Sherlock clears his throat. “So, you’ll… that is… you’ll come back, then?”

John’s head whips up at that. He has been sitting in his arm chair, staring dully at the fire. But, he’s been constantly on the edge of his seat, as if ready to flee at a moment’s notice. 

His silence goes on a bit too long, so Sherlock backtracks, stung and mortified. “Sorry. No, forget it, it’s fi-”

“You mean,” John says, his voice hoarse. He’s actually looking at Sherlock now, and some glimmer of life has returned to his eyes. “You mean, you- you want me back?”

Something in Sherlock’s chest snaps, and he tries his hardest not to inhale too obviously. He sees it now, he sees everything, too much at once: a young John who has learned the price of abandonment, has learnt too soon that nothing is permanent, has learnt that even the ones he loves the most could up and leave and-

And Sherlock is up, out of his own seat, going to him. There is one thought on his mind: that John deserves to know just how very loved he is. 

“John. John, of course, I- this- it isn’t- it’s not home without-” 

John lets out a little tear-filled gasp, and one hand clutches Sherlock’s wrist. “Sherlock. Sher-” But, whatever he was about to say is lost as his voice completely breaks, and the tears win their fight.

“Oh, John,” Sherlock whispers. He kneels in front of him, wrapping his arms around him. “It’s going to be alright. Just-shh. It will, I promise…”

He waits and waits until John’s cries slow and fade.

“Now, here’s what we’re going to do,” he says, lips to the top of John’s head. “It’s late, so I’ll give you some pyjamas- they’ll drown you but it’ll be funny- and you’re going to sleep for as long as you want while I phone Mycroft before dawn to arrange a moving van.”

John laughs against Sherlock’s chest. He raises his head, eyes definitely sparkling, now. “You think you’ll get something at that time?” 

“No, but I might as well get some entertainment in pissing him off.” 

John laughs again. He’s looking past Sherlock now, eyes flickering all over the flat, in some sort of dazed wonder. Sherlock can’t tell what he’s seeing.

“This place, I- I never thought-ever-I-” His voice cuts off again as he swallows. 

He’s not ready, Sherlock tells himself. Be gentle

So, Sherlock hands over his mobile. “Welcome home, John. Now, get us a takeaway, will you?”

The hardest thing is to accept that someone you care about is treating you badly. Maybe not on purpose, and maybe not all the time, but you have a self worth and a value and if you pretend that you don’t know what it is, so will everyone else.

anonymous asked:

If you want a writing prompt maybe kirk discovering a cluster of freckles on the nape of spock's neck?

ah hopefully this fit your prompt well enough!!

Constellations (find it on ao3 here)


The dark silhouette remained still, framed in the doorway to the fresher. Jim blinked, then reached out a hand, making his voice softer, more honeyed.

“Spock. Come on, sweetheart. Come to bed with me. Please.”

Spock finally moved, walking towards Jim and settling on the edge of the bed, keeping his face turned away. He took off his socks but made no move to remove the Vulcan robes he had been wearing during meditation. Jim frowned a bit, catching the end of one of the trailing sleeves. A few weeks into their relationship, Spock had discovered just how comfortable Jim’s old loose t-shirts were, and refused to wear anything else to bed. For Spock to not take off his robes to sleep… well, it certainly planted worry in Jim’s head. “Aren’t you gonna take this off?” He asked, keeping his voice soft in the dim light.

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anonymous asked:

How about a Nursey/Dex mutual celebrity crush meet-cute with NHL!Nursey and IrishDancer!Dex?

I’m not sure how popular an Irish dancer is, but let’s roll with it. I’m also making a whole bunch of shit up because I don’t know much about Irish dancing. So if something is so glaringly wrong that it completely ruins the story, kindly let me know and I’ll change it up.

Dex has been on tour with the National Academy for over four months now and while he loves dancing (and loves getting paid for it), he’s exhausted. He can’t think of anything more he’d rather do than curl up in his bed at home and sleep for about a week.

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12x13 Coda

Sam doesn’t eat burgers. 

