#tw: seasickness

[magicalincorrectrobodokiquotes]

"Alarm Fails, Everyone's Fucked" Clip

“Mmmmmmmmph…can’t that damn thing shut off?” Theodore whined.

“No, it can’t.” Henry groaned, pale in the face.

“How?” Theodore groaned.

Wheeler just grumbled as he sat up in a pile of stuffed animals.

“Ladies and gentlemen, there is no emergency going on right now. We do apologize for the malfunction of the ship's horn, and we are working to figure out a solution, which could take 45 minutes to an hour- again, we apologize for any inconvenience and hope you have a magical night.” An announcer spoke.

“Who the FUCK is doing ANYTHING at 2 in the morning on a Disney cruise?” Wheeler asked before seeing Frances reading a book on science with Polly running around the deck. “I stand VERY corrected.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’ve been told that the alarm system will be fixed by tomorrow morning at 8, so there should be no itinerary changes of note, thank you for your patience while we fix this issue and have a magical night.” The announcer came back on again.

“YAAAAAAAARRR!” Polly cheered.

“Ma’am. You in the jungle green pajamas, please stop running around and go back to your room.” A cleaning cast member scolded.

Polly paused, then begrudgingly did so.

“What happened?” Frances looked up.

Polly muttered under her breath “I just wanted to run around a lil’ an’ someone scolded me.”

“Well, they’re making sure people can sleep peacefully.” Gertrude tried to explain.

[vcrnons]

12 DAYS OF BLACK EYE ↪ DAY 8 | woke up on the highway, i didn't go home last night.

bonus:

[danafeelingsick]

posted a sickfic, if you even care 🥺

[sarcasticratsims]

Weekend Out Despite the unease from the day before, Sam and Roy enjoy their time at the pier, pulling up to a drive-in movie and ultimately failing at ice skating...also, Roy is cracked at soccer apparently?

|Seasick| | <- Previous : Next ->|

+++| Beginning : Latest |

[aceofwhump]

Around the World in 80 Days 1x01

[jurassicsickfics]

[tossdoll]

how does the region you live in handle phantump adoptions?

might as well ask you since you’re interested in ghost types yourself .

[-@feeling-seasickness]

the regulations and laws here are usually different in each region, so most of what i am going to advise is just based on the region i am in and not for every where else.

trainers must be 21 years or older, and must have a history with specializing in ghost types, both with owning ghost types in the past and also at least 5 semesters worth of type trainer classes. phantumps are a high maintenance pokemon that need an experienced adult supervision, as when they evolve into a trevenant, can be troublesome and incredibly dangerous for unskilled trainers.

phantumps also need to choose you as a trainer and it is illegal to go out of your way to catch them yourself (some pokemon here are illegal to catch and own already) as doing so is classified under as child abduction. from what i have heard, you must also need to go through a special procedure with your phantump with government bodies, to check if your phantump is an actual dead child or just a normal pokemon. if the phantump is a passed on human child, i believe you must work more with the government officials and file documents to see if it matches any missing/deceased children in the area, visiting any active/alive family members of said phantump (as legally they have the right to reclaim the child if said child wants to go back with them) and once a year, have a government body to visit your home to check on how you and your pokemon are doing.

looking through your profile, you do not match the qualifications of owning one in my region, however again, take what i said with a grain of salt, as i do not believe we live in the same region. if you are interested in owning a member for your team, check your local shelters! they are more than happy to communicate with you to find your perfect match.

[lcstkey]

Selena is prone to severe sea-sickness. In these moments, she would rather curl up and sleep through the journey below deck. She'll usually be fine once she steps off onto dry land.

But for this reason, she will avoid travelling by sea unless she absolutely has to.

It would impair her ability to fight should one take place on a boat or ship in scenarios such as the beginning of the Sirensong Sea dungeon in Final Fantasy 14.

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

@icyfox17 YOU WERE ONE OF THE OG’S YOOOOOOO

Gosh I’m jealous lol; I only found out about Your City Gave Me Asthma late last year :’0

Since I Saw Vienna… yes. That and La Jolla are probably my favorites out of the whole album!! Since I Saw Vienna is just so quiet and gentle, and the repetitive-ness of the music makes it really calming. I hekkin love it!!!

And La Jolla is just… ahsgajsgaksg it is my beloved in that album I love it so much ohhh my gosh-

I don’t really listen to music to fall asleep at night, but a few weeks ago I was in the Mood for it, so I started playing a bunch of calming acoustic songs. I got to La Jolla and I literally started falling asleep partway through XD

Annnnd then a rock song or something started playing and it scared me awake lol

AAAA YES YOUR PATCHES!!! I LOVE THEM SO MUCH!!! EEEEEEK!!!

OOOOOOH WILBUR WITH BLUE HAIR??? Danggg that’s so interesting :00

two years!!

[sarcasticratsims]

Boo!

(Don't know who they are? Check out seasick!)

| Beginning : Latest |

[onestepbackwards]

TW: WEED MENTION

If this is against your rules or makes you uncomfortable feel free to ignore

Imagine introducing weed/edibles/blunts to characters the PLA characters?

