nothing but the net

I think about Nicaise not having a decent burial/ resting place, and Laurent decides to redesign a corner of their Summer Palace gardens. It’s nameless and there’s nothing to indicate what it is, but there are shrubs of jasmine like nets of starry pearls and forget-me-nots that bloom like sapphires in the courtyard.

“He’d hate it,” says Laurent. Damen squeezes his hand, knowing the sapphire earrings he was clutching.

A Collection of Regulus Black Headcanons based off the Fandom and @simply-reading :

  • Sirius has depression and maniac episodes
  • Regulus has anxiety and Trichotillomania along with many other illnesses that spiral from that such as maladaptive daydreaming (and none of them really diagnosed or treated. All he knows is that he shouldn’t feel like that, but what else is there? And sometimes he convinces himself he’s being dramatic)
  • Sirius has depression and maniac episodes- he’s also much more aware his parents are abusive
  • For a long time he has no one to ask for help. But at first asking James’ parents for help seems like too much
  • Especially after spending so much time at the Potter’s during breaks. A resentment that started after Regulus got sorted into Slytherin begins to get worse and worse, he convinces himself that it’s awful they can never see eye to eye. 
  • Regulus was so alone the year Sirius was ahead of him in Hogwarts, and for the first time his parents used the cruciatus curse on him. They never did when Sirius was around (Sirius always protected him, Always, Regulus could count on him) so Regulus waited it out. 
  • Except Sirius doesn’t come home for winter break. 
  • Except when Regulus gets sorted into Slytherin Sirius begins to ignore him more and more. He doesn’t come home for winter breaks.
  • Except everyone describes Sirius and James as “brothers”
  • Sirius sees the sorting as heartbreaking, it’s the last part of his family being cut off. No one can understand him. His muggle’s rights beliefs and other civil rights begin to expand more and more as he’s alienated from the family.
  • Sirius Black left after his parents used the cruciatus curse on him for the first time
  • Regulus stood on top of the stairs watching Sirius leave, wishing Sirius would ask him to come 
  • But Sirius was in and pain and hurt and cruel in the way children and hurt people can be- accidentally, blindlessly, and almost faultlessly.
  • He’d come to expect Regulus to never leave
  • And his parents spiraled even more
  • Their Heir is gone and now the Spare has to be Perfect. 
  • Regulus was raised to never talk back, watching Sirius and the clash of his parents, it was a coping mechanism
  • So Regulus is left at home, confused and hurt and knowing his parents would wake and find Sirius -their Heir- gone for good.
  • Fearing whats to come.
  • He holds onto that feeling of abandonment for a very long time. 
  • He has a hard enough time socializing as it is. Now he’s expected to create family ties and go up in the world and-
  • Instead he quits quidditch, begins to look grayer, weaker, bags under his eyes gets worse and worse. But there’s a war going on, his grades are still up- what’s there to notice?
  • At first he really wants someone to notice but time begins to blur a bit. His anxiety goes from being choking all the time, making him pull at his eyebrow and scratch to just… nothing. to just walking the hallways
  • He stops to care about not caring
  • One day he catches some gryffindors in the bathroom after dark. They’re scared at first, they think he’s a ghost, then they get scared he’ll take points off. He just looks at them and turns around to walk out.
  • His parents ask him to join and really it’s not as though he feels like he shouldn’t at first. It feels wrong  but everything does so he says ‘yes’. He doesn’t even think of Andromeda or Sirius who got out, they’re different.
  • (Sometimes he feels someone looking at him, when he turns around he sees backs but… he wonders… if it’s his brother. Or maybe that weird panic is back)
  • Briefly, he can understand his mother’s need to throw curse after curse at the tree. To throw fire and magic and terror. It’s his uncle, who died and left Sirius his money. Regulus watches in the door of the drawing room wondering why Sirius was his uncle’s favorite.
  • He wonders if he’s the favorite to anyone. But time passes. 
  • He wants to be seen sometimes. But mostly it’s just quiet, overwhelmingly buzzing quiet.
  • He has a moment one day- he feels a little drunk, a little off. He feels- overwhelmingly at the top of everything. He could end this war, he could end everything. He’s Regulus Black, powerful. He goes to that cave drunk on his mental illnesses and wonders if this is what Sirius feels like all the time- When he’s spinning with his one arm out and one around James, and a confident gait in his step
  • Regulus was expecting Voldemort to find out what he did. Before he died he felt a smug satisfaction that Sirius would feel guilty. That everyone would know the ignored boy did This. 
Ocean Soldier (Part 1 out of ?)