Dean does. Anyone they’ve ever come across knows how much Dean likes to down a double cheeseburger with extra onions but Sam prefers wraps or salads. He likes beer but prefers to drink lite brands and Dean’s the only one who drinks IPA, yet the three letter packaging is staring back at him on the table. 

Dean’s opened up the fast food bag and with the wrappers pulled out he can see the order receipts on the food. Three burgers with no lettuce, extra onion, extra bacon, and extra cheese just how Mom and Dean like them. 

John Winchester had his flaws but he knew better than anyone that Sam and Dean had different tastes. He’s pretty sure Mary think they’re the same person half the time. 

Except that isn’t right either because if they were the same person then wouldn’t Mary text both of them? Want to share jokes and grin and blast her music for both of them to hear? Play Scrabble and share stories about the Impala with both of them? 

She doesn’t. Because Sam’s not the same person, he’s an addition to the person Mary already had. 

And of course it makes sense why would she want to spend time with him? She doesn’t know him like she knows Dean. He doesn’t know anything about cars so how can he join them when they sit for hours in the garage talking about the Impala? He likes Dean’s music but because it’s an extension of Dean and their childhood, not enough to talk about the band members and the year of the album releases like the two of them do in the car while he sits quietly in the back. He doesn’t like beef jerky or blasted music or even pie that much. 

Sam wouldn’t want to hang out with himself either. 

But the best part of the entire situation is Dean’s still so untrusting of her, so tentative in allowing her in after she left that it’s suddenly up to him to bridge the gap between them. Of course he does it too because Dean had been peace maker for Sam and John so how can he deny his brother this? How could he not jump at the chance of making what was left of their family whole? 

He thinks he might have screwed up somewhere along the way. He must have. Because Dean and Mary are made from the same cloth and they’re happy enough to be together despite Dean’s digs but Sam can’t even find the breath to ask his mother how she’s doing anymore after the Demon Prince.

Since when is life about getting what you want? 

He knows that well. Kinda like wanting to meet your dead mother only to have her show up and not give a shit about you. 

So he stares at the beer and doesn’t touch the burgers as Mary explains that she’s been teaming up with the British Men of Letters and it’s been awhile since he’s felt this empty. He knew he wasn’t exactly high on her list of priorities but she’s not even looking at him as she says it. 

She’s looking at Dean. 

“We have a history with them-” He tries to get out but she’s quick to shut him down, the cutting way she say’s his name making his breath catch in his throat. 

He’s told it was a hard decision. He gets the feeling it really wasn’t. 

He feels five years old again, scrambling for their Dad’s attention while he taught Dean how to shoot a gun, eyes never leaving Dean’s hands despite how many groans of boredom Sam made. So he tells her, reminds her that he was cruelly burned and broken despite how disgusting the words taste on his tongue. He want’s to forget and heal, not have to use the experience to beg his mother to reconsider teaming up with his torturers. 

Since when is life about getting what you want?

She’s preaching about family and while that might work with Dean it doesn’t with Sam and he abruptly stands. “My family,” He says evenly, holding eye contact with Mary despite how she keeps flickering to look at Dean. “is made up of one person I can trust.” 

It’s clear what he’s saying and Mary flounders, obviously looking for an angle to argue as Sam watches on, the empty feeling taking some satisfaction from how surprised she looks. She didn’t think he’d take a stand and she was wrong. 

“Sam,” She says again, leaving the malice out of her tone this time. “I want us to be a family, they can help us make a bigger difference. We can all be working together if you’d just listen for five minutes.” She smiles, eyes soft and face open as she looks at him. It’s a decent poker face but he still see’s the cracks of defensiveness and irritation that she even has to explain herself. 

He nods in understanding, knowing she thinks he’s the empathetic one and lets her have a moment to believe that he’s going to be settled by her weak bargaining. “But Mom,” He starts. “Since when is life about getting what you want?” 

