#mermaid avenue

[trippercrazy]

Jeff Tweedy from Wilco

[archivist-crow]

Billy Bragg & Wilco - Mermaid Avenue (1998)

Twenty-six years ago today, on June 23, 1998, Mermaid Avenue, the album by Billy Bragg and Wilco with lyrics by Woody Guthrie was released. As the story goes, in 1995, Nora Guthrie, Woody’s daughter and then-executor of the Guthrie estate, contacted Billy Bragg to see if he would be interested in composing music for a box of lyrics for songs her father had left unfinished. Bragg in turn contacted Wilco, and the stage was set. It’s an inspired grouping, but, as so often happens in experiments like this, it could have easily ended up being simply a good idea on paper. Fortunately for everyone, it was every bit as good as advertised. Charming, lyrical, and with something timeless about it, Mermaid Avenue would go on to become both Bragg and Wilco’s biggest success to date.

In an intriguing what-if, the same box of Guthrie’s lyrics had been offered to Bob Dylan approximately forty years earlier by Guthrie’s widow, Margie. Dylan made the trip to collect the box but Margie wasn’t there, and Dylan left empty handed.

[flibbertygigget]

"The Unwelcome Guest" from the Billy Bragg and Wilvo collab is just Western AU Witcher send tweet

[pinkpointeballcap]

mermaid oufit

[obstinatecondolement]

If there is a downside to being in a micro fandom where next to no one cares about what I'm doing, it is that my opportunities to breathlessly brainstorm a mermaid AU with someone in DMs are limited when none of the 2-4 people who might be interested are online.

[mad-c1oud]

Them fibers telling you to write something for mermay

UuuuuUUuuUUUuuuUuu look at them wiggle

Oh look they're even green! What a coincidence! :DD

😔😔😔 *opens new word doc*

[starfoam]

Lorelei wasn't a horse kid or a wolf kid. She was an ocean kid, and her poor dad had to stop her many times from just running into the sea thinking she'd become a mermaid.

[agiantmonster]

1/27

[cherryblogss]

MERMAID MOTEL (blurb)

+18!!! avisinhos: trabalho sexual, cyber sex😛, penetração vaginal, diferença de idade, size kink, sexo oral, headlock?, sexo desprotegido (NÃO NÉ), bem raso pq to com preguiça.

notinha: o diabo da insonia me pegou e eu fiquei escutando várias playlists antigas, entonces resolvi fazer isso. coloquei uma parte de cantoria aí msm eu tendo uma voz horripilante. espero que gostem!😘 pela fanficagem vms fingir q ele mora na espanha.

Sinopse: Enzo se sente entediado com tudo que o cerca, mas encontra uma nova paixão em um lugar inesperado. ☆

Buy a white sweater for the last white day of the summer

Buy my purple wig for my mermaid video

Walk back to where I lived in my motel on Neptune (Avenue)

Durante o dia Enzo se sentia imbatível, as ações da sua empresa cada vez mais valorizadas, todos o obedeciam sem questionar e comprava qualquer coisa que colocava os olhos. Apesar de ter tudo o que sempre sonhou, quando deitava em sua cama, se sentia entediado e ainda tinha a porra daquela insônia que não deixava ele descansar. Por isso, Vogrincic fez algo que sempre considerou absurdo.

Enzo se sentia ridículo por criar uma conta em um site de conteúdos adulto. Os primeiros dias que ele abriu a página na web sentia seu rosto se contorce em desgosto com tantos conteúdos nojentos e explícitos até demais. Após uma semana navegando naquele submundo da internet, achou um perfil que chamou a atenção dele no primeiro instante. O seu perfil.

yoursiren is live

A sua página era totalmente diferente das outras, tinha um charme irresistível, seu cenário era adorável com itens de cor pastel e, claro, a dona do perfil era a melhor parte. Enzo já esteve com muitas modelos, atrizes e celebridades, mas nunca tinha visto um rostinho tão meigo e acolhedor, além de incrivelmente lindo. No momento em que ele entrou, você ainda estava iniciando a transmissão, então conversava sorrindo com a câmera, exibindo um sorriso encantador.

O resto de você deixava ele ainda mais sem palavras. Seu corpo era perfeito em todos os jeitos, sentia a ponta dos dedos coçando pra te toca, seu cabelo roxo super longo com algumas mechas lilás combinavam com a lingerie de renda da mesma cor. Era óbvio que você usava peruca pelo aspecto sintético dos fios com uma cor nada natural, o acessório dava um ar tão mítico a sua imagem. Pela primeira vez em muito tempo, sentiu seu coração acelerar com o desejo de ter algo, de conquistar algo.

Quando você começou de fato o conteúdo, Enzo sentia seu pau endurecer cada vez mais nos shorts de dormir e passou a massagear a ereção. Seus gemidos eram hipnotizantes, o jeito como sua bucetinha parecia tão apertada mesmo pela transmissão, o modo como o vibrador que enfiava saía cada vez mais molhado. Tudo fez ele gozar em vergonhosos 2 minutos. Ao limpar a bagunça, percebeu que podia te mandar gorjetas e conversar em particular a partir de certo valor, mandando singelos €900 e uma mensagem no chat privado te rechando de elogios.