(A/N): I literally have no excuse for this other than I love mermaid Bucky so

Summary: (Y/N) happens to come across a rather friendly mermaid

Warnings: none?

Originally posted by little-messs

   The sun was just barely rising, the beach was quiet, no birds about squawking, no children running around carrying greasy hot dogs, no music of beach goers, just you, the sunset, and the ocean. With a pleasant sigh you settled down onto one of the docks surrounding the ocean. 

   You pick up a pencil and begin to gently sketch the purple and pink hues of the sky, your pencil gingerly shading along the half orb you had drawn for the sun. You bite your lip in concentration, looking from your paper up to the sky and back down to your paper again. Every so often you’d switch colors, truly wanting to capture the beauty of the sun and sky- 

   A gentle slap of the ocean is what grabs your attention. Sure, waves had been rolling in all day, sloping against the wooden posts if the docks, or against boats or sea cliffs but this one sounded different- sharper perhaps? It was much more clear and concise, more like a smack than anything else. The kind of sounds you got when a fish was squirming to get back in the water. You perk your head up and look around but alas there was nothing to see other than the vast expanse of salty water. That’s when you hear it again- that distinct smacking sound only now it was louder, and perhaps a bit faster than the last smack. It sounded panicked or frenzied if you thought about it.

    You rise from your spot on the dock, looking around the docks and seashore to see where if perhaps there was any animal who had gotten stuck in some Plastic or perhaps just needed some help getting back to sea. Your eyes search along the shore, between the boats, even against the cliffs before circling back around. Your eyes don’t particularly catch on anything but your ears certainly do, the smacking sound comes again and again and again, each slap more panicked than the last and it was loud, much too loud to be far away and that’s when you realized the boats closest to you were so large that you couldn’t see behind them or over them and perhaps whatever creature was stuck was hidden behind one of those.

    You run to the base of the dock and to where the boats attach to the wooden planks and your eyes begin to search, scanning up and down the rows until you spotted something. And that’s when you see it, a gleam of silver in the purple sun, the scales of some fish as it struggles in a fallen net. Shit, you think to yourself as you run towards that particular dock, already dropping to your knees to help wrangle the poor creature free but what you see is most definitely not what you were expecting. Rather than some fish staring back at you with beady eyes you were faced with a man with rather large, beautiful shining blue orbs. 

   You stare at the mans face for what feels like forever before you snap out if your reverie, blinking lazily to clear your thoughts.

    “Oh my god,” you whisper as you suddenly come to terms with the fact that a man had gotten himself tangled in this net. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” The man doesn’t respond, he simply stares back at you with these giant almost pleading puppy dog- esque eyes.  "What happened? How did you fall in?“ You try some more questions but yet again the man doesn’t answer. He doesn’t respond with any words but some strange vibrations rattles the air and it takes you a minute to realize that this man is the one making the noise, a sad, almost depressed little whimper in his throat. "Okay,” you whisper as you lift up chunks of the net attempting to figure out how he was tangled. “Lets get you out of this,” You lift up the net as you pull it towards you but it gets caught on something, something almost triangular but almost soft when you tugged hard enough. 

   The man whimpers, reaching up Through the net to grab at your hands, silently begging you to stop. You comply, immediately stopping the pulling. But rather than focusing on getting the poor Man free your eyes are suddenly glued to something else, his hands. They would have looked like any other ordinary pair of hands if it weren’t for the fact that they were webbed and smooth, giving them a glossy like appearance. His nails came to sharp little points, like tiny little daggers attached to his flesh. You stare at his hands, half tempted to even touch them but suddenly the man starts up with his cries again, that low, depressed throaty noise that had your heart aching.

