updated tigers toyhouse again bc oooo he's rotating in my brain...

spins him with raac bc uhm... sometimes your comfort characters can be your ocs yknow

raac being spun because oh my god new destiny season starts tomorrow i need to step on a landmine, especially with dawning also being soon

[these-secondhand-wings]

Reiterating something from the tags:

#gender is made up and we can all do what we want with it

Oooo spooky I know!! /s You can fuck around as much as you want. Women can choose to grow a beard and have short hair (neither of which specifically make you male) and still identify as female!! Give yourself huge tits and identify as male!! Gender is a fuck and I'm rotating it in my brain like it's in a microwave because get ROTATED loser. The planet is gonna explode one day and we'll all be forgotten so we may as well treat life like an expensive make your own character game

i think f1nn5ter makes a lot of people more uncomfortable than drag does because they cant dismiss what he does as ironic and therefore nonthreatening. it isnt a parody of femininity, its legitimately looking like a woman while being fully a man and it scares people.

he represents all the fears cis people have of not being able to tell if somebody is trans, and hes living proof that humans are not nearly as dimorphic as they like to think.

[trenchcoatsbi]

YEEE!! QSMP ACE ATTORNEY AU :DD

I thought about a few already like pa' wilbur being phoenix meanwhile my papa (quackity) is edgeworth, llulah would be trucy chay apollo and I'm debating whether I (tilin) would be kay or ema skye DBFBFBBF

-(cannon divergent llulah anon)⭑

oooo that’s fun! wil as phoenix and quackity as edgeworth… ough i’m gonna rotate that in my brain for a while…

[scaredgirlsilly]

i have so many little ideas for projects i couldnt possibly ever finish or even start but i just like rotating them in my brain. like ah yes another idea for a multi year spanning serial multi media web comic that covers all types of topics and settings. oooo an open world videogame mashup of several of my favorite triple-a games. oh how could i forget the media defining masterpiece of interpersonal relationships between realistic and troubles characters as they go throughout their entire life. and ofc ofc the several novel long gay epic love story about time shenanigans that makes my head spin just thinking about it. all of these are completely feasable and i will definitely make them one day ofc im just saving them for later 😌😌😌😌😌😌😌😌

[having-conniptions]

Oooo thanks for the tag @1800ineedshelp 🥰

LAST SONG: Suzie Chapstick by Green Day

FAVORITE COLOR: I always say red bc I've loved it since childhood but a dark forest green is always a vibe tbh

CURRENTLY WATCHING: A lot, actually xD ok let me see... for anime we've got Cherry Magic and Bucchigiri, in the bl&gl category it's Deep Night, Semantic Error and 23.5 and for miscellaneous we have 9-1-1.

SPICY/SAVORY/SWEET: All of them. You're gonna make me choose? It really depends on my mood tbh but since sugar is a foolproof way to press the dopamine button in my brain I guess sweet is never not an option

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: In a relationship <3

CURRENT OBSESSION: well, 9-1-1 season 7 just started so I'm back in my Buddie clown car... also Mio and Bump from the BOC/DFF cast are still rotating in my brain nonstop

Alright, no pressure tags: @katistrophe @arel-o-imladris @mrs-sherlock-holmes @sameen-shawv @themundanedumpling it's your turn! <3 if you want to

Nine people i'd like to get to know better:

Tagged by: @bell-of-indecision, thank you so much for tagging me <3

Last Song: Gmfu by Odetari,6arelyhuman

Favourite colour: Dark red, violet, pink

Currently watching: Death note, ep6

Spicy/Savoury/Sweet: Spicy

Relationship status: Single

Current Obsession: Mbti types and cognitive functions.

Tagging: @somin-yin @a-cloud-for-dreams @axepen @hinsaa-paramo-dharma @basic-bitch-alkali @rhysaka @blackknight-100 @squishywizardd @reykalot

[puppyeared]

Doodles I really like