Quando você respondeu no outro dia, ele marcou uma chamada privada para a noite. Você geralmente não fazia conteúdo pra uma pessoa só, mas como ele te mandava tanto dinheiro e parecia decente, aceitou relutante.

A chamada foi o acontecimento mais erótico da sua vida. O jeito que ele começou conversando com você sobre coisas aleatórias e, de repente, você já se encontrava esfregando seu pontinho inchado por cima da calcinha encharcada. Ele do outro lado da tela, quse fodia a própria mão admirando sua musa obedecer seus comandos.

Marcavam ligações pelo menos 3 vezes por semana, fazendo diversas dinâmicas e testando quantas vezes você aguentava gozar. Apesar de trabalhar por algum tempo com conteúdo sexual, você nunca tinha sentido as coisas que o homem rico e misterioso te causava. As vezes ele te mandava mensagens fora do horário com mil promessas inapropriadas. Vocês nunca passavam do papo casual e safadezas.

Até que um dia ficaram só conversando sobre coisas aleatórias que aconteceram no dia, a chamada ficando silenciosa quando você caiu no sono e Enzo cochilou um pouco, o mais velho despertou assustado ao perceber que tinha dormido relaxado depois de muito tempo.

O mais especial não era o momento sexual e, sim, escutar sua voz. O jeito que você falava com ele, fazia piadinhas e descrevia seu dia, fazia borboletas irritantes surgirem no estômago dele. A cada dia que passa, ele se apegava mais a você e imaginava um mundo em que ele tivesse te conhecido de modo diferente.

Você era o vício dele, ocasionalmente o moreno implorava pra você fazer conteúdo só pra ele prometendo que podia arcar com todos os custos, mas não iria confiar tudo a um homem que nem sequer te mostrou o rosto alguma vez. As vezes, ele se irritava com sua teimosia e tinha crises de ciúmes quando te via interagir demais com outros homens da live.

You call me lavender, you call me sunshine

You say take it off, take it off

Passaram 4 meses conversando todos os dias, nem sempre envolvendo sexo, mas sim, diálogos sobre tudo que acontecia. Com o passar dos meses, podia dizer que vocês tinham um tipo de relacionamento.

Enzo te chamava de vários apelidos carinhosos, mas sabia que quando ele estava emocionado demais te chamava de mi cielo, dizendo que você iluminava os dias dele e era a estrela guia das suas noites.

Descobriram que moravam pelo menos no mesmo país, você era uma imigrante que foi estudar em uma cidade espanhola que ficava relativamente perto da sede da empresa dele em Madrid. Apesar disso, Enzo nunca tinha coragem de pedir pra te ver e conforme você ia se ocupando com a universidade ele não queria te interromper.

Até que um dia o mundo dele caiu com uma mensagem sua. Você finalmente conseguiu um emprego estável na sua área e iria se distanciar de tudo relacionado a conteúdo adulto, consequentemente teria que excluir ele da sua vida. Desesperado, revelou a própria identidade tentando te dar uma razão pra continuar a falar com ele, tentanto te persuadir a encontrá-lo pessoalmente.

Você estava cansada de interagir com ele apenas virtualmente, portanto pressionou o mais velho a te tratar como alguém parte da vida dele ou você iria sumir mesmo. Por isso, Enzo marcou de vocês se encontrarem na sua cidade em um local público, tudo pensado na sua segurança e em te fazer confiar mais nele.

A primeira vez que se viram pessoalmente foi em uma cafeteria, como você já sabia como era aparência dele após pesquisar na internet o nome do executivo, foi em direção ao moreno de cabelos compridos e costas largas. Ele era tão lindo em pessoa, quase te fez suspirar ao ver aqueles olhos ternos de perto. Além disso, ele te deu um abraço apertado, nem se lembra de alguém ter te apertado tão carinhosamente contra o corpo, você fechou os olhos com força sentindo carinho genuíno depois de tanto tempo.

Enzo ficou chocado quando viu aquelas mesmas feições em um cabelo cacheado e olhos de uma cor diferente (ele devia ter se atentado que você usava lentes também). Fora dos pixels, a sua aparência era mais deslumbrante em pessoa, os olhos vividos e alegres, a sua pele com algumas marquinhas de acne adicionavam um charme a mais, o sorriso que marcava umas ruguinhas no seu rosto e o seu corpo... ele evitava olhar muito, senão teria problemas em esconder o que sentia.

Era ainda mais encantadora pessoalmente, você realmente parecia uma sereia. Algumas cabeças viraram pra te dar uma olhada. Enzo passou a segurar sua mão por cima da mesa, marcando território. Agora que tinha te encontrado, nunca te perderia de vista.

Lancharam enquanto conversavam sobre pequenas coisas que não diziam pela chamada, ele achava adorável a sua timidez ao falar encarando ele e você não conseguia desviar os olhos daquele homem cativante.

Percebendo que o dia de verão estava bem refrescante, te chamou pra ir na praça que tinha ali perto, caminhando com os dedos entrelaçados o trajeto inteiro. Ele te deixou sentada em um banco dizendo que ia fazer uma ligação importante e quando voltou estava com um buquê de flores variadas dizendo que não sabia qual você gostava mais então pegou as que tinham suas cores favoritas. Se divertindo com a maneira que ele ficou sem jeito, puxou o moreno pela nuca colando os lábios de vocês em um beijo carinhoso e demorado.