I imagine that melli has a sad/depressive high like full blown sobbing type of high.

volo and Iscan are just having the worst panic attack of there entire fucking lives.

Irida and Kamado can't even remember their own fucking names with them being the most relaxed they've ever been.

Adaman, Mai, and Gaeric are just fucking GONE, like out of this world gone, having the best nap of their entire lives.

Ingo is making blueprints of a whole ass fucking train.

Meanwhile Cyllene is having a serious case of the munchies.

Arezu is brainstorming different types of haircuts and styles and going fucking crazy over it.

Palina, Lian, Sabi, Akari, Rai and Calaba are the only ones not high (of the main cast anyway) and are panicking/wandering what the hell is going on.

Meanwhile we're just looking for our edibles/weed/blunt wondering where the hell it went, unknowing of the chaos we unleashed.

AGAIN IF THIS IS AGAINST YOUR RULES OR MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE I AM VERY SORRY, AND I HOPE YOU CAN FORGIVE ME. But anyways just a funny thought

ksajfksldfj it's fine! Sorry it took so long to get to this one.

I'm giggling, just imagining if they don't already have weed in ancient Hisui, they accidentally discover your stash.

Plus I love the idea of Ingo just locking the fuck in, unlocking memories of a train specifically- he somehow knows it by the back of his hand. Zisu is looking over his shoulder awed as his hand moves a mile a minute, painting the perfect blueprints.

Cyllene gets the munchies, but also locks in. All her paperwork for the week is done in just 3 hours. Kamado wonders what spell you put her under.

Volo definitely has one of the worst trips of everyone, which is really unfortunate. Perhaps edibles aren't for him?

Meanwhile, he's curled up in a corner, visions of Giratina flashing whenever he closes his eyes, all while he feels like he's seasick on land.

Please help him.

[sillyguystrawb]

Don't get your hopes up for a full story but I wrote this and absolutely needed to share it. This one's for all you Lyra Rogers fans, I love you.

TW: Death

A/N: Here's a short teaser of a creepypasta fanfic I want to write! I have no name for it yet aaaa idk I'll think of one. If I even continue this story lmfaoo anyway enjoy!

(Creepypasta Fanfiction Title Here)

. . .

“You’ve been gone a long time, human.”

“I know.”

“How long has it been, exactly?”

“Almost 14 years.”

“Your body has decayed by now, beyond even my assistance.”

“There’s no hope for going back, never was.”

“Bold assumption to make.”

“Nobody wakes from the dead.”

“Nobody you’re aware of, until now.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s time for you to wake up.”

. . .

A chill ran up the woman’s spine, the cold snow beneath her body crunching as she sat up. She looked around, standing on her feet with a stumble, shivering and hugging her arms close to her chest. She was in a graveyard. The tombs around her had fresh snow, the pathway between rows of graves lit softly with garden lamps. She turned around to look at the grave she’d awoken above.

“Lyra Rogers. A daughter, a sister, a friend. 1985 - 2011.”

Her own grave stood almost indistinguishable from the others in its row, with the exception of the words alone to identify it. Lyra stared at it, wondering what the funeral had been like. Had her mother been able to go, with her grief? Had her father even wanted to? Had Toby been able to move on since? A crunch of the snow outside the graveyard alerted Lyra, and she ran over to the entrance and made her way toward it, to see a few young adults talking over cigarettes and a bottle of god knows what. She waved at the group and shouted.

“Hey, you guys!” She needed help. Her long sleeve shirt was torn in odd places, her jeans were just as beat, and all her clothing was covered in blood. Her own blood, she knew that much. The crash that killed her in the first place had done enough damage to destroy her body, she wouldn’t think they’d even consider an open casket funeral. So how was she even here?

The group of people didn’t even acknowledge her, and Lyra ran towards them, but still nobody looked. Nobody batted an eye. When Lyra reached out to touch the shoulder of the man closest to her, her hand only slipped through his body like it didn’t exist. The blonde woman’s eyes widened, and she looked behind her at the snow. No tracks, not even a dent in the snow where her feet had been. It was like she didn’t exist.

It didn’t take much longer for Lyra to give up on the group of people and walk down the street to a forested park, where she sat on a bench to think. The night was cold, she was cold, and her chattering teeth and shivering body didn’t help much to ease the freezing temperatures in her chest. The wind pushed against her as if she were real, a cruel joke considering living things couldn’t feel her it seemed, but the wind had the ability to make her colder. She turned her face away from the gust, and her eyes set on a circular graffiti mark, with an X in the middle. It was carved small into the bench, but not small enough to miss.

Lyra reached out to touch the mark, to feel it’s indent in the wood. But just as her fingers brushed onto it her vision went dark, stomach flipped, and mind went dizzy. Spinning and flipping like a rollercoaster and seasickness all in one, finally opening her eyes to a dirt path only very lightly covered with snow, and trees surrounding her like a fortress. The dizziness escaped her after about a minute, and she stood up, walking down the path in hopes of finding some kind of shelter. The questions formed in her mind, each one breeding new questions with no foreseeable answer as she walked nervously, shivering down the path.