He leaves her there to think on it as he walks out of the room, dumping the bag of burgers in the trash by the door. 

amour-et-lumieree  asked:

How can I be as lovely as you? How can I become as positive?

aw you’re so sweet, :’)

how to be positive:

- focus on the good instead of the bad.

- live your life in the present. the past is the past. the future will take care of itself.

- have someone who you trust that you can talk to whenever things feel heavy. if you don’t have anyone to talk to, write, paint, draw, exercise, go for a walk.

- listen to music that makes you feel good. sad music is a thing of the past.

- always remember that things can’t stay bad for long. the good is coming.

- keep your living space clean. your living habitat often is symbolic of your mind/lifestyle. an organized/clean room = an organized/clean mind

- do things that make you happy. whether that’s hanging out with friends, baking, or staying in and watching tv.

- surround yourself with positive people, who you know love you and care about you. everyone else who doesn’t, has got to go. you can’t be as positive as you want to be when you’re surrounded by negative people.

- forgive yourself for your past mistakes and forgive others (with or without an apology).

- accept yourself. flaws and all.

- don’t compare yourself to someone else. you can’t compare your chapter 1, 2, 3, etc to their chapter 1, 2, 3, etc. you’ve both lived two completely different lives, so how could they be comparable?

- love yourself. know what you deserve. know your worth. be yourself.

challenge // h.s

Originally posted by hryhoney

request:  Imagine: The reader is a famous YouTuber and Her and Harry make a couple video thanks :))

A/N: I know you were probably expecting something cute like the boyfriend tag or Harry being all adorable in a tutorial video and I really like this whole concept so maybe that will happen one day but this just sort of flowed out and it seemed so realistic to me and I just liked it so i went with it and I really hope you don’t hate it anon and I didn’t edit because it’s a bit long but I’ll probably go back later and fix some stuff if i need to and I really hope you enjoy this :)

Harry liked to consider himself as a private person.

Everyone wanted a piece of his life. They wanted to know the things he ate, the places he went, the people he saw, the things he did. They wanted every little part of his life on full display so that they could judge him, tell him how to live his life differently. He didn’t want any part of that life. So he tried his best to keep his private life, well…private. There were a lot of obstacles in the way of that form the paparazzi to people with camera phones, but the biggest obstacle of all was you. You and your camera that you toted everywhere. You’d never once asked him to assist in a video and if you ever caught a glimpse of him on your camera, you’d edit that part out. He noticed that you went to great lengths to keep him out of your Youtube career for more than one reason. When you’d first met, it almost turned him away from you, but he didn’t let something so trivial keep him from someone he liked so much. You had promised him then that you’d never put him on screen.

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Helpless: Part 1

Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Reader

Summary: You feel the same pain your soulmate feels.

Warnings: slight mentions of torture

Draco sat slouched in the bathroom of the manor, crying out silently as another strike went against his cheek. He raised his pale hand, cradling his own cheek.

Why the hell was his soulmate getting hurt so violently? He’s never experienced something like this before and he was frightened. Were they okay? What was happening and why was it happening? Why did it have to happen now?

“Draco!” Lucius scolded from the other side of the door as another hit landed against his head and he felt as if he was gonna pass out from it. He’s lucky the pain his soulmate felt, didn’t leave bruises on him, but it definitely wore down on his heart.

“What, father?” Draco hissed back, attempting to stand up as another blow went into his stomach, he coughed, the feeling too much.

“We need you.” Draco listened as his father’s footsteps walked away and Draco gingerly opened the door, a headache forming in his head.

He hoped they were okay, but the pain he felt from them, said otherwise.

He lead himself back to the living room, Bellatrix, his mother and father, the Carrows, standing around someone he couldn’t recognize, just yet.

Not until he stepped forward and saw them. Y/N, he recalled her from Hogwarts, never really haven spoken to her before.

“Perhaps you’ll listen to someone you might know.” Bellatrix said, grabbing Draco’s shirt as she pulled him to stand in front of you. “Draco.” She seethed.

Draco looked at your beaten and bruised state, he didn’t think much of it. Just another person they tortured for information on the whereabouts of Harry Potter.