    “Oh god, I’m so sorry,” you whisper, attempting to get back to work. You twist and pull at the net at all sorts of different angles, trying to free the man but each attempt only brought you more whimpers and more squirming. 

   “Shit,” You whisper as you stop struggling against the net, slumping down onto the dock in defeat. The man looks at you with concerned eyes, his sad noises starting back up again. “I- I don’t know how to help,” You mutter weakly, your tone nearly exhausted at this point. The man whimpers some more, his clawed hands reaching to attempt to tear the net away from his body. “Wait- stop,” You sigh as you reach down to grab his hands, trying to stop him from causing any more damage. “You’re gonna cut yourself-” The man becomes more panicked in his movements as you grip his wrist only now he was attempting to yank his grip from your yours rather than the nets. “I’m not gonna hurt you!” You attempt to calm him but it was no use, he was struggling and he was struggling hard. With one hard tug your knees slip on the dock, pulling you close to the waters edge. In fact, you’re just about to let go when the man gives one final tug, pulling you into the water with him. 

   Immediately water fills your lungs and you’re damn sure you scrape your feet along something sharp because the pain shooting into your legs most definitely isn’t normal. You bob back up to the surface, gasping for water as you hack up whatever you had swallowed all the while trying to wipe the water from your eyes. You cough a little as some water bubbles into your throat and out of your mouth, spraying back into the salty abyss. The man goes rigid, staring at you in pure fear and shock, his blue eyes widening in surprise.

   “What the hell?” You deadpan, glaring at him with an angry gaze. “You could have killed me!” The man recoils just a tiny bit, those small whimpers bubbling in his throat again. You sigh as you paddle the water about you gently, keeping you afloat long enough to converse with this mysterious man. “I’m sorry- I get you’re probably stressed being caught in here but I’m just trying to help,” You give him what you hope looks like a sympathetic smile. “Can I try to help with the net?” You ask, gesturing to the offending material. The man looks at you and back to the net and back to you again, biting his lip in thought. 

   You can’t help but notice the way his teeth came to a perfect little point, just like his nails, like tiny daggers buried into his body. Sharp nails, sharp teeth, he wasn’t speaking to you, what the hell was wrong with this guy? But before your anger could bubble again the man nods, squirming just a bit within the water. You give him a grateful little smile as you paddle towards him, stopping just shy of his torso. The closer you got the more you realized just how beautiful this man was, with baby blues and stunningly dark hair, not to mention a strikingly strong jaw line and amazing cheek bones. Even with his strange hands and teeth you couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit attracted to him. 

   “You’re not gonna try to drown me are ya?” You ask only half jokingly, the other half completely meaning the question. The man looks at you with those damn puppy eyes, shaking his head softly. He almost looked offended by the question if you thought about it but you didn’t have time to gawk at his face, you had to help free him from the net. With a determined albeit hesitant smile you reach out to gingerly work the net away from his chest, trying so desperately not to brush your fingers over his milky skin. 

   You gulp as you reach up, slowly but surely freeing his head from the net. It’s then, with your fingers grazing along his neck that you notice something, three small cuts along either side of his neck, pulsating as you moved your fingers along. You can’t help but stare at them, perhaps out of morbid curiosity, your eyes glued to the pink flesh of each cut. If you truly thought about it they actually looked like gills of some sort, just like the ones of fishes your father had brought home all those years ago. The man squirms, making some noise in the back of his throat under your intense gaze. You snap out of your trance again, electing to ignore the strange cuts until you freed the man from the net. 

   “Almost done,” You whisper as you let the top part of the net fall in front of him, all you had to do now was free his legs and- The man reaches down with his own hands- webbed might you add- and rips the remaining net to shreds, nearly ripping it from his legs like some animal. There’s another smack of water and suddenly the man disappears, completely gone after the water calms. You look around, twisting your body to get a good look around but alas you found nothing, not even a trace of the net he’d been confined in. Sure, you thought this was rather strange but you dismissed it as the chill of the freezing water began to set in. You give one last look to the ocean before climbing back onto the dock, shivering within your skin as you meander back to your art supplies. 