After turning corners and making guesses as to which way to go, she eventually saw a light up ahead, a single flickering lantern on a porch connected to a very old, very large mansion. Fire meant warmth, and as Lyra sprinted over to the porch a man came into view sitting behind the lantern. She slowed to a walk as she got closer, stepping next to the first step of the porch and standing before the man and his lantern. He smoked a cigarette, a light tan jacket covering a plaid shirt, looking off into the distance.

“Never seen you before, you new here?” The man spoke, finally looking at Lyra. His calm, nonchalant expression and the way he gestured for her to sit next to the lantern felt strange. Not bad, but strange, how could he see her when the others hadn’t been able to? Why wasn’t he freaking out over the amount of blood on her clothes? Lyra sat next to the lantern, leaning close to it for warmth.

“You look cold and confused, how did you get here?” Lyra didn’t look at him, trying to calm her chattering teeth and shivering hands on the small fire. The man hesitated before sighing deeply.

“Not much of a talker. Or too in shock, that happens too.” He stood up slowly, and picked up the lantern, walking over to and pushing the front door open with a loud creak of the hinges. “Come on in, it’s a lot warmer here and I don’t feel like freezing you to death.”

“Th-thank you..” Lyra stuttered, following him inside. The wave of warmth that hit her stung at first, the temperature difference shocking her body slightly as he put out the lantern and lead her down hallways and into an open-plan room, one side with a kitchen and bar, the other side with what looked like a conference table. “Sit wherever you want, I’ll grab you a drink.” The man went into the kitchen portion of the odd room and grabbed two mugs, fixing Lyra up hot chocolate which he put on the counter for her before making himself a black coffee.

“Coffee hm? Isn’t it like.. Late?” Lyra spoke softly, nervously as she picked up the hot chocolate. The man put out his cigarette on an ashtray at the bar and chuckled at her remark.

“It’s 2am, but that hasn’t stopped me before.” Lyra smiled as she sipped her drink, and watched the man sit in front of the ashtray at the bar to drink his coffee.

“Thank you, again. What’s your name?” The blonde woman smiled warmly at the guy, who nodded slightly in acknowledgement.

“Tim. People here call me nicknames, but I prefer Tim.” Lyra sat at the bar next to him and her head tilted slightly. She was warming up for sure, the mansion seemed pretty warm for such an old building.

“Nice to meet you, Tim. I’m Lyra.” Tim’s eyebrows raised. He seemed surprised, like he’d expected anything except that. He chugged his coffee and turned to face her properly. He looked hard into her eyes for a moment, searching for an answer she didn’t know the question to. He finally outstretched his hand which she took, and they shook. His hand was calloused, but warm. Rough skin, but gentle touch.

“There are others that live here?” Lyra finally asked, to which Tim nodded. Lyra hummed before asking another question, tentatively, avoiding eye contact. “How can you see me? The others they.. couldn't.”

Tim’s reaction made her snap her head to look directly at him, as he laughed. “You’re not the first ghost I’ve ever seen, Lyra.” A few seconds went by, the man was smiling slightly, and Lyra took another sip of her hot cocoa.

“How..” She started to ask, before pausing in utter confusion. The blood didn’t faze him. The sight of a ghost didn’t faze him. The fact she came out of nowhere didn’t faze him.

“You’ll understand in time, it’s complicated. But everyone who comes here did so on purpose whether they knew it or not.” Tim’s answer stuck to her like a porcupine quill. He stood up again, and washed his cup, placing it in a drying rack. “Finish your drink, I have something to show you. Someone, more accurately.”

Lyra didn’t want to bombard Tim with questions, even though they were filling her to the brim, so instead she finished her hot chocolate and stood up. He beckoned for her to follow as he walked down a short hallway, and knocked on the last door on the left. On it, a sign reading “Do Not Disturb, I’m Sleeping.”

Tim pounded on the door hard, and yelled at the person inside. “Open up, you have a visitor!”

A familiar voice rang out from inside, clearly annoyed with Tim’s aggressive knock. “Tell them t-to leave me alone.”

“You’re not gonna want this one to leave you alone.” Tim replied, and a young man opened the door, glaring at Tim before setting eyes on Lyra. His face dropped from annoyance, and landed hard on disbelief. His hand twitched, and his eyes watered.

“Toby?” Lyra asked softly, looking into her brother’s pale face. “You look like shit.”

Toby only latched onto her, tears immediately falling from his eyes into the cloth on her shoulder as she held him close, barely paying mind to her surprise that she could touch him. He whimpered and wept, but there was joy under it all. After all that time, she had been dead and buried for almost 14 years. And now she was back, at 2 in the morning, New Year’s day.

[jurassicsickfics]

Watched Titanic all the way through for the first time the other night and went to sleep right after. I proceeded to have this super vivid dream that Rose got seasick on a lifeboat after being rescued and woke up all excited like, "Dang did that really happen?"