“Do you think you can tell us now?” Bellatrix walked around your small frame, stalking around you like a predator would. You lay curled up, clutching your stomach before Bellatrix pulled out her wand, running it over the skin of your cheek.

“Draco, why don’t you do the honors?” Bellatrix laughed, venom seeping from her words.

Draco swallowed, looking at the person he once would see around the halls, smiling, laughing, and now he stood above her, his own wand in his hand as he was directed to inflict pain on you.

“She’s a filthy blood traitor, Draco. Do it.” Bellatrix got tired of waiting for him to start, she stood behind the boy, the broken boy. She grabbed his hand, forcefully raising it to point down at your body. “Do it.” She whispered into his ear before laughing, wickedly.

Draco gazed up at his parents, his eyes silently pleading, but they didn’t notice. He gazed back down at you, you looked up at him. You watched his eyes, the sadness showing through and part of you felt bad for him. His eyes filled with sorrow, grief, regret, remorse.

You nodded your head, trying to tell him it’s okay, that you understood. Then you shut your eyes and waited for the pain that was about to come. You wanted this to be over. You wanted the old halls of Hogwarts and the hard essays and the big feasts. Not this. You wanted everything you used to have.

“Crucio.” Draco said, mustering up as much courage, he know he didn’t have. He said the curse as if he meant it and maybe, somewhere in him, he did, but not now, not as he watched your body convulse and listened to your cries.

It was almost immediately after he heard your cries that the pain started again in his own body. His body started twitching, much like your own as he fell to the floor. Draco cried out in pain, his body lying next to yours as it twitched, the pain traveling from his head down to his toes. His vision began to blur, the confused yelling of his parents the last thing he heard before he blacked out.

heck idk about the title i was just listening to hamilton but i’d appreciate any feedback on this! it’s part one of idk how many. i’ll post this to my ao3 as well

the last time i was at the airport
i noticed a patch of fake grass
squared off from the usual shades of grey and frowning TSA agents
a sign above the space stated that this was for dogs to use the bathroom
and then it dawned on me:
dogs are treated with more respect than transgender people are
after all
no one tries to dictate where a dog can take a piss
no one tries to take away a dog’s basic rights
when a dog is misgendered the error is corrected immediately
but when people are misgendered they’re told to get over it after being given a lesson on grammar
dogs are called by their proper names
while Leelah Alcorn’s headstone still reads the wrong one
dogs are put down in the most humane ways
and trans people are murdered in cold blood
after being stolen of their safe spaces
after being beaten and abused
after being attacked with words of hatred
after being treated like dirt
  animals are treated with higher regard than trans people
key word: people
trans people aren’t even thought of as people
but as a species
as an inconvenience
as a problem
when the real problem is
the fact that a dog’s gofundme received more support
than the trans person just trying to get out of their abusive environment
the real problem is
the man involved in a dog fighting ring is still ostracized
but the politician putting the lives of transgender students in danger is not
the real problem is
more people were ready to boycott “a dog’s purpose” because of the implied abuse on set
but still went to go see “about ray” even though the trans community expressed how harmful it is to have a cis actor play a trans role
the real problem
is not trans people
it’s the rest of the world
who refuse to see them as people
the real problem is
dogs can take a piss in public
but human beings are still fighting to
—  when you realize dogs are treated better than transgender people are
(cc, 2017)

settle-down-frohike  asked:

35) things you said that made me feel real Turn-about is fair play homeskillet! 😘

Thank you so much for the prompt! No fluff this time :D

Deep in the night, they find her. They always find her.

She cowers when they tear and gnaw at her; her skin falling off, her resolve diminishing into darkness. A darkness where she can’t even hide. All she can do, all she needs to do is fight. So she struggles, she screams and thrashes around.

Until she finally wakes up.

Panting heavily, her heart racing, pounding, racing, trying to escape her chest. Trying to escape this reality. What is real, she thinks, counting to ten (like she’s learned since she’s been… back) and feeling her breathing return to normal ever so slowly.