   Your clothes had been soiled by the water and you were freezing, the sun was far too high in the sky to sketch now and thus your morning had been slightly ruined. With an unhappy little sigh you bend down and pick up your supplies and shoes before making your way back towards land, shuffling as water pooled from your shorts. 

   You wince as pain spreads throughout your feet and something wet slops below you. You look down, grimacing when you noticed the thick red liquid oozing from the bottom of your feet. Guess you really had cut yourself on something. You mentally curse yourself as you limp towards land, most definitely not looking forward to going home and having to clean your wounds up. Grumbling angrily to yourself you waddle onto the sand, nearly yelling in pain as the sand seeps into your blood. God, is this what you got for saving someone’s life? Next time, you begged the universe to remind you to never help someone out again. You stomp as best as you could to your car, an angry cloud of hate brewing over your head. In fact you were in such a bad mood that you failed to realize a certain man staring at you from a few miles in the sea. 

    The next day you tried the shore again, this time picking a different dock to sit on and sketch from. This time you picked on closer to shore, just to be on the safer side and once you had gotten comfy you began to sketch, hoping to complete your picture today but when you had only been drawing for five minutes you were suddenly interrupted. That telltale smacking sound resounded around you and all of a sudden an almost familiar head of black hair bobs above the water, only the man’s eyes and nose visible. 

   “Have you come to drag me into the water again?” You ask, a hint of smugness to your tone as you look back down to your drawing, completely dismissing the man. The man shakes his head, a look of remorse crossing his only visible features. “Are you ever going to talk to me?” You ask, suddenly setting down you art to look at him. “I saved you, you nearly killed me, and I don’t even know your name,” The man looks up to you then to your pencil and sketch pad. You follow his gaze, your own landing upon the pencil and paper. “Do you want to write it down?” You ask, the man nods and suddenly he bobs from the water, resting his elbows upon the dock as you hand him a piece of paper and the pencil. He quickly jots down a few words before handing the paper back to you. 

   James Buchanan Barnes

   You smile at his choppy hand writing, it was cute if you really looked at it. “James?” You question, looking  at his name again. The man reaches for the pencil and the paper, quickly jotting down a few more words before handing them back to you. 

   I like Bucky better 

   You smile even more, nodding. “Bucky it is then. So uh Bucky-” You test the name on your tongue, allowing the taste of it to settle in. You liked it. “Any reason you’re using up all my paper?” You joke but the look of regret that crosses Bucky’s features has your chuckling coming to a stop. “I’m sorry, I uh- I didn’t mean to offend you or…” You trail off as Bucky grabs the pencil and paper again, proceeding to write out another message. 

   I’m sorry, I can stop using your paper if you’d like me to

  “No, no!” You quickly say, “I was just giving you shit, I really don’t mind,” Bucky looks at you for a moment before looking back at the pencil in his hand. 

    You really don’t?

   “I promise,” You smile at him, hoping the small gesture reassured him. Bucky smiles, a small quirk of his lip is all, but it was a start. “So…you really like the water huh?” You ask, chuckling awkwardly at your own question. Bucky apparently doesn’t seem to notice as he nods, looking down to the water almost fondly. “Even after the whole…” You wave your hand, coughing a bit as you allude to the incident the previous morning. “The whole net thing?” Bucky’s brow creases as he reaches for the paper, quickly jotting something down before handing it back to you. 

   I’m sorry I dragged you in, I was just scared is all

   You smile once more, his words alighting something within your heart. “It’s okay, nothing I couldn’t handle,” Bucky nods, his eyes wandering about the scenery almost lazily when suddenly his eyes land on your bandaged feet. You’d gotten home, cleaned the deep cuts out and went in to get stitches and now here you were again, sitting in the same place that gave you the cuts. Bucky pouts as he reaches out with a webbed finger, gingerly running his nail along the white bandage. 