No. No it did not. Lol. Nice dream, tho

[ctheathy]

Hi! 👋👋👋

Could I request headcanons (in a separate post ofc) Sails and Mangey x Reader that travels with Sonic across Shatterverse? Because I noticed that you are planning to write such headcanons with Nine and I, although I adore that traumatized fox with anger issues, I would love to read headcanons with these two because they are terribly underrated 😔.

(I apologize for any spelling mistakes, my native language is not English 😭).

Sails w/ Reader that travels with Sonic

Sails x Reader

General+Fluff Headcanons

Short Concept

Author’s note: Aah, yes~!! I personally love Sails and Mangey, they should certainly get some more content and love from the fandom itself.

Mangey’s version

Sails/Reader [Romantic Tendencies]

[Gender-neutral Darling|Female Darling|Male Darling]

Potential ⚠️TWs⚠️ :

Slight thalassophobia [Fear of the ocean] mentioned for Reader

The way you two would meet most likely wouldn’t differ much from how Sonic had. Creating quite the tight aura at first sight, but this luckily passes as quick as it goes. Leaving it behind while starting over your gathering. You would feel your interest drawn towards especially the only two-tailed fox in the crew of pirates, and the feelings certainly seem to be mutual. Would playfully continue to call you scallywag or land lover instead of your real name just in order to tease and mess with you. It’s almost like the two of you have this little click and bond with one another right off the bat, and the others cannot help but be in awe at the sight. He would show you everything about his and his crew’s life as pirates, constantly pulling you around for yet another of his adventures.

If you just so happen to be seasick easily or have a fear of the deep oceans from below, Sails is going to be by your side through the entire ride. He doesn’t leave you out of his eyesight for one single minute and he allows you to spend most of your time around the crow’s nest with him. He’d stick especially close and be rather touchy with you during the process, while actively trying to cease any potential stress and anxiety. He’d especially just pick you up and fly above the waters in order to make you feel better about all of it. His metallic hand always seems to be entangled with your own in one way or another, no matter the current situation you’re in or the distance between you both.

As soon as you get the slightest bit cold on the ship, most likely due to the higher levels of breezes and wind among the ocean; Sails will insist that you wear his bandana. He’d quite literally force it around your neck in order to try and keep you warm, knowing he won’t be bothered by the cold at all due to his thick fur coat. If you still happen to reject his offering, though? He’s going to take it to the next step and just cling to your side for the rest of the day, hugging you to try and keep your temperature the exact same as his. It’s quite the amusing and entertaining sight for the others to see to say the least, with the fox just clinging to you for the time being. A small yet effective way in your bonding. His excitement being very much visible when doing so as well,

as he truly seems to enjoy his time more in your company.

[dearsnow]

SALT FARE, NORTH SEA

- when a dragon falls from the sky, decimating your ship and bringing a strange boy along for the ride, you begin to question if the some of the targaryens are really as bad as they seem. (aged up!lucerys velaryon x fem!reader, angst to fluff, ur burning hatred is quenched by time spent on the sea 🤞) MAJOR SPOILERS FOR HOUSE OF THE DRAGON! au where vhagar doesn’t kill luke, arrax just gets absolutely mauled and falls out of the sky. aged up luke because I didn’t realize he was that young when i started writing 💀. ⚠️ TW for death, suicidal thoughts, and trauma.

word count: 4,211 (jesus christ)

a/n - ohhhh my god guys i’m back!!!! this was certainly a labor of love. i don’t know if I’ll start writing consistently again, but i really hope i do. i love you guys so much and thank you for the continued support even when i’m on hiatus! also i’m sorry if luke is ooc because i choose to believe he’s quietly funny and a little bit of a menace 😭

As the waves batter the sides of your ship, you don’t feel seasick. You feel the spray, see the occasional silvery fish zip by under the water. The sun beats down on your exposed neck and the motion swirls your mind, but you are sick for an entirely different reason.

Betrothal. God, you hate how that word sits on your tongue like a hot piece of meat. You are to be sent off to their family, married into their lineage and forced to bear their children until your womb shrivels like a sun-dried date. Of  all of your options, the Targaryens are certainly the worst. 

Aemond, in particular. You’ve heard stories of his cold demeanor, how he could kill you with a look. With his hands, too. He is quite the skilled swordsman, not that you would ever wish to witness it. He is the one you are set to marry.

Oh, the misery. The horror. You can feel bile rising in your throat whenever someone mentions him or his mother, great Queen Alicent.

You figure, though, at least it isn’t his brother.

You come from a noble family. It was bound to happen anyways. Trade your Martell name for some haughty lord’s and become his sow for the rest of your life. Your short, miserable life. In some ways, you are a bit grateful. You will never want for food and you know you’ll bring great honor to your family by marrying into the Targaryens. 

You just wish you could marry for another reason, not just forging alliances and heating up old, cold ones. You could have a happy life with the person of your choosing. You could sell fish on the shores of the sea and pick flowers in a field.

You play with this notion in your head before you hear a mighty crash and the sound of splintering wood.

The screams come mere seconds later. They pierce the air as snapping bones and rending flesh ring out. You stumble back, nearly falling off the edge of the ship. Large chunks of meat have started raining from the sky, crushing everything in their path.