Another nightmare.

Scully needs to remember this. Just a nightmare. None of it is real. She repeats these words, mouths them to herself here in the dark, but they feel hollow. There are no pictures, nothing to cling to or be angry at. Just feelings. And Dana Scully has never been good with handling feelings.

“Scully? You awake?” The knock on her door is soft; so soft she would not have heard it had she been asleep.

“I’m awake.” She lets him know, hoping he’ll just stroll in. This is the first time they’ve had adjoining rooms while on a case. Sometimes they’re not even on the same floor or in same building complex. Mulder opens the door and strolls in as if it were the middle of the day and not dead night.

“Can’t sleep?” Scully asks him before he can say anything else; question why she’s awake at this hour. She’s seen herself after her nightmares; the tear-streaked face, the pale complexion. It’s dark here in the room with the only source of light a sputtering street light outside. He’s walking closer to the bed and Scully thinks back to their first case when he let her have his bed while he told her about his sister’s abduction. Right now she hopes he doesn’t want her to return the favor.

“I haven’t been sleeping well.” He pulls up a chair and sits close to her bed, but not too close. She can see him better now; shadows playing on his face, his eyes alert and curious. But she keeps quiet. Scully can tell he wants her to admit the same. She flushes with horror thinking he might have heard her scream out from her nightmare. The first few nights her mother had stayed with her and after her Melissa. Both, with teary, pitiful eyes had told her about her night terrors. What are those dreams about? Her sister had wanted to know. Scully had not told her. Could not tell anyone.

“You could watch some TV?” She offers. “I was about to turn it on myself.”

“Hm.” The chair squeaks as Mulder stretches out his legs, almost touching the bedpost. “Does this happen every night, Scully?” The gentleness in his voice surprises her as much as his question and she startles.

“What do you mean?” Scully wills her voice to be steady, to be strong.

“Scully, come on.” He leans forward, his elbows on his knees. His face is still so far away it seems, yet she feels like he’s invading her personal space.

“I have nightmares from time to time,” she admits, “Everyone has them.”

“Not like this.”

“Well, not everyone has experienced what I have, Mulder.” She doesn’t mean to sound so irritated and she almost apologizes. Almost.

“I know that, Scully,” his voice is so soft, like a caress and she immediately feels the anger subside again, “I just – maybe you should have taken some more time off.”

“No. I want to work. It… it helps.”

“Can I help you, too?”


“Just… can I stay here? Just for tonight? I’ll behave.” Mulder promises with a chuckle.

“What do you mean stay here?”

“In this chair. Just… just in case.”

“Mulder, you need to sleep. You can’t sleep in a chair.”

“Watch me.” Another chuckle. “Please, Scully.” His voice is pleading and she’s glad now that it’s too dark to see his face. She can hear everything she doesn’t want to know in his voice. Her mother told her how much Mulder suffered when she was gone. She’s never seen it; has not seen a difference in him in the daylight. Now, though… now she understands.

“All right,” she settles back down, facing him. “You can stay.” Her voice is barely above a whisper; she can’t speak these words loudly, afraid they might sound like defeat. Mulder’s even, certain breathing is a peaceful lullaby, rocking her back to sleep.

They’re back. Laughing at her in the darkness, their hands reaching for her. Grabbing. Tearing at her arms, scratching her skin.

“Scully, hey, it’s all right.” The voice is above her, somewhere, and she gasps. The hands, though, they’re still there. The darkness keeps its hold on her, tries to drag her down.

“It’s all right, you’re here. You’re here with me. It’s Mulder.”

If only her eyes would open, she thinks, reaching out her hand. Something tender brushes her cheek, then the other one. Warm. Warm and solid.

“Open your eyes, Scully,” the voice is closer, drowns out the darkness and pulls her up, “Look at me. This is real. I’m real.”

“Mulder?” She mumbles, her eyes blinking furiously, waking up.

“Yes, it’s me.” The relief in his voice is palpable and finally her eyes snap fully open. There he is; his face close to hers. So close he’s almost blurry.