Nesse mesmo dia, Enzo te chamou pra ir até o hotel com ele onde vocês acabaram fodendo pela primeira vez. Tudo foi tão intenso. Ele começou a te beijar no elevador, até chegar na cobertura no último andar do prédio vocês já estavam quase nus.

Ao chegarem no quarto, Enzo lembrou de uma conversa de vocês e pegou a sua câmera colocando no modo gravar, fazendo um vídeo seu retirando a lingerie azul que ele havia te mandado dias atrás. Depois apoiou o dispostivo na mesa de cabeceira apontando pra cama. Te deitou de barriga pra baixo no colchão, distribuindo beijos molhados pelas suas costas até chegar na sua bunda onde mordiscou uma das nádegas, enfiou o rosto inteiro na sua intimidade esfregando o nariz avantajado nas suas dobrinhas e beijando o clitóris inchado. Ele chupava tudo na região, deixando marcas no interior das suas coxas e estapeando seus glúteos. Te deu dois orgasmo seguidos que enfraqueceram suas pernas.

Quando ele começou a meter o pau grosso em você, pressionou o corpo inteiro nas suas costas quase te esmagando com o peso dos músculos, precebendo que você estava ficando burrinha de pica passou um dos braços pelo seu pescoço tentando abafar seus sons altos, te sufocando com os biceps musculosos. Nessa noite, você lembra de apagar por uns minutos e sentir um jato de líquidos saindo da sua buceta piscando.

Maybe I could sing you to sleep

God bless the universe, god bless the ocean

God bless you and god bless me

Todo fim de semana ele ia até a sua cidade pra te ver ou você ia até ele, Enzo comprou um apartamento luxuoso no melhor prédio do local e te deu de presente com a desculpa que ele ia usar sempre o local, então por que não poderia te ter lá esperando por ele? Toda vez, Enzo chegava com várias sacolas de marcas luxuosas de presentes pra você.

O moreno te fodia vigorosamente conforme os gemidos agudos saiam da sua garganta. O pau grosso cutucava seu cervix toda vez que era enfiado até o talo. Sua buceta jorrava líquidos sem parar depois de dois orgasmo seguidos se encaminhando pro terceiro. O corpo inteiro dele estava pressionado contra o seu, o peitoral espremendo seus seios, a correntinha que usava combinando com a sua batia no seu queixo com a movimentação intensa e as mãos dele apertavam com força a sua bunda. Quando você gozou apertando o pau dele mais ainda, Enzo gemeu alto soltando jatos quentes de porra diretamente na sua buceta. Logo em seguida, relaxou totalmente sobre seu peito.

Sentindo-se acolhido em seus braços o mais velho acaricia sua cintura com as mãos grandes, ao passo que você começa a passar os dedos pelos cabelos sedosos, Enzo sente o sono pesando seus olhos e o corpo ficando mole. Só faltava uma coisinha pra jogá-lo no mundo dos sonhos.

"Canta pra mim, por favor"

Começou a entoar sua música favorita no seu idioma materno, desafinando aqui e ali. Depois de alguns minutos, sentiu o corpo do maior ficar mais pesado e a respiração mais profunda, então baixou o nível da cantoria gradativamente até parar totalmente. Deu um beijinho demorado na cabeça do seu parceiro, fechando os olhos para dormir.

Só conseguia agradecer ao universo por existir um homem tão incrível e colocar ele na sua vida. E claro, devia agradecimentos a si mesma por ser tão atraente e sedutora ao ponto de encantá-lo igual uma sereia.

[radiofreederry]

Happy birthday, Woody Guthrie! (July 14, 1912)

A beloved and influential troubadour in the American folk tradition, Woody Guthrie was born in Okemah, Oklahoma and grew up in a rough, hardscrabble life. His mother suffered from Huntington's Disease and was committed to a mental asylum, while his father worked in Texas to pay off debts, leaving Guthrie and his siblings to support themselves. Guthrie had an affinity for music from a young age, and took to busking for money to pay for his family's needs. When the Dust Bowl hit, Guthrie joined many others from Oklahoma in migrating westwards, coming to Los Angeles, where he began associating with left-wingers and progressives. Guthrie embraced a humanistic, Christian-influenced socialism that would color his work for the rest of his life, and he began writing socially-conscious songs that would loom large in the American folk songbook. Guthrie came to New York City as World War II began and formed friendships with like-minded socialist musicians, chiefly among them Pete Seeger. Seeger and Guthrie formed a close partnership, and along with other left-wing folkies formed the Almanac Singers, which enjoyed some popularity among those who appreciated folk music. It was during this time that he wrote some of his most famous songs, including antifascist tunes such as "Tear the Fascists Down" and the subtly socialistic "This Land is Your Land." Guthrie served in the Merchant Marine during World War II, and after the war settled for a time on Mermaid Avenue in New York. Guthrie escaped the Second Red Scare largely unscathed, mostly because his health was deteriorating; he had inherited Huntington's from his mother. He was hospitalized from 1956 until his death from the disease in 1967. He left behind a legacy that continues to this day, having inspired and influenced artists ranging from Seeger to Phil Ochs, Joan Baez to Bob Dylan.