You feel your heart beat so fast it nearly leaps out of your chest as you scramble for friction. Fuck, what the hell?

With the meat there comes blood, great amounts of it. It trips the sailors up, sending them careening over the wooden edges and into the sea. 

You narrowly miss the giant dragon wing that splits the boat in two. The entire thing has started sinking, and your blood runs cold. 

The ship is tilted from the massive gash in the center. Water is mixing with blood, and your dress is soaked to the bone. You can’t help but think that the finest silks Dorne can offer will drag you to the bottom of the depths.

As you clamber to the top of the ship’s bow as another fast-moving figure falls into the water. You don’t notice it in the moment. 

A shove comes from behind, pushing you to the side. Your back aches where you were struck.

“M’lady, m'lady! The lifeboat, you must take the boat. Go, go! Right now, m'lady.”

It’s Finhard, the deck swabber. He has two missing fingers, a lame knee, and a million stories. He swabbed the deck of The Sandstorm from port to port, collecting any and all information he could along the way. You loved talking to him so much it made the trip almost worth it. He always helped you sneak food to the cat stowing away on board. The cat you’re sure is now dead.

“What about you?” You question, voice loud but shaky. You can’t just leave him here.

“I’m a dead man, m’lady. I don’t matter.”

“But you do!” You insist, tugging on his arm. The screams are still ringing like alarms, and your limbs feel locked and like jelly at the same time.

“No, no. I might sink it. Girl’s damaged already. Please go, girlie. Jus’ remember me when you eat your next fish, alright?”

A pit pools in your stomach as you whip around to look at the small lifeboat. He’s right. The boat wouldn’t be able to hold you and a grown man, at least not one of Finhard’s size.

“Get on. I’ll push ya off, and you better have a damn good time with that prince of yours.”

You feel tears welling up in your eyes as you watch your trusted confidant steel his gaze.

“I’m sorry, Finhard. I’m so so sorry,” You sob, clutching his rough palms. “I promise I’ll think of you always.”

“Thas’ all I ask for.” His voice is rough and uncut, hardened yet soft, like a feather made of chainmail. He picks you up like a sack of potatoes and places you in the rickety boat with the gentleness of a father setting down his newborn. He gives you one final kiss on the forehead before untying the boat and shoving it into the roiling water. 

Small hairs cling to your forehead as the ship lights up in a blaze sure to be seen from the shore. Your face is so wet with tears you feel as though the ocean is the product of them.

You sob into your hands as the people who took care of you on your journey sink, their bawls leaving a scar in your memory.

It’s not even ten minutes after the foremast begins to sink that you see a dark shape bobbing along in the water next to you. You stifle a gasp, thinking it must surely be a shark or a dead man. The water around it was red and heavy. 

When it floats closer to you, you see for the first time that it’s a boy. A boy who must be around your age, maybe sixteen or seventeen. His wrist gives a little twitch, and you resolve that you must rescue him. 

He wasn’t on your ship unless he was stowing away in the barrels, as teenagers often do. No matter his situation, you grab his soaked shirt and give a hard tug. 

The effort almost tips your boat, nearly sending you spiraling into the water. You give a little huff. The waterlogged boy is definitely heavier than you expected.

You try again, managing to get his arm hooked around the side of the boat. From there, it’s just a game of strength- you pull him up, using his clothing as a sort of lever to shimmy him out of the water. You roll him over, the water streaming off of him re-splattering your already wet clothes with water and fresh blood. The boat dips a little with his weight, but it does not sink. You praise the Seven under your breath. He has a cut on the side of his head, one that requires medical care far past the simple fixes you’ve learned.

You try to dress it anyways. Ripping a long strip of cloth from the bottom of your underskirt, you wrap it up and pray he doesn’t lose much more blood. 

You can still hear the creaking of The Sandstorm, though any humans were sucked under long ago. It makes a melancholy sound, blending with the waves and the seabirds and the rain that has started pattering down. A lump forms in your throat as you gaze at the wreckage. Hot water slides down your face as you sit in your little lifeboat, waiting for death that will most certainly come for your throat. 

It’s about two hours of lonely drifting before the boy wakes up. He opens his eyes slowly, then they widen as he gives a gurgling shout.

“Augh!” You stifle a giggle, though your voice is still wobbly from sobs.

He notices you and sits up, bewildered. As he takes in his surroundings, you sit and watch.

“Who are you? Where am I? Where is Arrax?” 

“I am nobody now, and we are in the middle of the ocean,” You gesture to the water surrounding every inch of your sight. “And I don’t know who Arrax is.” He sure has a lot of questions, though you can’t fault him for it.

“Arrax, my dragon. I… I think he’s…” He doesn’t finish his sentence.

You stare at him in shock.

“Your dragon? The dragon that fell out of the sky in twenty pieces?” You question, voice heated. “The one that just killed a crew of fifty-two men?”

He’s silent for a moment. “So he’s dead?”

“Of course he’s dead, you imbecile! Did you not hear what I just said? He killed them. All of them. I’m the only survivor.”