“Just a nightmare,” he assures her; the same words she used to calm herself earlier, “You had a nightmare. It was not real. None of it is real.” She can only nod. If she opens her mouth now, even if just to say thank you, the tears will flow. She is not ready. Not ready to let him see him like that.

Without another word, he puts his arms around her tightly, holding her. They’re lying there entwined, touching in places they’ve not dared feel before, breathing in the same air.

“I’ll be here.” He whispers against her mouth and Scully closes her eyes again. This is real, she reminds herself; he is real and I am.

We are real.

Scully sleeps and this time there’s no nightmare.

Strange waters - Junkfish/Mako

Ship: Roadhog/Junkrat (Jamison fawks/Mako Rutledge, Junkfish/Islander Mako)

Multi chapter, slow burn. Inspired by Roadrat week day 3: favourite AU, which gave me the idea to mix mermaids/pirates.

Warnings: Slavery, mistreatment of mermaids, swear, possible sexual themes in later chapters, Some minor oc’s for plot reasons, focus is heavily on the Junkers.

Summery: Mako was kidnapped into slavery many decades ago, his humanity has been buried, any hope has slowly withered and died leaving behind a seemingly unfeeling husk of a man. Until one day a strange creature is pulled aboard his master’s ship, promising a little tip for tap.

Mako watched into the distance, seeing the sun setting over the horizon as the waves created and inescapable prison around him. Nothing but green tinged water as far as the eye could see, with waves that could pull under any man desperate enough to jump ship.

He shut out the bustleing of men around him, trying to remember the sound of wind through the high palm trees, the light tapping of coconuts together on a calm morning as the villagers began the daily harvest.

“We got it! We got it!!” Mako was pulled from his thoughts, the loud noises frustrating him, making him grip the mop handle tightly

“Reel er in boys!” The ship’s captain called, and the harpoon gun began to slowly crank back, the rope going tight as whatever they caught resisted.

Captain Stave noticed Makos curiosity and lashed the bigger man with a short whip he carried on his person “Back to work ya pox faced swine”

Mako didn’t flinch at the impact of the lash, he’d learned to drown out pain years ago, emotional and physical, he made himself untouchable.

He began to slowly move his hands back and fourth, the mop gliding across the deck, leaving it shiny with bubbly water.

The noise got louder, screaming, cheering, calls of disbelief and prayers of gratitude. Mako still didn’t look, not until he heard the most awful noise he’d ever experienced, to say it sounded like a dying animal was an understatement.

What he saw as he looked towards the crew was hard to make out at first.. a large orange tail thrashed around, it was longer then most men, pure muscle, powerful as it threw crew members across the ship and some into the obyss that surrounded them.

Mako covered his ears, trying to find a hint at what this thing was. The captian was also holding his ears in pain as he tried to shout over the beast “shut it up would ya!” Everyone tried to contain the panicked.. fish? No it was much to big.

“You! Ballast pig!” The captian called to Mako “unless ya feel like today be a good day ta be walking the plank I suggest ya grab some rope”

Mako obayed his orders, walking towards the thrashing thing until he could see it clear, the torso and head of a human curled under the long tail, he almost thought it to be the corpse of a crew member cut in half and tangled in the mess of find and scales, but they were very much attached to the beast.

Mako was nearly in awe at the sight of the mermaid, disbelief struck him first, yet no logical explanation could be found. A mythical being was in his presence, something he’d stopped believeing in years ago.

He felt a slash on his back, that time he did flinch as he was caught off guard, but quickly remedied the pain and set off to tying the mermaid up.

Mako was smart, the thing curled around itself like a snake hidding it’s most vulnerable areas. He didn’t dare wrestle with the tail as the other men did, rather he attacked the bits of pale skin he could see. He felt the monster recoil, but with so many hands on it, it couldn’t stop Mako from gripping it’s neck and forcing it into the open.

It seemed to contradict every story and legend Mako had ever heard. Weren’t mermaids supposed to be beautiful, with the soft alluring voices of sirens that could make a sober man walk into the sea willingly. They weren’t supposed to get ugly until after one was in the water, moments from being devoured live.