"Now, the bank men have got their union, and the landlords got their union, and the finance men got their union, but down south and out west, on the cotton farms and working in the orchards and fruit crops, it's a jail house offense for a few, common everyday workers to form them a union and get together for higher wages, honest pay, and fair treatment."

[lady-ashfade]

★~*･ﾟFade’s Collab Event

Hello everyone. I have been invited to do a collab by @queenpiranhadon and I thought I would make my own- it just seems so fun.

A x reader event

I have a few tropes to choose from, and message me if you want to join. Only one trope is used, so if it is taken I hope you can find another to fit. A new fic to post, and only one chapter. Any fandom characters are welcome. Comment below or message me to get everything sorted.

The rules are just write about the trope!! You get to control everything else

*if it is crossed out and has a blog by the side of it, that means it is take *

Collab Event Masterlist Here.

Fantasy

Royalty Au by @breakdawn-avenue with shoto/ mha

Fantasy Bounty hunter au

Space Bounty hunter au

Pirate Au

Masquerade @hopelesswritergall with Aemond Targaryen

Romantic

Enemies to lovers

Fake dating @targaryenluvs with Clark Kent

One Bed @aphroditelovesu with Benedict Bridgerton

Vacation Confession

Random

Murder mystery

Found family @olympus-library with rhaenrya targaryen

Alien crashes into background

Friday the 13th @gulnarsultan with Jasson voorhees

Hybrid/Creatures 

Adopted Hybrid

Found hybrids

Mermaids @serxinns with yandere class 1A

Werewolfs

Going to take a few writers I love- don’t feel pressured just getting the word out. Anyone can join.@aphroditelovesu @madame-fear

[veronicaphoenix]

To drown your sadness in a sea song. — Epilogue

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Mermaid!Reader Parts: one - two - three - four - five - epilogue Status: completed

EPILOGUE — THE MERMAID | Words: 2.4k

It’s still raining when he wakes up.

In fact, it’s storming outside. The persistent patter of rain against the windowpanes is accompanied by a wind that sends tree branches thrashing against the glass. It’s this natural commotion that first stirs him from sleep, but it’s the chill of the empty space beside him that jolts him fully awake. 

He knows before his mind fully processes it. 

She’s not there with him.

The voice of reason tells him not to panic. She could simply be elsewhere in the house; in the bathroom or downstairs, going through his stuff and wondering what’s the use of each and every other thing she finds.

But fuck the voice of reason. It’s easier to just panic. So he jumps out of the bed, puts on his boxers, and leaves the bedroom.

He’s unable to call out her name, for he doesn’t know it. He doesn’t even know if she’s got one.  

He makes his way downstairs, his body growing colder with each step, his heart rate increasing, his breathing getting ragged by the second.

Everything in the house is where it should be. She hasn’t touched anything, but she’s nowhere, and she should be here. She should be in his bed. 

Returning upstairs, a sharp pang grips his chest as he notices something he overlooked before—the necklace resting upon the pillow. 

In that moment, the weight of his heartbreak settles in, the heavy realization of her departure crushing his spirit. 

He knew it would happen —that his heart would break—, but he hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. He’d had hopes that they would have time to get to know each other better, to learn about each other’s worlds, to get familiar with each other’s perks and quirks, to inspire and be inspired. He’d wanted to show her so many things, take her to so many places, introduce her to the wonders of his world and traverse new horizons together, create music and learn the arts of lovemaking with one another.

When he cradles the necklace in his palm, the pearl within catches light, and a sudden burning sensation starts to grow on his left thigh.

He clenches his teeth against the pain. Refusing to release the necklace —the only thing he’s got left of her—, he hurriedly pulls down his sweatpants and inspects the source of pain.  

He doesn’t expect what he finds.  

Above the rose on his knee there’s a new tattoo adorning his skin. Waves. Each crest and trough are meticulously inked, capturing the essence of the sea’s fierce beauty. Emerging from a tumult of swirling waves, there’s a mermaid, her hair cascading in intricate detail and weaving a path from the crest of his thigh down towards the inside. The tattoo seems to pulse with life, as if the mermaid herself were poised to slip from the confines of his skin.  

It’s breathtaking.

It’s… his mermaid. 

But the meaning of it scares him, that’s why he loves it and hates it at the same time. 

Determined to defy whatever implications that new piece of ink on his skin might mean, he wraps himself tightly against the biting cold and leaves the house. 

The sun is still struggling to ascend in the horizon, and everything is still shrouded in a veil of dampness. His jacket becomes sodden with the drizzle, and his hair whips about in the wind as he wrestles to open the car door. 

The thought of her returning to the sea fills him with a sense of dread too profound to articulate. He cannot bear to think about her walking along the coast on the empty road at that dark time. 

In his heart, there’s a flicker of hope. Maybe she left not long ago and he can still intercept her journey, wrap her in the warmth of his embrace, and whisk her away to safety. They would sit in the car with the heating on, they would talk, and find a solution. They would exhaust every avenue of thought, even if it meant traveling to the furthest library and devouring book after book until a quick fix revealed itself. It sounds stupid but he doesn’t care. Logic holds no sway in his condition. He’s never felt like this. He needs her. 

The mere thought of waking up tomorrow without her presence beside him is inconceivable. 