“I’m sorry.” He mutters. He brings his knees to his chest and hugs them. “It was never my fault. It was him that killed Arrax, so it is him that killed your crew.”

“Who is him?”

“That bastard of a prince, Aemond. He and his dragon, Vhagar, chased us across the skies and attacked us in the air.”

Your hands tighten into fists as your throat constricts like you swallowed a spiny rock. You regret ever saving the boy, and you regret not slitting your throat when you heard of your betrothal to the murderer. Everything you’ve heard about Aemond is true. Your rage boils into hatred, and you swear that if you ever see him you will die and take him with you.

“So that must mean you’re a Targaryen too?” You say, trying to keep your voice level. It’s a skill you had to learn as a noble lady, but the hate building in your chest is almost too violent to quiet.

“Lucerys Velaryon, my lady.” He eyes you, taking note of your expensive yet ruined dress. He must know you’re not a commoner either.

You know the Targaryens are the only ones with proper access to a dragon, but you should have known that only someone descended from one could cause such absolute and utter destruction. It’s not Lucerys’s fault, you tell yourself. Don’t put the blame on him. Put on a smile and become your best even-tempered and kind self. But gods, the way you want to wring his neck for an event he seemingly had no control over.

“Why did he do it?” You ask. The tears from earlier start creating a pressure behind your eyes again. 

“Because I took his eye.” Lucerys’s voice is weak, but it has the strum of nobility that you know like a well-oiled harp. “He wanted revenge, an eye for an eye. So I ran. He found me in the sky and bit my dragon in half. I never meant to kill anybody.” So they’re all the same, the princes. Hardened and cruel and psychopaths. “Did you save me?”

“I suppose I did.” You want so badly to say ‘but I shouldn’t have’, but you hold your tongue.

“That is a debt I can never repay. Thank you. I’m truly sorry.” You shake your head. It’s not his fault, you repeat. You still cannot find it in yourself to forgive him. “What’s your name?”

You think for a brief moment. It wouldn’t hurt, you think, to tell him your name. That way when you both die, at least the man you’re stuck with will know the name of the woman that hated his family the most out of anyone in the world.

You speak your name, including your Martell family name, and he looks at you, eyes widened so much you think they will pop out of his skull.

“Aemond’s betrothed?” You are marrying into the greens, and Lucerys feels as though he should hate you for it. Unluckily for his honor, he cannot despise the girl who pulled him from the sea.

“Yes, what sorry luck.” You spit. “I would rather drown than go through with it.” You think of the promise you made to Finhard. “No, I would put poison in his chalice and watch him drink it.”

He laughs a bit, his voice ringing out against the repetitive sound of waves. “And I will buy the poison.” You allow yourself to smile. You hate it, but you smile.

You’ve always been the weirder daughter, yet the one that tries to talk with the lords and ladies and puts on a shining performance. That’s where the smile comes from, from all the times you’ve had to put your pearly whites on display. The morals have gone to shit, but the reflex is still burned into your person.

“You needn’t call me ‘my lord’. We’re even here, out on the sea.” He says. You can feel that’s not the only reason. A spark of guilt shimmers in the corners of his eyes. “Just call me Luke.”

“And you may call me by my name, Luke.” He’s right. There are no titles, only salt water and spray.

You watch the moon in the sky as it shines its beams down on your face. It sees everything. Every deal in secret, every promise you’ve ever made. It’s a gentle reminder that every person sees the same thing every night. You and Luke sit in silence, staring up at it. You wonder if your mother sees it too, from her ship. Can Finhard and the other sailors see it, from their watery graves? Can they forgive you for not saving them? For saving the life of a boy, whose mass is just under the weight limit of the boat? You glance over at him.

He’s staring at you, at how the soft rays of the moon highlight the curves and edges of your face. He feels a pit in his stomach, one that is not from hunger. It’s a gnawing feeling, guilt. He hates that he had to trade his life for fifty sailors. He thinks he would rather be at the bottom of the sea than see more tear tracks on your face. Another feeling eats at him, though he’s not sure what it is. It makes his insides churn and scrambles his mind.

He averts his eyes and looks at the stars once more.

You spend another two days floating in the water. You’re both sunburned and salt dried, and his skin is red and peeling. The conversation between the both of you had been dry up until today.

“May I have the flask?” He asks. You hand it over. For two whole days, all you have had to eat and drink is two flasks of water, a packet of dried fish, and some bread that has gone mushy from the water slowly seeping into your boat. You have to bail it out every hour or so.

“Do you think we’ll ever get out of here?” Luke questions, his voice rough. “Is anyone coming for us?”

You sigh. “I don’t know. I would like to think there are boats out searching, but truly, they must expect us to be dead. Besides that, we have drifted so far away from the shipwreck that we might not be found even if they were searching.” He shakes his head, hair stiff from the salty spray.

“I would like to keep hope alive.”

“You are the only one.” You hear a small laugh from next to you. 