Mako looped the rope around the mermaids arm, pulling tight until they were trapped to its sides with no room to move, hardly enough to breath. He noticed the mermaid was missing one of its arms, chopped off just below the elbow with a poorly healed scar.

Before he could get a better look at the things face he was shoved back by Captian Stave. Makos work was done, the mermaid got weaker, fought less. Mako turned away and got back to work.

That night Mako could hear the crew drinking and cheering over their discovery. Talking about how kings would how to them, how each man could own an island of his own. A mermaid would be worth more then all the gold in the world.

Mako slept below in a cold damp cell under the deck, where the pounding of foot steps sounded like canons blasting. He was surrounded by barrels of pickles and pickled eggs, somehow growing so use to the scent over the years he didn’t even notice it anymore.

The door the the celler barged open, a large barrel rolled down, water sloshing out of the small cracks and open holes, he heard an irritated clicking. A few of the crew followed it down, tipsy as the boat swayed back and fourth.

They sat the barrel up, fastening it to the side of the ship so it wouldn’t be knocked around in a storm.

“Ay yah worm ridden ballast pig, company!” A man laughed drunkenly as he accended back up the stairs. Mako stared at the small barrel, wondering how they got such a big thing to fit in there. Even a small child would need to crouch, the mermaids tail alone seemed to be the length of a man, maybe longer.

Mako shut his eyes, listening the the sloshing of water from the barrel and the angry clicking of the creature.

A few days passed, Mako avoided the creature, it would scratch at the wooden barrel and click whenever any sound was made around him, water would spill when the thing tried to adjust itself. The water was red with blood. He wondered if the crew bothered bandaging the harpoon wound or if the monster simply reopened it. He assumed the ladder, seeing how it’s not even been fed since it arrived.

Mako felt a pinch in his chest, he’d not felt guilt in a long time. His curiosity got the better of him, leaning down to look into a round hole, it was dark inside, but as r got closer he saw an angry firey eye looking right back at him. They were a deep orange with a dark black pupil through it. Like some snakes had.

Mako stared a little longer, the thing holding his gaze with ease, as if it were studying Mako just as he was being studied. Eventually, the low threatening clicking noises could be heard and he decided to step back until the beast noticed his retreat and the sound died down again.


The sun was just rising as Mako was relieved from duty scrubbing the deck until it shined bright enough for Stave to see his reflection.

Mako sat on the hard ground which served as his bed. Silently eating a few pickles, they crunched between his teeth and juice ran down his scruffy beard.

He ate peacefully until he heard scratching, like a saw on wood coming from the captured creatures cell. He realized the thing hadn’t been fed, the captian was too focused on finding land to bother. A dead mermaid was still worth plenty, and much less trouble.

Mako slowly stood up, walking over to the barell, he saw movement through a small cork hole. He shoved a pickle through, hearing it plop into the water, the animal made some strange noises.

Mako knelt down to get a better look, only to have water splashed into his face followed by an angry shrieking sound. The pickle also came flying out.

Mako’s face got red with anger “starve then” he stormer back to his side, the water smelt like absolute shit, it was stanning his white shirt a gross maroon colour. Mixed with blood and filth, the water smelt like something was rotting in it, not unlikely.

“Mako!” The captians voice rang, and the slave wished he had spent his break resting instead of entertaining his curiosity

After the passing of another night the guilt begins to bubble in his chest again. The rotting fish smell has filled the bottom of the ship, making Mako gag whenever he reentered.

It was only a few hours after the pickle incident that Mako realized the thing probably didn’t like pickles. It may look half like a man, but it was still an animal.

As the crew pulled up a few nets from the sides of the ship Mako stole a few smaller fish, hidding them in his shirt until he was allowed to leave. The scales were slimmy and gross against his chest, he wondered why he bothered with this stupid thing, he had his own problems to deal with

that night Mako was sat down on the floor, legs crossed as he sliced the stolen fish into sections. Whenever he’d look to the barrel he could see a firey orange eye watching him.