But as he searches the coastal road leading to the secluded beach, she’s nowhere to be found. 

By the time he reaches the beach, what meets his gaze is the solitary sight of his abandoned sweatpants lying on the shore, and it’s that view that makes him realize what he’s been eluding for the past twenty-four hours. 

She’s gone. 

He runs into the water, heedless of the icy chill seeping into his bones or the ruin of his clothes. His desperation propels him deeper, driving him to seek her. He’s determined to find her, to reclaim the light she brought into his life, no matter how deep he must travel, no matter the cost.

Suddenly, the new tattoo on his thigh ignites with a fiery intensity, emitting bioluminescent rays that pierce the darkness of the ocean depths, where half of his body is submerged. It’s a surreal sight, but in his anguish, he can’t appreciate it.  

With a guttural cry, Noah screams to the heavens, to the sunrise, and to the depths below as he submerges himself, swimming further and further from the safety of the shore. The darkness of the bottom of the ocean threatens to consume him, but he presses on, driven by an insatiable need to find her. 

It’s so dark that he thinks he will never recover from this. Whatever good was supposed to come out from this twenty four hours with her has all gone away. He needs her light, her smiles, her feathered touches. Her voice. 

He’s been holding his tears for weeks. 

Today, he cries.  

He understands how brutal the ocean is when his tears hit the waves and just disappear, merging with the water as if they meant nothing at all.

He lingers in the water far longer than he can track, his skin wrinkling and his bones trembling from cold and with exhaustion. 

Eventually, he swims back, leaving behind his hope, willing it to sink to the ocean’s depth hoping it finds her.  

He would have given her the world because she gave him inspiration and strength.

On the shore, he stands, his back turned to the relentless ocean. Beneath his soaked clothes, the tattoo on his thigh continues to glimmer. The necklace, now a memento of his time with the mermaid, rests safely hanging from his neck and against his chest. 

He wipes the tears from his face in a futile attempt, for it’s still raining. It’s the rain who seems to keep him anchored to the ocean’s edge, refusing to release its hold. 

Suddenly, an agonizing pain fiercer than the one before seizes his thigh one more time, and he cries out, doubling over in agony and clutching his leg with both hands. His scream rends the air, a sound that echoes across the stillness of the deserted beach. 

It takes him a few moments to realize that suddenly, in the wake of his scream, the rain has subdued, and the waves are not crashing violently anymore against the rocks. 

Suddenly, the ocean is still at his back.

With a flicker of hope, he turns to find his mermaid, her ethereal form rising from the tranquil waters. Her shoulders break the surface, her long hair clinging to her skin in a hauntingly beautiful illustration.

He doesn’t think twice. 

Noah plunges back into the water. 

He swims fast towards her. 

She puts her head back in the water and swims towards him with the same urgency, her tail slicing through the water with graceful fervor, her hands pushing her body towards him with a sense of longing.

He doesn’t wait for her to reemerge.  

He dips his head in the water to meet her halfway. His hands find her face, and he pulls her to him and kisses her. 

When they break the surface, he moves the hair away from her face to get a good look. She’s okay, she’s fine, she’s smiling at him. 

The weight of their situation still presses heavy on his heart. He cannot smile. He wraps her in his arms and cries silently with his face buried in the crook of her neck. She smells of the sea, of salt. Her scales are glistening in the early sunlight, restored to their former brilliance.

She’s alive.

She clings to him fiercely, as if she doesn’t want to let go. 

She never wanted to let go. 

But at least this way they can still have each other, even if it’s for a moment under the glimmers of moonlight or under the peeking eyes of the sun coming up from behind the mountains. 

She never intended to become another sad chapter in his story. Her deepest desire had been to cure him from that sadness and guide him back to the light. She needs to know if she has succeeded in her quest, if she has managed to erase the darkness that threatened to consume him. 

She wants to ask him, but words fail her. Her voice is gone. So instead, she lets her eyes and her touch convey how desperately she needs to know that he will be fine. 

They stare at each other, his hands enveloping her waist, his fingertips brushing the transition from skin to scales with fascination.

Her thumbs brush away the tears that cling to his lashes. 

He understands the plea in her orbs. He swallows and he summons the strength within him, fortifying his heart not just for himself but for her.  

He nods, but she doesn’t let go until she sees him smiling genuinely, for her own well-being is inextricably intertwined with his, and she cannot find peace until she knows he has found it too. 

She never intended for him to get so attached to her, to love her this much. 

But here they are, and she needs him to understand that it’s okay to let her go. A part of her will always be with him, on his skin, on the piece of ocean hanging from his neck, on his heart… but they belong to different worlds, and nothing can change that.         

She will dream of taking him to the depths, to her home, revealing to him the myriad of wonders hidden within the ocean’s abyss. She will dream of kissing him, sharing tender underwater kisses and twirling in endless pirouettes beneath the waves.  

She will dream of him in his living room, engrossed in his musical compositions and creations. She will dream of him standing in his kitchen, brewing morning coffee, his smile illuminating the room like a moonrise as he sees her coming down the stairs clad in his clothes. She will dream of the way he loved her on his bed and how he held her in the afterglow.  

This morning, she will have him like this, partially submerged in the water, with his legs kicking at her tail, his wet hair brushing her cheeks, his lips ghosting over her mouth, his breath warm against the cold of the morning.