“You know, I could not ask for a better person to be stranded with.” He screws the cap back onto his flask carefully.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you certainly know how to ration supplies. And your optimism is inspiring.” A giggle bubbles up from beneath your buried feelings. 

“Is that sarcasm, my dear lord?”

He smiles. You can’t help but notice that his smile is contagious, the kind that reaches his eyes. The kind you found yourself dreaming about, and the kind you are certain your betrothed never wears. 

“Only if you make it out to be.” He pauses. “So, what was your life like in Dorne?”

Your eyes narrow. Small talk? It brings you back to your past. Talking to potential suitors and bearing their questions as they try to judge if you’re worth their money. It’s almost nice, the reminder. Before the wreck, you had been happy. Cheerful, even. You were nothing like you are now, hardened and weak and so close to putting sand in your pockets and drowning you can taste the seawater. 

“Why do you ask?”

“I figured it would be nice to know you. To really know you.” His words bring an odd sense of comfort to you.

“It was much nicer than this. I had friends and family, that was the best part. I never wanted for much of anything. I suppose I felt out of place sometimes, and I felt lonely like nothing else, but it helped to know that I could always have a home with the people I loved.” He nods, and the waves push against the boat. The sun is setting, condemning you to another sleepless night. “What about you?”

“I love my home, my people, and my family. I never felt up to the task of being lord of Driftmark, though,” He confesses, “and sometimes I still feel like a fraud. Gods, I don’t know why I told you that.” He knows. There’s something about your eyes, something that makes him want to spill every secret he has ever had. He wants to tell you about the time he stole Aemond’s knife, causing Aemond to pick a fight with Aegon. Or when he heard an argument between his mother and stepfather, or when his older brother snuck a frog into the pocket of a handmaiden. Your eyes burn with stifled anger and buried hopes and love.

You look at him with an odd expression. “It’s alright. Might as well get everything out while you can.” You know the feeling of not being enough well. “I’m sure you’ll do wonderfully when we get out of here.” You find yourself comforting him for god knows what reason. You should be angry, full of hatred and buzzing bees, but you can only feel sympathy for the boy across from you.

“When we get out of here? Where was that optimism earlier?” He teases, making you smile.

“It was killed and brought back to life. I have decided that I’m not going to die.” His laugh rings out, showering you in a feeling that makes you shiver.

“That’s a good thing to decide. I swear it too, we are not going to die. Aemond will never kill our spirit nor our bodies.” He takes your hands, palms rough and calloused. It makes your heart pound in a way you never expected. “We will be alright.”

You nod, hope blooming in your heart. Suddenly, the world seems just a little bit brighter. That’s when you see it; the seagull flying overhead.

You gasp, pointing up to the sky. It lets out a sharp cry as it circles around, and soon Luke is looking at it too. You’re so relieved that tears well up in your eyes.

Land must be near. It has to be. 

“Praise the gods.” He grins, dropping your hands to shield his eyes from the sun. “We will surely reach the shores soon.”

“I can only hope.” You whisper.

You spend another day on the water, your hopeful eyes searching for mountains or fields. All you can see is blue water, blue skies, and Lucerys Velaryon. You found that you’ve grown to like him, as fucked as your past self might have considered it. He actually treats you like a person. 

He squints into the distance. “I still don’t see anything. Maybe… maybe the bird was a fluke. A gull straying too far from the shore.”

You hit his shoulder lightly. “Don’t think like that.”

“It seems we’ve switched roles,” He smiles, “you’re the positive one now.”

“We certainly have rubbed off on each other.” The corners of your mouth lift into a little grin. Truth be told, your own hope is starting to fade, but you will never let him know. 

You’ve begun to notice things about the sea that you have never seen before. Schools of small fish darting below the surface, the pattern of the waves, even how chilly the water is. As the sun shines down, the water is peaceful. Maybe it’s a side effect of the trauma, or maybe it’s just you growing more comfortable with the idea of salt water. In any case, you suppose you need to look at its beauty to fan the dying flame of light burning inside you. It’s far easier to love than to keep hating. 

“The day is quite beautiful, isn’t it?” You whisper. 

“I suppose it is.” He says, but he’s not looking at the sky.

You are infatuating. The way the sun glints off your eyes enraptures him and keeps him in a state of lovely drunkenness. “Do you wish to marry my uncle?” There’s a hint of something more behind his voice. It’s almost desperate, and the thought makes you shiver.

You hesitate. “Not particularly. It would bring honor to my family, that I am sure of. So I will do it, but I will likely not enjoy it.”

“I understand that. I myself am betrothed to someone I can’t see myself loving.”

“The lady Rhaena Targaryen?” You know of her. The idea of him marrying the girl painted by the gods twists your heart in a way you can’t even comprehend.

He sighs. “Yes. It is my duty, but I cannot see her as anything but a sister. That’s all she’s been to me my entire life.”

“Duty is a wicked thing,” You muse, “pulling us away from opportunities to enrich our own lives.”

He nods. “If you could choose, is there anyone you would want to be married to?”

You think for a bit but eventually shake your head. “Do you have a special someone?”

“I am beginning to discover one.” He says. What does he mean by that?