   “Be careful,” You warn softly, not wishing to startle him. “It’s uh- it’s pretty sore,” Bucky pouts as he reaches out for the paper and pencil again, quickly jotting something down before shoving it towards you. 

   What happened?

   You bite your lip, contemplating whether or not you should tell him what exactly you had done. “Um, I just cut them up a bit, it was a complete accident,” You add, hoping he didn’t suspect you had cut your feet when you fell in. Bucky nods, reaching out again to run his clawed fingers along the bandage. 

   “Buck?” You ask hesitantly, biting your lip as you stare at his hands, his very strange, not at all human like hands. The man hums, a low purring like sound issuing from the back of his throat. “Can I uh- Can I ask a question?” Bucky nods as he pulls away a bit, resting his folded arm on the dock to keep part of his body up out of the water. "What’s with the hands?“ You gesture to his, specifically to the webbing. Bucky looks at his hands, a sudden blush rising to his pale skin. He quickly hides his hands under his arms, hiding his face in the flesh part of his elbow. 

    "I’m sorry,” to attempt to backtrack, already feeling horrible. “I didn’t mean to make you feel embarrassed, they’re just different from mine, see?” You hold a hand up, showcasing your short, trimmed nails and most definitely not webbed fingers. Bucky poked his head up a bit, looking at you with uncertain eyes. His piercing gaze then falls to your hand, the blue orbs scrutinizing each finger as he stares. He cocks his head to the side as he studies it, almost with a childlike curiosity.

    He gently shifts his arms, hesitantly pulling his hand out from hiding an slowly but surely raising it to yours. It even felt different, it was slimy, practically clammy against your own but it wasn’t unpleasant. He studies the two hands together, pushing his fingers against yours only to pull them back again, he looks at his webbing and then yours, studying his webbed hands almost distastefully. He then moves onto the nails, studying your small stubby ones and then his long, jagged ones. He hums softly, cocking his head to the other side as he places his fingers between yours, watching the way they only went so far due to his webbing. He was studying you like he’d never seen another human being before and at this point you were starting to think he hadn’t…


Born in 1880, Elmer McCurdy was an infamous outlaw, but interestingly enough, his fame didn’t come until his death.

McCurdy ran away from home at the young age of 15, working odd jobs and developing a heavy drinking habit along the way. Eventually he joined the military and ended up leaving with an honorable discharge. Once out of the military and not knowing what to do to take care of himself, McCurdy used his military expertise in nitroglycerin to become a train robber. McCurdy did not have the best luck as a thief, using too much nitroglycerin to blow up the train safes and actually melting the money in the safe, other times, he chose the wrong trains and ended up netting little to nothing from his robbery excursions. But the fairly unsuccessful train robberies were short lived, as less than a year into it, he was wanted by the police for a robbery, with a $2000 reward in place for turning him in. McCurdy was turned in and woke up to 3 sheriffs and a group men trying to capture him. That turned into a shootout between McCurdy and the group, and McCurdy ended up being shot to death. Normally, that’s where the tale would end, but not in Elmer McCurdy’s case!

McCurdy’s body was subsequently taken to a funeral home, where it went unclaimed. The undertaker embalmed McCurdy with an arsenic based preservative, used at that time to preserve a body for a long period of time. And then the mortician decided as no one claimed the body, he would put it on display to the public and charge them to see it. He dressed the corpse, put a rifle in his hands and stood it up in the corner of the funeral home and allowed visitors to view McCurdy, charging 5 cents a person.

After several years and the undertaker making quite a bit of money off of the attraction, a man paid him a visit claiming to be McCurdy’s brother. For whatever reason, the undertaker bought the story and released McCurdy’s body to the alleged brother. The fake brother was actually a carni who worked for a traveling circus.

A few weeks after obtaining the corpse, it was put on display as a “freak show”. Initially, McCurdy’s corpse was known as “Oklahoma’s outlaw mummy”. After some time, the circus, along with the corpse, were passed along to several different new owners and with that, the history of McCurdy was lost and he became a fun house prop, with carnival owners and visitors alike just assuming he was a creepy prop.