Because she refuses to settle for a mere existence without him. She desires him wholly, even if only for this fleeting moment. 

He whispers words of love against her lips, their breath mingling in the crisp morning air.

As the sun hastens its ascent, he gently guides her head back, tilting her face upwards so that he can kiss her through the sunrise.  

⋆｡𖦹 °.

A month later

She’s not where she’s supposed to be. 

It’s nearly midnight and she’s not in the spot where she always awaits his arrival.  

Each night, without fail, she waits for him, lying expectantly on the shore next to a rock where she could hide if necessary. 

It has become a ritual—meeting beneath the stars, sharing kisses that bridge the divide between their worlds. 

The first kiss always follows the same steps:

First, she watches him with bated breath as he removes his shoes. Then, he walks to the shore, smiling. Her heart flutters. When he bends down, her heartbeat speeds up. He grabs her chin and pulls her face up so that their lips can meet. 

His kisses, she knows with absolute certainty that she could never bear without them. 

Tonight, however, she is not there, and a surge of panic tightens Noah’s chest.  

Where is his mermaid? 

He’s about to get in the water when a familiar voice calls out his name, pulling him back from the edge of the sea. 

He turns to find her emerging from behind a massive rock, her appearance causing his heart to skip a beat. 

She stumbles a little, her hand reaching out to steady herself against the rough surface of the rock. 

She’s wearing his now damp and torn and not so-white-anymore t-shirt.  The fabric clings to her curves, revealing tantalizing glimpses of her form, and her skin seems to glow with an inner light. 

She looks beautiful under the moonlight, and she is… human. 

She takes hesitant steps toward him, extending an arm so that he can hold her. 

He fights the urge to laugh at the sheer happiness coursing through him at this moment. He’s aware this is just another temporary offering from the ocean, but he’s more than willing to accept it, to embrace her in any way he can.  

“How long do we have?” He asks, holding her steady against him, her chest pressed against his. 

She kisses him, her lips soft and alluring against his own.

“Enough,” she whispers, her voice is a call that ignites a fire within him. 

He’s already ensnared that night, and he knows that for the next twenty-four hours, he’ll be consumed by the desire to hear her sing for him and moan his name. 

It will never be enough, he thinks.

But nothing, not even time, will keep him from taking her home, from letting her voice inspire him, see her walking around in his worn t-shirt, let her explore each corner of his mundane house, and answer every funny question she asks.

And then, when night comes, nothing will keep him from laying his mermaid on his bed and loving her until he’s drowning in her. 

Author's note: I can't believe I managed to put out a fic in a week, regardless of its length! Writing this short story has been so delightful. Thank you all so much for reading and sharing your thoughts on this, and I'm sorry if it's been too angsty 🐳

[swallowerofdharma]

So, what is Berserk about after all?

Please be considerate to me, don’t repost this, don’t share it outside of tumblr, don’t copy parts of it, thank you.

I have read really funny critiques and reviews of Berserk. Often they would refer to Miura supposedly saying that he didn’t plan everything out and they would use this statement to support their argument that after the Golden Age arc the story just looked like it dragged on. One, don’t ever fully believe what artists and writers say about their work. Second, without a proper conclusion it is impossible to make that kind of judgement and the story is ongoing. Then, not having a plan or having just vague ideas and taking inspiration here and there isn’t how manga works or how it gets published. When asked in an interview why he started creating Haibane Renmei as a doujinshi, Yoshitoshi Abe replied: “With mainstream publishing, it would've been difficult to do it with that avenue because of this particular approach with everything being adlibbed. I don't know how the story will be developed, how it's going to end up, or what the ending's going to be. If you go to a mainstream publisher, by their general approach, they have to know what the characters are, who they are, what the story's going to be, and how the story's going to develop so they know if there's going to be a serial, continuing storyline. They need to know how it's going to go”. Even though plans can be renewed and renegotiated, Miura still needed to make solid advanced plans and decisions and respect deadlines and page quotas. Even without considering this, the world building of Berserk seems too intentional and coherent to me to think that he didn’t really know how the story would go. Granted he created a reality that could be changed and bent by the human imagination and psyche, from the inside. This happened to be a brilliant choice for a long project like the Berserk manga.

I once read a review that pointed out the weakness of the later arcs and episodes, making the hypothesis that Miura was influenced by the success of stories like One Piece and Pirates of the Caribbean. I can’t really say that I share this opinion, either. Reviews like these make me smile, because they reveal how people missed a very big clue that Miura never really hid. Berserk was inspired by the story of Peter Pan as told by J.M. Barrie and reinterpreted in several different ways, not only visually. He went as far as dedicating to it the Lost Children chapters, immediately after the Eclipse, when the tension of the story was higher than it ever had been. We should read the Lost Children as an homage to the story of Peter Pan and Wendy that plays into the already disquieting themes of the original in darker tones and with much more horrifying elements; but we should also pay great attention to the Lost Children chapters as an important recontextualization of the events of the Golden Age arc. While I want to dedicate proper analysis and attention to this, I am going to add here that in Peter Pan we already had the pirates, the islands with hidden caves and the mermaids. The journey to Skellig island and Elfhelm had to be long enough for Moonlight Boy to make an appearance at least twice before the big reveal of his full identity the third time, and since he can only appear on nights of a full moon, Miura had to make the readers feel that time had passed. But Guts had always belonged in Neverland.