When you look at him, staring far into the distance, you start to realize.

When the days grow dim, you huddle into each other for warmth. That’s why you fall asleep tonight, softened by his touch. Finally, you sleep for more than half an hour at a time. Luke’s arms are wrapped around you, as the lifeboat leaves little room for comfort, and the rock of the ship lulls you into a dream.

You wake to a jolt. You have no idea how long you’ve been asleep, but the moon is out and there is sand underneath your hull. Sand. Ground. You scramble to sit up, pulling Luke along with you. “Sand! Luke, it’s sand. We’ve made it! Gods be good, we have made it to land.” You grab at the wet grains, letting them clump and filter through your fingers. He lets out a loud cheer and pulls you in.

Out of nowhere, as you still have earth in your hands, he kisses you. His lips are rough and dry, but so are yours. He tastes like salt water and love.

When he finally pulls away, he is grinning like a lunatic. “We’ve made it, my lady. We survived.”

“What happened to our no titles agreement?” You tease, still flustered. Your cheeks are as hot as the surface of the sun.

“We’re on land now. The rules of society apply again, I’m afraid.” His whisper ghosts against your ear like he’s almost afraid to lose the closeness he gathered over the course of the last few days.

“Of course,” You say, pressing your lips to his cheek, “I would expect nothing different from such a high-ranking and strong man such as yourself.” 

He places a hand where you kissed him. Your skin may be chapped, but that damned kiss was sweeter and softer than spun sugar.

“I’m glad we’ve come to an understanding, my lady.” A glint of humor dances in his eye.

He steps out of the boat and offers a hand to you. The ground wobbles under your feet and you almost fall, but he is there to steady you. “Wait, I know this beach!” He realizes as he gazes upon the scenery. “It’s the beach off Dragonstone. I’m… I’m home.”

“Really?” You feel hope bubbling through your body. “You know where we are?”

“I do. Dragonstone is there, above those cliffs. Come on, let’s go!” He tugs your arm just a bit too hard, sending you sprawling into the sand. You grab onto his sleeve and pull him down too, leaving you both in a fit of giggles. 

You’re both weak and tired and sore, but your flames grow brighter every second you’re on solid land. “Race me!” He yells, taking off from the ground on shaky feet. You dart after him, all your earlier burdens seemingly gone.

You probably won’t catch him, but it’s okay. Right now, your future is ahead of you, your rage is behind, the land pounds beneath your feet, and the boy with brown hair is calling for you to join him.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

Taglist (bolded means unable to tag): @mmmimilan @its-halleys-comet @savagemickey03 @persephonesportal @lovelyliliya @the-jess-life @spaceandstars @bbosica @hopelesswritergall @watercolorskyy

[sickiesope]

Hello may I please request seasick Jungkook with caretaker Taehyung

Here's a little drabble on seasick Kookie! :) (Sorry it's a bit short)

Sea sickness

Sickie: Jungkook

Caretaker: Taehyung

TW: emeto

Jungkook doesn't get motion sickness often. In fact, he gets sick the least in the group. So when they spontaneously go on a boat ride it caught everyone by surprise.

As they go farther out to sea, the water becomes a little rougher. It's nothing too crazy but the boat is noticeably moving more. Taehyung took his medication beforehand so he doesn't get motion sickness and he's feeling okay so far. But then he sees Jungkook who looks like he's having a hard time.

Jungkook finds himself getting nauseas. Looking down at the water, his tummy is starting to feel weird. He tries to look away and focus on something else but can't escape the feeling. His stomach twists and turns as the boat goes up and down. Jungkook holds onto his middle making a dissatisfied face. He's getting a headache and his ears are ringing with his upset tummy.

He barely hears Namjoon say "uh oh, guys I think Kookie's getting seasick."

"No-no, that can't be right" Jungkook blurts out. He squelches and gasps when his stomach does a flip. Jungkook leans over the rail and throws up into the water below.

"Oh no, Kookie!" Taehyung rushes over to him. Jungkook is so dizzy with nausea he's having trouble balancing. Taehyung helps support him as he heaves and bends forward, upchucking more.

The water looks worse now with bits of his stomach contents floating in it. Jungkook gets queasy again at the sight.

Taehyung grimaces and turns his focus on reassuring the youngest. "Awwh it's okay Kookie, don't worry it'll pass." Taehyung knows exactly how lousy motion sickness feels. "We need to get him back on land."

Jungkook wishes he didn't eat so much before going. His stomach still has jajangmyeon churning around inside, wanting to get out. He leans over the rail again and gags up another round.

"Oh my god I can't stand this feeling!" Jungkook whines.

"Don't worry, we're turning around Kook" Jin says.

"I'm sorry guys, I don't know how that happened" Jungkook wipes his mouth and sighs. He feels bad for cutting their trip short.

"It's okay Kook, you didn't know" Taehyung pats his shoulder. "I mean, none of us would have predicted that."

"I can't believe I threw up all that jajangmyeon."

"Awh, dont worry about it Kookie. And well, now the fish can enjoy it!" Jin jokes.

They all chuckle at that.