Years went by and a television crew was set up to film inside of a funhouse and MCCurdy’s corpse was displayed on set. Someone was moving him around and an appendage came off of his body, revealing it to be a real corpse. He was then taken to a coroners office and identified as Elmer McCurdy and shipped back home to Oklahoma, where a funeral was held for him. In April 1977, Elmer McCurdy’s body was buried at the Summit View Cemetery in Guthrie, Oklahoma.

Silver Running

Originally posted by h-farah01

werewolf!au; Jimin.


Caution: Smut ahead.

Your head throbbed as you began to wake from your slumber. Opening your eyes to the dark room you sat up and the room began to spin. While one hand propped you up, the other clutched your forehead wanting relief from from the discomfort. But as you looked down at the sheets it made you realize you weren’t in your room.

Your senses were on edge as you took in your surroundings. First you listened for any sign of movement outside the door. Was there someone else in this house with you? Or were you alone? Then you sniffed the air. The best way to describe the smell was musty. This didn’t surprise you at all. Wherever you were, it was old. You could tell even in the darkened room that the walls were worn out wooden panels.

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Ragnar had set his ships towards Norway and at some point during the journey he brought his ships into a little harbor to rest for some time. In the morning, a few men went onto the land to bake bread. They saw that there was a farm nearby and decided to go there and ask to do their work in the house. So they went to the little farm and met the poor woman called Grima. The men said that they were the liege-men of Ragnar Lodbrok and that they wished to carry out their work in the house and that she should help them in their work.

Grima responded that her hands were too stiff for such work, but her daughter would be home soon and could work with them. And when Aslaug (who was at the time known as Kraka) entered the house, the men were shocked by her beauty, for she was the most beautiful of all women. They agreed that Aslaug should work with them and said that she should knead the bread and they would bake it. She went about her work and did it well, but the men were constantly turning to gaze at her and so they did not mind their work and the bread burned.

When they returned to the ship, they brought out the meal and everyone agreed that they had never tasted anything so terrible. They told Ragnar that they saw a woman so beautiful they did not mind their work, they said there was not a more beautiful woman in the entire world. Ragnar decreed that messengers would be sent to her, with an invitation to come and meet with him. However he issued a riddle with this invitation, that he wanted her to come neither dressed nor undressed, neither fed nor unfed and not alone, yet with no man to accompany her.

When Aslaug heard this message, she told the messengers that she would go down to the ship early in the morning. The next day, she went down to the ships and she was fair to see, with hair that looked like gold. And she had also answered the riddle, for she had wrapped a fish-net around herself, tasted nothing but one leek and was accompanied only by her dog.

Ragnar and Aslaug’s first meeting ~ The Saga of Ragnar Lodbrok


A quick Wayhaught AU ficlet inspired by that cheerleader clip from the S2 trailer (y’all know the one). Enjoy!

“Heads up!”

Nicole threw up her hands and managed to catch the basketball hurtling on a collision course with her face. If she had been even half a second late, her nose would have been broken… again… and for very much the same reason as the last time.

Her palms smarted from the impact, but she covered up a grimace as she took a jump shot from the top of the key and hit nothing but net.

“That all you got, Cap?” She asked Xavier Dolls with a cocky smile. “I swear my great granny could throw a pass sharper than you.”

The point guard’s eyes narrowed, lips forming into an unamused line as he fielded the ball and casually dribbled it toward Nicole.

“Just making sure you’ve got your eye on the prize, Haught,” Dolls said. “And not other… distractions.”

His gaze slid pointedly toward the sidelines where the cheerleaders were warming up. Some stretched their legs in an impressive showcase of nimble flexibility. Others rehearsed memorized chants, projecting their shouts well over the constant ricochet of basketballs off hardwood and the noisy crowd slowly filling the bleachers.

It took all of Nicole’s will power, every single last drop, to not turn her head back toward a particular set of cheerleaders rehearsing a dance routine, their hips sensually gyrating and snapping to the driving beat of a bass-heavy track.

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