In my rudimentary outline of various elements that contributed greatly in building the world and story of Berserk, I actually ran out of space. And I want to properly address the various points and develop them more. For the moment I just really wanted to show that Miura had a very strong grip over the story and that he was really attentive to nuances. I said to myself, if I want to criticize the writing in Berserk at least I have to make sure I understand it to a sufficient extent.

Also I really wanted to at least give an idea of how important a role Shōjo manga had to Berserk. I hope to be able to fully explore this element soon.

[joelswritingmistress]

Oh Captain, My Captain: Chapter 2

Chapter Summary: You gather your nerves as you wait at the bar to see if Joel and his coworkers will arrive. When they do show, your confidence drops and you realize you never formed a plan. The sight of the captain leaves you speechless.

Joel x f!reader

You knew if you showed up to the bar first it would be less suspicious than if you practically followed "Captain Joel" into the place.

He said he was showering first, you remembered. Showering. Out back. That's what he said. It left your mind wandering down all sorts of avenues you tried to redirect from as you headed down the quiet seaside sidewalk.

Out back? You wondered if that meant an outdoor shower. There were plenty of them attached to the little cottages in the area. You imagined his muscular back, a shade lighter than his tanned arms and water coating sun-kissed skin. It was a hell of a fantasy for being in the man's company for less than an hour. You hadn't even really talked to one another.

Shake it off, you told yourself. It was time to attempt to act like an adult. Year twenty-three made you feel a little caught in between. Sometimes you felt like you had your shit together and other times you fell back into the same old, college-style habits with your friends. It was a fun time but you found yourself in funks here and there in your down time because you weren't quite sure how to make the leap with both feet into adulthood.

The Lamp Post came into view and you tried to put on your game face, leaving the endless thoughts in your head behind - for now. A pair of mermaids, a blond on the left and a redhead on the right topped the bar's name on the fun, little sign that greeted people on the walkway. The place seemed relatively low key as it was tucked away around the corner on a street that dead-ended where the ocean began. From the entrance you could see a pair of kayakers slinking out of the water up a sandy piece of slab.

You took a breath and headed inside, only to be carded immediately as you took a seat at the bar.

"What're you drinking?" The bartender asked.

Your eyes scanned the drinks of the other patrons. Pabst Blue Ribbon. Bud Lite. Miller Lite. Random pints in glasses. A stray martini down the end.

"I'll do the Dogfish draft," you requested, removing your debit card from your purse, "Please."

"You got it. Start a tab?"

"Sure."

When the beer arrived you sipped on it and alternated between glancing out at the ocean, eying the television behind the bartender and scanning the place to see if Joel had snuck in.

As you finished about three quarters of your beer, the door to the establishment whipped open with a chorus of laughter and the three men wandered into the place.

Your heart dropped and any ounce of confidence left your body. You suddenly wondered if it was a bad idea to come here. How weird would you look when the captain of your tourist cruise ship realized you had stalked him to a little dive bar down the road from his work?

Fuck.

When Joel's eyes met yours you realized you were staring and turned your body fully so your legs were tucked beneath the bar.

Smooth. Fucking smooth.

You sipped your beer and felt Joel and the other two guys breeze behind your back as they searched for bar stools. There wasn't an ounce of you that had the self control not to look over your shoulder - and so you did. Joel was the only one who appeared to remember you from the boat ride. He gave you a second look, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, and settled in two seats away, leaving the one between you empty.

"Three PBRs, please," Joel ordered, pulling out a twenty to cover it.

"I'll get next," the guy beside him offered.

You tried to pretend to keep your attention on the television. The Redsox game was on and you quietly sipped away at the bottom of your beer. You realized you should've had some kind of plan in place, but the second you saw Joel's face you froze.

"You can get her another of whatever she's drinking," you heard his voice say. It prompted you to turn toward him as he slipped the bartender another ten.

Before you could say anything, Joel motioned to the television and nodded toward you. "Sox are winning, huh?"

"Yeah," you said with a nod. "It's a good game."

"Good thing that last guy struck out with the bases loaded."

You were starting to thaw but you still felt frozen. "Yeah. Good thing." You were simply agreeing with whatever he said because you hadn't been paying a lick of attention to the baseball game. Hell, you didn't watch hardly any baseball at all.

Joel chuckled. "The Sox are down five runs." He motioned to the television. "And that last guy hit a homerun."

The bartender slid a beer your way and you exchanged the empty glance with it. "Thanks," you said to him and then raised it in the air to Joel. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"You're right I wasn't really paying attention to the game," you confessed. "Just spacing out."

"Mmm.." he smirked again and leaned an elbow on the bar as he reached for his beer. "I'm Joel."

You introduced yourself more formally and added. "Yeah, I think you were.. uh.. the boat captain. I just took a ride."

Joel grinned wider like he knew something you didn't. It was right then that you were certain he was seeing right through you. You weren't very good at playing the game.

"I know," he said with a nod. If called you out on eavesdropping on his conversation and then essentially showing up at the bar he planned to be at you would die. Not that you didn't deserve it. If someone had gone through that trouble with you, you wouldn't know what to think.