As soon as he walked closer the mermaids eye disappeared in the darkness. Mako shoved a peice of fish through the hole. He heard a bride clicking before silence.

After a few seconds passed two fingers slowly crept from the hole, longer then any human hands, with sharp black claws scratching at the outside of the barrel. The fingers were pale and boney.

He stuck through another peice of fish, t he pattern continued until all the fish were gone and Mako watched the fingers stick out again, signaling for more.

“All out” Mako snorted, seeing something he never expected, the fingers withdrew back inside.. had the mermaid understood him? No it was just a dumb fish

Mako was tossed below deck, roughly, being thrown down the stairs made the boat shake and some loose jars topple over. Mako tried to pull himself together as his shirt was thrown down after him, his back shredded and bleeding from his many lashes, he hadn’t been punished so severely in a long time. He clenched his fists, shaking with rage on his hands and knees, gritting his teeth and hating them, hating everything.

“Mako..” it sounded like the ship was creaking his name, there was no signs of understanding behind the voice that called to him

“I help.. Mako” that time Mako was able to follow the sound. Looking directly to the barrel, an eye looking back at him. The voice sounded confused, like it didn’t understand the words it spoke, like it was a parrot, saying what it heard.

“What can you possibly do to help me?” He couldn’t believe he was talking to this thing.

“I give ship! I give ocean! You give freedom”

Mako understood what the thing was asking him for. But mermaids were tricksters, he’d be a fool to trust one.

“You were bested by a harpoon, how could you possibly be of any use” that seemed to annoy the mermaid as it began to click again

“I help Mako, Mako help me. Both free. Mer promise, can’t break promise”

The larger Maori man felt goose bumps, freedom, he’d given up on that long ago.. but maybe one more ounce of hope wouldn’t hurt.

“What do you need me to do?”


beanmoreau  asked:

[insert prompt here] Kuwei and wylan tryna (v obviously) out flirt each other with/at Jesper x3 x3

send me prompts!

did someone say high school au???  no???  well ur getting one.  this went slightly away from your prompt at the end but, high school nerds with crushes, am i right?  

  • it starts with fifth-period chemistry
  • jesper’s there because he needed something to fill his timetable with and he spends more time trying to talk to wylan across the room than he does paying attention, which doesn’t do wonders for wylan’s concentration but he’s not really complaining
  • the issue starts when radmakker, their chem teacher, tells them all to split into pairs for a project
  • wylan’s not even three feet from jesper’s desk when kuwei slides into the seat next to him, looking entirely too pleased with himself, and says something too quiet for wylan to hear
  • there’s exactly 21 students in that class, which means one too many, so it’s either luck or extreme misfortune when radmakker spots the three of them and exclaims “excellent!  you three can work together”

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…I miss your warmth
And I miss your touch
And I miss the way you press your hand against the small of my back as we’re walking
And I miss your lips being pressed all over me
And I miss you playing with my hair
And I miss the way your breath feels against my neck when you whisper into my ear
And I miss the way you look at me when I’m not paying attention
And I miss your smile
And I miss your laugh
—  CeK // 5;52 pm // I miss you so fucking much. My soul is craving you
Dylan Larkin #5

Requested by Anon:  Hey! i’m not sure if I ever sent this request but can you do one where Dylan Larkin or Auston (I’m not picky)’s girlfriend is studying abroad for 4 months and how he is going to miss her and like lots of fluff haha I hope you had great holiday :)

*Thank you so much!! I picked Dylan, I hope you don’t mind. Enjoy!! :)*

Word count: 945

Originally posted by yzermanwingedwheel

Dylan grabbed another bottle of sun screen and handed it to you with a knowing look, “in case you run out of those,” he said, looking around the room for something else to give you at the last minute.

Reaching out, you grabbed his hand to stop him from fidgeting, leaning up to kiss his cheek, “you know they have sun screens there, right?” you chuckled, “Dyl, I’m not going to some remote island.”

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