"Do you come here often?" You asked him.

Joel nodded. "Weekends after work. Maybe a random stop during the week if it's been a long day." He paused and looked at you more directly. "You come here often?"

When your bottom lip separated from your top one he gave a chuckle, knowing full well the answer was no. You laughed lightly with him.

Joel asked a more genuine question now. One that you could answer. "How long are you in town?"

"We leave next weekend. My parents may take the boat to Block Island or something a few days."

"Mmm." Joel's response had a hint of disapproval and he sipped on his lager again.

"What?" You asked.

"Boat huh? Let me guess, Greenwich, Connecticut here on an extended holiday hopping from one New England island to another."

You made a face. "Is there something wrong with that? And no. We're from Mystic, actually. Not Greenwich."

Joel chuckled again and one of the guys he was with whistled the familiar damning Beethoven tune.

"Thanks for the beer." You rolled your eyes at them and turned your attention back to the ball game.

Joel moved over a seat so you were side-by-side now. "I'm sorry. That was judgmental. I shouldn't have-"

"I get that you probably see snotty, rich people all summer," you cut him off, "And my family might even fit into that box; but I'm not going to sit here and get mocked for it. Why do you think I'm here and not out at some fancy dinner at The Terrace or where ever they all went."

"I think you're here because you heard me talking about it," Joel said point blank. It disarmed you. "And I think you wanted to get away from that stuffy atmosphere you're used to and have a little fun."

You stared back at him, forgetting you were annoyed all of three seconds before that.

He put his beer down and held out a hand. "Let's start over. I'm Joel. I'm a local boat captain in the summers and I drive a plow in the winters. I'll be forty in October and I like long walks on the beach."

You let out a laugh at the last line and kept a smile on your face. Yep, it was hard to stay mad with a delivery like that. "I'm (Y/N). I work at my father's insurance company and I just finished my master's in business. No one knows this but on the side I sell my own paintings and drawings and if I could I would dedicate all of my time to that; and maybe even photography. I just turned twenty-four a few days ago."

He was almost forty. Somehow that made him all the more appealing. You would've guessed thirty-five or so.

"Twenty-four. You got a lot to learn. I'd give anything to go back, though."

"Regrets?"

Joel shook his head. "Just not into the bad back. Gray hair." He lifted the hat off his head and you both smiled.

"You don't have many," you assured him. "And they suit you."

He squinted his eyes, still grinning. "So, when's your curfew?"

You rolled your eyes again and made sure to take an extra long swig from your beer. "I can do what I want."

"So how come no one knows about your love of the arts, then?"

Ouch. He wasn't wrong, but-

"I'm sorry," Joel said. "It's not my business."

"No, you're right." You sighed.

"Was I right about the reason you came to this bar tonight?"

You felt you were rightfully cringeworthy. How could you even lie now? You wanted to, but Joel saw right through you so why try?

"Okay," you said, glancing up at the television again and wishing for some early liquid courage. "Fine, yeah. I heard you guys mention it."

Joel laughed lightly again. "Well, why don't you come join me down at a little clambake over by the light house then. No tourists allowed."

"Just our kind," one of his friends chimed in, obviously listening in on the whole conversation. You couldn't really judge, eavesdropping was the whole reason you were sitting there.

"Slum it, rich girl," the other guy added.

"So, how will I sneak by?" You asked him.

Joel continued to wear a grin. "Let me worry about that." He raised his eyebrows at the same time as his glass. "You in?"

You tapped your glass to his. "I'm in."

"And I promise I'll get you home before you turn into a pumpkin."

NEXT CHAPTER

[babypinkromantics]

Masterlist

Smut, fluff & romance ₊˚⊹

‎♡ Andrew Garfield

Tired

⊹

‎♡ The little mermaid // Jalle

It always leads to you in my hometown

⊹

‎♡ Challengers

౨ৎ ‎ Artashi x reader

I’ve always dreamed of… uv

🩰 I’ve always dreamed of…

🩰 Like a true star

🩰 Push you to the limits

౨ৎ Artrick x reader

🩰 I was an angel + more

↳ Blurbs !

🩰 Shopping with Art

🩰 Am I your girl ?

🩰 Nothing without you

౨ৎ ‎ Tashi Duncan

Is it a crime to wanna shine ?

Wimbeldon

౨ৎ ‎ Art Donaldson

France with Art

Love sick Art x reader

Art x allergic reaction reader

Short n’ sweet uv

🩵 Hold me and explore me

🩵 Where art thou ? Why not uponeth me ?

🩵 It’s not that complicated

Mood boards

Art x park avenue princess

Story line or one-shot requests are open !! I love creative inspo and feedback is always appreciated ‎🤍 if you ever have a fic suggestion // requests feel free to leave it in my inbox ‎:))

[nonesuchrecords]

Among the 70 Best Alt-Country Albums of All Time per Paste magazine are Hurray for the Riff Raff’s LIFE ON EARTH, Yola’s Walk Through Fire, Rhiannon Giddens’ Freedom Highway, k.d. lang’s Ingénue, Billy Bragg & Wilco's Mermaid Avenue, Carolina Chocolate Drops' Genuine Negro Jig, Emmylou Harris’s Wrecking Ball, and Wilco's Being There. You can see the full list here.